Chapter 18 #2
“That’s it,” she blurted. “The thorns must have accounted for its glow. Maybe the alchemist had some in a box somewhere. Oh, but it was the morning after the fight on the terrace that the horn glowed when I dropped it in the pot by the tree.”
“It’s possible there was some residue from the engagement the night before,” Chalora said.
“Those thorns, as you call them, have been used for centuries by elves as defenses for our encampments, but they are actually how the trees propagate themselves. The tips are embedded with their pollen. During windstorms or other times of agitation—our people have used our magic to teach the trees that attacks should qualify—they shoot their thorns out into the world to share their genetic material with receptive mates.”
Rylana lifted the horn, its mugs glowing brightly, and the gray storm clouds had also appeared. “So, it’s the pollen that’s getting this excited?”
“The pollen that’s quite poisonous to our kind,” Chalora said. “It might also be poisonous to dwarves.”
“Oh, that’s a fine tasting horn,” her comrade said as he, having avoided assassination by flying thorns, joined them.
With a stout build, a broad jaw, a squat nose, and only about five feet in height, he almost looked dwarven, but subtly pointed ears rose from his short, gray-streaked red hair. They weren’t as long or as defined as most elven ears, and Rylana caught herself staring.
“Are you… part dwarven?” she asked. “And part elven?”
“Astute, aren’t you?” he said, then bumped his shoulder against Chalora. “I suppose you did say you were teaching classes and educating those… in need of it.”
“Shalikon is half-dwarven and half-elven, yes,” Chalora said, ignoring his comment, though she did lean against him. “It’s an uncommon mix.”
“I’m an uncommon fellow.”
“Apparently, his parents employed some magic in the creation of him,” Chalora said.
“I do enjoy it when you speak of my creation.”
“Since neither dwarves nor elves are terribly fecund, even when mating with our own kind, you rarely see natural offspring arise from their pairings,” Chalora said. “When it does happen, those born to such parents can have the traits and magical aptitudes of both races.”
“I do have a lot of aptitude.” Shalikon winked at her.
And did Plant Master Chalora’s cheeks redden?
Rylana would have guessed the elven lady past the years of being flirtatious, but maybe one didn’t necessarily grow out of that.
“I don’t think you can claim that kind of aptitude has anything to do with your heritage,” Chalora whispered to him.
“Probably just my innate desire to please people.” He nodded sagely and pointed at the horn. “Where did you find that?”
Rylana relayed the tale of the mushroom hunting, finishing with, “Did you call it a tasting horn?”
“Yes, isn’t it?” Shalikon asked.
“I’ve been assuming it was a hunting horn.”
“Well, it looks like you can blow it and call to a team in the woods, but the artwork with food and drink implies it’s also a tasting horn. The protection magic I sense emanating from it also suggests that. May I?” Shalikon held out calloused palms.
Rylana rested it on them. “Mya did mention these horns were often used for drinking ale.”
“Mya the baker? How’s she doing? Poor gal. She’s somewhat ostracized by her people, you know. She doesn’t deserve that. It must be terribly lonely for her.” Even as he spoke, Shalikon closed his eyes and ran his hands over the horn. And was he drawing upon some magic?
Rylana couldn’t always determine that for certain, but Sylin stirred, watching curiously. No doubt, she could sense more.
“Do you want the assistance of elven plant magic?” Chalora asked.
“Usually.” Shalikon smiled in her direction without opening his eyes.
Chalora rested her hand on the horn and also on his.
“Ah, perfect,” he rumbled.
Rylana didn’t know if he referred to something about the horn, her magic, or if he was still thinking of trysts.
“Yes, protection magic,” he said. “Very strong protection magic.”
“I agree,” Chalora said. “For it to be so many centuries old without having faded is impressive. Rylana, you said it belongs to the dwarven royal family?”
“We’re going to find out soon, I think,” Rylana said.
“The king should be pleased to get it back.”
“What does it do?” Rylana asked. “When it warms? And when the mugs glow? Those seem to happen independently of each other.”
“The purpose of a tasting horn is to determine if it’s safe to drink the beverage within,” Shalikon said.
“Dwarves had many enemies in the old days. Both among the rival clans of their own kind but also from the other intelligent species. Dwarves are a hardy people but not so hardy that they can’t be poisoned. ”
“Is it the presence of something poisonous that makes the mugs and clouds glow?” Rylana wouldn’t be surprised to learn that the troll alchemist had a few toxic formulations available—even if the laws of Tranquility expressly forbade using such substances on people within its borders.
“I believe that’s likely,” Shalikon said.
“And it warms because…?”
“That should indicate it’s ready for use,” Shalikon said. “To test the contents that are poured into it.”
“Ah, that’s why it kept warming at the tavern while we were drinking. Well, I’m glad the mugs never glowed blue then. Especially after the third or fourth cup, when my senses weren’t at their sharpest.”
“Third or fourth cup?” Sylin asked. “You weren’t the one who puked in the alley, were you?”
Rylana stared at her.
“The attic of the bakery has a window overlooking that alley, you know,” Sylin said. “And oversmelling it.”
“Sorry. I was trying to find answers.”
“At the bottom of four mugs of ale?”
Shalikon gave the horn back to Rylana while managing to keep Chalora’s hand in his grasp. She didn’t try to extract it and was giving the half-dwarf a fond look.
“If it detects poison,” Rylana said, “I can see why it would be useful, especially to a monarch, but I’m not sure why it would have played a role in choosing one of three triplet heirs to rule their kingdom.”
Shalikon’s bushy eyebrows rose.
Rylana waved at Sylin, and she summed up what she’d learned in the history book.
“I do recall that there were royal triplet princes in the Ironhelm Kingdom some centuries ago, any one of whom could have ruled.” Shalikon tapped his jaw.
“It could be the magic of the horn has more properties than detecting poison. Maybe it also glows if someone is being blessed or chosen by the gods.”
“Is it possible that the dwarven heir who was chosen had poison in his house when his mother visited?” Chalora asked. “Maybe he intended to be named the next king one way or another.”
“By getting rid of his two brothers?” Shalikon asked. “Anything is possible. Those were somewhat ruthless times.”
“Wouldn’t the dwarven queen have known that the horn glowing indicated poison?” Rylana asked.