Chapter 15 #2
“Oh.” Rylana blinked. “He received it already? Or one of his people did? Or…” She looked at the diplomat and wondered if the local dwarves might have intercepted the mail.
Even though she’d paid for the speedy-delivery option, there hadn’t been time for her letter to arrive and a response to be sent back.
“He received it and sent a message to my office via magical communications.”
“Ah. That’ll cut down on some time.”
“Yes.”
“What is it that you desire?” Jildarin asked.
Rylana was tempted to thrust the horn at the dwarves, but a sash didn’t necessarily mean the female was who she said she was. She’d known about the letter, but after her encounters with dubious dwarves, Rylana wanted a little more proof of identity before relinquishing the artifact.
“I see that you’ve found what appears to be the Horn of Agomoral,” Shebly said.
“King Ekton expressed curiosity and interest that it might have been rediscovered after all this time. According to his family’s history, it was stolen by a palace guard who departed with some other valuables.
When the royal troops caught up with him, he no longer possessed any of the items and claimed he’d sold them. During an altercation, he was slain.”
“An altercation with swords?” Rylana asked.
Shebly smiled faintly. “I believe axes were more popular during that era. Regardless, he died before the location of the valuables could be extracted from him. Some of the other items were recovered over the years after appearing in various markets, but the horn never was. The king said he would offer a reward if you had indeed found it, but I’m not trained enough in identifying antiques to have any idea if that’s real or a replica. ”
“Someone thinks it’s real,” Rylana murmured.
When the dwarf raised her bushy eyebrows, Rylana explained the two males as well as the female who’d followed her in the market. Any one of the dwarves might have been responsible for the ransacking of the storeroom. Or someone else altogether could have done it.
“I certainly didn’t send anyone, and I doubt the king did either,” Shebly said. “I only learned about the horn this morning.”
“Because of the letter I sent to him?”
“Correct. I regret that you’re being troubled.
” Shebly offered an apologetic bow to Rylana and Jildarin.
“I came to tell you that King Ekton is going to come personally to Tranquility. He’ll bring his court historian, who has a knack for identifying magic as well as having encyclopedic knowledge about everything related to our people. ”
Jildarin had been listening without much expression, but he stirred now. “The dwarven king will come here? To the Dragon Diner?”
“I could arrange that, or you could meet him in another location.” Shebly extended her hand toward Rylana. “The offices where I work are adequate for—”
“He will come here,” Jildarin stated in an imperious tone. “You will inform me of his favorite foods, and I will make a meal to please his palate.”
Rylana eyed Shebly, doubting a diplomat would appreciate being given orders by a chef. Even a dragon chef.
The two bodyguards exchanged looks. Maybe they wondered if they would be pressed into duty protecting the king when he arrived. Shebly’s eyebrows rose again.
“King Ekton does enjoy meals,” she allowed.
“He has doubtless heard of my victory in the Golden Whisk,” Jildarin said, “and will appreciate the opportunity to dine here.”
“He wants to put the king’s name on his plaque of important individuals who’ve dined here,” Rylana told Shebly so the dwarf wouldn’t think any darker ambitions prompted Jildarin’s words.
Thus far, he had only added Queen Fareesa to the plaque. Apparently, he didn’t consider any of the other diners who’d enjoyed the fare worthy of a place on it. Never mind that they’d been visited by lords and ladies, prominent business people, and numerous theater, opera, and symphony luminaries.
“I’ve heard of the Golden Whisk competition,” Shebly said. “I don’t know if the king in his underground capital a hundred miles away keeps abreast of cultural events in Tranquility.”
“If he is not already aware of the results and that a dragon won the contest for the first time in the entire history of the world, he will appreciate it if you inform him of the fact,” Jildarin said. “Also, he will enjoy dining here. I will ensure it.”
“You won’t make mushrooms, will you?” Did Shebly sound wary? Maybe she’d heard about the queen’s visit and what Jildarin had served that night. “Dwarves prefer well-roasted haunches of meat,” she added.
“I am familiar with dwarven culinary preferences,” Jildarin said, “and know that they are quite different from what elves prefer.”
“Quite,” one of the bodyguards rumbled, speaking for the first time. And had the second appeared aghast at the mention of mushrooms?
“Deliver to me a list of his favorite foods, and, as soon as you know, tell me when he will come dine,” Jildarin said.
“I will ask him about those things, Lord Dragon,” Shebly said politely, “and I’ll verify that I’ve seen what may be the Horn of Agomoral.”
“That is acceptable,” Jildarin said.
“Bookkeeper Rylana, should that be the genuine artifact, will a monetary reward be sufficient to offer in exchange for its return?”
“You don’t have to give me coin. If it really belongs to your king, I’ll be happy to return it. I just didn’t want to let thieves take it.”
“I’m relieved they didn’t succeed in absconding with it. To have lost it for centuries, found it, and lost it again would be insufferable. But I’ll trust it’s in safe hands—and talons—here.” Shebly bowed again to them, then led the bodyguards away.
As soon as the door closed, Jildarin said, “The dwarven king will dine here. I must do my research and ensure I serve him a meal perfectly suited to his palate. If—no, when—he’s satisfied, he will spread the word of the talented dragon chef Jildarin-grozanarav to the entire dwarven realm.”
“I’m sure he’ll send out a memo on that, yes.”
Not seeming to hear her, probably because he was already lost in menu musings, Jildarin strode for the kitchen.
“I don’t think I’m getting my date this week.” Rylana sighed, but she knew all about Jildarin’s passion, and she couldn’t blame him for prioritizing it. And this would be a wonderful opportunity for him and for the diner.
Only as she headed to her sleeping area to dress did she realize that there was a reward she might ask for if the horn turned out to be authentic.
Whether the king would grant it, she didn’t know, but if he had any influence over that awful female Mya had described, maybe he could do something about her.
At the least, couldn’t he say something to suggest Mya’s family should visit her?
Rylana hoped so. No dwarven grandmother deserved to be ostracized by her people, and certainly not one who made such delicious desserts.