Epilogue
“Perhaps access to the grotto could be through a trapdoor installed behind the bar,” Jildarin suggested as he removed from the wall the plaque listing the very important persons who’d eaten at the Dragon Diner.
Queen Fareesa, thus far, but he was about to make an addition.
“Or we could remove the furnishings from the small room across from the kitchen and turn it into a more spacious and grander grotto entrance.”
“The small room across from the kitchen is my office.” Rylana, who was noshing a late lunch in one of the seats at the bar, pointed her fork down the hallway.
“I use the furnishings. The desk and chair are where I tally the day’s earnings and subtract grocery bills, rent payments, and other various costs from the income to ensure we stay within our budget and earn a profit each month. ”
“Perhaps you could do such work from a corner of the grotto.”
“Yes, I’d love to move the desk into a dank windowless basement and squint by candlelight at the books.” Rylana didn’t point out that the tiny office was also windowless; at least some daylight filtered in from the dining room, kitchen, and storeroom.
“Our future subterranean eating area will not be dank.” Jildarin frowned at her as he rested the plaque on the bar. “It will be expertly carved out of the earth by dwarven engineers, and I will keep it fastidiously clean and maintained in such a state as the wine cellar that Zilek visits.”
“Uh-huh. We’re only a block from the lake, you know. The water table has got to be pretty close to the surface here. If we start digging, we might end up putting in an underground pool instead of a grotto.”
Jildarin looked in the direction of Lumi Lake. “I had not considered that.”
“Zilek’s wine club meets up on the ridge. Basements are more feasible up there.”
“And the dragon caves with which I’m intimately familiar tend to be high in mountains, well above nearby rivers and bodies of water.”
“That’s good. No dragon wants a flooded cave.”
“Correct.”
“Speaking of Zilek, I haven’t seen him for a while.”
“The last I heard, he was still in the south for his hunt. He said he intended to acquire exotic fare.”
“Huh. Maybe I’ll let Sylin know that gleaming glacial mammoth meat might be coming her way. Or maybe he’ll get one of the giant ice sloths that we also discussed. I owe Sylin a favor for catching the dwarf thief and said you might be able to cook such meat into something sumptuous.”
“I am capable of that and enjoy properly preparing the rare as well as the mundane.”
“You’re talented at both.” Smiling, Rylana bit into the last of her crispy-fried rabbit sandwich. It was smothered in a cheesy cayenne sauce that was so delicious that Jildarin could have slathered it onto any meat and made it taste wonderful.
Apparently, there was an overabundance of rabbits in the city parks, due to a lack of natural predators in Tranquility, and some trappers had been sent to remedy the problem.
When Jildarin had heard about their work, he’d requested the meat, saying there was no reason to be wasteful.
People were now raving about his buttermilk-marinated crispy-fried rabbit meals.
Only a talented chef could take pest animals from the park and turn them into a popular summer dish.
“I’m always game to entertain ideas of expanding the restaurant, especially since the rooftop terrace will be seasonal, and help you research possibilities,” Rylana said, “but we may want to consider a horizontal expansion rather than another vertical one. There’s not a tenant next door at the moment, is there?
” According to the faded signage, the building, which was directly across from the coffee shop, had once been a sewing factory, but its windows and doors were boarded up.
“Maybe we could find out who the landlord is and lease it. Or even offer to buy it. Saving to have enough funds for a real-estate purchase would be a worthy goal for us to work toward.”
“Hm.” Jildarin’s gaze shifted in that direction. “Perhaps we could consider that, but that structure has windows. It couldn’t be a grotto.”
“I haven’t noticed the ogres and dwarves of the city, despite being naturally subterranean dwellers, avoiding our diner because of its proliferation of windows.”
“I suppose that’s true. One does want the patrons to be comfortable while they dine though.”
“That’s not overly concerned you before. Are you sure you aren’t the one pining for a cave-like chamber in the city? So you could move your lair from the storeroom and into a grotto?”
Jildarin hesitated. “I do miss sleeping in a lightless environment fully ensconced by stone. That is very soothing and restful for a dragon.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And the storeroom sees so much activity…” Jildarin grimaced in that direction, perhaps thinking of all the people who’d crowded in the night before. “It’s not an ideal lair.”
“If you moved into a grotto, would you expect me to move my bedroom set into it with you?”
“Of course. You are my… business partner.” He gazed at her, then sighed and looked at the plaque again. “Later, I will see if your father requires me to prove myself further before…” He sighed again.
Rylana hadn’t mentioned the reward she’d requested from King Ekton.
Since she didn’t yet know if anything would come of it, she didn’t want to get Jildarin’s hopes up.
Or her hopes either. But now that the horn was gone and her life at the diner could return to normal—as normal as working at a diner run by a dragon could ever be—maybe they could finally find time for an uninterrupted date.
“Sleeping in an underground grotto has less appeal to a human than a dragon,” Rylana said.
“Hm.”
A few diners who’d been lingering over the remains of their lunches departed, and Gniknik and Rolf wandered out together for a break before dinner preparations began. Zalani cleared the remaining dishes, then brought over a newspaper someone had left on a table.
“I thought you might like to see what the food critic wrote,” she said, resting it on the bar.
It was already open to the culture page, and Rylana braced herself.
Dragon Diner Elevates Pedestrian Dwarven Fare — Two Hammers Up.
“It’s a good review?” Rylana skimmed it, not surprised the critic had said nice things about the food, but he’d been there for the mayhem of the poisoning, and he’d seen dwarves rolling on the floor, grabbing their stomachs.
“Yes, indeed,” Zalani said. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” Rylana murmured, continuing through the article.
“As expected,” Jildarin stated.
“Ah.” Reading aloud, Rylana shared the last line. “Since this establishment is run by a dragon, you can, of course, expect a degree of entertainment while you dine. Choose a table in the back and enjoy!”
“Entertainment.” Jildarin grunted, sounding less pleased by the ending.
But Rylana was delighted. That had been a very kind way to sum up the end of the meal. She vowed to give that critic a free meal or five the next time he visited.
Jildarin, hands resting to either side of the plaque, stared at it for a moment. A hint of smoke wafted up, the scent of burning wood tinging the air. King Ekton’s name appeared under the queen’s, and Jildarin nodded at his handiwork.
“Maybe,” Rylana said, “if the building next door were available, it could be turned into a suitable dragon lair, one conveniently adjacent to the diner but not in the diner. A little work-life separation wouldn’t be a bad idea for you.
And you could have a dwarven engineer plaster rocks over the walls and cover the windows.
” She spoke half-jokingly, but Jildarin looked at her with interest.
“That idea has merit. You would sleep in such a structure?”
“Uhm, maybe if some windows could be left uncovered…”
“That would be acceptable.” Jildarin gazed at her with approval, and his eyelids drooped, his expression growing a touch sultry.
He moved the plaque aside and rested his hand on hers.
Zalani had departed, so they were alone now in the diner.
“If we had a private lair that was less frequently invaded, ransacked, and stuffed with deliveries, we could…”
The front door opened, and Rylana’s father walked in.
Jildarin pulled his hand from hers and turned to face him. Rylana regarded her father warily, wondering if the king had yet had an opportunity to visit him. And, if so, what had Father thought of their meeting?
He was dressed in a beaver-fur cap and fur-lined cloak today, the summer weather cooler than usual, with fog lingering over the lake. In one hand, he carried something wrapped in a white silver-trimmed kerchief.
“He bears something magical,” Jildarin murmured.
“It had better not be another chore for you,” Rylana murmured back.
Father stopped a few feet away, looking at them both, and was his expression a touch wry?
“Chef Jildarin,” he said formally, “I have decided that you’ve performed adequately at the tasks I’ve requested you carry out.”
“More than adequately,” Rylana said, thinking of the long-lost treasure chest that Jildarin had deposited on the lawn.
Jildarin stood straight, his expression intent as he regarded her father.
“You have proven a strong ally to the Avandar family, and you are surprisingly well-connected to royals around the realms. Further, you are gaining a reputation in Tranquility as a respectable citizen as well as an excellent chef.” Father looked at Rylana.
“How was your meeting with King Ekton?” she asked him with a smirk.
He snorted.
“A dragon is always a strong and worthy ally.” Jildarin gazed frankly at him. “Few humans have ever known the honor of being offered such an association.”
“I do understand that.” Father did not appear offended by Jildarin letting him know how honored he should feel. “My hesitation to give my blessing for you to court my daughter has been because dragons and humans do not marry and have offspring, and I desire for her to have children.”