A Promise of Iron by Brandon McCoy (the reading list .txt) 📕

“Samial!” Tab shouted. “Did you leave your wits at home along with your manners? Apologize this instant!”

Sam folded his arms across his chest.

“It’s fine, Tab, truly. They mean a lot of things to a lot of people. I forget that, at times,” I said, removing my jacket. I turned to Sam and extended my arm. “Can we strike a peace?”

Tab leaned towards him, glaring.

Sam grumbled. “They took enough from us without takin—”

“That’s enough now, Sam,” Tab interjected. “You said your piece, now shake the man’s hand and stuff your grumbling in your boot where it belongs.”

Sam grunted once more and then took my hand.

“There we are,” Tab said, smiling, “all friends again. Now, shall we move the topic along? Sam, I believe there was a question posed.”

Sam pushed his plate away and leaned back in his chair. “Going to be a lot of work to get this place proper. The roots here run deep, but the vines will need a lot more than quin and bag of coin. The soil is rested, but that don’t mean it’s ready. This land has given up about all it has left to give. You’ll need to strip it all away, fertilize, and wish for rain. You may get a small yield in a year, but you would need to use those vines to turn the other rootstock. You ask me; it will be at least five years before you grow something worth putting in a bottle again.”

I nodded slowly. “Well, I think it is clear that this place stands no chance without you. I am not sure what Monroe paid you before, but I would happily increase—”

“Now you offend me,” Sam grunted, folding his arms.

“My, my, Samial, aren’t you the sensitive one today?” Tab turned toward me. “Faerin, dear. We agreed to sell this land to Edwin under two conditions, one being enough coin that we wouldn’t have to work for coin ever again.”

“I see, well, it was worth a—”

“The second condition,” Tab continued, “was permission to stay on and tend the vines we had grown to love.” She took Samial’s hand in her own. “Quin never blessed us with children, but this place, these old vines…? Well, it’s the closest thing.”

The corners of Sam’s lips curled into what could be mistaken for a smile.

“It’s your legacy,” Lira offered.

Tab nodded.

“Does that mean I can count on your help?” I asked.

“You’ll have my experience,” Sam said. “But at my age, this old back isn’t much good to anyone. You’ll need more hands than these tired ones to bring the land back to life.”

I agreed. “I assume Oakshire will have some hands willing for the right amount of coin?”

Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “Oakshire is half a day’s ride. Anyone’s looking to lend a hand would need to be staying on more permanent, and folks there have their own lands and troubles to worry on.”

“Well, that certainly adds a wrinkle to—”

“The camps!” Lira shouted excitedly. “There are more than enough rooms here…. We would just need to—Oh Tab, you could teach them in the old ways of… Think of it, Fae, think of the real difference we could make.”

Everyone turned to her, confused. I did not. I laughed.

“I’m sorry, child,” Tab said. “I’m not sure I follow you. What about the camps?”

It was a perfect solution, simple, and right in front of us the whole time. I stood from the table, glass raised in front of me.

Lira raised her brow and lifted her glass slightly.

I gestured for her to stand and wore a smile as wide as the moon. “Allow me to present the new owner of the Blue Vine.”

Chapter Forty and One

Summer 1272, Cyllian Imperial Count

There was a collective silence as if I had just proclaimed myself the Silver King of Rukland.

“Wait. What?” Lira asked.

“Oh, how marvelous,” Tab said, clapping. “This place will certainly flourish under the gentle touch of a woman’s hand. Bravo, my lord Faerin, a wise choice indeed.”

“Faerin,” Lira said calmly. “Can I speak to you inside, please?” She gestured to the door. As soon as we were into the hall, she turned and closed the door.

“Have you lost your mind? I know nothing about running a business.”

“And I do? At least you know something about wine.”

“Yeah, Fae, how to drink it…” She paced over to the counter. “This is… I couldn’t even begin to.”

“Lira, think about it, it’s perfect. I can sell this place to you for a song. No one needs to know the true amount, but a place like this, land at least would be worth a hundred or more, right?”

She crossed her arms. “And what of the rest of it? He will come looking for—”

“That’s why your idea is so brilliant. Housing a dozen boys from the camps, feed them, clothe them, pay them, that will take coin. Bury the rest.” I laughed. “And talk about a way to really make him feel it. His purity council tries to erase our way of life, yet here you are, on the frontier, funding a Rukish preservation society all on his coin. Quin couldn’t bless this any more than if the vines grew iron.”

Lira shook her head. “You underestimate him. He won’t just give up.”

“Then make it public. Call it a generosity. Call it a donation for quin’s sake. By the time he gets back from Cyllia, we will have already started; he won’t be able to unwind that clock.”

She stepped towards me. “Fae, listen, please. It is not so simple a thing to just hand me the writ and be done with it. What of Edwin? He gave this to you…. You can’t just gift it away to me.”

“That’s the beauty of a gift; it is mine to give. Trust me, if Monroe valued this place, he wouldn’t have let it come to this, and he wouldn’t have just given it to me.”

She placed her hand on my face. “Fae, obviously, you have given this some thought, and it is a wonderful thought,