Chapter 4 #2
“I doubt it’s appeal that sends the human female’s projectiles in my direction. You can tell Mother that I’m busy and will not mate with anyone right now.”
“Are you certain you can’t fly away for a couple of days?
As I already said, it’s tedious for me to have to be the intermediary.
Besides, you know that we dragons lost a significant number of our kind during the war.
As mighty as we are, the enemy had so very many troops to hurl against us.
Orcs, dwarves, humans, and even ogres and trolls who are usually too busy beating upon their chests to band together with the other species.
We need to do our part to replenish the numbers of dragons soaring up and down the Icefang and Skyfang Mountains. ”
“I understand, but I have no desire to spend time with the Sunclaw females. They’re Mother’s contemporaries, almost past egg-bearing age, and, as you yourself pointed out, they’re more aggressive and overbearing than our sisters.”
“Aggressive and overbearing?” Zilek asked. “You are describing all dragon females.”
“So, naturally I should want to fly home and spend time with them.”
Rylana shifted as another wagon passed, the driver peering curiously in her direction as a breeze stirred her hair.
This wasn’t the conversation she’d expected to listen in on, and she felt guilty for eavesdropping.
All she’d wanted to learn was if there was a way she could help the dragon she’d wronged, but she couldn’t do anything to assist him with his home life.
“You need only lend your essence to the procreation process,” Zilek said, “not bond with one forever. I’m certain, if you did so, Mother would reward you with gold from the clan hoard.”
“That’s not how you got your coins, is it?”
“The species must be perpetuated, my brother.”
“My essence isn’t for sale.”
They fell silent again as another breeze riffled through Rylana's hair.
With a start, she realized that breeze might carry her scent to the dragons.
She stepped away from the entrance, intending to hurry back to the coffee shop, but one of the doors flew open and banged on the side of the building.
She snatched the sign off the wall as the two brothers stepped into the doorway, both scowling at her.
“Were you spying upon dragons, human?” Zilek asked, his amber eyes flaring with indignation.
“No.” Rylana waved the sign in front of her, as if it were a shield that might protect her. “I’m here about the job.”
“This is my enemy, the female archer who shot me.” Jildarin looked at his brother as he thrust an accusing finger at Rylana.
“Oh, really?” Zilek’s indignation faded as he looked her up and down, and was that a hint of a smirk on his lips? “She’s scarcely five-and-a-half feet tall, and rather normal-ish in appearance. Her bow can’t be that huge.”
“I never said it was,” Jildarin said.
“The story you told after you were wounded suggested an ogre-sized female with arms like tree trunks launched arrows with such power that they might have been blown from a cannon.”
“My aim is excellent,” Rylana said, worried that Jildarin's darkening scowl would lead to her being attacked again, perhaps in a more calculated manner that wouldn’t bring the peacekeepers.
Even in human form, dragons had great strength.
Maybe Jildarin would throw one of the oversupplied ovens and crush her.
“But I’m an equally good bookkeeper. That’s why I’m an ideal candidate for you to hire.
My handwriting is also excellent. I wouldn’t fail to order an accurate number of kitchen supplies and equipment for you. ”
“You were spying.” Jildarin lifted an arm, starting to surge forward.
Rylana leaped back, but his brother also caught him from behind, keeping him from reaching her.
“Don’t slay her,” Zilek said. “You may need her.”
“Need an archer who enjoys shooting dragons? Who would need that?”
“Someone with ten gnomish commercial ovens crowding his cave,” Zilek said blandly.
Jildarin turned his scathing scowl on his brother. Unintimidated and still smirking, he didn’t leap back.
“Earlier, you didn’t let me explain my qualifications,” Rylana said.
“I grew up here in Tranquility—across the lake actually—and, despite eventually becoming a mercenary, I had a formal education. I can perform basic and advanced mathematics and have real-world experience from keeping the books for the Moon Daggers for almost ten years. I never accidentally ordered extra ovens or anything else, and I am sure I can help you with inventory as well as running your business. By my calculations, you need help.”
“Look, she wants to serve you.” Zilek thumped Jildarin on the chest with the back of his hand. “That’s how it’s supposed to work. Humans serve dragons instead of the other way around.”
“I’m seeking employment, not to be a servant,” Rylana said calmly, though she was developing a distaste for the brother. Too bad she hadn’t had an opportunity to shoot him.
“Of course, dear human.” Zilek smiled condescendingly at her.
“It’s Rylana. Rylana Avandar.”
“It was Sergeant Falcon during the war, wasn’t it?” Jildarin asked, eyes slitted as he regarded her.
“It was. I’m impressed that you learned my name. I was third in command of the Moon Daggers, and our unit merely worked for the joint kingdoms, so I wasn’t an important player in the grand scheme of things.”
Jildarin's eyes slitted further. “When we captured and interrogated one of your spies, I asked who the archer was who shot me.”
Unease crept into Rylana at the reminder of the many dark atrocities that had taken place during the war and that yet haunted her nightmares. She had little doubt that the spy he spoke of hadn’t survived that interrogation.
Refusing to appear weak or cowed before the dragons, Rylana lifted her chin. “That was wise. One should know the names of one’s enemies.”
“Thus to more easily identify them when they show up in your place of business as part of a plot to finish what they started a year earlier,” Jildarin said. “Do you think it’s not blatantly obvious why you’re here?”
“We’ve established that it’s not your wit that drew her.” Zilek appeared far less offended by Rylana's appearance—and spying—than his brother. Probably because she hadn’t shot him.
“Believe it or not,” Rylana said, keeping her focus on Jildarin, “I didn’t know that you were in the city or had anything to do with this diner until I saw you inside.
I haven’t been looking for you. The war is over, and dragons haven’t been in my thoughts at all.
” Aside from the nightmares she’d just been thinking about.
They’d grown less frequent these last couple of months, but they still reared up, causing her to wake with her heart pounding and sweat plastering her nightshirt to her body.
If she actually succeeded in getting this job, would working alongside a dragon cause the bad dreams to grow more frequent again?
Maybe Sylin had been right. Maybe this was a bad idea.
“If you hired her to serve you,” Zilek said, “you could more easily keep an eye on her than if she’s out here in the streets, skulking about the city.”
“My usual hobby,” Rylana muttered.
“I’m not hiring her,” Jildarin said. “I don’t need help.”
“You don’t need help?” Zilek pushed the carriage doors fully open.
Light flooded into the storeroom, revealing an even more crowded space than Rylana had imagined while listening to their conversation.
Crates, kegs, and sacks of oats, flour, and other bulk ingredients were stacked along the walls from cement floor to beamed ceiling.
Piles also bulged outward, encroaching upon an empty area in the center and an aisle stretching from the carriage doors to the hallway leading to the dining room.
Zilek pointed at ovens lined up along one wall. “You need a lot of help. Let her count your money and order your supplies. That is the work of a servant, regardless, not a dragon.”
“It’s the work of a bookkeeper,” Rylana said, “and it’s clear from the numerous signs you’ve put out that you’re in dire need of one.”
“There are two signs.” Jildarin snatched the one in her hand, then pushed the doors closed and glared at his brother again.
“By serving you and assisting you with this enterprise, perhaps she can make amends, and you will forgive her for shooting you,” Zilek said.
“She is my enemy. She’ll try to shoot me again!”
“That’s not allowed in Tranquility. She would have to stab you with a kitchen knife, and surely you’re capable enough, even in this diminished form—” Zilek plucked at his brother’s shirt fabric, “—to keep her from succeeding at that.”
“I am capable. You wouldn’t be here with Mother’s request otherwise.” Jildarin opened his mouth, as if to say more, but then he squinted suspiciously at Rylana again.
Was he wondering if she’d heard the portion of the conversation about his mother wanting him to share his essence with a female dragon?
Having no interest in bringing that topic up, Rylana pointed at the sign. “This doesn’t mention what the starting wage is.”
“And yet you wish to work for me, regardless. That is a sure indication that you plan duplicity.”
“No, I smelled the bacon cooking and was hoping meals would be included.”
“Bacon?” Zilek’s nostrils twitched. “I thought I caught the lingering scent of that even in the back. Are you making more of the seasoned bacon? Or the kind rubbed in alcohol? Bourbon, was it? I wouldn’t mind some. It was delicious.”
Jildarin was still squinting suspiciously at Rylana, but did his scowl lighten ever so slightly when his brother showed interest in his food?
“It is delicious,” Jildarin stated. “And I do feed my staff meals that occur during their work hours. But how would you trust that I wouldn’t poison yours?”
“Because you need me. I can find buyers for your surplus—very surplus—ovens to bring in some coins so you can pay your rent.”
“That sounds like a more reliable way to obtain gold than from Mother,” Zilek pointed out.
“Having an assassin pretend to work for me while scheming my death sounds reliable?” Jildarin asked.
“I’m an archer, not an assassin.” Rylana kept herself from mentioning that she was traveling with a comrade who held that occupation. That wouldn’t be a point in her favor. “An educated archer,” she said.
The way Zilek nodded with certainty at his brother, as if he actually knew Rylana, made her wonder why he cared about this. He was even pushing for Jildarin to hire her. He couldn’t want his brother assassinated, surely.
“Maybe,” Zilek said, “she’ll have such skill with the piddling affairs of running a business that you can leave for a few days to fly south and…” He glanced at Rylana, then finished by whispering, “put your wings to resolving affairs.”
Ah, was that the reason for the brother’s interest? Setting Jildarin up to end their mother’s nagging?
“I’m not putting my wings on the Sunclaw females,” Jildarin said.
“Mother will reward you.” Zilek winked, fished in a pocket, and withdrew and rubbed together two gold coins.
Jildarin shook his head and turned his sour expression on Rylana again. “Come in and assess the numbers, if you wish. Should you try to slay me, I’ll end you, the peacekeepers be damned.”
Without waiting for her response, he stalked inside.
Zilek grinned and wandered down the street, whistling cheerfully.
Why didn’t Rylana feel like she’d won a victory?