Chapter 19
With night blanketing the lake, and stars and a three-quarters moon visible in the sky above, Jildarin rowed a small borrowed boat away from the docks. Rylana sat on a bench in the bow, a stockpot and cheesecloth between her feet and the gnomish Whiskmaster in her lap.
She was prepared to do her duty even if she was skeptical that using eggbeaters to disturb the water would be enough to prompt aquatic yeast to start glowing.
But, as Jildarin had pointed out, it wasn’t as if they could go to the market or the zoo so late in the day, so they might as well try to gather the organisms on their own.
Mya had gone home for the night, so they hadn’t been able to consult her before leaving.
Something told Rylana that the dwarven baker might have snickered at this notion.
“Dragon scientists believe,” Jildarin said as he rowed methodically, each strong stroke sending the boat noticeably farther, “that bioluminescent organisms, whether mundane or magical, often glow as a defense mechanism. We’ve observed that they also glow for other reasons, but when threatened, they can brighten the area around them, and large fish are drawn by the light and come eat their predators. ”
“I thought dragon scientists didn’t study microscopic organisms.”
“They have run some experiments. Like your kind, we seek to understand the world around us better. Did you learn about science in your formative days?”
“Only for a short time. Per my father’s instructions, my tutors focused more on business and mathematics.”
“Yes. That is why you know the precise cost of creating an eel soufflé or plate of smoked ensorcelled boar ribs.”
“Five copper and a pricy one silver and four copper per serving respectively.” Rylana winked. “Though those ribs can vary depending on availability. As you know, acquiring eels is easier. The ensorcelled boars don’t hang out by the docks on a regular basis.”
“Correct. Your calculations are useful in the business of running a diner.”
“I’m touched that you value them.” Rylana smiled and resisted the urge to comment that his recognition made her want to hug him.
She doubted dragons found moonlit nights on the lake as romantic as humans did.
Besides, he would soon give her a pompous order, and it would diminish the warmth she felt toward him.
Though… probably not as much as it should.
“Yes. You will agitate the water as I continue to row.”
There was that order, though not overly pompous.
“When I’m not crunching numbers, agitation is my job.” Rylana lifted the Whiskmaster, but she had to turn it around and run her hands over it a few times to find a lever to activate it. The beaters came to life, twirling with a soft whir.
After letting the rowboat glide for a moment, Jildarin splashed the oars against the surface and eyed the water. Thus far, neither his rowing nor the movements of any ships within view on the lake had caused the aquatic life to produce light.
“A co-owner in a business must be adaptable and willing to do many jobs,” Jildarin said.
“I agree with that.” Rylana leaned over the boat to dip the whirring beaters into the water. “A fellow co-owner, however, could perhaps say please when he wants something done. Or he could make it a suggestion or request instead of an order.”
Jildarin gazed at her through slitted eyes, and she had a feeling dragons didn’t exchange niceties even among their own kind.
“This would please you?” he surprised her by asking.
“Immensely.”
“I will consider it. Already, you have been a valuable partner.”
“Thank you.”
“You’ve not once tried to kill me, as I suspected you would when you first arrived.”
“Yeah, I remember.” Rylana didn’t point out that it had only been a few weeks earlier that she’d walked into his diner and he’d started calling her my enemy. She was glad that he’d eventually come to trust her—and believe she truly had retired as a mercenary and had no interest in killing dragons.
Most dragons, anyway. She wouldn’t shed a tear at the passing of his mother, aunt, or the oversexed female dragons that had tried to roast her while they’d been attempting to seduce Jildarin. Well, no, they’d been trying to bribe him to mate with them.
“You had the opportunity to work for your father and what I’ve learned is an immense, sprawling, and very profitable shipping business, and yet you chose to stay at the Dragon Diner.
” Maybe Jildarin’s slitted eyes indicated less suspicion or displeasure than she’d believed.
Maybe his gaze was speculative. And appreciative?
The thought filled her with warmth. As did the beauty of the silver moonlight shining on his handsome face and short hair.
“It’s a good diner,” she said into the silence that followed Jildarin’s words—maybe he expected a response. “And you… I think you need help more than my father does. Not that you aren’t capable of the business aspect of running a diner, but I believe you much prefer to focus on the kitchen duties.”
“Correct.”
As the Whiskmaster agitated the water, so far doing nothing to prompt the bioluminescent aquatic life to brighten, Jildarin leaned forward and rested his palm on Rylana’s free hand.
Her breath caught as he gazed into her eyes.
For a silly moment, she thought he might kiss her, but she didn’t think he knew how to kiss someone or what the purpose might be.
It wasn’t as if dragons had lips they touched when they were in their native form, and Jildarin had made it clear in his conversations with his brother that he hadn’t engaged in sex while shifted into a human.
And yet with Jildarin’s warm hand atop hers, Rylana couldn’t help but wish he would change his mind, that he would find her beauty—or maybe her usefulness—so appealing that—
His gaze shifted past her shoulder. The current had turned the rowboat so that he now faced the shoreline, the mundane and magical lights of Tranquility helping to outline the city along the shoreline.
“The elven conclave,” he stated, leaning back.
Rylana looked over her shoulder. Since the verdant acreage that comprised the enclave was more like a park than the grid of streets and buildings that marked most of the city, she soon picked it out. Flames burned high in branches near its center.
“The curse,” she said, certain the elves wouldn’t intentionally torch trees within their compound.
She spotted something else burning heartily in the core of the city.
A large building that took up more than a block.
Were there temples there? No. “I think those are Tranquility’s government buildings. ”
Had the curse somehow caused one of them to burn? Or had Vormalt hired someone to make sure it did? So the gnome leaders would be more amenable to deals—to his blackmail—when he approached them?
Her mind shied away from the thought of him engaging in such criminal activities, as she’d never gotten the sense when they’d been younger that he would willfully break laws, but maybe, after what he’d dug up, he didn’t believe the laws enforced by gnomes were rightful.
Of course, it was also possible she hadn’t been attentive enough at eighteen to get a feel for his real character.
When he tried, he could be quite charming, and that was the side he’d shown her back then.
“I’ve not yet had an opportunity to make the meals the elven elders requested.
” Jildarin had only glanced at the fire in the government building; he appeared far more disturbed by the enclave burning.
Since elves were allies of dragons, that made sense.
“Because they showed interest, I was—I am—eager to demonstrate for them the deliciousness of the food that I can craft. Lady Hythia knew the elven warrior, Yaroserin, my comrade whom I told you about.”
“The elf who taught you to cook.”
“Yes.” Frowning pensively, Jildarin released Rylana’s hand and took up both oars again. “I desire the elders to know that I learned from him and make some of his recipes from time to time. In that way, a chef may have a legacy and live on in the memories of others, even those who never knew him.”
“I’m sure the elves will have the power to put out the fire and heal those trees.
But it would be nice if we could figure out how to lift this curse.
” Rylana shifted the Whiskmaster to the other side of the boat and poked it in and out of the water, wanting it to do something for Jildarin’s sake as well as the good of the city.
“Yes.” Jildarin shifted his gaze from the burning enclave to the gnomish tool. “This method is proving ineffective.”
“The aquatic yeasts must not feel the need to defend themselves from eggbeaters.”
Jildarin looked around. “We are a reasonable distance from the shoreline.”
“Reasonable?”
He locked the oars in the holders so that they wouldn’t fall out, then stood. Eyes narrowing, he said, “I will give the yeast a reason to believe they need to defend themselves.”
“Are you going to—”
Magic rippled in the air around Jildarin. He stepped onto a bench, and Rylana ducked low as he morphed from a man into a great silver-scaled dragon, abruptly dwarfing the rowboat.
As Jildarin crouched to spring into the air, Rylana jerked the Whiskmaster inside and dropped it at her feet so she could grip the sides of the boat.
His wings flapped, stirring her hair, and his talons left the seat.
His movement was surprisingly light, not at all like a man leaping overboard, and the boat scarcely rocked.