Chapter 26
“Are those frosted dragon fangs?” the king’s voice floated out as Rylana opened the door to the bakery.
Behind her, every table on the diner’s rooftop terrace was occupied, with overflowing people standing near railings, people who’d called down for more rockballs and “the zingy blue sauce” when they’d seen her crossing the street.
As soon as she warned the king that trouble might be afoot, Rylana planned to return to help the staff serve everyone.
“Ah, they’re frosted… something, Sire, yes,” Mya said.
“Quite delicious too. Though they’re more popular with our female clients.
You might like some of these cupcakes or cookies.
They’re in normal shapes. I’ll warn you, however, that those scones with the strategically placed berries do remind some male clients of certain parts of female anatomy. ”
Ekton laughed. “Excellent. I’ll take two. Please give my guards whatever they want too.” He dug into a purse for coins.
“I can’t charge you, Your Majesty.”
“Of course you can. Others enjoy charging me liberally. In fact…” As if he’d sensed Rylana entering, Ekton turned to look at her. “Did you say your name was Something Avandar?”
“Rylana Avandar, yes.”
“Is your father the owner of Sun Whale Shipping?”
“Yes.”
“He charges me liberally. Monthly. And has no qualms about it. Of course, he does a moderately decent job of getting our shipments around the world, so I continue to be a customer. One of his best customers, I should think.”
Rylana didn’t know much about her father’s clients, but she’d seen the large train of ore carts the king’s carriage had been trundling along with and knew the dwarves shipped a lot of goods.
“Rylana should probably pay for your anatomically interesting scones then,” Mya suggested.
Ekton laughed. “I think that’s correct!”
Despite the statement, he placed two gold coins on the counter as soon as Mya was distracted by opening the case to extract the scones. She also waved the guards over to grab cookies.
“Your troops might not want to relax too much, Your Majesty.” Rylana glanced out the window, half-expecting the hooded dwarf that Sylin had seen to skulk past. “As I mentioned, there are people—other dwarves—after the horn that I left with your antiques specialist.”
“Nobody could pry it away from her! And I’d like to think the thirty-odd troops I left in the diner could handle any thieves who might show up.
” Ekton accepted a scone and licked the frosting before biting in.
“Oh, yes. So excellent. I should have finished the dragon’s tasty meal before indulging in sweets, but I have a weakness for anything frosted. ”
“It’s a common dwarven trait,” Mya said.
A shout came from across the street. Had that been Jildarin?
“I’d better see what’s wrong.” Rylana jogged for the door. Jildarin didn’t usually holler in the diner unless people were having coitus in one of the booths, and she doubted the dwarven guards were involved in that. “Keep an eye out for thieves,” she called back.
“Oh, certainly.” Ekton shared a smile with Mya and took another bite of his scone.
As Rylana opened the front door, Jildarin’s stern words rang out from the dining room. “As I’ve informed all the staff, the king and his retinue are not to be charged for this meal.” His voice raised. “Nor for any ale that they want.”
“Sorry, Chef.” Rolf stood in front of him, his hands raised in innocence.
“I didn’t realize the libations would also be free.
I wouldn’t even have thought to serve them, but the dwarf I stumbled across in the storeroom was making a mess, running ale all over the floor.
You’d think a dwarf, of all species, could operate a keg.
When he saw me, he asked for a mug, so I thought the rest of the diners would want some ale too. ”
“What dwarf was in the storeroom?” Rylana looked around the tables, trying to tell if any of the seats were empty, save for those vacated by the guards who’d accompanied the king.
She hadn’t counted dwarves as they’d come in, but she didn’t think any of them were missing. Many were, however, now imbibing from mugs of ale. One dipped a rockball into two different sauces and then also into his drink before smiling and biting in.
“One of them was wandering back there.” Rolf waved a hand, and a copper coin flew from his fingers.
“Oh, my tip.” He scurried after it, diving under a table to snatch it from between two sets of iron boots.
“My new baby was just born; did I tell you? I have to make extra coin to feed all the mouths.”
Jildarin looked a touch exasperated as he considered Rylana. “I do not object to the ale being served, as there is far more than I needed for the meals. Far, far more. But I do not desire to charge the king. We are successful enough this month that we need not profit from the ale, yes?”
Rylana nodded. “We’re doing fine. The terrace has brought in a lot more—”
A thud sounded, and Rolf squawked. One of the dwarves who’d been seated at the table he’d crawled under had unexpectedly fallen off his seat—and onto him. Rolf squirmed and wiggled his way out as the dwarf groaned, rolled onto his side, and gripped his stomach.
The dwarf across the table cursed and peered into the empty mug of his downed seat mate. “Dag, was it the drink?”
The dwarf on the floor groaned again.
“Did the goblin poison you?” Dag’s buddy lunged to his feet, fingers going for the tranquility ribbon tying his axe to his belt.
“No, no!” Rolf sprang up with his hands in the air and ran behind Jildarin. “I served what was in the kegs in the storeroom, nothing extra. I don’t even have poison.”
More dwarves lunged to their feet, scrambling to untie their weapons.
“The goblin is trying to kill the king!” one cried.
“I’m not, I’m not! I swear!” Rolf cried. “Dead dwarves don’t tip!”
Jildarin spread his arms and stood protectively in front of Rolf. “There will not be a battle in my diner. My employees have not knowingly poisoned anyone.”
“Knowingly!” A dwarf who’d gotten his axe free growled, shaking his hand, probably having been zapped. Would the peacekeepers arrive soon?
Rylana looked toward the booth where the king had been seated.
Lady Wikla, who’d continued to examine the horn, didn’t have a mug in front of her.
Rolf must not have made it to that table with drinks yet.
Wikla was gaping around the room, the horn in one hand and a buttered chunk of the stonebread in the other.
“I drank the ale too,” another dwarf said. “It tasted wonderful, but now I don’t feel good. Dag? Are you dying?”
Rylana strode to the king’s booth.
“I need this back for a moment.” She plucked the horn from the female dwarf’s grip.
Wikla reached for it but paused. “Oh, yes. Test the mugs with it.” As another dwarf groaned, she said, “Why didn’t I think of that when the drink first came out?”
Probably because, as attested by the disappearing bread and plates at the table that had been licked clean, she’d been enjoying the meal. And with the king across the street, she might not have been as vigilant.
Rylana took the horn to the table next to the groaning dwarf. As a mercenary, she’d had basic medical training, but it had focused on stopping bleeding and bandaging wounds, not curing someone who’d been poisoned.
“Zalani,” she said, spotting the half-elf holding a water pitcher and looking uncertainly about, “will you find a healer?”
“Yes, of course.” Zalani set down the pitcher and ran out the front door.
In the meantime, Rylana took ale from one of the mugs on the table, used her thumb to plug the bottom of the horn, and poured the amber liquid in.
The artifact warmed, indicating it was testing the substance, but the mugs didn’t glow.
She poured the ale back into the mug, then grabbed an empty one. Had that been Dag’s?
“Sorry, friend,” Rylana muttered to the dwarf and dumped the last drops from his mug into the horn.
Two of his comrades were kneeling beside him now, but the rest of his seat mates had grown pale, placing their hands over their stomachs.
Other dwarves, probably having drunk from different kegs, appeared unaffected but were still glowering at Rolf, who remained behind Jildarin.
Thus far, nobody had charged at him. Wisely.
Jildarin looked peeved. Probably more because his meal service was being ruined than because he was annoyed on Rolf’s behalf, but he was staying in front of the goblin instead of leaving him to fend for himself.
Not only did the horn warm as it sampled the handful of droplets, but the mugs in the carving glowed blue, and storm clouds appeared over them.
“This ale was poisoned,” Rylana said.
“Somebody check on the king!” the priest called.
Several guards ran past Jildarin and toward the door.
Dag groaned again, more softly this time. Damn, was the poor guy going to fall unconscious? Rylana hoped it wouldn’t be worse than that. What if the poison was something lethal?
The door opened before the guards reached it, and they halted. King Ekton walked in with a half-eaten scone in hand, Mya and his other set of guards following him.
“Ah, Your Majesty?” Rylana dumped out the ale and walked toward him and pointed at the scone.
Mya had said she hadn’t used alcohol in the stonebread, but she’d mentioned using it in the desserts she’d made to go along with the meal.
Was that scone one of them? “May I test that? Mya, did you use ale in that?”
“No, it’s in the cookies and pastries I made for tonight.” Mya looked back and pointed at one of the guards. “He’s trying one of the cookies now.”
“Er?” The guard held up a treat smeared with ale-buttercream frosting.
Rylana took it, tore off a chunk, and stuffed it into the horn.
Wikla’s mouth dropped open in horror.
The horn warmed in Rylana’s hand, apparently understanding that she wanted the cookie tested. This time, the mugs did not glow blue.
“Thank the gods,” Mya said, understanding the significance right away.