Chapter 25 #2
“Diplomat Shebly said you found that in the woods?” Ekton pointed for Rylana to give it to the female dwarf with the book—it was open to a page with drawings of hunting horns on it. “This is my artifacts expert, Lady Wikla.”
“Near Toadstool Rock, yes. I should warn you that others have been looking for it.” Rylana summed up finding the horn and also her experience drinking alcohol from it and that it glowed when it detected a dangerous substance.
“I believe it is the Horn of Agomoral,” Wikla breathed, pushing her spectacles up into her pale brown hair so she could squint closely at the carvings. “And if what you say is true, then it agrees with the history I’ve dug up—history that was lost for centuries during the Reordering.”
The king nodded, so they’d apparently discussed this before.
Gniknik and Rolf brought out appetizer rockballs with a flaky coating that had been deep-fried to golden brown. Ramekins holding dipping sauces rested on the plates with the offerings.
Rylana’s mouth watered as she caught the warm and slightly spicy scents wafting up. Gniknik and Rolf set plates on the other tables first, Rolf, of course, mentioning goblin tips as Gniknik said that Chef Jildarin had decreed that the king and his party wouldn’t be charged for the meal.
“Oh, dipping sauces,” Ekton said. “I haven’t had food like this since my staff stopped allowing me to visit the street vendors.” He shot the priest a dirty look and sent one toward a senior-looking guard as well.
“Since the poisoning attempt, Sire,” the guard murmured as the priest nodded at him. “Do not forget it.”
“Now that the Horn of Agomoral is being returned to your family, Sire, you won’t need to worry about poisoning.” Wikla held up the artifact with cheer. “It’s traditionally for determining if a beverage is poisoned, but I suppose you could stuff a deep-fried meatball into it.”
“Those are rockballs,” Jildarin said, walking out with more plates that he personally set on the king’s table. “Our research suggests they are a favorite of yours, King Ekton.”
“Oh, they are.” Ekton rubbed his hands together and reached for his plate as Jildarin set it in front of him.
“We are serving three courses of rockballs, all cooked with different meats or seafoods and in a different regional style.” Jildarin eyed the female dwarf. “None will be stuffed into a dirty artifact pulled off the forest floor by a hound.”
“From what we’ve seen,” Rylana said, “if you hold the horn near a dangerous substance, the little mugs glow blue. Sometimes, there are even storm clouds above them.”
The priest took the king’s plate, even though Ekton had been about to dip one of the rockballs in a creamy white sauce. He pointed to Wikla with significance, and she waved the horn over the plate. None of the mugs in the carvings lit up.
“It warmed very slightly in my hand.” Wikla glanced toward her open book.
“I think that happens whenever it’s drawing upon its magic,” Rylana said. “If it senses a beverage or alcohol nearby, the horn warms up.”
“I have mixed different varieties of dwarven ale, those I tasted and deemed most palatable, into each course of rockballs,” Jildarin said, not commenting on the testing occurring at the table.
“For the appetizer, an oatmeal stout mixed with my special seasoning blend is in the batter coating the ball.”
Ekton succeeded in getting one of the fried balls off his plate and into a creamy yellow dipping sauce. After he smelled it and smiled, he chomped into it.
“Ahhh. I’m in the dwarven heaven, the musical notes of smiths banging on metal serenading me.” Ekton rested a hand on his chest.
“You are, in fact, in the Dragon Diner,” Jildarin said. “We are considering installing a grotto. Perhaps dwarven music could also be added.” He looked at Rylana.
“Dwarven music sounds a touch cacophonous,” she murmured.
Zalani, who’d been seating non-dwarves on the rooftop terrace, must have run out of room up there.
Now that the king’s party had all entered, she allowed a few food critics and other customers into the remaining seats in the dining room.
Mya also entered, carrying a large covered basket in her arms. Some of her desserts?
Looking a little nervous, she only glanced toward the king’s booth before heading toward the hallway.
“Is that Yorikon Stonehammer’s wife?” Ekton asked in surprise.
Mya paused and did her best to face him and curtsey with the basket in her arms. “Yes, Your Majesty. Mya. It’s an honor to see you again.”
“Mya, of course. I remember. Though you were so rarely at court. Of course, your husband never fit in there either.”
“I, erm.”
Mya never hesitated and was always so confident. She wasn’t intimidated by even dragons, but she appeared flustered as she looked around. Maybe the king of one’s own people was a more daunting figure than a chef dragon across the street.
Rylana waved for her to come forward. “After being treated harshly by one Lady Hymika in that court, Mya felt ostracized and came to Tranquility to start a successful bakery.”
Judging by Mya’s scowl at her, she hadn’t wanted that story to come out. But how was the king to learn about her situation and do something to resolve it if he didn’t know?
“That dwarven lady made it clear to Mya’s children that they shouldn’t visit their mother,” Rylana added to Ekton, “but that leaves her forlorn and missing her kin. No amount of success can heal such wounds.”
Feet rooted to the floor and jaw tense, Mya looked like she was on the verge of throwing whatever was in the basket at Rylana. If it was the stonebread, Rylana might be in trouble. She bowed an apology but also waved for Mya to go to the king’s table, hoping she would explain further.
Blinking and looking around, Ekton appeared surprised by the news.
“Lady Hymika has attempted to ostracize you? She hasn’t any legal authority to do that.
I’m aware that she’s known for her sharp tongue, but I hadn’t realized…
Well, she applies that more to other females than to males, but I have heard rumors about her.
” Ekton touched his own chest. “Still, I had no idea she wielded such power among others in my court.”
“It doesn’t matter, Your Majesty. I’ve created a new life here.
I remain loyal to the crown and volunteered to make desserts tonight.
I also have some stonebread and fresh-churned butter.
” Mya finally stepped up to the booth, past the guards at the nearby table, some of whom were eyeing her with suspicion but most of whom were sniffing toward the basket.
When Mya pulled back the covering, revealing disc-shaped loaves of bread—they did remind Rylana of small shields—many noses inhaled the scents wafting out.
There was a slight tang to the rich yeasty aroma. Was it a type of sourdough?
“I’d love to try it.” Ekton nodded to Mya.
Wikla took two loaves of bread and a ramekin of whipped butter and held them next to the horn.
“I’m sure Yorikon Stonehammer’s wife doesn’t plan to poison us,” Ekton said.
“Of course not, sire.” That didn’t keep Wikla from thoroughly waving the horn over the food.
“Is there alcohol in that bread?” Rylana asked Mya, not sure the female would trust them if the horn warmed.
“Not in the bread, no. I did use the delicious blackberry ale in my desserts.”
“Oh, that sounds fabulous.” Ekton took one of the loaves of bread and also the tub of butter.
He plucked up a knife and smeared the spread liberally on a chunk that he tore off.
“I remember Yorikon speaking about your cooking, Mya. In fact, didn’t he cancel an arranged marriage because of his love for you—and the baked goods you create? ”
“An arranged marriage to Lady Hymika, yes, sire.”