Chapter 16
As the wheel at the back of the steam-powered ferry churned, Rylana leaned against one of the side railings in a passenger area that was separate from the horse-drawn wagons and magic- and steam-powered carriages and lorries loaded for the trip.
Sylin stood at her side, her hood up and her hair pulled back so that its vibrant forest-green coloring wouldn’t be visible unless someone peered closely at her.
Rylana had chanced across her coming out of the coffee shop and invited her along.
Hopefully, the elves looking for Sylin wouldn’t realize what a magnetic pull that place had on her, or she would be easy to find.
The sun brightened the pale-blue sky, and, with only a slight breeze whispering across the lake, the water was calm, the movement of the ferry barely noticeable.
Rylana could make out Lucky Island and the boardwalk stretching to shore and noted they were past the point that Jildarin had said marked a spot where a dragon might fly without setting off the city’s security pillars.
She caught herself looking at the sky beyond the end of the lake, wondering if he and his brother had gone in that direction to hunt.
“At what point during this journey will you give me details about the job you promised? Or is this it?” Sylin waved at the ferry deck.
“I might very well have been moved to pay someone to come along for moral support,” Rylana said, “but, if you’ll recall, all I said when I invited you along was that if this trip didn’t lead to the answers I’m hoping for, I might need to hire you.”
“So, it was not a promise of work.”
“No. I was surprised you jumped in eagerness to accompany me.”
“The jumping had more to do with all the cups of fresh coffee that the waitress brought for me to sample. They have quite the stimulatory effect, something you’d be familiar with if you didn’t dilute yours so thoroughly with milk and chocolate.” Sylin sneered.
“Mochas and lattes sufficiently stimulate me. There’s someone leaving threatening messages at the diner, telling Jildarin to leave or else.”
“Or else what? Even I wouldn’t attempt to else a dragon. Not without a lot of allies.”
“The last message said a calamity would befall the diner, not Jildarin specifically. But, having grown up in Tranquility, I’ve seen that people can be emboldened to a foolish extent by the knowledge that the law protects them from violent repercussions.”
“Ah, yes. We discussed that before. They’re like dogs barking at passersby from behind a fence.”
“Exactly. When I first went south and joined the mercenaries, I was surprised by how polite everyone was around people who are armed and trained. As to the potential job… if I can’t ferret out what I want to learn, I may need someone to stake out the diner and capture whoever is leaving graffiti and lobbing rocks through the windows. ”
“Capture or kill?”
“Death would be a harsh punishment for someone painting a zerg stick on a door, don’t you think?”
“When I accept jobs, I don’t make ethical or moral judgments about the choices of those who hire me. I only count the coin to make sure it’s sufficient for the level of personal risk involved.”
“You’re a practical elf.”
“Always.”
“I don’t need an assassin,” Rylana said. “Just someone tough with good eyes who doesn’t mind lurking for hours on a rooftop to observe an area.”
“I charge an hourly rate for lurking. And I require the fee up front, especially from those who work for an employer who pays only in soup and bacon.”
“I’ll talk to Jildarin about arranging payment from the diner’s cashbox. Or he can pay you in food. He actually wanted your palate last night to sample some of his dishes. I understand there may be elves among the judges for his contest.”
“Remind me not to come to watch it, then.”
“Were you planning to? One doesn’t think of assassins as typical audience members for a cooking competition.”
“The uniqueness of watching a dragon chef might be enough to draw one. Does he flambé all his dishes?”
“I haven’t seen him flambé anything. Wait, that’s not true. I’ve noticed that the burner isn’t always on when he’s cooking, and, at last night’s meal, there was seared fish.”
“How seared?”
“Just on the outside. The inside was only lightly cooked.”
“Huh. That’s more finesse than I would expect from a dragon chef.”
“There was also a delicate custard dessert with a sugary top that was crystallized by heat.” For the first time, it occurred to Rylana to wonder if the peacekeepers knew dragons could create fire while in their human forms. Probably. They exuded magic even when shape-shifted.
“Delicate is not a word one usually applies to dragons.”
“You sure you don’t want to come to the cooking competition to watch him work? It could be fascinating. He invited me. Well, no. He commanded me to come.”
“Are you his employee or his servant?”
“His brother considers me a servant. And Jildarin…” Rylana scratched her jaw, not sure what exactly Jildarin considered her. He was calling her my enemy less frequently, but he hadn’t stopped altogether. “He has a commanding presence,” she finished with.
“That’s a safe way to describe a dragon. More apt than delicate, I’m sure.”
“The dessert he made was delicate. That’s all.”
Rylana turned toward the bow to regard the western shoreline, her family’s castle visible in stark detail as the ferry drew closer.
Numerous private docks jutted from the beaches and points, but there was only one public dock, a wide gravel road heading inland from it.
Neither the road nor the Avandar estate had changed much in the years she’d been gone, but some of the surrounding properties had been built up with additions or had sprouted new boathouses and gazebos.
“Yerin’s family lives up on the same bluff as my father’s castle, but it’s not quite visible because of the trees.” Rylana pointed. “It’s behind and down the road a bit from Avandar Estate.”
“You’re going to see the food critic? To ask about the lack of specificity in his review regarding ingredients?” Sylin didn’t sound excited by the prospect.
“I’m planning to talk him, yes.”
“I shouldn’t have been so eager to come along.”
“As you pointed out, all the coffee you consumed compelled eagerness.”
“True. I’d also hoped for adventure.”
“It’s possible we’ll find that.”
“This area looks sedate.” Sylin eyed the ritzy estates as the ferry docked, crewmen tying it up with ropes. Someone waved for the pedestrians to disembark before the wagons and carriages. “There probably aren’t armed elves strolling about, looking for me.”
“I can’t tell if that’s a positive or a negative for you.”
“Well, if said elves found me, they would be easier to deal with over here, where there aren’t peacekeepers swarming the roads like ants assailing a fallen cookie.”
“Tranquility’s laws are enforced all along the waterfront over here too.” As they walked off the ferry, Rylana pointed to a pillar half-hidden by tree leaves.
“Ah. I may not be able to stay long-term in this city.”
“Because of the enforced peace?”
“It’s kind of boring, isn’t it?”
“Maybe you could take up a new hobby. Do you want me to ask if Jildarin accepts apprentices?” Rylana led the way up the road, walking to the side to avoid the wagons and carriages heading inland from the ferry.
At the top of the bluff, the road branched to travel north and south along the lake, or one could continue inland toward the mountains.
“I do not,” Sylin said. “And is he even qualified to have an apprentice?”
“The flavors I’ve tasted thus far assure me that he is.”
“How did a dragon learn to cook? Don’t most of them eat the raw meat of whatever animal they killed two minutes earlier? That’s what I’ve observed when I’ve seen them hunting in the wild.”
“I’m not sure where he learned.” Rylana turned down the road that would lead to Yerin’s estate—and also past her family’s land.
A horse-drawn carriage clopped by, one of several heading in the same direction.
Rylana eyed the route ahead warily, having no idea what she would say if she ran into her father or any neighbors who remembered and recognized her.
Or would anyone look twice at her? It had been so long, and she’d had long hair when she’d left. Even people who’d known her as a girl might not recognize her at first glance.
Sylin followed her gaze to the castle in the middle of the grassy lawn, a low stone wall with wrought-iron bars on top of it providing separation from the road and the properties to either side.
A weathered copper plaque identifying the property as AVANDAR MANOR was mounted by the gate, the patina more advanced than when she’d left.
Rylana spotted someone walking between the castle and a wooden stable and veered to the far side of the road.
It wasn’t anyone she recognized, but she didn’t want to be seen.
One day, if she remained in Tranquility, she would visit her father and brother, to say hello and ask them how they were doing, but she dreaded the idea.
She would have to explain the decisions she’d made what seemed like a lifetime ago.
Assuming they cared enough to ask about her decisions.
Her father might still be disappointed that she hadn’t, after all the money he’d spent on tutors for her, gone into the family business.
That had probably offended him more than the fact that she had departed without leaving more than a terse letter.
She hoped things were going well and that her brother hadn’t also disappointed him.
“That’s your castle?” Sylin asked, no doubt having read the sign.
“It’s where I grew up, yes. I don’t claim any ownership of it.”
“It’s even more grandiose and pompous than I imagined.”
“Castles can’t be pompous.”