Chapter 11 #2
Rylana hoped Lysilria would be nursing her wounds for a long time and that both were well on their way to the far south.
“Your expertise and talents could come in handy,” she added when Jildarin appeared confused by the request.
Rylana hoped he wasn’t thinking of his mother’s claims that she would try to lure him off and seduce him. As if the ruins of a troll-god temple were where she would take a man for that.
“My culinary expertise and talents?” Jildarin asked.
“Actually, it’s dark in here, so I was thinking of how dragons can make fire. You can do that in your human form, right?”
He hesitated. “When the peacekeepers questioned me about my magic, I informed them that my power is very limited in this diminished state.” He waved to his human body.
“I’ve seen you cook bacon without lighting the burner.”
He cocked his head.
“You are aware that you do that, right?”
“I’ve intentionally used flame to caramelize the sugar on a dessert.”
“Yeah, your crème br?lée is good. Will you come caramelize the air so I can see better?” And so she didn’t have to face irate troll-god idols on her own, she thought but didn’t say.
“One cannot caramelize or even burn oxygen,” Jildarin stated. “It is itself an oxidizer which acts as an accelerant to cause other materials to burn more intensely.”
Since he joined her in walking down the tunnel, she didn’t object to the science lesson. “I guess that’s why dragons exhale as they roast their enemies.”
“There is a magically-induced combustion that occurs within a dragon as he or she breathes fire, but we technically exhale mostly nitrogen, the same as humans. It is an inert and nonflammable gas that does not support combustion. The gnomes even isolate it and use it in their fire-extinguishing engines.”
“You’re a knowledgeable dragon.”
“On matters related to fire, certainly.” Jildarin lifted his hand, palm upward. “Do not tell the peacekeepers about this.”
A small ball of swirling flames appeared in the air a couple of inches above his hand.
It rolled away from him, floating through the air to a position a few feet ahead of them, spreading enough light to illuminate the stone walls.
This far from the entrance and sunlight, there was no growth on them, but bat droppings and small scattered bones on the ground meant various creatures used the tunnel.
“Are you afraid they’ll tie a ribbon around your wrist?” Rylana asked as they continued, rounding a bend. And was the tunnel descending slightly?
“When my brother and I arrived and announced our intention to live in the city for a time, the peacekeepers did discuss how to keep us from using magic while in human form. Their tranquility ribbons are adequate for nullifying weapons but do not work against magic unless one uses a wand or crystal or other tool for casting spells.” Jildarin sniffed disdainfully.
“Dragons have no need for tools. We are inherently magical.”
“That must be the reason your allure draws me.” She pointed at a faded painting on the wall.
Jildarin stopped, not to look at it but to look at her.
“It was a joke,” Rylana said, wishing she could take it back. Hadn’t she just been thinking that his mother’s accusations about seduction might have him wary around her for a while?
“You are drawn to me,” he stated.
“Right now, I’m drawn to figure out how to end the troll curse.” She pointed toward the floating ball of flame, hoping he would send it ahead so they could continue on.
He did, and he walked with her, but he didn’t drop the matter.
“My mother has the power to see into the minds of those without the ability to block her, those who aren’t dragons or elves, generally.
If you had no interest in mating with me, she would have known it.
That is probably why she came. To see if Loxvonla’s words had any truth to them. ”
“Look, even if I find you attractive, I have nothing to do with your relationship with those loathsome sisters.”
“That is true. And they are somewhat loathsome. I do not think even Zilek desires to mate with them.”
“No, he’s hot for an elf ballerina, right?”
“She seems to have captured his attention this week. He is oddly randy for one of our kind and seeks many partners and experiences with females from different species.”
“I don’t think you should make him seduction soup for the elf. Partners should go voluntarily to each other, not be duped by drugs.”
Jildarin gazed over at her as they walked. “The spice generally amplifies lustful emotions rather than creating them from nothing.”
“Well, people usually have inhibitions and ideologies that keep them from acting on every little base urge.”
The tunnel opened into a chamber with several stout stone posts and arches supporting the weight of a ceiling that was high enough to barely be visible in the gloom.
Even Jildarin's ball of fire wasn’t enough to push back the darkness entirely.
As Rylana peered up and around, she realized that a good portion of the pyramid had to be hollow and that this chamber took up most of the space.
She was surprised that the posts and arches had been enough to keep it from collapsing over the centuries.
“Some magic lingers here.” Jildarin walked across the chamber, his light moving to brighten the way ahead.
A pedestal larger than but similar to the one under the castle came into view, but there weren’t any idols on it.
It was flat and empty as if awaiting an offering.
The opposite had probably happened, with looters coming in over the centuries and removing anything of value, or even vague archaeological interest, from this space.
Two large trolls—the two gods?—with broad, flat faces had been carved into the wall behind the pedestal and looked down upon it.
Their hands were spread similarly to those she’d seen under the castle, also seeming to invite someone to place something on the flat surface, and she decided her first thought of an offering had been right.
Also carved into the wall were sacks at the feet of the trolls; they reminded Rylana of the various bags of oats and flours in the diner’s storeroom.
Long sticks lay horizontally between the sacks, chiseled in surprising detail.
Maybe those weren’t sticks but stalks of wheat or some other grain.
“Trolls are mostly carnivores, aren’t they?” she mused.
“Meat and fish comprise a large portion of their diet, but they enjoy fruits and also some items made from grains.” Jildarin pointed at the stalks in the carving. “They are especially delighted by bread, cakes, and beer.”
“We’re all delighted by those things.”
“Dragons do not crave sweets.” Yes, he’d mentioned that before.
“It must be a challenge for you to make those crème br?lées.”
“I do prefer cooking meat dishes, but I’ve been learning to expand my offerings to appeal to the many palates that visit the diner. I do, admittedly, still acquire several items from the dwarf baker.”
“So, are those stalks a call for an offering of beer or cake?” Rylana glimpsed a piece of paper on the floor and picked it up.
There was something half-drawn on it. No, that was a rubbing.
Of the grain stalk? “This paper is crisp and new, not like something that was left here weeks or months ago. Vormalt must have been drawing this. But why? To take it back so someone could identify the grain?”
“It is rye.”
“You can tell from a centuries-old cave carving?”
“This is a temple, not a cave, and likely thousands of years old. I would not wager my Golden Whisk on my identification, as barley looks similar to rye and also grows well in northern climates such as this, but I believe I’ve heard troll chefs mention that rye is a staple for their kind.
There are numerous varieties, however, and that I most certainly could not identify from this crude carving. ”
“I guess I can ask Vormalt if I see him again, though he probably didn’t know either, or he wouldn’t have been out here making rubbings. Of rye.” Rylana scratched her jaw. “Was that truly what he came here for? It’s too bad he got away.”
“Yes, had you captured him, you could have questioned him thoroughly. Since we are outside of the city’s boundaries, you could have applied force.” Jildarin waved to her quiver.
“I don’t usually stab acquaintances to get them to answer my questions.”
“I could have lit him on fire.”
“Wouldn’t he have been too busy screaming to talk?”
“Perhaps. Humans are not hardy when it comes to enduring pain.”
“Especially pain that can signal their imminent incineration. There’s probably a reason he sprinted off when all the dragons arrived.”
“Probably.” Jildarin cocked his head. “It is odd that you did not.”
“We’ve established that I’m strange.” Rylana folded the paper and tucked it into her pocket. “Will you fly me back to the city?”
“Yes. Perhaps the effects of the curse have lessened, and more customers will be waiting at the diner for my next meal.”
“Let’s hope.”