Epilogue
From the rooftop of the coffee shop, Rylana and Sylin had a view of the lake as night settled over Tranquility. When the moon and stars came out, so did the glows of the aquatic life in the water.
“That’s encouraging,” Rylana said as she sat in the sole chair at the sole table that seemed to be on the rooftop entirely for Sylin’s use. She, of course, leaned her shoulder against the chimney instead of using the seat.
“The view is much more magical when the lake is glowing.” Sylin sipped from a cup of black coffee.
Rylana had gotten only a small mocha, as she looked forward to sleeping that night.
Sleeping long and hard. She’d dozed for a bit between the lunch and dinner services, but, as news that the curse had been lifted spread, more and more customers had returned to the diner, so there hadn’t been much of a lull.
“It is,” Rylana agreed. “You shouldn’t linger in the area though.”
“As we’ve established.” Sylin lifted her cup in acknowledgment but made no move to depart.
“You’re not going to spend the night in Mya’s attic, are you?”
“Better for both of us if you don’t know, though it does sound like the elves are pleased with you and might not drag you to the enclave for questioning this week.”
“Yes.” It didn’t surprise Rylana that Sylin had been close enough to hear her conversation with the elf captain. “It’s not fair though. You helped out with everything, yet they’re still suspicious of you.”
“I do appreciate you trying to tell the elves that.”
“They’re determined to believe you’re a threat to their queen.”
“Beliefs are powerful things, not easily altered once the plaster sets.”
“Are we still talking about the elves,” Rylana asked, “or does that comment apply to the new god and Vormalt’s ambitions?”
“I gauge it unlikely his accusations would have changed anything for the general populace even if he had blathered them all over town.”
“I think he was counting on the curse of the troll gods adding weight to what he said.” Rylana wondered if the peacekeepers had caught up with Vormalt yet.
Once she’d had a good night’s sleep, she would try to find out.
“It did seem like the old gods—those particular old gods, anyway—were irked that their followers had forgotten their ways and embraced another deity, whether real or not.”
Sylin sipped from her cup. “They mostly seemed irked that nobody was making them bread.”
“True.”
They drank in companionable silence for a time until a soft call came from the alley.
“Rylana,” Jildarin said from the bottom of the ladder. “I require your presence.”
“For what?” Rylana was tired and didn’t want to do anything else resembling work until she’d slept for many, many hours.
“You will walk with me to the lake to observe the glowing aquatic life.”
“Interesting.” Sylin sipped from her cup. “I think he’s asking you on a date.”
Rylana shook her head, though she wished Jildarin would want to go out with her. Maybe it was silly, but she looked forward to attending the elven ballet with him. “You’re mistaken. He requires my presence. That’s not how men ask women out.”
“He’s inexperienced, right? He may not know better.” Sylin raised her voice to call, “If you want Rylana to accompany you on a social activity, it would be appropriate for you to request her presence.”
A silent moment passed as Jildarin presumably digested that. “You will not bring the elf,” was what he ultimately called up.
Rylana snorted. “I’ll come if, during our walk, you tell me about your plans to keep your relatives from harassing me further.”
“That is an acceptable topic of discussion.”
“Romantic,” Sylin murmured.
“Practical. Dragons like practicality.” Rylana headed for the ladder.
“See if he’ll let you hold his hand,” Sylin advised.
“Hands aren’t what his brother suggested he hold of mine.”
“It’s your walk,” Sylin said.
Rylana joined Jildarin in the alley, glad she didn’t spot Captain Tassani or any other elves skulking.
Maybe their kind would relax and enjoy the curse-free city for a few days before resuming their hunt for Sylin.
Or maybe they would realize she wasn’t a threat to their queen’s upcoming visit and leave her alone.
Sadly, that was wishful thinking. But maybe, after their queen came and went, hopefully without incident, they would be less motivated to seek out Sylin.
“The return of the bioluminescent aquatic life is a good omen,” Jildarin said as they walked side-by-side toward the water.
“I think so, yes.”
Clinks, bangs, clanks, and whirs came from one of the damaged sections of the waterfront street. Gnomes, goblins, dwarves, and humans were laboring with the aid of gnomish repair automatons to reinforce and strengthen the damaged areas of the city.
Instead of venturing toward them, Jildarin led the way out on one of the docks that hadn’t sunk.
They weren’t the only people out admiring the return of the glowing green, blue, purple, and red pools in the water.
Flashing eels darted between the pilings as Jildarin and Rylana walked to the end and found a private spot along the railing.
Across the lake, a couple of lanterns burned in Avandar Castle, suggesting her father might have returned—at the least, Zames was probably there. Rylana hadn’t gone back to check on the place—or the library—but was relieved that the blue beam had once again disappeared.
“A group of troll elders came to the diner, and I let them copy the recipe for the sacred bread,” Jildarin said. “They’ve decided that they will visit the temple and oven on Lucky Island monthly to bake a proper sacrifice for their gods.”
“I approve of that. I assume, after what the city has endured, the gnomes will allow that temple to remain intact and unburied.”
“I believe they will. Gniknik overheard peacekeepers speaking about rebuilding the new-god temple in an adjacent location that will not interfere with the monthly offerings. The gnomes also sent a repair and cleaning crew to spruce up the troll-god temple.”
Rylana didn’t know how one spruced up an ancient bread oven and statues but was glad the gnomes were being reasonable.
She supposed she wasn’t surprised that their high priest, or whoever was in charge of building new temples, wanted to raise another one to the new god.
The mayor hadn’t seemed surprised by Vormalt’s revelations, but the priest had.
She had a feeling that even if Vormalt escaped their attempts to round him up and blathered to everyone about the ancient scheme, the religion of the new god would remain intact with its followers never flagging.
“Did you enjoy having a challenge this week?” Rylana asked. Had it only been a week? If that? It seemed like they’d been battling the curse for much longer. “And baking glowing troll bread?” she added.
“The week had fraught moments,” Jildarin said—that was an understatement, “but, now that we have achieved resolution, I believe I would say that I did find the challenge satisfactory.”
“You’re oozing delight and pride.”
“Dragons do not ooze.”
“I suppose not. You’d want to see a healer if you did.”
“Yes.” He gazed at her.
Rylana couldn’t tell if he appreciated her humor or thought her odd. Maybe some of both. He had invited her out here, so he couldn’t mind her company too much. Maybe he even liked it.
“What will your next challenge be?” she asked, feeling the need to say something else as his long gaze continued.
“I am uncertain. For a time, perhaps I will be content to cook for our customers and experiment with new dishes. Chicken of the woods and shaggy manes are coming into season soon.” Rylana had no idea what those were until Jildarin added, “Perhaps I will turn them into coffee-mushroom dishes to entice elven palates.”
“Are you still thinking of trying to make an especially enticing version that will bring the queen to the diner?”
Maybe that was the next challenge he sought.
“Perhaps.” Jildarin smiled slightly. “It has been enjoyable having adventures with you.”
“I like your company too.” Rylana rested her hand next to his on the railing—she was tempted to rest it on his, but, since he’d said he wasn’t interested in romance, she did not. If he wanted to hold something of hers, he could instigate that.
“Yes.” His gaze shifted toward her hand. “When we crouched in the woods, and you leaned against me for warmth, your closeness was not unappealing.”
“Oh? Did it put thoughts of recreational mating in your mind?”
“That would be illogical.”
“No doubt.”
“My brother is strange for believing coitus has a purpose beyond procreation.”
“He is strange.”
“Yes.” Jildarin rested his hand on hers.
Rylana leaned against him. He allowed it.
THE END
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