Chapter 13 #2
For the next round of drinks, the dwarven bartender himself came. He set full mugs of a dark-brown stout on the bar, then gave Mya a pat on the shoulder before departing.
“Jildarin gives Rolf leftovers to take home to his family sometimes,” Rylana added.
“That dragon is turning out to be a more conscientious neighbor than I would have expected.” Mya had finished off the first mug and wrapped her hands around the second and sipped from it.
“The first months after he moved in, all he did was yell and kick people out for having sex. He was so busy glowering with exasperation that I never dared approach him. It was amazing to me that Rolf, Gniknik, and Zalani took jobs working for him.”
“As I recall, work was hard to come by when I arrived in the city.”
“It still is, from what I hear. All those war refugees loitering in the area.” Mya waved at Rylana.
“My family has been here for a long time.”
“Meaning you’re not loitering?” Mya picked up the mug that the bartender had left for Rylana.
“No, I’m pursuing a new career in a determined and decisive manner.” She’d finished the amber ale in the horn and was about to pull out her thumb and wash it, but Mya poured some of the stout in before Rylana could stop her.
“Maybe that’ll do it.” Mya peered at the carvings. “You said the mugs specifically glowed?”
“Yes. And once there were even storm clouds visible over them.” Rylana doubted one type of ale or beer would be more likely than another to evoke magic but checked the carvings again.
“You mentioned before that your children don’t come visit.
” She debated whether she should pry. When the subject had come up earlier, Mya hadn’t gone into details.
“They don’t. Unfortunately.” Mya stared glumly into her mug. “They’re… Well, I doubt they’re forbidden, but, the last I heard, it’s strongly discouraged.”
“By whom?” Rylana assumed that the salacious pastries Mya served might have gotten her ostracized.
“It’s a long story.” Mya took a deeper drink.
The horn seemed to warm a little more in Rylana’s hand. Or was that her imagination?
Just in case the drinks made a difference, Rylana took a few more swigs, examining the carvings after each. She supposed there was no pressing need for her to figure out what the horn’s magic did, but she couldn’t help but be curious.
“I miss them.” Mya gazed into the bottom of her mug. “And I barely know my grandchildren. Gito and Glyna have had a baby since I left three years ago. Maybe…”
Though Mya had piqued her curiosity, Rylana sipped from the horn and waited, letting her tell the story—or not—as she wished.
“I told you my husband passed, right?” Mya asked.
Rylana nodded. “A few years ago, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. Yorikon was a mining foreman and well respected, known even by the king, since he was a distant relation to the royal family. He preferred hard work to anything to do with the dwarven court, but he’d grown up visiting it from time to time.
In his younger days, he’d even had an arranged marriage to Lady Hymika, a female dwarf from an old and influential family.
But when he met me, a sweet young thing at the time—and already a talented baker, mind you—he fell in love with my pastries and cakes.
And eventually me too. He married me instead of the lady.
Hymika… was not pleased. She gossiped a lot.
And she had a lot of influence at court and among the Miners’ Wives, a female group in the capital with much sway.
I thought, after so many years, she’d gotten over being perturbed with me, but once Yorikon was gone, she started her gossip anew.
No doubt I should have spent more time attempting to befriend her, but she’s, quite frankly, a bitch.
I couldn’t bring myself to flatter her ego—there was a reason my husband didn’t want to marry her.
Anyway, it wasn’t pleasant for me to stay, so I left to start over in Tranquility.
I knew none of my family would come with me, but I did think that my children would visit from time to time.
After all, my daughter Heena’s husband is a driver and regularly brings ore to the refinery here. ”
“Why do you think they don’t come?”
“From what Heena has written in letters, I think she’d like to—and her sisters and brothers would too—but there’s apparently a stigma associated with visiting me. The Miners’ Wives had even written about the bakery and what an embarrassment it is to the kingdom. Can you imagine that?”
“No.”
The teenage server brought another round of drinks, a new beverage that was a dark amber in hue. Rylana hadn’t consumed alcohol much of late and already felt tipsy, so she set the horn on its side next to her mug, not intending to drink any more.
“My bakery highlights the skills of dwarven culinarians.” Mya pointed at herself. “There’s nothing embarrassing about it. Or me.”
“Absolutely not. Your baked goods are delicious, and the adult ones are whimsical.”
Mya shook her head and drank from the new mug, then pointed at the horn. Wanting her to do the same?
“I think I’ve had enough,” Rylana said, then rested her hand on the horn.