Chapter 2
After the last meal service at the diner, Rylana peeked into the coffee shop, looking for Sylin.
Despite the later hour, everyone from bespectacled university students studying their books to goblin workers from the docks to gnomes arguing over schematics and mochas—possibly schematics of mochas—occupied the tables, but there weren’t any elves within.
Rylana wished she knew where Sylin was currently staying.
She’d left the room above the tavern where she’d slept her first week in town, and she’d been cagey about sharing if there was another spot.
Maybe she worried that Rylana would be captured by elves, questioned by magical means, and be forced to share everything she knew.
That was a possibility, so Rylana wouldn’t blame Sylin for thinking that.
The door to the bakery opened as she passed it, and two grinning goblins walked out together, carrying a cake in a rectangular box so large that it took both of them to tote it.
Two bumps on the top suggested another anatomically inspired dessert lay inside.
Through the window, rows of cupcakes with suggestive frosting designs were visible.
Above, the painted sign promised the availability of custom baked goods, naughty or nice, no questions asked.
Rylana wondered how many mundane—or nice—treats the bakery sold.
The dwarven owner, Mya, who’d held the door open for the goblins, crooked a finger toward Rylana. Flour dusted her brown apron, and reddish-gray strands of hair stuck out of her slumping braid, but her blue eyes were always bright and alert.
“Trouble?” Rylana pointed her thumb toward the departing goblins.
“No, those two are good customers. They pay my prices without haggling, and they keep coming back. But a couple of elves visited earlier…” Mya raised her eyebrows, then wiped her hands on her apron, leaving powdered sugar alongside the flour, and propped her fists on her hips. “They were aloof and rude.”
“That’s how most elves are, isn’t it?”
“They asked if I’d seen your friend.”
“Ah, then I’ve met them. They came into the diner too.
” Rylana looked toward the coffee shop again, wondering how long she would have to wait for Sylin to visit.
Rylana felt urgency to deliver her warning as soon as possible.
There was also a part of her that wanted to ask and make sure Sylin wasn’t lingering in Tranquility because she’d heard the queen was coming and someone wanted to pay her to do exactly what those elves had suggested, assassinate her.
The aftermath of such an action would not ensure a peaceful retirement.
“She’s a good customer too,” Mya said. “I would hate to see her dragged off to the elven enclave or the peacekeepers’ jail.”
“Does she buy your adult goods?” Rylana asked, amused by the idea.
In the years she’d known Sylin, she’d never seemed that interested in the notion of bonding, or even having flings, with people.
Of course, Sylin was circumspect enough that she could have had ten lovers during the war and Rylana might not have known.
“She likes the coffee-dusted swirl cookies, berry scones, and will purchase a croissant if it’s in the normal shape.”
“As opposed to an abnormal shape?” Rylana asked before remembering that Sylin had mentioned the adult-themed croissants before.
“Sexuality isn’t abnormal. It’s a perfectly healthy part of life. I have five children and fourteen grandchildren.”
“Helped into existence by suggestive croissants?”
“More often by strong ale,” Mya said. “I’ve been thinking of implementing that into some of my breads to see if it helps with sales to dwarves and other fans of the substance.
I’m afraid that, save for the perennially horny goblin community, I’ve sold fewer of my adult cakes lately.
Since Chef Jildarin reduced the amount of dragon spices he’s putting in his soups and stews, fewer amorous passersby have been inspired to come in. ”
“He was out of his spices for a while and had to fly south to acquire more, but he has adjusted his recipes. He wants people to love his food, and doesn’t mind using his secret ingredient to encourage that, but he doesn’t want them to be inspired to love each other after consuming it.
Especially since those urges come upon them so promptly. ”
“So I gathered from the times I’ve heard him kicking people out of the diner while roaring ‘No coitus.’” Mya’s eyebrows twitched.
“Yes.” Rylana had the sensation of being watched and looked toward the coffee shop, her gaze drifting upward, above the awning and toward the corner of the roof.
Was that a shadow or a person dressed all in black and looking down at her?
“I’m going to visit the coffee shop. Good luck with your bread. ”
Mya didn’t look toward the rooftop but said, “Tell your friend to keep an eye out. Ostensibly, the elves obey the laws of Tranquility, and they aren’t brazenly violent by nature, regardless, but they have enough magic that they can find ways around the ribbons tied to their weapons, much like your dragon forgetting to turn his burners on and yet somehow still frying up bacon. ”
“He’s not my dragon. In fact, he tells people I’m his servant.”
“Dragons believe we all exist to serve them, but… they’re more open about their feelings and opinions than elves, so you always know what they’re thinking. The elves here… They can be dangerous, and the enclave isn’t a safe place for outsiders to visit—or be dragged forcibly into.”
“Oh, I know all about elves. Trust me.” Rylana touched her side. Though, unlike Jildarin with his scar by his eye, her old wounds were under her clothes so others couldn’t see them.
“Yet you travel with one.”
“She fought with my mercenary unit and on the side of the joint kingdoms.”
“An interesting choice. She must have been estranged from her people.”
“Something like that.” Rylana waved vaguely. Sylin’s story, what she knew of it, wasn’t hers to tell, and Sylin might be listening in on the conversation at that very moment.
Mya didn’t pry further, instead stepping back inside and turning down the lamps for the night.
Instead of walking into the coffee shop, Rylana passed it, turned into the alley, and found the metal ladder bolted to the side of the building.
She climbed to the shadowy rooftop and made out the dark form of a single table and chair, something the owners had put up there for their quirky elven guest. Sylin had deemed it unwise to openly visit the shop and drink inside, assuming it might be watched and her presence reported, but she hadn’t been willing to forgo visiting her coffee supplier completely.
Sensing someone in the shadow of the chimney, Rylana said, “You could tell Tezilly and Brella that they don’t need a chair up here. You never sit in it, do you?”
“I do not,” came Sylin’s voice from the shadows. “When enemies approach, it’s easier to spring upon them from a crouch or leap into action from a standing position than if your knees are under a table with your butt cheeks planted.”
“Mind if I plant my cheeks? They enjoy being horizontal.”
“Go ahead. Since you’re not as sought after by enemies, I won’t even advise against it.”
“My charisma keeps enemies away. Though it doesn’t work that well on dragons.
” Rylana was pleased Jildarin no longer viewed her as an enemy, but, more than once, she wondered if she would again see the female dragons they’d skirmished with by Toadstool Rock.
The two sisters hadn’t been pleased that Jildarin was spending time with Rylana instead of mating with them.
She hoped they would forget about her, but she had shot at and wounded one of the sisters.
If that dragon showed up again, wanting revenge, more than Rylana’s butt cheeks would be in danger.
“The fact that my bowstring is tied with tranquility ribbons further convinces people I’m not a menace,” she added.
“My knife case is in a similar state, but there are other methods of dealing with enemies.”
“Yes. Speaking of that, did you know the elven queen is on her way to visit Tranquility?”
“I have heard that, yes. I’ve never met her but don’t consider her an enemy.”
“Do your people know that? Some elves from the south came by the diner and implied that’s why their local kin have been aiming their cannons at you.”
“Elves don’t employ black-powder weapons.”
“They’re metaphorical cannons,” Rylana said. “You wouldn’t assassinate a queen, right?”
“I suppose if someone offered pay commensurate with the tremendous risk one would undertake to get close to and kill such an important person, I would consider the job. As you’re aware, I’ve killed high-ranking elves before.”
“A queen is more than high-ranking. She’s the highest rank, at least among elves.
But, yes, I’m aware that you aren’t deterred by assignments involving pointy-eared targets.
Though you’ve never explained to me why it doesn’t bother you to assassinate elves or why you joined the mercenaries, for that matter. ”
“The same as you. I needed a job that would make use of my unique skillset.”
“Knife skills could as easily be turned toward making crudités. You may like the challenges that assassinations offer, but they’re not all you’re qualified to do.”
“Crudités. Really.” A soft slurp sounded as Sylin drank from a coffee cup. “I do crave a challenge. Assisting a chef would not fulfill me.”
“I understand from Jildarin that butternut squash, rutabagas, and ogre roots—thanks to their awkward shapes and hard skins—can be challenging to prepare. Maybe you should try them. Then your people would love you instead of fearing you. You know elves adore vegetable dishes.”
“I’m certain they don’t fear me.”
“They think you might be here to assassinate the queen,” Rylana said, not certain the ramifications were sinking in for Sylin.
Or maybe she understood perfectly but simply wasn’t worried.
Still, Sylin had mentioned weeks ago that she might have to leave Tranquility if her people continued to search for her.
“I had no idea the queen was coming here until recently,” Sylin said.
“I don’t feel vengeful toward her, but you are correct that I don’t feel any more warmly toward my own species than toward a goblin or an ogre.
If anything, when I chanced across elves in my younger years, I found them more contemptuous than others toward me.
Because, in their eyes, I was a savage and acted more like an animal than an elegant and refined being.
” A rare hint of bitterness entered Sylin’s voice as she added, “As if it was my fault I was abandoned in the forest as a toddler, had to fend for myself, and didn’t have anyone to teach me multiple languages or to play musical instruments or grow beautiful flowers in a garden. ”
“You’d think elves would consider being raised by wolves a point in a person’s favor. Very natural.”
“They enjoy nature, but they also value a broad education.”
“Well, as someone who had to learn to play the lute growing up, I can tell you that you’re not missing out. But if you want to learn to read music, I would be happy to teach you sometime.”
“Do you think the local elves would be less concerned about me if I wandered the city, strumming a lute?”
“Absolutely. Nobody worries about chordophone players carrying out assassinations. But you don’t usually strum a lute.
You pluck it with a plectrum.” Rylana shifted her weight.
She hadn’t, despite the invitation, planted her cheeks on the chair, and she looked toward the street, wondering if those elves were lurking in the area. “Are you going to stay in the city?”
“Do you think I should?”
“No. I’d miss you if you left, but I don’t want to come over here one day and find you dead under this table.”
“That would be an unappealing fate.” Sylin sipped again. Lamenting the idea of abandoning her new favorite coffee shop?
“Maybe you should at least leave until after the queen’s visit. If that’s the entire reason your people have been taking special note of you and worrying about your presence, they might forget about you after she’s gone.”
“That is possible,” Sylin mused. “They’ve probably known about her planned trip for weeks. And if I coincidentally showed up here at the same time, perhaps that’s why they’ve taken an interest in me.”
“And in your friends who know where you live, yes.”
“You don’t have any idea where I’m living,” Sylin said dryly. “I’ve made sure of that.”
“Tell them that.”
“I’m between domiciles currently, regardless. No dragons have offered me corners of their storerooms to sleep in.”
“I’d invite you to stay, but Jildarin considers that his lair. He’s uptight about who comes and goes, especially after dark.”
“But he doesn’t mind you.”
“No, he adores me.”
“It’s true that I haven’t heard him call you my enemy for weeks.”
“That’s because we’re business partners now, and he trusts me implicitly.”
“Implicitly?”
“Well, at least reasonably. I would offer you a room at my father’s castle, since he’s away on a business trip, but I don’t even have a room there anymore.
I’m not sure if the wards would still let me in.
” Rylana turned to look across Lumi Lake toward the sprawling estates on the western shore.
The elevated rooftop of the coffee shop provided a clear view.
To her surprise, her family’s castle was glowing a soft blue.
“What in the two hells?” she muttered.
“I’m not sure I would care for a room in a glowing castle,” Sylin said. “Is it haunted?”
“What? No. I… Did you notice that before? How long has it been glowing? And what’s glowing?
” Rylana squinted toward the distant shoreline, trying to tell if some strange luminescent creature might have wandered out of the lake—after all, the body of water was filled with glowing fish and plankton.
But the castle itself seemed to be the source.
Could her eyes be trusted? It was almost two miles to the other side of the lake and fully dark out.
“I’ve not noticed it on previous nights when I’ve been up here,” Sylin said.
“So, it just started glowing? While my father is out of town? That’s weird. No… that’s suspicious.”
“Especially if the castle isn’t haunted.”
“It’s not haunted. Do elves even believe in ghosts?”
“Some elves do.”
“Well, the castle never glowed in all the years I lived there.”
“Why do you think it is now?”
“I don’t know.”