Chapter 14
Though her mind was dulled by the alcohol, Rylana’s instincts took over. She was fast enough to leap back and avoid a club swinging toward her head. The other attacker—based on their height and breadth, they had to be dwarves—lunged for Mya.
Mya’s heel caught on something in the dark, and she pitched backward. Rylana lunged in, catching the club before it could strike her friend. She could feel the ale slowing her reaction speed and stumbled herself. Fortunately, she managed to knock the club aside, giving Mya time to skitter back.
“Don’t worry about that one,” a male voice said. “Get the horn!”
Rylana recognized the speaker, one of the two dwarves who’d come to the diner. As both attackers rushed her, she kicked one in the stomach and slammed her elbow into the side of the other’s head, deterring another club swing.
“Thieves!” she yelled.
Whether it was her voice or the magic of the nearest pillar recognizing a battle, alarms started gonging.
The noise startled their attackers, as if they hadn’t expected it, and Rylana took advantage.
She charged in, grabbed one dwarf’s shoulders, and pulled him forward while kicking him in the groin.
When she lowered her leg, she almost lost her balance and had to hold on to him to keep from falling over.
“Dumb decision,” she growled at herself, annoyed that she’d drunk so much.
Though the closest dwarf had doubled over to grab his groin, his buddy lunged in and grabbed the horn.
Only the twine tying it around Rylana’s neck kept him from pulling it away.
She snarled and launched an uppercut toward his face.
He tried to dodge, but she was quick enough to catch his fleshy cheek.
Too stout to be easily driven back, the dwarf didn’t release the horn. But Mya appeared behind him and leaped onto his back, wrapping her arms around his neck. He let out a startled cry and spun away from Rylana.
The dwarf she’d kicked was recovering, but shouts came from the mouth of the alley. The would-be thief cursed and ran in the opposite direction. A uniformed gnome with a golem stepped into view, and he halted, cursing again.
It took Rylana’s inebriated mind a moment to realize that she had been fighting and had as much to worry about from the peacekeepers as the dwarves did. She raised her hands and stepped back from the melee.
“Get her off me!” the dwarf with Mya still gripping his shoulders yelled, glancing at the mouth of the alley.
Three more peacekeepers had appeared, and another golem lumbered into view.
“She attacked me!” he added. “We’re innocent!”
“They’re thieves,” Rylana called as Mya released the dwarf and stepped back, raising her own hands.
“You’re the thieves!” the dwarf called, pointing at Rylana with theatrical flair. “They’ve stolen a legendary antique hunting horn from King Ekton.”
Rylana grimaced, not appreciating the amount of truth of the statement. “We found it in the woods, and you haven’t shown me any documentation that shows that you’re a faithful servant that your monarch sent to retrieve it.”
“They don’t look faithful at all to me,” Mya put in.
By then, the gnomes and golems had entered the alley and surrounded the group. Rylana kept her hands up and hoped that, since weapons hadn’t been drawn, the peacekeepers wouldn’t do more than issue a fine, though it was disgruntling to think she might receive even that.
“Good evening, Bookkeeper Rylana,” a dry gnomish voice said. A familiar voice.
The shadows had hidden faces, but one of the gnomes unshuttered a lantern.
The flame provided enough light for Rylana to recognize Captain Dindarin, the gnome who’d been present the day she met Jildarin.
The gnome had issued him a fine for changing into a dragon and had barely refrained from giving her one for throwing a knife when Jildarin had tried to kill her.
She didn’t know how relieved to feel that he recognized her.
“And, ah, you are the proprietor of the special bakery, aren’t you?” Dindarin peered at Mya.
The other peacekeepers looked at her with interest, as if Mya might pull out some cookies or erotic croissants for them. The magical golems, of course, did nothing but loom, their stony faces unexpressive.
“I own a respectable bakery and am most certainly not a thief. And neither is Rylana.”
“I trust I don’t have to remind any of you that violence of any kind is forbidden in Tranquility.” Dindarin looked at each of them as he spoke.
“We were only defending ourselves,” Rylana said.
“She’s wearing the stolen horn.” That was Gormer, his bearded face visible now in the light as he thrust a thick finger toward her.
“The found horn,” Rylana said and hurried to explain where she’d gotten it, inserting, “You can ask Peacekeeper Bixtok all about it.” She also told them the two dwarves had shown up suspiciously the day before and instigated the back-alley violence.
Unfortunately, Gormer and his buddy spoke at the same time, their voices raised to drown her out as they claimed she was not only a thief but had attacked them, that all they’d been doing was trying to collect the stolen horn.
“Enough!” Dindarin raised his arms.
The dwarves kept speaking, gesturing and claiming their innocence. At a flick from Dindarin’s finger, the golems took a couple of steps toward them. The dwarves fell silent.
“Arrest them,” Dindarin told a lieutenant.
“Yes, sir. All of them?” The peacekeeper lifted a stun stick.
Another had drawn a disc that Rylana knew from past experience could turn into a magical net.
Dindarin surprised her by shaking his head.
“Only the dwarves. I don’t recognize them, and it is far more likely that they were the aggressors.
Bookkeeper Rylana works with Chef Jildarin at the Dragon Diner, a respectable establishment in our fine town.
Further, they assisted our people during the time of the troll curse. ”
Rylana slumped in relief, surprised but pleased the gnome captain was saying favorable things about her and Jildarin.
She was even a little stunned. She’d known the elves had acknowledged that she and Jildarin had been helpful in ending the curse, but she couldn’t recall the peacekeepers saying much.
“Yes, they did,” Mya said. “Jildarin and Rylana are good and law-abiding neighbors.”
Mya didn’t point out that she’d been responsible for making the dough for the bread that had been instrumental in resolving the curse.
Rylana almost said something about that herself, but a bout of queasiness came over her, so she rested her hand on her stomach and took a few deep breaths.
It was a good thing she wasn’t getting arrested; she might have thrown up on one of the golems.
“But they stole our king’s horn,” Gormer protested.
The golems strode forward, gripped the dwarves by the arms, and hefted them into the air.
“You are being detained,” Dindarin told them, “until your identities and story can be verified. If the horn has indeed been stolen, you may file a report.”
“File a report? But the thief is right there.” Gormer jerked his head toward Rylana. Being carried by a golem made it difficult to thrust accusing fingers at people.
As his troops marched off with the dwarves, Dindarin looked at Rylana, and she braced herself, expecting him to ask for the horn.
She even started to reach for it. It wasn’t as if she objected strongly to giving it to the authorities—after all, she’d been contemplating chucking it into the lake earlier.
But Dindarin only said, “If we need more information, we’ll be in touch later.”
He walked off with the rest of his troops.
“Huh,” Rylana said. “That was pleasantly surprising. I was aware the peacekeepers knew we’d helped with the curse, since some of them were there on Lucky Island for the baking of the offering—and the exploding of the new-god temple—but…” She shrugged and issued another, “Huh.”
“The troll curse was quite disastrous,” Mya said, “not only for the people of Tranquility but for a lot of its infrastructure.” She waved toward the waterfront, though the portions of the street that had sloughed into the lake had since been repaired.
“They would be foolish not to be grateful after your assistance.”
“And yours. I hope they know you mixed the special dough.”
“Yes, my contribution and personal risk to self was tremendous,” Mya said with a laugh.
“I appreciated your contribution.”
“Thank you.”
“And I’m glad they believed us and that we’re apparently now respected members of the community.” The queasiness swept over Rylana again. Maybe it was time to lie down for the night.
“It’s good to be respected,” Mya said, sounding a little wistful.
“Yes. And it has nothing to do with who my father is.” Rylana stood a little straighter as she drew in a few deep breaths.
“Jildarin and I are respected because of work we’ve done.
We…” The queasiness increased, and Rylana had no choice but to hurry to the side of the alley and throw up.
Two hells, what had she been thinking, letting that horn entice her to drink so much?
“Humans don’t hold their ale very well, do they?” Mya asked.
“I’m afraid not.”