Chapter 19
The mattress was so comfortable and wonderful that it was with great reluctance that Rylana let Jildarin rouse her at dawn for their foraging adventure.
Only the scents of sausage, sautéed vegetables, scrambled eggs, and freshly baked elderflower fritters wafting back to the storeroom prompted her to stir.
They ate in companionable silence before Zalani and Gniknik arrived for the breakfast shift, and Jildarin left instructions on what to serve with what while he was gone.
“With luck, we’ll return with the enchanted morels by the time of the lunch service,” he told them, “and I will have all afternoon to prepare tonight’s dishes.”
“And let the queen know that she’s to come for them,” Rylana said with amusement.
“I’ve already informed her of the possibility that we will be able to host her tonight. I flew over the enclave last night and shared a message.” Jildarin touched his temple before waving for Rylana to follow him out of the diner.
She hoped for his sake that they were able to find the rare mushrooms, especially if an invitation had already been given. Given and accepted? And had he mentioned to the queen that he’d hatched a plan to entice Sylin to be at the diner as well?
Sylin had witnessed the elven attack the night before, so Rylana doubted she would show up. Since the elves who wanted Sylin dead, the queen, and those loyal to her were all staying in the same city… it would be challenging even if Sylin did decide she wanted to come.
Once Rylana and Jildarin stepped past Tranquility’s border and the last of the pillars, he shifted into his dragon form.
Climb onto my back. We will meet the gnome and his hound near what your people call Toadstool Rock.
“Oh, that’s my favorite spot,” Rylana said dryly, the memory of the dragon sisters trying to roast her coming to mind. Nonetheless, she climbed onto Jildarin’s back, always enjoying a flight with him.
It occurred to me, he said, his telepathic voice sounding smug, that the forested area around that point burned recently.
“Due to dragons trying to light me on fire there, yes,” Rylana said before remembering the entry in the foraging book that she’d shared, that morels liked to sprout in areas that had been disturbed by a forest fire. “Ah,” she added. “You’re a smart dragon, aren’t you?”
None of the dragons in Clan Killcrusher are dull. Yes, Jildarin definitely sounded smug.
“Are you suggesting that your brother is smart too?”
He is also not dull, though his arrogance and pomposity can interfere with his ability to cogitate in a logical manner.
“I wonder if he’s had any luck wooing Layothlee,” Rylana said as Jildarin’s great muscles bunched, and he sprang into the air, wings stirring the leaves on nearby trees as they flapped.
“I’m sure Sylin wouldn’t be disappointed if she didn’t have to go on the coffee date I told Zilek that I would arrange for them. ”
I do not believe his effective wooing of the elf ballerina would cause him to lose desire to mate with another attractive elf.
I have observed that he is, especially when in his human form, promiscuous.
After a moment, as Jildarin reached his chosen altitude and flew over the treetops, he added, He is not overly chaste in his dragon form either.
Considering we are of the same clutch, I sometimes find his mannerisms puzzling.
“Me too.”
Soon, Toadstool Rock came into view, rising above the surrounding trees, its flat top gleaming damply under the morning sun. Fortunately, no dragons lurked in the area this time, at least not that Rylana could see.
Jildarin banked and descended, the barks of an alarmed dog floating up to them.
Unperturbed, he landed in the grassy meadow surrounding the “stem” of the mushroom-shaped rock formation.
The redheaded gnome Rylana had seen on the ferry two days earlier gaped at Jildarin’s great silver form and tugged his barking dog back into the trees.
The whites of the hound’s amber eyes were atypically visible, reminding Rylana of the horse that had broken its reins to escape the troll ruins—more specifically, to escape the nearby dragons.
The gnome patted the dog’s back, half gripping its green log inspector vest to restrain it and half crooning at and trying to calm it.
“Maybe you should change into your human form,” Rylana suggested as she slid off Jildarin’s back and into the damp grass.
After issuing a growl that almost sounded like a harumph, he did so. The dog hid behind its handler and clenched its tail.
“I am having doubts about the ability of that creature to assist us,” Jildarin said.
“The log inspectors are known for their noses, not their bravery against mighty predators twenty times their size, Lord Dragon,” the gnome said, giving the dog a stay hand gesture and walking forward.
The hound did indeed stay, but it slunk behind a tree to do so, still eyeing Jildarin with a clenched tail, not fooled by his new shape.
The dog had white around the muzzle as well as on the paws, so it must have seen its fair share of trouble over the years—and knew how to recognize it.
“Though all animals in the forest wisely quail before the power of a dragon.”
“That is so,” Jildarin said.
“Willow can smell magic.” The gnome looked curiously at Rylana. “I’m Corporal Bixtok.” His gaze shifted back to Jildarin. “I, ah, did not realize you would arrive with wings and scales.”
“This location is many miles from Tranquility,” Jildarin said. “Flying made sense.”
“Chef Jildarin, despite standing for many hours a day in the kitchen, isn’t a great fan of walking. I’m Rylana, by the way, his bookkeeper.”
“Oh? I assumed— Well, you rode on his back. You are not his mate?”
“Just his business partner.” Rylana thought of the bedroom set that had been delivered the night before, and that such gifts had never been a part of her father’s interactions with his senior staff, but she didn’t add to her comment.
“Rylana,” Jildarin said, “will calculate the cost of the ingredients and my time to ensure that the free meals you and your hound receive after finding the enchanted morels are of a suitable value to compensate you for your effort.”
“Ah.” Bixtok’s expression was somewhat rueful, and Rylana had a feeling he was here because he’d been too scared not to do as a dragon wished rather than because he felt he was being compensated fairly. “Willow and I will endeavor to find your mushrooms.”
Despite its obvious unease with the dragon, the hound wagged its tail a little at hearing its name and duty.
“Excellent,” Jildarin said.
Rylana opened a purse she’d brought along and withdrew a couple of gold coins. She waved for the gnome to take them. “Compensation for walking all the way out here and giving up your day.”
“Oh.” Bixtok brightened. “Thank you, ma’am. That’s most appreciated. It will buy fresh treats for Willow. She loves dehydrated bovine trachea and lamb lung.”
“Delicacies, I’m sure.”
Jildarin shook his head, frowning at the coins changing hands.
“I informed the gnome that he would be paid only if successful,” he told Rylana.
“We will be,” Bixtok assured them, then trotted back to his dog. The hound’s stay had retreated several trees farther back. Bixtok removed the leash attached to the dog’s collar and pointed into the woods. “Willow, hunt magic!”
The dog barked at Jildarin.
Jildarin sighed and looked at Rylana. “You paid before our employees’ abilities were proven.”
“You are magical,” she remarked. “I think that dog is pretty smart.”
“Not him,” Bixtok said and pointed into the woods again. “Hunt magic!”
After issuing another suspicious glare at Jildarin, the copper-furred hound bounded through the trees.
The white fur around her muzzle might have suggested age, but the dog moved fluidly and with great enthusiasm.
If not for the bright-green vest, it would have been hard to see her once she was deep in the undergrowth since the copper-colored fur blended into the forest.
“We think the morels are likely to be found in the areas that were burned earlier this spring by dragons,” Rylana called, waving to charred trees visible near the clearing. The undergrowth had already grown back, but the blackened trunks would take a long time to recover, if they ever did.
Bixtok waved an acknowledgment but jogged in the direction the hound had charged off. It hadn’t been toward the burned area.
“I guess I can check over there myself,” Rylana said.
Jildarin sighed again. “Perhaps I was premature in assuming this plan would work.”
Baying came from the forest.
“She’s already found something!” Bixtok called.
Rylana and Jildarin trotted in the direction of the deep bays, picking their way over logs, around berry bushes, and between ferns that left their trousers wet. A thorny vine snagged the hem of Jildarin’s white chef’s coat, and he glowered in exasperation at it. The entire bramble burst into flame.
“You’re a little moody this morning,” Rylana remarked.
“I find human clothing tedious at times. A bramble would never dare assault a dragon.”
“Only because your scales are hard, sleek, and snag-proof.”
“They are superior.”
“You could go naked, if you like.”
Jildarin’s expression grew thoughtful as they clambered through the undergrowth. The hound was visible ahead, her snout pointed into the crevices of a log as her whip-like tail wagged enthusiastically.
“I’ll warn you that naked humans aren’t quite as snag-proof as naked dragons,” Rylana said. “Skin isn’t as tough as scales, and, as a male, you have various protruding… bits that would be vulnerable.”
“You refer to what the goblins call the zerg stick.”
“And ogre melons, yes.”
“Those bits do seem sensitive and vulnerable.”
“I imagine so.”