Chapter 2
Alarms gonged as the dragon leaped from the rooftop and onto the street, roaring again as his emerald eyes locked onto Rylana.
She had no trouble reading the intent to kill in them.
He crouched, not able to spread his wings fully because of the storefronts on either side of the street, but nothing impeded his legs, the powerful muscles that would let him spring at her.
Before the man had changed into a dragon, he’d seemed familiar, but now that he stood before Rylana in his natural form, she remembered seeing him before.
She remembered shooting him before. It had been from a high perch above a mountain valley while human, orc, and dwarven soldiers had battled against elves and dragons on the battlefield below.
Eyes ablaze, the dragon roared again, drowning out the gongs coming from a pillar in a nearby intersection, and she knew he remembered her too. He opened his maw wider, and all the passersby that had been in the street scattered. Drivers of wagons abandoned them, rushing into doorways or alleys.
Rylana backed farther away, glancing around a corner and toward one of those alleys.
She turned and sprinted toward it, and none too soon.
Flames roiled from the back of the dragon’s throat, spraying the cobblestones where she’d stood.
The brilliant light and intense heat followed her into the alley.
She would have sprinted for the end, hoping to lose the dragon in the city, but an authoritative call of, “Halt, dragon!” came from the other side of the diner.
More alarms gonged from pillars in other intersections throughout the area. Soon, the entire city would know about this.
The order to stop didn’t keep the dragon from stomping to the entrance of the alley. His long silver neck snaked around the corner, his eyes focusing again on Rylana as he once more opened his maw.
She threw her knife at one of those emerald eyes, then sprinted toward the end of the alley.
The dragon turned his head to avoid what would have been a precise strike at her target, and the blade glanced off his scaled cheek.
As she’d feared, unlike the mithril-headed arrows she’d loosed on the battlefield, the simple steel blade didn’t even scratch him. All it did was piss him off. Further.
The dragon roared again. He was too large to rush into the alley, but he crouched, probably to spring over it and land on the street one block over.
But a magical net flew at him from the side, the strands sizzling as they touched his flank and stuck to him.
Two twelve-foot-tall golems strode into the alley from the opposite end, their brownish-gray bodies appearing to be made from stone, but magic making them far more impervious.
Three-foot-tall gnomes in gray peacekeeper uniforms and armed with stun sticks and net hurlers gathered behind the golems, commanding them to stride past Rylana and toward the dragon.
He’d paused in his attack to snarl to the side at whoever had hurled the net. More peacekeepers, presumably.
In most of the world, nobody would consider the diminutive gnomes, no taller than a goblin and less muscular, suitable for law enforcement, but here, in this city that they’d made with the help of the new god, everyone knew they had the magical wherewithal—and the divine blessing—to ensure people obeyed the laws.
“Halt, dragon!” someone called from the street again.
More golems appeared on either side of his netted flanks.
“You are in violation of the laws of Tranquility. If you do not immediately change into a benign form, we will force you out of the city and close your establishment.”
The dragon seethed, tail rigid and muscles taut. Would he have the power or be able to use his fire to destroy the net that covered him?
Perhaps, but, at the gnomes’ threat, he looked toward the diner, and he didn’t try.
Smoke wafted from his nostrils when he glowered back into the alley at Rylana, showing his fangs again before closing his maw.
But in the end, surrounded by peacekeepers and their golems, the dragon shifted forms, the air rippling around him like a mirage in the desert.
Once more, he stood as a man, his short silver hair now tousled and his clothing rucked and wrinkled.
He plucked at the netting, grimacing as it sizzled and probably zapped him the way the ribbon had Rylana, but he focused on removing it instead of looking at the golems and gnomes that had encircled him.
The golems were expressionless, as always, mere automatons doing their duties, but the gnomes looked sternly at the dragon, and one stepped forward to address him.
Rylana thought about slipping away, especially since the peacekeepers might take issue with her having thrown a knife, but she risked creeping forward. Maybe she could retrieve the blade from the cobblestones where it had landed before anyone noticed it.
“Jildarin-grozanarav,” the head gnome said.
Was that the dragon’s name? Even though Rylana had battled him, she’d never known it.
It did sound familiar, like he might have been one of the generals or clan leaders during the war.
Such important beings had been mentioned in the orders and reports that had come down from the kingdom militaries.
What in either hell was he now doing here in Tranquility running a diner?
“I am Patrol Captain Dindarik, and you are in violation of Tranquility law. You’ve changed into your dangerous native form outside of your lair, something that is expressly forbidden.
Have any been injured or slain?” The gnome peered into the alley and also toward the storefronts and wagons, one of which was in flames.
“I see that goods have been damaged. At the least, there will be a fine.”
The dragon—Jildarin—sighed and looked at Rylana, curling a lip when she picked up her knife.
Sylin appeared, stepping past a couple of gnomes to peer into the alley.
Her wooden case of daggers was in hand, but she must have seen the peacekeepers and golems approaching, because she hadn’t tried to break the tranquility ribbon tying it closed.
Rylana waved that she was all right.
The patrol captain pulled a mechanical device out of a pocket and started tapping on a button. It glowed with his touches and whirred softly. As the dragon finished extricating himself from the netting, a paper spat out from a slot in the top of the device.
“This is an official warning. Should you change into your dragon form again on public streets, you will be forced to leave the city. At the bottom, you will see a fine listed for your infraction. You may pay it at Peacekeeper Headquarters. The address is listed at the bottom.” Captain Dindarik handed the paper to the dragon, who accepted it with another lip curl, but, after looking at his diner again, he didn’t object.
Maybe it was strange, since the dragon had tried to kill her scant moments earlier, but Rylana felt a twinge of sympathy toward him. After all, he was only being fined because he’d reacted strongly to her arrival.
“As you were warned when you entered the city,” the patrol captain added, “such behavior is not tolerated within Tranquility’s borders or near Luminous Lake’s shorelines.
Should you wish to hunt in your native form, you must first leave the city.
” Dindarik looked at Rylana to address her.
“Given the nature of the incident, and your obvious need to defend yourself, you will not be warned or fined at this time for hurling a blade with the intent to harm.”
Rylana had already sheathed the knife and lifted her open hands, resisting the urge to say something snarky. Sylin had disappeared from view again. Had the peacekeepers frowned at her for pulling out her knife case?
When the golems and their gnome handlers departed, the gong noises finally fading, Jildarin glared at her.
Rylana tensed. She didn’t think he would attack again, probably more because he didn’t want to lose his diner than because he cared about fines—though he did glare down at the paper, the tendons of his hands taut, as if he was tempted to ball it up and throw it away.
Instead, he smoothed it, folded it once, and tucked it into a pocket.
He also smoothed his clothes as he resumed glaring at Rylana.
“What do you want, foul enemy? To attempt to slay me again? The gnomes will not permit that, any more than they will allow me to kill you. Regretfully.”
“My name is Rylana, and I came to apply for the position of bookkeeper at the Dragon Diner.”
As he stared at her, his jaw slack with disbelief, Sylin appeared again, stepping into the alley to stand at Rylana's shoulder. The support would have meant more if Sylin hadn’t been holding a paper cup with coffee inside, as if she’d wandered off in the middle of the chaos to place an order.
“You are not hired,” Jildarin stated and walked out of view and back toward his diner.
“Are you sure working for your father isn’t an option?” Sylin sipped from her cup.
“Yes.” Rylana raised her eyebrows as Sylin smacked her lips in some assessment of the brew.
“Now that he’s changed back into a man, a lot of people have flowed out into the street to watch,” Sylin said. “The coffee shop owners and the bakery dwarf are taking this opportunity to hand out free samples. This is surprisingly good, all things considered.”
“All things considered? Did you think the presence of a dragon or me nearly being incinerated would affect the flavor?”
“No, but I didn’t expect a quality beverage to be foisted on me by a street peddler.”
“Was it foisted on you, or did you rush over to get it as soon as you smelled coffee? I’ll bet you were first in line for that sample.”