Chapter 12 #2
“Maybe we should both return to the south. The war was more soothing than this.” Even as she said that, Sylin gazed with feeling at her cup.
“The coffee down there was dreadful though.” When Tezilly swung by again, Sylin placed a couple of silver coins on the table and held up a finger to order another cup.
“I imagine you could find a shop that sells a quality roast in one of the cities. Coffee is from southern climates, after all. It’s just that they sent the cheapest and least fresh supplies to the soldiers. Remember the moldy, lumpy vegetables and fruit we received? When we got any at all?”
“Yes, lumpy vegetables are what distressed me most about the war experience.” Sylin leaned forward to read Vormalt’s notes.
When she finished, Rylana summarized the other things he’d said, the suggestion that the new god was a hoax that the gnomes had created and perpetuated over the centuries.
“If that’s true, I can see why you may doubt their records,” Sylin said.
“Do you think it’s possible? Vormalt has archaeology training and has been poking around on the subject for years, but I’m not inclined to trust him.
Now that this has come out, I can’t help but wonder if the only reason he ever wanted to marry me was to gain access to the castle.
I asked him, and he was… noncommittal. Maybe he thought he could move in and do a little renovating to find that temple.
He admitted that it wasn’t until later that he figured out it was under that section of the library, so maybe he thought he would need time. ”
“An entire marriage’s worth of time?”
“For all I know, he was snooping about the premises every time he visited me and I left the room. Maybe he originally applied to work for my father’s business for the same reason, to get close to the family—and our castle.”
“Are you distressed by the possibility that it wasn’t adoration for your wit and beauty that drew his interest?”
“I would have been at the time. Now, I’m older, more cynical, and relieved I didn’t end up marrying a man who was only interested in me for my family’s castle.”
“Yes.” Sylin accepted a fresh cup of coffee from Tezilly as she passed by.
Rylana unfolded the rubbing of the rye stalk and explained about the carving in the temple. “I know you’re not from this area, and probably don’t care much about what happens to Tranquility, but if you have any ideas where I could go next, feel free to voice them.”
“I care about my coffee shop being cursed.” Sylin waved to indicate the building. “I wasn’t here for the fated flying of the beans, but I lament that such quality coffee was wasted.”
“That’s my biggest concern about what’s going on here too.
” Rylana peered again toward the diner, certain it wouldn’t escape the curse unscathed.
Maybe it was good that she hadn’t yet started the rooftop seating addition.
The way the day was going, people might fall off the edges left and right.
“I’m thinking of picking up a loaf of bread and some cookies from the bakery to leave on the offering platform at the nearest troll temple.
Or maybe I should take them across the lake to leave under the castle. ”
“That would attract mice, surely.”
“Father’s hounds ought to keep them at bay.”
“You’d best find out exactly what the troll gods historically preferred for their offerings. If you don’t want to consult the gnomish university library…”
“Yes?” Rylana prompted when her comrade trailed off with a frown.
“Well, my people are long-lived and have seen a lot of the movements of the various shorter-lived and busier intelligent species. They keep records. I’ve heard there’s a library at the elven enclave.
It would have been installed after the founding of the city and the establishment of an elven outpost here, but…
they could have brought in older histories.
You might even find living elders who remember the time of the new god’s coming.
” Her eyebrows twitched. “Supposed coming?”
Sylin hadn’t appeared appalled at any point by the suggestion that the new god might have been made up rather than appearing in the world, as the history texts and songs and legends said, but Rylana hadn’t seen much evidence to suggest that Sylin was religious in any way herself.
She didn’t pray or even ever mention the elven gods.
Rylana supposed that if one actually believed in the deities and their accompanying hells—new and old—with the possibility of damnation for sins, one wouldn’t become an assassin.
“So,” Rylana said, “you’re suggesting I visit the people who have been trying to snatch me off the streets and usher me to the enclave to answer questions about you?”
“It’s not what I would do, but I’m not intricately involved in what’s going on in the city.”
“It’s my castle that’s intricately involved.”
“Just the basement.”
“All of it was glowing blue the other night.”
“That was mostly centered around the library.”
“Have I mentioned how helpful you are?”
“I did suggest a course of action.”
“One that could result in me being tortured for information that could betray you.”
“I’ll make sure I’m in an undisclosed location while you visit the elves.”
“So that I can be tortured without betraying you?”
“Precisely.”
“It still sounds like a less than delightful time.”
“That sums up dealing with elves, yes.” Sylin lifted her cup in a salute.
Rylana made a face.
“Dragons are also long-lived,” Sylin said. “Now that you’ve been introduced to some, perhaps you could consult them.”
Oh, yes, Rylana longed to swiftly reacquaint herself with Jildarin's aunt and mother. “I have heard that the gardens in the elven enclave are beautiful in the spring.”
“My nature-loving kind like to offer their guests a memorable view while torturing them.”
“They’re a genteel people.”
“Indeed. If it makes the prospect more appealing, it’s unlikely they will physically torture you.
Especially here, in Tranquility, where they’re supposed to be peaceful toward all their neighbors.
Typical elven interrogations involve them using their magic and mental powers to inflict duress on your mind.
” Sylin’s expression had alternated between amused and dry throughout the conversation, but a haunted look flashed in her eyes for a moment.
Rylana wondered if she’d been caught and interrogated at some point during the war. Doubting Sylin would admit to it if she had, Rylana only asked. “Is that a better experience?”
“It leaves fewer visible scars.”
Loud shouts came from the street out front where a steam-powered carriage had crashed into a peacekeeper wagon. The drivers waved their fists at each other while yelling. Meanwhile, green mist drifted from the nearby stormwater grate.
Rylana finished her latte, stood, and mentally braced herself.
How the curse on the city had become her problem, she didn’t quite know, but the sooner she could find a way to resolve it, the sooner life could get back to normal.
She looked forward to the day when her largest challenge would be haggling with a contractor over the cost of a rooftop seating area.
“Are you going to see the elves or the dragons?” Sylin asked, no doubt wondering how long she could safely linger before disappearing to her undisclosed location.
“The elves haven’t accused me of distracting their son from mating with his own kind and threatened to slay me.”
“Enjoy the gardens.” Sylin raised her cup in another salute.