Chapter 17 #2
The handful of tables were empty, but a solitary figure in a cloak with the hood up leaned in a corner near the case, holding a cup of espresso that looked like it had come from the coffee shop, and munching on a croissant in the shape of— ah, there was one of the adult treats.
“Sylin?” Rylana asked in surprise, noticing a hint of dark-green hair under the hood. “This isn’t your usual haunt.”
“The elves keep checking the coffee shop.” Sylin nibbled the tip off the croissant, not commenting on what it looked like. “I’m pleased that you survived your trip to the enclave. Did you learn anything from them? Did they learn anything from you?”
“Probably scads, but nobody interrogated me about your undisclosed location. You know, when you mentioned that, I didn’t envision it being directly adjacent to the coffee shop.”
“I was elsewhere earlier—” Sylin waved her croissant vaguely, “—doing work for the beleaguered peacekeepers, but I wanted to come by and give you a warning.”
“Oh, good. I haven’t had enough warnings lately. Did you feel the earthquakes earlier?”
“I did, yes. My warning is only tangentially related to the curse. From what the gnome peacekeeper captain, Laridon, told me, a lot of people noticed and reported the strange blue glow emanating from your castle the other night.”
Clanks and scrubbing sounds came from the kitchen along with cheerful whistling. Rylana glimpsed Rolf walking past the doorway leading back there, his arms full of sudsy cookie sheets and muffin pans.
“The peacekeepers visited it to ask your father about the glow,” Sylin continued, “but nobody answered the door, and a neighbor told them he’s out of town.”
“I wonder where Zames went. He should have answered.”
“Maybe he realized your castle is even more cursed than Tranquility and also departed. Wisely. Regardless, the captain has made it clear there would be a financial reward should I be able to figure out what’s going on in the city and who’s responsible.
He said it’s against the law to trespass but also insinuated that if I happened to wander along the shoreline over there on a refreshing midnight walk, perhaps I could investigate the castle and see if it’s tied in with the curse in any way. ”
“Why would you be qualified to visit? There’s nobody there to assassinate.”
“I mentioned that I can get into most places without too much trouble, even those guarded by wards.”
“You got into the castle because I told the wards to let you in.”
“Yes, that was convenient. I know what’s over there, so I haven’t been inclined to visit your castle again. I did check the Timberport estate to see if your wayward archaeologist had returned. He wasn’t there.”
“Thanks for checking. I was debating if I should go over there myself.”
“Until the call for a buttery croissant beckoned?”
“Actually, I came to talk to Mya.”
“About what, dear?” Mya popped into view in the kitchen doorway. “Do you want something off the special menu?” She pointed to Sylin’s phallic croissant.
“I’m looking for an ancient troll baked good that might appease their gods.”
“That would have to come off an extra special menu,” Mya said.
“Yes. Do you have one?”
“I’ve certainly baked items that are specific favorites of trolls before, but… their gods have failed to come by and mention their preferences.”
“Jildarin is having the same problem. He’s taste-testing a meal on trolls now to see what they like. I guess he figures their gods would have similar tastes.”
“That might be a reasonable assumption,” Mya said. “Has he managed to tickle their tastebuds yet?”
“They’re enjoying some black bread that has squid ink as an ingredient. There presumably aren’t squid in Lumi Lake, but I know one can get some types of seafood from traders who bring it up the Troll Gulf River.”
“Oh, yes. I’ve used that as an ingredient in breads before. Trolls enjoy a touch of brine in their foods. Much like humans, their sweat and other bodily excretions have salt in them, so they need to replenish themselves.”
“I had no idea I’d be hearing about bodily excretions while I ate,” Sylin murmured.
“You of all people can’t have a weak stomach,” Rylana said.
“My stomach is quite firm.” Sylin thumped a fist against her abdomen. “I still don’t want to hear about trollish excretions.”
“I need to get back to work,” Mya said. “I’m staying late to prep since I got an order from the peacekeeper captain to supply cookies and breads to his patrollers first thing in the morning.
They’re having to run around the city at top speed, responding to reports and helping the fire brigade with all the buildings that keep spontaneously bursting into flame.
He wants his troops fortified with sugary treats to keep them going.
I do have some centuries-old cookbooks in the attic, if you want to investigate.
” Mya pointed past the dishwashing Rolf to the other end of the kitchen.
Through the doorway, a narrow staircase against one wall was visible.
“There are a few that were penned by troll authors—well, some human scribe probably wrote down the actual recipes. They may be useful.”
Rylana didn’t know if searching in troll cookbooks would reveal much—Jildarin and Zalani had already done that—but maybe she would find titles they hadn’t dug up.
“Do you want to help?” she asked Sylin.
“For what other reason would I have come to a delicious bakery than to assist you?” Sylin held up the last bite of her croissant before popping it into her mouth.
“You’re going to turn into a chubby assassin if you eat those every day.”
“I ran fifteen miles this morning.”
“How much was for exercise and how much was because you were being chased by elves?” Rylana headed through the kitchen toward the stairs.
“Being chased is a form of exercise.” Sylin followed her up to the attic.
“True. I don’t recall Sergeant Oxhoks recommending it as a part of his training regimen though.”
“The man lacked imagination. If you really want to get in shape, flee hordes of enemies or a fire-breathing dragon on a regular basis.”
“You’re an odd elf.”
The narrow wooden stairs led to a trapdoor in the ceiling. Rylana pushed it up, considered the darkness above, and grabbed a couple of lanterns to light before climbing into the attic.
The small windows on either end of the long, low-ceilinged space were shuttered.
Boxes, bookcases, and crates filled with everything from pots and pans to erotic chocolate molds filled the floor space, making the attic even more claustrophobic than Jildarin's storeroom had been before she’d sold his surplus ovens and organized everything that remained.
Thanks to the sloping ceiling, they couldn’t stand up straight, and Rylana doubted she would stay for long.
After cocking an eyebrow at a box of molds for what looked like zerg sticks of various sizes, Sylin veered for the bookcases.
Dust stirred as she and Rylana moved about, and they both sneezed.
“I don’t suppose the books are organized by which species the recipes inside are for.” Rylana crouched behind Sylin and held the lantern aloft.
“They’re not organized by anything. Not even by whether they’re books or not.” Sylin plucked a miniature pickaxe off a dusty shelf and held it up.
“Paperweight?” Rylana guessed.
“Maybe it’s for smashing in the skull of the person who interrupts your reading.”
“What a handy tool. It’s a wonder all libraries aren’t equipped with them.”
Sylin selected a couple of books and handed one to Rylana. Ogres, Orcs, Trolls: Favorite Recipes from the Sea.
“I wonder if there’s one with recipes from the lake,” Rylana said. “That’s what would have more likely been sourced for ingredients around here.”
“I’ll see if Fifty Ways to Feed Your Troll Lover has a section on freshwater fish.”
A tremor went through the building, probably the whole city, and items on shelves and in crates rattled. A faint moan came from beyond the back window.
Rylana took the tome that Sylin had given her and crawled over to unfasten the shutter and look out.
The narrow alley was empty. Soft music wafted from the building on the other side, a tavern that faced the waterfront street and the docks, but she couldn’t hear any moaning mixed in with the drumbeats.
From the attic perch, she could see past its roof and out to the lake. The water was still dark.
“I hope Vormalt didn’t do something to permanently get rid of the glowing fish and plankton,” she murmured. “They’ve been a part of the lake for my whole life. Supposedly, the whole time the city has been here and before. What would Luminous Lake be without its glowing water life?”
“Just Lake.” Sylin flipped through pages, though she probably didn’t have any more idea what they were looking for than Rylana.
Unless they stumbled across a recipe called Offering for the Troll Gods, how would they know if they’d found the right thing? Rylana and Jildarin were only guessing that an offering was what the gods wanted, that the proper item left on one of their pedestals would appease them.
Two hooded figures in dark clothing walked through the alley below, and Rylana leaned back from the window. Elves? They hadn’t looked up, so she didn’t know, but that captain had implied his people would keep looking for Sylin.
“You really need to get out of here,” Rylana said quietly after closing the shutter.
“Didn’t you invite me up here to help you?”
“Yeah, but I shouldn’t have. Your people are still after you.
” As she opened the cookbook to peruse recipes, Rylana summed up her trip to the enclave and what she’d learned from the elder.
“Oh, here’s a recipe for frying luminescent perch.
You scale, clean, and fillet them in the typical manner but reserve some of the skin—that’s the luminescent part—for a butter sauce. ”
“If I were a troll god, I know I would enjoy fish fried in glowing butter,” Sylin said.
“The butter isn’t what glows. There aren’t any luminescent cows meandering in the pastures around the lake.”