Chapter 15
After finishing her mocha, Rylana returned to the diner, intending to ask Jildarin if she could leave early and try to find Yerin.
The lack of ingredients mentioned in the review didn’t mean anything and was scant evidence that he was up to something shifty, but if she spoke to him, maybe she could learn more about his motives and also find out who the other competitors in the Golden Whisk were.
It was between meal services, and she found Jildarin not in the kitchen but in the storeroom in the back, talking to his brother. They noticed her approaching from the hallway, so she didn’t have an opportunity to spy this time.
“Ah, your new servant.” Zilek smirked and extended an arm toward her. “You can command her to stay tonight and oversee the distribution of your cherished morsels.”
“She has worked here for only a short time. She is not who I would leave in charge, should I desire to accompany you to your meeting, which I do not.”
“Are you certain? She has a stern aspect about her which might instill good behavior in your other servants. Some of them are, shall we say, capricious. If not erratic.”
“They perform adequately at their serving duties.”
“The goblin attempted to wheedle five extra silver coins out of me while inspecting the heft of my purse. Lesser species are terribly emboldened in dealing with dragons in this city.”
“Did you give it to him?”
“I did not.”
“Check your purse later. You may have.”
“I’m aghast at the mere implication, dear brother. Sternness is required here.” Zilek pointed again at Rylana.
Standing in the hallway, she didn’t know whether to feel insulted and indignant, or simply agree.
From what she’d seen since starting work here, Zalani was the most reliable of the staff and a more likely candidate to oversee a meal service.
As the bookkeeper, Rylana didn’t feel qualified.
As far as sternness went… Well, she had been an officer in the Moon Daggers for years, so maybe she exuded more schoolmarm firmness than feminine whimsy.
When Jildarin only sighed in response, Zilek continued. “Further, it is not a meeting, dear brother—what a pedestrian term—but a culinary, cultural event, a delicious one at that. And, as I mentioned, attending the conclave could present you with an opportunity.”
“I am not interested in your opportunity.”
“What opportunity?” Rylana risked asking, though neither dragon had invited her to participate in the conversation. If Zilek wanted to bring someone to a social gathering where chefs would be present, maybe she could volunteer to attend and sell a few more ovens.
“Zilek is attempting to entice me into going to his monthly wine club meeting,” Jildarin said, “and there is nothing culinary about listless legatees swilling alcohol.”
“We don’t swill it but sample it, and people from all walks of life may attend, providing someone gives them an invitation and they’re capable of bringing the required fine vintages for all to enjoy.
The goal is not to become sloshed, as the humans call it, or trokdon, as the dwarves say.
One desires to have good and intelligent conversation—inasmuch as the lesser species are capable of such—while appreciating and discussing the merits of the offerings. ”
“Are there chefs there?” Rylana looked toward the tidy row of ovens, a few having been sold but more remaining.
“Oh, not many of the members toil in any capacity anymore, certainly not in a hot and chaotic kitchen. They are generally retired or independently wealthy. Many are, however, attuned to the culinary world, as I informed my brother, and it’s possible one might even be a judge at his little contest.”
“The judges haven’t been announced,” Jildarin said, “thus to ensure nobody can send them bribes to sway their vote, which would be fruitless regardless, since the meals will be tasted and rated blindly.”
“Ah, but I suspect one might be drawn from this esteemed crowd,” Zilek said.
“Regardless, should you attend with me, it would give you an opportunity to schmooze with the elites of the city. The gnomish mayor Sedgewick is a frequent attendee. As is the retired dwarven rock-violin virtuoso, Dondark. I’ve learned through my interactions with them that they’ve previously been recruited to judge the various cultural contests hosted in Tranquility. ”
“I will not win the Golden Whisk because I schmoozed with influential city dwellers. I will win because my dishes are superior.”
“Then simply go to enjoy the wine and take an evening off. You labor in this constrained box all hours of the day every day.” Zilek waved toward the walls. “When was the last time you left the city, assumed your native form, and went for a hunt?”
“Not recently, but that would appeal more than a wine meeting.”
“It is a conclave,” Zilek corrected, “not a simple meeting. But if you’ll not attend, let us go for a hunt. I crave the companionship of another dragon, and you need to stretch your wings. I am certain of it.”
Jildarin sighed again and looked at Rylana. Maybe she should have left. Neither mayors nor violinists sounded like the kinds of people who would be searching for a good deal on a gnomish commercial oven, so her interest in the meeting—the conclave—had faded.
“Perhaps I will hunt.” Jildarin rotated his shoulders, muscles bunching against the fabric of his shirt. “It has been some time, and this work can leave me tense.”
“Perhaps it is your rigid obsession that leaves you tense,” Zilek suggested. “Should you go south to mate with Mother’s female friends, you would doubtless find the act a release, and you would return refreshed.”
“Friends?” Jildarin asked. “More than one seeks my… me?”
“You should not have been so ferocious and deadly during the war. You know such competence and savagery bestirs the female libido.” Zilek looked at Rylana.
Her cheeks flushed as the previous night’s memories came to mind. It had been Jildarin's soup that had bestirred her libido, not his savagery.
“This is a private conversation,” she said. “I’ll go record the totals from the breakfast and lunch services in the books. By my calculations, this diner is on the verge of turning a profit for the first time. From the food and service, not only from selling surplus equipment.”
As if he knew exactly why she was rushing away, Zilek chuckled.
Was it possible Jildarin had spoken to him about her…
antics before she’d arrived? Rylana hoped not and grabbed the cashbox from the diner and ducked into the office and opened the accounting book she’d purchased.
Only as she sat down did she realize she could still hear the brothers speaking.
“As a dragon, I would see her only as an enemy,” Zilek was saying, “especially since she fought against our kind in the war, but when I am in my human form, I find her somewhat… Well, let us just say that her sternness has some appeal. And the outline and contours of her body, yes?”
Rylana's cheeks warmed again as she stared at the page of numbers. He wasn’t talking about her having sex appeal, was he?
“I do not know of what you are speaking,” Jildarin said.
“Her feminine attributes, my brother.”
“Her what?”
“Oh, she is not as strikingly appealing as that female elf who was with her the day she spied upon us, but her face is without blemishes or scars, and her lips are full and her breasts an ample size to draw the eye. As a former soldier, she presumably has a degree of lithe athleticism as well.”
Rylana's cheeks did more than heat, and she glanced at the door of the small office, wanting to shut it and not hear any more. But there wasn’t a window in the little room, so it would be harder to see the pages, and a crate also propped the door open.
If she moved it, she would make noise, and the dragons might realize that if they could hear her, she could hear them.
Though Zilek probably didn’t care if his musings were overheard.
He wasn’t doing anything to keep his voice from carrying.
“The half-elf who serves you is softer with more luscious hair, which is a somewhat intriguing mammalian attribute,” Zilek continued, “but I think she might be overly amenable. Even if a dragon doesn’t want to be slain by his partner, he does enjoy a challenge.
Still, I’ve considered commanding her to serve me more than steaks.
I see from your ongoing blank expression that you’ve not considered ordering the females around you to do more than carry trays. ”
“I do not even know what consideration is on your mind.”
“Why sex, of course. Have you never engaged in it while in the form of another species? It is quite pleasurable, and when it comes to the two-legs, you hardly ever have to worry about their females thrashing about and biting your neck in the throes of passion. Not enough to kill you anyway. The last half-elf who entered my bedchamber was prone to nips.”
“Why would you want to have coitus while in this form? There can be no offspring produced during such a union. Only the species that are closely related to each other phylogenetically may create young.”
“For humans, elves, dwarves, and many of the other two-legs, sex is not always about creating young.”
“There is no logical reason to have coitus if that is not the goal.”
Zilek chuckled. “Have you not had any urges in this form that suggest pleasure might be a logical reason to engage? You must let yourself leave this cave and experience more of the world, my brother.”
“You have convinced me that I would enjoy experiencing a hunt. Nothing more.”
“That is a start, I suppose.”
Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and Rylana grabbed a pen and bent low over the accounting book, pretending she had been too engrossed in the work to hear the second half of the conversation.
Jildarin walked past without slowing, and she heard him ask Zalani to watch over the diner, saying he had started dinner preparations and would return in time to finish them.