Without any indication of whether or not it hurts him, the Lord Ruler pulls a pewter spike about an inch long out of his own arm. Two or three forms of magic conspire to make this only mostly as unsanitary as it ought to be.

He points out precisely where, and the obligator presses it in to Promise's arm just below the shoulder, deep enough to pierce through the layers of skin.

"Does the tin feel any different? If it works the same way on fairies, you should have the ability now."