Chapter 23
After speaking with Captain Tassani, Rylana circled the bakery to enter via its alley. She waved to Mya in the kitchen and started up the stairs to the attic.
“She left a while ago,” Mya called as she opened an oven door to remove currant buns. The warm scents of lemon zest, cinnamon, and allspice, as well as tart berries, wafted into the air. “To scout, she said.”
Despite the words, Rylana peeked into the attic, well aware of her comrade’s ability to come and go without being noticed. Her bedroll was laid out in a corner, but she wasn’t there.
“Thanks, Mya,” Rylana said, wishing she’d caught Sylin. Hopefully, her scouting had allowed her to see all the elves and maybe even spy on them for long enough to get the same bad feeling as Tassani. With luck, Sylin was already on her way out of the city.
“Of course.” Mya reached into a basket and grabbed two currant buns from a previous batch that had cooled and been frosted. She offered them to Rylana.
“One for me and one for Sylin, if I run into her?”
“For you and whomever you would like to share with. Did you know that orcs believe black currants have divinely appointed special properties? They think that sprinkling powdered currants around the entrances of their traditional mud-and-thatch huts cleanses the space, protects the home, and wards off negativity.”
“I may need that whole basket of them.”
“Those are already allocated for a special order, but I have some fresh currants in the icebox if you wish. Of course, you would have to dry them before you could turn them into powder.”
“If I pelt elves with them as they are, will that ward off negativity?”
“Pelting might prompt negativity. Or negative reactions at least.”
“Elves can be a little uptight,” Rylana said.
“Pelting can cause many people to grow uptight.”
“The world is a tense and humorless place of late.” Accepting the two buns but not taking Mya’s spare currants, Rylana waved and departed.
As she walked back across Acorn Street, she spotted another squad of elves striding toward the diner, all grim-faced and armed. Tranquility ribbons dangled from their weapons, but, after speaking with Tassani, Rylana didn’t feel reassured that violence wouldn’t break out tonight.
Should she invite a few peacekeepers to be present for the dinner service? They would come eventually if a fight erupted, but they had a knack for arriving late.
She glanced at the windowsill under Jildarin’s glowing Golden Whisk prize and decided she would put the morel of warning on it for Sylin. As Rylana thought of mushrooms, an idea popped into her head. Ah, yes. That might be more effective than the peacekeepers.
She hurried past the elves from the first squad, most having settled at tables in the dining room, the rest upstairs monitoring the rooftop.
When she stepped into the kitchen, it was rich with scintillating aromas that announced wild turkey, quiche, soup, and numerous sumptuous sauces would accompany the mushrooms. Several frangipane tarts cooling on racks promised there would be a delicious dessert to go with the coffee.
The recipe book on mushrooms remained open near the oven, though Jildarin was striding confidently about the kitchen, tending the numerous dishes in progress and looking like he’d fully decided on the menu.
Most of the enchanted morels had disappeared into this or that, but some remained on the counter, and Rylana nodded, figuring there was enough for her idea to work.
If she could get Jildarin to agree to it.
“Do you have a minute?” she asked when he noticed her. “I need to relay a warning I received.”
“From one of the pompous elves striding about my diner, without having requested my permission to do a search?”
“Yes, from one of those.”
Jildarin looked sourly at her.
“You must have expected troops to come along as an escort for the queen,” Rylana said.
“Not pompous troops.”
“Really? They are elves.”
“Elves are usually respectful of dragons.”
“And only pompous with everyone else?”
“Correct. That officer was presumptuous.” Jildarin waved as the lieutenant strode past in the hallway.
“Considering what he did to my underwear, I won’t disagree. But I need a favor, Jildarin.” Rylana stepped forward and flipped to the page in the book that mentioned the side effects of enchanted morels.
He was mouthing, “Underwear,” with a furrowed brow but allowed his gaze to be drawn to the text.
“Captain Tassani doesn’t trust all the elves he brought along, putatively to protect the queen as she dines, to precisely follow his orders.
He was a little vague, but he said he has a bad feeling.
I think he believes some of those elves are loyal to the Shaldona family more than they are to the queen, and might attack Sylin if she shows up.
You were there when Fareesa said they don’t want to see an heir spontaneously appear, right?
” Rylana knew he’d been there; she didn’t know if he’d been distracted by scheming up ways to entice the queen to the diner.
“I recall the story, yes. Your assassin comrade has proven adept at avoiding the elves seeking to harm her.”
“Yeah, but this time is different. I know you were just trying to get the queen to come to the diner, but you’ve set up Sylin to show up too, and she might be in danger if she does.”
Jildarin gazed at her, his face hard to read.
Rylana didn’t want to outright say he would be to blame if Sylin were hurt, especially since she doubted he’d intended his scheme to harm anyone, but this had been his idea.
Even now, the aroma of the first brewing of black ivory coffee wafted through the air, adding its rich scent to the others present.
“I did intend for the flavored waters to draw Sylinesla,” Jildarin said, “and for her to draw the queen, but I believed you would approve. Family is important, and, when it is possible, especially among the intelligent species, offspring should have a relationship with their dams and sires.”
“I don’t disagree with that, but the politics revolving around this particular relationship are complicated. As I said, Sylin is going to be in danger if she shows up tonight, and I think she knows that, but she’s drawn. Because of her curiosity about the elf queen, and… menu item number three.”
Jildarin mouthed the latter.
“You don’t use anything digested by animals in your cooking, do you?”
She’d meant it as a joke, but he considered his answer seriously. “Rennet, which is employed in cheesemaking, is extracted from the stomach lining of young ruminants.”
“I… am learning a lot more about the culinary world than I ever wanted.”
“It is appropriate for the bookkeeper and partner in a diner business to be well-informed on such topics.” Jildarin glanced at the book. “What favor do you request?”
“I’d like for the queen and Sylin to be able to enjoy a nice chat without being attacked by turncoat elves.
Captain Tassani said that only some of the troops he brought would be standing beside the queen on the rooftop and that others would be enjoying a meal in the diner so this event doesn’t look like some strange military occupation by an invasion force. ”
“My diner will not be occupied.”
“Call it what you want, a lot of elves are going to be here, and if their own captain doesn’t trust them, they could be problematic.”
“I can deal with any problems that might arise.”
“Aren’t you going to be busy in the kitchen? Don’t take this the wrong way, Jildarin, but when you’re focused on your cooking, you don’t always notice the world going on around you.”
“I would notice an invasion force drawing arms.”
“What if it’s up on the rooftop? You can’t see that from here.
Look, here’s my idea. It won’t even require violence.
In fact, it could stop it. I’d like you to make a special batch of your sautéed mushrooms, one that uses more than the recommended amount of enchanted morels.
Quite a bit more. Enough for the side effects to occur.
” Rylana rested her finger on the line about how an overdose could make people fall into a deep magical slumber from which they cannot be woken for a full day and night.
Jildarin drew back, his mouth opening. “You want me to risk rendering the queen unconscious? And what of this?” He gripped her arm and moved her finger to the line about excess mushrooms causing intense intestinal distress.
“Not the queen. Just her people. Her armed guards. Make them a special batch.”
“I’m not going to give the elves who eat in my diner fluid evacuations!”
“I’d rather not see that either, especially since I also use the lavatory here, but the elves would survive, and they wouldn’t be able to threaten Sylin. Or anyone else.”
“What if the queen ate from the wrong dish?”
“She would survive too. I’m not asking you to poison anyone.”
“As a chef, to deliberately inflict intestinal distress on one’s diners would be the greatest form of sacrilege. I refuse to consider it.”
“The very fact that you’re appalled—a professional chef would never be suspected of doing such a thing—is why it would work.
They’ll cheerfully eat your mushrooms, then pass out, and the queen and Sylin can chat without being attacked.
” Rylana reached for his arm, wanting to give him a conciliatory—and maybe encouraging—pat.
But Jildarin stepped back, frowning fiercely. “My enchanted morel dish will be prepared with care and precision, not with an overdose of intestine-twisting mushrooms. To deliberately drug someone with my cooking would never be acceptable under any circumstances.”
“You drug people all the time with your magical dragon spices.”
“Those create only the pleasant side effect of making people love the food. Even if they consume large quantities, they only develop lust for each other. They don’t drop into a coma or require emergency lavatory use.
” Jildarin lifted his chin, as affronted as she’d ever seen him.
“I refuse to intentionally create distress in those who dine from my plates.”
Rylana lifted her hands. “I understand that you want people to enjoy your food, not get crippling cramps from it, and I don’t blame you at all.
I’d certainly never suggest serving such a meal to the queen or an ally or a customer.
But those elves have been harassing us in one way or another for weeks, and they may mean to kill Sylin—the queen’s daughter. It’s not what the queen wants.”
“May mean. You have no proof. Only that captain’s feeling. And the elves have not harassed me.”
“No.” Rylana lowered her hands. “That’s true. It’s only been me and my friend that they’ve been pestering since we walked into town.”
“Elves were allies to dragons in the war and for many generations before.”
“I understand.” And Rylana did. That didn’t keep her from feeling hurt that he wouldn’t stand beside her in this.
Maybe she even felt a little betrayed. They were partners, and he’d said he valued her.
She believed he valued her. But… not enough to go against his principles.
Logically, she couldn’t blame him for that.
Emotionally… Well, she doubted she kept her disappointment from showing on her face.
She wouldn’t push him further though, and she forced a smile as she said, “All right. We’ll hope for the best and see what happens.
I’ll take my bow and quiver upstairs for the coffee tasting. Just in case.”
The grunt Jildarin issued as she turned to leave sounded more exasperated than sympathetic.
More than concern for her friend’s safety left a knot in Rylana’s stomach, but she squared her shoulders. Before stepping out of the kitchen, she grabbed one of the normal morels off the counter.
Mindful of all the elves now seated at the booths, some of whom watched her passing, Rylana casually set it in the windowsill, the warning for Sylin that they’d arranged. But would her friend heed it?