Chapter 23 #2
Unfazed, Sylin continued, “The other gods, after all, reputedly share a single hell, sending their followers who aren’t devout enough—or who sin too frequently—to commingle.
Except for the goblin gods. There’s no discussion of a hell in their religion.
Or sinning, for that matter. And the gnomish gods only have the Black Cave, a place of eternal toil without tools.
I understand it’s not the notion of eternal toil that disturbs their kind—their gods promise to keep those in the Light Cave busy as well—but having to do it without any tools. ”
“We may have to go back out to Lucky Island and see what happened.” Rylana pointed toward the blue beam and flames lingering in the trees and undergrowth after the explosion.
“We?” Sylin tapped her chest. “Have we officially been assigned the duty of investigating the curse?”
“Jildarin told his mom he’s working on it, and I’m his partner.”
“Oh, well, if he told his mother…”
“Besides, I don’t want to be detained, arrested, fined, or anything else the peacekeepers might be tempted to do when they realize I’ve a link, of sorts, with Vormalt. That lieutenant might wonder why I had his diary.”
“I’m unlikely to be associated with him.”
“Sergeant Falcon?” came a call from the street. Two hells, was that the elven captain again?
“You have other problems,” Rylana said and headed for the ladder.
“Tell me about it.” Sylin disappeared into the shadows.
When Rylana reached the ground, Captain Tassani stood there, and two other cloaked elves with bows waited in the street. The green clouds from the stormwater drains continued to waft throughout the area and swirled about them.
“Have you also been assigned to figure out how to lift the curse?” Rylana asked, though, the last she’d heard, he’d been assigned to find Sylin. Given how near Sylin was, Rylana didn’t want to mention her or give him a reason to think about her at all.
“I have, actually. There was a fire in the enclave earlier, and there have been a few other incidents. Since the queen is en route, our leaders would like the problem resolved promptly. Otherwise, we’ll have to send a warning that it isn’t safe for her here.
Since she hasn’t visited the north for a long time, and has expressed an interest in diplomatic talks with the local governments…
” Tassani waved toward the mountains to the east and west and also to the north, so he presumably referred to more than the gnomish leaders of Tranquility.
“Well, our elders here would be embarrassed to have to turn her away because they were unable to secure our enclave.”
“After however many earthquakes and fires we’ve had in the last day,” Rylana said, “embarrassment isn’t my primary concern.”
“Because you aren’t an elf sworn to a queen.”
“And because the gnomes have threatened to detain me as well.” Trusting she’d distracted him long enough for Sylin to slip away, Rylana walked toward the street.
Tassani sent a long look toward the roof of the coffee shop before following her.
“Why would they detain you?” he asked. “Are you accused of suspicious activity?”
“Usually.”
He looked curiously at her.
Rylana waved away the joke. “I have a past with the person who’s trying to blackmail them.”
“Ah, Captain Tassani,” Captain Laridon said.
“May I have a word with you? Lieutenant, have a few troops continue to search for Vormalt, but I also want a team put together to investigate Lucky Island and see what damage has been done.” Laridon looked in the direction Sylin had last been, but she’d disappeared.
It crossed Rylana’s mind to say that she would return to Lucky Island with his team, but she was exhausted and couldn’t muster the energy to volunteer.
Besides, the peacekeepers hadn’t said anything to suggest they wanted her to help.
If she reminded them of her presence, they might remember they wanted to detain her.
Instead, she left the law enforcers to go into the diner and change her clothing.
A hint of dawn was brightening the sky, so there was probably little point in going to bed, though she longed to sleep for many hours.
Thankfully, when she returned to the street, the smell of roasting coffee beans wafted through the lingering green miasma.
Brella wandered outside with a tray, delivering samples to those who remained in the area.
The mayor and high priest had disappeared, but some of the peacekeepers with their golems lingered, as if they thought Vormalt might return or they might yet need to arrest Rylana.
When one looked toward her, she held up a finger and hurried to Brella to pluck one of the small cups from the tray.
“You look like you need more than a sample.” She eyed Rylana’s hair.
After her dousing in the lake, it was probably sticking out in all directions. And she no doubt had dark bags lurking under her eyes.
“Much more,” Rylana said.
“I’ll get it. Do you want your usual? Or, ah, your friend’s usual?” Brella glanced toward the rooftop, then lowered her voice to add, “A couple of elves were here a moment ago.”
“I know. Thanks for being discreet on my friend’s behalf.”
“She is a good paying customer, and I don’t believe what the elves claim about her.”
Rylana decided not to ask what they claimed. “They were on opposing sides during the Ore War.”
“That no doubt taints their opinions. Also, they sniffed derisively when I offered them samples. Apparently, as I was just informed, elves prefer a tea made from mushrooms, anise seed, and ginger root. It sounds dreadful.”
“I can’t imagine those flavors in a latte.”
“Exactly.” Brella shuddered and turned for the door. “Mushrooms. You might as well lick the dirt.”
“I’ll take my usual. My friend’s usual would probably make my heart fibrillate.” Rylana managed to snag another sample cup from the tray before Brella disappeared inside. She would need caffeine in order to be coherent through the coming day.
Avoiding the peacekeepers, Rylana stepped into the bakery.
Warm yeasty scents filled the air, so Mya must have already started her preparations for the day.
Since Jildarin had said the aquatic yeast might need days to ferment, Rylana didn’t let herself hope the smells indicated progress on the sacred bread.
But she glanced toward the green haze hanging in the air outside the window and wondered if they had days.
After leaning her bow and quiver beside the door, Rylana stepped into the kitchen, the counters all low to a human but the perfect height for a dwarf.
Mya stood in the center, stirring a bowl attached to a faintly glowing contraption that had to be of gnomish origin.
Jildarin was holding it, his eyes closed, but he opened them when Rylana walked in.
Mya held up a wooden spoon. “Chef Jildarin’s magical dragon emanations are wonderful.”
“Oh? Is that why so many female dragons are after him?”
That earned her a sour look from Jildarin.
Mya blinked. “Are they? I would imagine they have their own emanations.”
“If so, they didn’t discuss them with me while they were trying to incinerate me.”
Mya opened her mouth but didn’t seem to know if that was a joke or not. “Not here in Tranquility, right? You mean during the war?”
“Earlier in the night and out on the lake.” Rylana waved away the subject and pointed to the contraption. “What are you doing?”
“Making the dough.”
“With the special yeast? Did we get it?”
“Yes, we’ve already separated the aquatic yeast from the other organisms that were in that chaotic collection of glowing water you had Sylin bring in.”
“Does it need to be fermented or prepared or…” Rylana waved vaguely, not sure how the process worked. “Jildarin said it might take days. Or is that what his emanations are helping with?”
“Oh, I’m not even sure what the preparation method would be for such an unorthodox product.
We figured the wisest course would be to use regular yeast and substitute lake water with some of the purple-glowing plankton—that’s the correct species mentioned in the recipe book, by the way—as the activator.
” Mya waved to a mostly empty glass measuring container on the counter, the remnants of a bubbling liquid in the bottom, then pointed at her dough.
“I wouldn’t necessarily want to eat bread made with murky lake water, but I’m not a troll. Certainly not a troll god.”
“That doesn’t sound very scientific.” Rylana had imagined the aquatic yeast being a crucial part of the baking process.
“I doubt trolls from centuries past were that scientific in what they made.” Mya opened a container and scooped out flour, dumping it onto the counter, then shaping it into a hill with a divot in the middle.
“As long as the aquatic yeast is in the sacred bread,” Jildarin said, “we believe that may be sufficient.”
“We’ll find out.” Mya took the bowl out of the contraption and placed the dough in the flour area she’d prepared so she could start kneading. “Don’t go anywhere,” she told Jildarin. “I want you to wrap your emanations around the proofing box too. They might make the dough rise faster.”
“And here I thought dragon spices were the secret ingredient in your popular dishes,” Rylana told Jildarin.
Looking a little smug, he said, “I believe I informed you that the mosses, lichens, and fungi that grow in the southern dragon caves do so, at least in part, because of the magic that my kind emanate.”
Before Rylana could reply, the door opened, chilly green air wafting in, and someone walked into the bakery. Zilek.
Looking a bit rumpled himself, like he’d also been out all night, he arched his eyebrows as he focused on Rylana. “Well, that’s handy.”
“What?” she and Jildarin asked at the same time.
With his gaze remaining on Rylana, Zilek said, “Our aunt has instructed me to kill you.”