Chapter 20
Instead of landing outside the city and changing into his human form there, Jildarin flew over Tranquility and circled the swath of verdant green grass, bushes, and trees of the elven enclave.
“Are you letting the queen or her people know that you found the enchanted morels?” Rylana touched the sack in her lap; they’d found an impressive number of the mushrooms.
They might be rare in the forest as a whole, but many had grown in the area of the burned trees. Maybe because dragon magic had been involved in the fire, the area had been more vigorously inoculated than usual. Whatever the reason, they had enough to feed an elven army.
I am speaking with her now, Jildarin said. She is eager to try the dish but wants me to bring it to the enclave where it’s safe. I am informing her that I’ve arranged an evening event that is likely to draw her offspring.
Rylana shifted uneasily on his back. “Sylin knows about the coffee unveiling and that it’ll be at your diner, but… I’m not positive she will come. We can’t guarantee it.”
From what I have observed, her addiction to the flavored water and all things surrounding its creation is great.
“I know, but she likes living too. And as I was just reminded last night, there are elves who oppose her continuing to do so.”
Those who serve the queen and obey her wishes are unlikely to act against her offspring.
“I’m not sure about that. There are some in the enclave who seem loyal to that other family and have an agenda at cross purposes to that of the queen. They might not act against her, but I don’t think Sylin is safe from them in the least.”
Jildarin continued to fly slow circles around the enclave, high enough above the city that the pillars didn’t sound, but some people had noticed the silver dragon and were looking up and pointing.
I have amended my message and informed her that her offspring might come tonight and that she should also attend our event. It will be much easier for me to prepare a fresh and excellent meal in my own kitchen, and then serve it to her without delay while it is still hot.
“And if she dines in your chairs, you can put her name on your plaque.”
Certainly. Having to amend the plaque to say that we delivered takeout to the elven queen would not be as appealing.
Rylana patted him on the back and didn’t say more, but she wrestled with whether she should place the mushroom in the window to warn her comrade to stay away. She wanted Sylin to have a chance to speak with the queen if she ultimately desired that, but Rylana didn’t want to lure her into trouble.
I must also take some time this afternoon to research and consider how best to prepare the morels and what to serve them with. I have, of course, been contemplating ideas for days, but I must taste one myself before I decide.
“Good idea. Don’t forget that you originally enticed the elves with promises of rubbing them in coffee.”
That may be too pedestrian a flavor for such an important meal for a royal guest.
“If a love for coffee is genetic, it’s going to be a safe bet for the queen. As you’ve observed, Sylin loves it—potentially to her detriment.”
Jildarin scoffed—or at least she assumed that was what the noisy throat-clearing sound indicated when issued by a dragon. It was also possible he would soon hawk up the bones of his last meal. I do not believe that food preferences are inherited.
“You never know. Maybe you should have discussed the queen’s favorite dishes with her so you wouldn’t have to guess. Did that subject come up during any of your previous encounters with her?”
Most of my encounters with her were during the war. We did not discuss food. As I recall, most of the meetings where she spoke and I was invited centered around troop movements, enemy intelligence, and plans to assault key infrastructure and supply lines.
“The queen spoke about such things? Not some elven general?”
Indeed. Her high-ranking military officers were present, but she knew much about the happenings of the war.
“Huh. Maybe she and Sylin are more alike than I would have guessed.” Rylana recalled that even though her comrade hadn’t been an officer, she’d always known what was going on and had never struggled to understand the machinations of war. “The coffee may be a good idea.”
Jildarin rumbled a noncommittal, Hm, that was almost a deep growl in his dragon form. Perhaps I will apply the coffee rub to some of the morels.
“Yes. The ones you serve to the queen.”
When he gave her a somewhat baleful look over his shoulder, Rylana winked at him.
Before heading out of the city to a spot where he could legally land in his dragon form, Jildarin flew over the diner.
A large black steam-powered carriage was parked in front of the coffee shop.
Even before Rylana recognized the sun-and-harpoon logo on the sides and top, she knew with sinking certainty that her brother had arrived.
She’d wanted that, she reminded herself, and was a little surprised he’d bothered to come to the coffee shop, per the note she’d left behind. Especially given the threatening tenor of Jildarin’s message.
“Can you set me down there?” Rylana pointed to the carriage.
Should I descend in my dragon form, the odious pillars will blare their alarms.
“I know, but if you fly right back out of the area, the peacekeepers shouldn’t object that much, right?”
They have previously threatened to evict me from the city and close my diner.
“That’s my brother’s carriage. I need to talk to him to make sure he doesn’t get us evicted.
” Rylana admitted that Frodin’s influence was only likely to get them expelled from their building, not the city, so maybe it wasn’t worth risking Jildarin flying down.
But her brother might leave in the time it would take for them to walk from the outskirts of Tranquility to the diner.
Very well. If the queen’s offspring is there imbibing flavored water, inform her of the importance of her prompt arrival for the tasting and dinner tonight.
Rylana patted him on the scales again but didn’t agree to that. She doubted Sylin was in the coffee shop now and wouldn’t make that request, regardless.
The two nearest pillars started gonging once Jildarin was within fifty feet of the ground. He folded his wings in, aiming for the carriage.
You will place the morels carefully in the temperature-controlled cooling box in our kitchen before you speak with your kin, he stated as he landed on the carriage, directly atop the logo for Sun Whale Shipping.
“Will do.” Rylana slid off. “Thank you.”
Jildarin sprang into the air, passersby on the street gaping and pointing, with some of the wiser among them taking cover. A young woman called, “It’s the dragon chef! There’ll be extra good food this evening if he’s flown off to hunt for some!”
“True,” Rylana murmured as she climbed off the carriage.
Since it was controlled by magic, there wasn’t a driver for her to explain her arrival to. Before heading into the coffee shop, she made herself run into the diner to put away the mushrooms.
“Did you find them?” Zalani called when she spotted the sack.
Gniknik was following along behind a dusting and mopping contraption, pressing buttons and waving a wrench as his device sputtered and whirred, running a little lopsided.
“We were successful, yes.” Rylana showed them the sack before putting it away, grabbing the antique hunting horn from her belongings in the back, then jogging across the street.
She found Frodin standing between the carriage and the front door of the coffee shop, a beaver-fur cap perched on his tousled black hair, his broad shoulders looking like they belonged more to a wrestler than a businessman.
Despite his athletic build, he had a hand on his carriage door and was looking toward the intersection, like he was considering fleeing.
With Jildarin gone, the pillars had fallen silent, but people in the street were still speaking of the dragon sighting.
“Thanks for coming, Frodin,” Rylana said without commenting on the partially opened carriage door and his poised-to-flee stance.
“Oh, hello, Ry.” After glancing toward the other intersection and at the sky, he faced her. “Did you know that dragon left a threatening note at the office yesterday?”
“Yes, I was with him. He’s my business partner.”
“Right. I’d heard about… some of that.” Frodin waved vaguely. “Through Father and Tharla. I’ve also heard he can be surly.”
“Only if you’re trying to get him evicted from his building. Or having coitus in the dining room, though that doesn’t happen as often now that he’s adjusted the amount of dragon spices he uses in his soup.”
Frodin mouthed, “Coitus,” with a furrowed brow before focusing on the first sentence. “You figured out I had something to do with that, eh? I guess I knew that when I saw your note, though it only mentioned coffee.”
“Yes. Why are you trying to get us booted?”
“Really just you.”
“Jildarin is my partner. It’s his business that he started. I’m mostly the bookkeeper.”
“You always were good with numbers. Better than me. Which is why Father keeps talking with longing about you working in the business now that you’re back.” Frodin arched his eyebrows.
“This business is more appealing to me.” Rylana tilted her thumb toward the diner and customers heading in, perhaps believing the sighting of the dragon meant the next meal service would start early.
“Working with a dragon is more appealing to you than working with Father?” Frodin didn’t sound that surprised; maybe his smile was even rueful. “Maybe your partner is less draconian.”
“I don’t know if that’s true. What’s this all about, Frodin?”
“I want you to take my position working for Father so that I can go off and have an adventure for seventeen years. You’ve had your turn.”
“Don’t you have a wife and kids?” Rylana felt guilty that she hadn’t yet made a point to go visit him and meet his family, but since he was scheming against the diner—against her—maybe she shouldn’t regret that choice.