Chapter 26 #2
As one, the people in the benches also stood and turned to look. The judges did, too, and some of the chefs paused. Others, determined to win, did not.
Rylana didn’t see a dragon in the sky, despite the goblin jumping up and down, and shouting, “There, there! It just flew behind the castle on the far side of the lake.”
Rylana turned in the opposite direction—toward the stage—and jumped onto a bench. She was positive the goblin was trying to distract everyone because… Because why?
There. An unassuming man with a press pass rose from his seat behind the stage. He pulled a crossbow out from behind him, no sign of a tranquility ribbon knotting it, and pointed it at the contestants. No, at Jildarin.
From her elevated position on the bench, Rylana could and did hurl one of the bags of rock candy over the stage and at the man. But it was a long way to throw such a heavy projectile, and she doubted it would reach.
“Get down, Jildarin!” Rylana shouted as she leaped to the ground and ran toward the side of the stage.
The crossbow fired, but it wasn’t loaded with a deadly quarrel. Instead, a cylindrical glass vial flew toward Jildarin's station.
He’d heard her warning and ducked low. The projectile sailed over his head and landed on the ground beside the judges’ tables. It shattered, gritty gray-green powder flying up.
“Keep cooking,” the announcer cried, though she dropped her megaphone and waved for the peacekeepers to investigate the trouble. “Once the sands of the hourglass start, they cannot be stopped!”
Closer to the press seating now, Rylana threw another bag of rock candy.
The crossbowman had reloaded and was aiming a second vial, and he didn’t see her projectile coming.
It smacked him in the forehead. He pitched backward, dropping his weapon.
It fired wildly as it fell, and a vial landed on the stage and shattered several yards from Jildarin.
He only glanced at the spot and continued cooking.
Several uniformed gnomes ran toward the crossbowman with two golems stomping after. Rylana lifted another bag of rock candy, but she’d hit the attacker hard enough that he remained down, curled on his side and grabbing his forehead.
When Rylana checked on the goblins, the arsonist was jumping off the top bench. He sprinted away from the arena, darting down the rocky slope toward the lake and out of view.
On the stage, Yerin lunged toward the vial that had shattered. He grabbed some of the powder that had fallen out and looked toward Jildarin.
“Watch out!” Rylana warned again and ran toward the stage.
But a golem and two peacekeepers intercepted her. One of the gnomes wore the rank of captain, and she cursed. He was probably in charge of the entire security detail here. And he was after the wrong person.
“I’m helping,” Rylana said, attempting to dart around them. “Yerin is trying to sabotage Jildarin. He knows he’s going to lose!”
Though she was fast, the magical golems had even greater speed, and a stone-like hand clamped onto her arm, halting her.
On the stage, Yerin ran at Jildarin with the powder clenched in his raised fist. As Rylana tried unsuccessfully to escape, her gaze raked over the vial that had hit the ground near the judges’ table.
That gray-green powder. She recognized it. Two hells.
While in the middle of whisking eggs, Jildarin took several steps back from his station, his implements still in hand as Yerin approached.
Yerin hurled the powder at him, but Jildarin sprang lightly away, easily avoiding it.
Instead, the flying particles struck the chef at the station next to Jildarin's. The person yelped and dropped what she’d been working on, then backed away as magic rippled around her.
Before everyone’s eyes, she turned into a huge jaguar.
Shocked and confused cries came from the judges, crowd, and nearby chefs. Tan with black spots, the jaguar bunched its muscles and sprang at Yerin. He cried out, throwing his arms up, and the great feline crashed into his chest, knocking him off the stage.
“That powder forces shape-shifters back into their native form!” Rylana yelled as the peacekeepers gaped, seemingly not knowing how to react.
The jaguar didn’t stick around. She loped out of the competition area and into the city.
All the while, Jildarin kept whisking his eggs.
As the peacekeepers recovered and advanced on Yerin with their golem assistants, Jildarin returned to his station.
He gave Rylana another nod before he redoubled his focus on his dish.
She was relieved when the peacekeepers hauled Yerin away, but she remained in a golem’s grip.
“Will you let me go?” she tried to ask calmly and reasonably. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You took the law into your own hands by turning an innocent bag of candy into a weapon.” The captain of the peacekeepers, who remained nearby, pointed toward the press area.
The crossbowman still lay on his side, gripping his head and groaning.
Somewhat melodramatically. Was he trying to get her arrested?
“He’s fine,” Rylana said. “And candy can’t be considered a weapon.” Though maybe those heavy bags should have come with tranquility ribbons knotted around them. “Besides, I was protecting Jildarin.”
“We do not allow vigilante justice. You will be taken to—”
“She’s my friend, Captain Laridon,” came a familiar voice from behind Rylana.
Sylin had appeared, and she carried more of the glass vials in her hand. Had she recovered them from the crossbowman? Rylana hadn’t even seen her at any point during the day. Sylin held the vials out toward the gnome captain, as if offering the evidence for consideration.
“Rylana is a retired mercenary, not a vigilante,” Sylin added.
“Like you are retired?” the captain added dryly.
It took Rylana a moment to realize they knew each other. Even so, it was another long moment before the gnome captain signaled to the golem and said, “All right. Let her go.”
As soon as her arm was freed, Rylana stepped back to stand beside Sylin, though she was confused about why her elf-assassin comrade had any sway with the peacekeepers.
“You called me your friend,” she said.
“To simplify matters, yes. The gnomes would be confused about the complicated nature of our relationship.”
“I knew you liked me.”
Sylin snorted.
“But how do you know him?” Rylana pointed to the captain, though he’d turned and was directing his troops to round up the crossbowman and look for the goblin that had run down to the lake.
“Since we’ve arrived, I’ve assisted a couple of times with locating heinous criminals that have been vexing the city and that the peacekeepers were having trouble finding.”
Was that how she’d earned those gold coins? Rylana had assumed she’d taken on a new mission on her own.
“Just locating them?” she asked.
Sylin smiled enigmatically. “As the captain would be quick to point out, vigilante justice isn’t permitted in Tranquility.”
The announcer rang the gong, startling almost everyone since they’d been distracted by the chaos. Nonetheless, Jildarin and six of the other chefs had completed their dishes. They stepped back, nodding their readiness when the servers trotted up to the stage.
Several of the judges had scattered when the jaguar had appeared, but they returned, noses twitching at the aromas wafting through the air. Those passionate about cuisine couldn’t be distracted for long from tasting delectable new dishes.
“I’ve seen a handful of elves in here,” Rylana murmured to Sylin as the judges dug into the dishes.
Jildarin stood with his chin up and his arms crossed, as if already certain of the outcome.
“Is it safe for you to stand there with your hood down and your ears aggressively poking through your noteworthy green hair?”
“My ears are elegant, not aggressive.”
“That one is sticking out almost three inches.”
“It’s not that long,” Sylin said dryly. “It’s not like elves are jackrabbits.”
“No, the wolves would have eaten you if you were.”
“If it had been winter when they found me, and they’d been hungry, they would have eaten me regardless.
” As if to make Rylana’s earlier point, Sylin gazed at one of the elven chefs who was gazing back at her with a suspicious frown.
“As to the rest, you know I’m planning to leave Tranquility soon.
I won’t stick around and let elves or anyone else capture me. ”
“You keep saying that, but I keep finding you at the coffee shop.”
“True.”
“Maybe you like the challenge of having people hunting you down. Weren’t you mentioning that you’ve felt listless and bored since the war ended and we left the mercenaries?”
“I do enjoy challenges, but I would be foolish to remain when elves are seeking me out. We are preeminent hunters.”
“Foolish, yes, but also challenged.”
“The results are in,” the announcer called, having recovered her megaphone. “The winner of the last round and the grand winner of this year’s Golden Whisk is the dragon chef, Jildarin!”
The applause wasn’t raucous, but it was polite, and several people nodded.
Someone yelled, “We want to try his dish!”
But the judges were devouring it and didn’t look like they would share with the audience.
Wondering what had happened to Vormalt, Rylana looked at the tiers of seating where he’d been. But he’d disappeared. Whether he’d departed the same way the goblin had or simply walked out one of the entrances when she’d been distracted, she didn’t know, but she doubted she’d seen the last of him.
Once the judges had finished the final course, one of them stepped aside to retrieve a glowing golden whisk from a wooden box. He took it up on the stage to bow to Jildarin and award it to him.
Jildarin, who’d remained calm and composed throughout the competition, even when vials of magical powders were being shot at him, held it aloft and roared. Given that he was in his human form, it was an impressively deep and resonating roar. This time, some people did cheer.
“You can enjoy his cooking at the Dragon Diner on Acorn Street,” the announcer informed the audience.
Ah, free publicity. That would be worth more than the prize money for winning.
“He should come up with a more memorable name for his diner.” Rylana wondered if Jildarin would accept advice on such matters from his bookkeeper.
She turned to her side to ask Sylin’s opinion, but she had disappeared. Perhaps because two elves in green cloaks had wandered through the front entrance, as if telepathically summoned by the elven chef.
“Well, I’m sure I’ll see her later,” Rylana murmured to herself. “On the roof of the coffee shop, perhaps.”