Chapter 7
As twilight descended, Rylana and Sylin returned to the Dragon Diner.
Rylana felt like she’d failed her mission by not figuring out what made the horn glow.
As she kept reminding herself, that wasn’t the reason she’d gone to the market, and she had managed to keep ahold of Jildarin’s ingredients, despite the chaos.
She hadn’t so much as broken the vinegar bottle.
Though an hour of the dinner service remained, most of the customers had cleared out. Since the diner was less than a half mile away from the market, they’d probably heard the alarms gonging. Judging by the absence of people on the rooftop terrace, they’d seen the dragons in the sky too.
“Those sisters are bad for business,” Rylana said.
“Yes,” Sylin said, “the discomfort they cause your diners is our greatest concern.”
“I didn’t say it was the greatest. I just have another reason to find them annoying.” Rylana held the door open for Sylin. “Do you want something to eat?”
“Usually.”
“Is it strange that you can enjoy food so much and be so lean?”
“No, I exercise assiduously. Not twenty minutes ago, I hefted a slow human out of the way of a dragon attack.”
“You tugged me; you didn’t heft me.”
“I would have hefted you if you hadn’t been moving, however lethargically, of your own accord.” Sylin pantomimed raising something heavy overhead.
“And thrown me in the fountain?”
“It did cross my mind that being soaking wet is a moderately effective way to keep from bursting into flame.”
“When it comes to dragon fire, I’m not sure even water can keep that from happening.” Rylana waved at Rolf, who was clearing tables, and led the way to the kitchen.
“The inherent magic of their kind does make their fire powerful.”
Jildarin wasn’t in the kitchen. Rylana looked around in surprise before remembering his errand. It occurred to her that he probably would have shown up at the market if he’d been close enough to sense the arrival of the dragons. And wouldn’t he have detected them if he’d been anywhere in the city?
“Must be a long-distance errand,” she murmured.
“Mind if I help myself?” Sylin pointed at a few simmering pots and peeked into the oven.
“Oh, there’s still half a rack of lamb in here.
It smells delicious. Such a shame that the dragons drove off your customers and there’s so much food left over.
” Sylin grabbed a plate and utensils before looking at Rylana for permission.
“Take whatever you like.” Rylana had offered her food.
“Should I leave coins?”
“If you do, Rolf will assume they’re a tip for him and take them.”
“Nobody tips the chef?” Sylin did anyway, placing a couple of silver coins beside the knife block. “I like to pay for what I take. Too bad I can’t eat more. It would be a shame for any of these fine offerings to go to waste.”
“They won’t.” Rylana leaned her bow and quiver by the doorway and walked to the pantry to put away the groceries.
“When there are leftovers, Jildarin boxes them up and sends some home with the staff, especially Rolf, who has something like a dozen kids. Others go to the peacekeepers on duty, and Jildarin has been known to send some specifically to Corporal Bixtok and Willow.”
“Willow?”
“That’s the name of the log-inspecting hound that found the horn and, more importantly to Jildarin, his enchanted morels.
He remains grateful that their discovery allowed him to entice the queen to dine so that he could put her name on his plaque.
I think he also appreciates that Bixtok vouched for us with the local peacekeepers after he turned into a dragon to defend the rooftop against the elves.
” Rylana extended a hand toward Sylin, who’d been the reason the rooftop had needed defending.
“I approve. Also, he’s more gracious than I would have expected for a dragon.”
“He’s even started putting some leftovers out for the cats that have learned it’s a good idea to wander past the back of the storeroom at night.”
“I had no idea he cared about the welfare of stray animals.”
“I think it’s more that it pains him to throw away any of his food. Also, I don’t think he really considers humans, dwarves, elves, and the other lesser beings he serves as superior to cats and dogs. Compared to dragons, we’re all inferior.”
“Elves and animals are not on the same plane. Even a dragon wouldn’t say that.”
“What about humans and animals?”
“Hm.” Sylin took her heaping plate of food to the staff eating area in the back corner. “Where is our chef?”
“I’m not sure.”
“It’s occurring to me that those sisters could shift into humans and walk into the city. To this very diner where you are currently without a stalwart defender.” Sylin sliced off a piece of lamb, smeared it in gravy, and popped it into her mouth.
“You’re here.”
“My presence intimidated them vastly in the market.”
“I’m sure Jildarin will be back tonight. He knows I pine when he’s not in his lair with me.”
“Despite your flippancy, I think you do pine.” Her eyes crinkled as she stabbed glazed carrots and tucked them into her mouth.
“Maybe a little. His presence is comforting.” Rylana eyed the cookbooks on a shelf, wondering if Jildarin had taken the tome on humans with him or if he’d left it in the kitchen with his other texts.
“Especially when vengeful female dragons are after you.”
“That is true. I think that’s the book he’s been referencing.
” Rylana pulled the leather-bound tome she’d seen earlier from a shelf and took it to a counter, softly glowing pendant lamps illuminating the area.
“A Guide on Etiquette and Manners for Courtly Love in the Modern Era,” she read the title aloud.
“How modern?” Sylin asked. “That book looks ancient.”
“Well, it was published after the printing press was invented.”
“That’s not saying much. Those pages look like they’re vellum.”
“I think so.” Rylana flipped to the title page. “Attikust the Monk published it… three hundred years ago.”
“I don’t know a lot about human courting history, but I suspect things have changed somewhat in the past three centuries. You’re lucky Jildarin hasn’t sent butchered boars to your family yet. Wasn’t that an old custom?”
“With the spear that was used to slay them, yes. That was to prove that a man was a good provider. The boar and spear typically went to the mother of the daughter though. Since my mom passed, Avandar Castle will probably be saved from the arrival of bloody implements of impalement.”
“Something that will please your butler, no doubt.”
“Yes. If Jildarin is getting his advice out of this book, it might explain why he thinks he needs permission from my father to date me.” Rylana had started flipping through the pages, but she set the book down with a thunk of realization. “Two hells, that must be where he went on his errand.”
“Across the lake to visit your father in your castle?”
“Well, we know he didn’t go out to sate the needs of any female dragons.”
“Not those two female dragons anyway. What are these little berries in the gravy? And there are peppercorns too. Delicious.”
“Even if he is across the lake,” Rylana said, “I’m surprised he didn’t sense the dragons and come to help. The lake isn’t that many miles across.”
“No, you can jog around the whole thing in three hours.”
“You can jog around it in that time. It would take me three days.” Rylana seemed to recall that it was more than twenty miles around, enough of a trip that the ferry had been placed into service centuries earlier to shorten the journey.
“That’s because you’ve let yourself grow soft.” Sylin rubbed another piece of meat around in the gravy and popped it into her mouth. “This is so good.”
The scents lingering in the kitchen were scintillating. Rylana resolved to have a few bites in a moment, but she continued browsing through the pages to see if Jildarin had left any illuminating notes.
“He’s underlined some sections,” she said. “Or someone has. This looks like it came from the university library. Maybe a lot of men over the years have risked the ire of the librarians by taking pen to page.”
“I think only a dragon would be so presumptuous and disrespectful of books belonging to others.”
“It does look like the same pen or quill was used throughout…”
Sylin came to the counter and opened what Rylana called the junk drawer and poked past a measuring tape, shears, parchment paper, and a meat thermometer to withdraw a gnomish endless-ink pen. She scribbled on a scrap of butcher paper.
“Yes, this is a match.” Sylin stabbed the pen toward the open book as if it were a fencing foil.
“You’re quite the detective. Why doesn’t Captain Laridon hire you more often?”
“How do you know I’m not working for him at this moment?”
“By eating lamb in Jildarin’s kitchen?”
“Maybe I’m solving the mystery of your missing dragon.”
“Something paramount in the minds of the gnome peacekeepers, I’m certain.”
“If he’d been in town, I doubt those female dragons would have dared fly so close.”
“Yes, I had that thought myself.” Rylana continued flipping through the pages, pausing anywhere Jildarin had underlined something. “Here’s a section on gifts that are certain to woo the heart of a refined and sophisticated female. Decorative brooches, carved jewelry boxes, inscribed combs...”
Sylin looked pointedly at Rylana’s short hair. “Since you don’t use any of those things, he opted for the less traditional full bedroom set.”
“I do appreciate practicality in a suitor.”
“What’s that there?” Sylin pointed at the bottom of the page and smirked. “That he underlined twice?”
Since Sylin’s eyes were keen, Rylana had no doubt she’d already read the passage but obliged by saying, “Give gifts of song, poetry, or recite verses of courtly love.”
“Can I be there when he sings to you?”
“No.”
“Please?”
“If you’re a pest, I’ll give this book to Zilek and tell him you want to go on a second date with him.”
“Funny. I wouldn’t show up a second time. It was only as a great favor to you that I went today.”
“It didn’t sound like he was that bad.”
“He didn’t stop talking for an hour.”
“Yeah, but he accepted no for an answer after requesting sex, right? He’s a keeper.”
“I don’t know why I spend time with you.” Sylin took her empty plate to the sink. She’d polished every drop of gravy clean.
“Because I’m business partners with the best chef in town.”
“That must be it.” Sylin headed for the door. “I’m going to bed. Yell if you need help finding our chef.”
“You used to call him my dragon.”
“Eating his food is making me want to claim some ownership over him.”
“I’m sure Jildarin will be delighted to know that he belongs partially to you now.”
“Maybe he’ll get me a bedroom set,” Sylin said as she turned into the hallway.
“I’m sure Zilek would get you one.”
“You’re a loathsome comrade!” Sylin called back.
“And yet you moved into the attic of the bakery across the street to be close to me.”
“I moved there to be close to the scones.”
Rylana snorted as the front door thumped shut, then returned to the early chapter where the most underlining had been done. It was devoted to gaining the approval of the father of the woman one wanted to court.
“I’m afraid I guessed right and that he is over at the castle.
” Even if she’d wanted to visit and check, it was late enough in the evening that there wouldn’t be any ferries until morning.
And, unlike her harrier comrade, Rylana had no intention of running to the other side of the lake.
“If he’s not back tomorrow, I’ll go over there and look for him.
” She closed the book and returned it to the shelf.
By the time she had a small meal and cleaned up the kitchen, Rylana was yawning. She grabbed a lantern and headed to the storeroom, eager to climb into bed.
A cool draft from the storeroom surprised her in the hallway. A soft thump followed, and she lowered into a crouch. Had Jildarin come in? Or had… someone else?
Even though her innate ability to sense magic was almost nonexistent, her instincts told her there wasn’t a dragon in the storeroom. She crept back to the kitchen and grabbed her bow and quiver. Another soft thump sounded. Like a door banging in the wind.
Gripping her bow to use like a staff, she headed closer.
The storeroom was dark, but she could tell that one of the carriage doors was open. Yes, it was responsible for the noise. It kept swinging open and bumping against the wall. A breeze whispered in, stirring her short hair.
There was something on the floor. A lot of somethings.
Lantern held out, she walked into the storeroom, grimacing as the light revealed a mess.
Sacks of oats and flour had been upturned, barrels knocked over, and cans scattered everywhere.
In her corner, all the bedding had been torn off her mattress and pillows tossed atop stacks of crates.
The armoire doors were thrown open, her garments pulled out and tossed around.
“At least I don’t have a lot of clothes,” she muttered, then found a pair of her undergarments dangling from the corner of a crate.
The idea of cleaning the mess daunted her. Before starting, she looked all over the storeroom, but whoever had created the chaos was gone.
“They were searching for something,” she decided, closing the door. Her hand strayed to her quiver, and she made sure the horn was still inside. It was, but that didn’t hearten her much, and she slumped against one of the stacks of crates. “I should have left it in the forest.”