Chapter 4
On the way to the women’s boutique two blocks up Acorn Street from the diner, Rylana popped into the bakery and the coffee shop to ask the owners to let Sylin know that Rylana was looking for her.
She thought her comrade might visit one if not both of those establishments at some point during the day, especially if she was still sleeping in the attic of the bakery.
If not, Rylana would show up at the wine conclave without her.
With the elf queen’s island ship now anchored near the docks, and log-shaped dinghies carrying warriors and dignitaries to the shoreline, where gnome officials waited with peacekeeper escorts, Rylana wouldn’t be surprised if Sylin had finally decided to leave the city.
“Will Jildarin also be purchasing elegant and fashionable clothing?” Zalani asked as they stepped into the boutique.
The air was perfumed with jasmine and vanilla, and a fountain gurgled near the front window, rose petals floating in the water. Right away, Rylana assumed her dress would cost her a fortune. Maybe it was good that she hadn’t yet taken on a monthly obligation for lodgings.
“I think everyone will be delighted if I can just get Jildarin to show up with his shirt on,” she said.
Zalani laughed. “It’s only when he cooks bacon, skin-on fish or chicken, and other foods that spatter grease that he hangs his chef’s coat on the peg. And I’m sure the female guests would be delighted if he arrived shirtless.”
“He is nice to look at in that state.”
Rylana waved to an elderly male gnome with a trimmed white beard and mustache who was wandering between well-dressed manikins and displays of scarves, hats, and other accessories. He wore a monocle on a gold chain, and three measuring tapes dangled around his neck.
A similarly-aged female gnome chattered with a pair of orc ladies in the back. To Rylana’s surprise, one of the stone-skinned golems loomed by a wall, its head nearly brushing the rafters, its arms loaded with bolts of silk.
“That’s Hasper,” the male gnome said as he approached.
Perhaps seeing Rylana’s curious gaze toward the golem, he explained further.
“There was an error in his magical programming, and he had a tendency to wander off to pick random items up instead of chasing down criminals. I got him at a discount and put him to work holding things. He’s also helpful with measuring towering people. ”
At three feet tall, gnomes described most people that way, and he had to adjust his monocle to peer up at Zalani and Rylana.
“Greetings, Zalani, and, er… is this a project?” He tutted to himself as he eyed Rylana’s clothes, probably put off by her copious pockets. Though his gaze lingered on her combat boots, so maybe those were a more egregious fashion choice.
“This is Rylana, the Dragon Diner’s bookkeeper.”
The gnome nodded to himself. “Project. Don’t worry.
You’re in good hands. I’m Tranklin.” He took one of the measuring tapes from around his neck.
“Come this way.” As they followed him, he pointed to a platform in the corner of the shop.
“Remove all your clothes except your undergarments and stand on there, please. I must have accurate measurements.”
“I thought I’d pick something off a rack. I need a dress by tonight, so I wasn’t expecting customization.” Rylana lowered her voice to add, “Or to engage in public nudity.”
Tranklin scowled at her, pointed firmly at the platform, and waved for the golem to set down the bolts of fabric and come over to assist with the measuring. Presumably, it handled whatever the gnomes couldn’t reach.
“It’s not that public,” Zalani offered, “and, other than Tranklin and the golem, I’ve never seen a man come in here. The lacy undergarments visible in the window usually scare them away.”
“The golem is male?”
“Well, I don’t know. I’ve not looked that closely.”
“The golems are unsexed,” Tranklin said as he whisked about, selecting dresses from displays.
“We’ll choose from the already-made garments, but I insist that you not walk out in something that hasn’t been fitted.
I’m something of a miracle worker, so I believe I can make adjustments by your ridiculously shortsighted and stringent deadline. But why didn’t you come last week?”
Not waiting for an answer, Tranklin continued through the store, making more selections. The colors and styles he opted for weren’t too frilly and were choices Rylana herself might have made, so she decided to trust his taste.
“How much is this going to cost me?” she whispered to Zalani as she removed her boots.
Zalani, who’d wandered a few feet away to rub a velvety green dress with a strapless bodice, winked at her. “There’s a reason I flirt so assiduously for my tips.”
Rylana told herself that if Zalani could afford to get dresses here—Zalani, whom Jildarin had never paid a salary beyond those tips—it probably wouldn’t be too richly priced. She removed her trousers and tunic and allowed the golem and gnome to measure her.
Every time Tranklin said, “Hm,” the golem uttered a mechanical-sounding version of the same.
Not two minutes into the experience, the front door opened, and a draft whisked in.
Rylana crouched in case she had to spring for her clothes.
Given the way her life had been going lately, she half-expected a cadre of elven warriors led by Captain Tassani to stride in to question her on Sylin’s last known whereabouts.
But Jildarin was the one to stride in, spotting her over the racks.
Half-crouched, Rylana waffled on whether to spring for clothes or not.
He met her eyes, smiled, and waved one of the cookbooks at her, his finger holding a place.
Maybe he’d found a suitable recipe to enthrall the palate of the elven queen.
“I’d be chuffed if a dragon smiled at me like that,” Zalani said.
“Any dragon would do?” Rylana decided not to worry about clothes.
She had her undergarments on, so she wasn’t completely naked, and Jildarin never seemed to notice what she wore or didn’t wear, regardless.
She told herself that was fine, that it wasn’t disappointing that he’d never been moved to ogle her.
“Well, one shape-shifted into a human or elf, probably. And male.”
“Yeah, you should stay away from the female dragons. The ones I’ve met have all been dreadful, whether they’re shape-shifted or not.”
“Because they tried to kill you?”
Rylana had told Zalani the stories of her various encounters with Jildarin’s relations.
“That was the dreadful part, yes,” Rylana said.
Jildarin made his way through the displays and racks to stand before her and open his book to a page two-thirds of the way through.
With a touch of curiosity, he took in her bare legs, stomach, and partially covered breasts, but only for a moment before shaking his head and pointing to the text.
Again, Rylana told herself not to be disappointed that his gaze didn’t linger.
“I believe I’ve found the perfect recipe,” Jildarin said. “It would go well with a touch of my dragon spices.”
“You’d better make sure Zilek isn’t in the room when you give the queen those spices,” Rylana said. “Since he’s apparently irresistible to older female elves, at least the ones who’ve imbibed them.”
“I would employ a delicate touch of the spices, only enough to ensure Queen Fareesa loved the dish, not any nearby males. And they’ll be delicious in this.” He held up the page so she could read the title of the recipe.
Tranklin seemed unfazed by the odd discussion. He was occupied by wrapping his measuring tape no fewer than three times around her various body parts, then writing down the presumably very accurate results in a notepad that his golem held for him.
“Enchanted Morel Risotto,” Rylana read aloud, glimpsing ingredients such as duck fat, chives, and a crumbly textured cheese made from cow's milk, salt, and rennet.
“I believe I can find all of the required components at this time of year,” Jildarin said, “but the enchanted morels, as we discussed earlier, are quite rare and hard to acquire. I would go out myself to seek them in the wilds, but dragons are hunters, not foragers. We don’t excel at finding the food that our food eats. ” His lip curled in a faint sneer.
It was impressive that he deigned to cook vegetarian dishes—or vegetables in any sense—as well as desserts, breads, and other things that delighted omnivores but were considered lesser by pure carnivores.
“I can see where dragons would be largely indifferent to mushrooms,” Rylana said.
“Yes. But dragon chefs must craft dishes to delight the palates of many.” With the book lying open in his hands, he gazed expectantly at her.
It took Rylana a moment to guess, “Do you want me to try to find some enchanted morels in the markets?”
“Yes, you are a talented shopper and acquirer of ingredients. You also always seem to know the appropriate price of everything and how to negotiate with vendors.”
Zalani touched her hand to her chest and smiled, as if she found his praise wonderful and romantic.
Rylana did appreciate it, but she’d already assigned herself what she deemed a more important mission than making a dish for a visiting queen from a far-off land, one who might or might not ever deign to eat at the diner.
“I can check around in the morning,” she offered, then realized that would be the ideal time anyway. “The foragers are usually at the markets early, then run out of their supply by this time of the day.” She waved in the direction of the afternoon sun.
“That is acceptable.” Jildarin nodded. “You will not inform the vendors of this as a part of your negotiations, but be aware that I will pay any price for quality enchanted morels.”
“I know how much money is in your coffers,” Rylana said.
“It’s a much more substantial amount than when I first came to the diner, but it’s not any-price substantial.
And we need to save some coin to pay the plant master.
” She grimaced, reminded of the landlord problem.
“Assuming Aztor lets us renew our lease.”
“He will. If he does not, I have determined that I will threaten to incinerate him when he comes to evict us.”
“You can’t incinerate anyone in Tranquility.”
“I am fairly certain the law does not preclude threatening incineration. That may be sufficient.”
“Let’s try my plan first.” Rylana didn’t know how much he’d heard of her discussion with Zilek and said, “I’m going with your brother to his wine club tonight to hopefully talk to Aztor or, if he isn’t there, his wife.
Something’s happened to change Aztor’s mind about us as tenants, and I want to figure out what. ”
“You will accompany Zilek to the wine conclave?” His surprised raising of eyebrows suggested he’d been too distracted by lamenting the possible loss of his diner to listen in on that conversation.
“To gather information, yes.”
Jildarin’s brow wrinkled.
“You don’t approve? Do you think he was lying earlier and that he will attempt to kill me?” Maybe Rylana’s plan to arrive early, before Zilek, was even better than she’d guessed.
“He rarely lies outright to me, but he occasionally—frequently—withholds information.”
“I’ll be careful, but I want to get to the bottom of why our landlord suddenly wants to kick us out. I’d prefer to learn that without resorting to incineration.”
“Incineration threats,” Jildarin said.
“If it helps,” Zalani said, “judging from comments I’ve overheard from Lord Zilek, it’s more likely that he’ll attempt to woo Rylana than kill her.”
“Woo?” Jildarin asked, as if he hadn’t heard the term before.
Rylana knew he had—recently—and that he was aware of what it meant.
“He seems to enjoy human and elven companionship.” Zalani shrugged.
“That is true,” Jildarin said, his eyes narrowing as he regarded Rylana again. “And, yes, he has observed that your face is without blemishes or scars, and your lips are full and your breasts an ample size to draw the eye. His eye.”
Rylana’s cheeks heated as she recalled the conversation she’d overheard where Zilek had said exactly that about her. She was surprised Jildarin not only remembered it but could quote the words verbatim.
“If he gives you soup, you will not drink it,” Jildarin said sternly, holding her gaze.
Normally, Rylana would have objected to being given an order, but that wasn’t one she would consider disobeying. “I absolutely will not.”
“Do not drink wine that he has poured for you either. He knows as surely as I how to acquire dragon spices, and a strongly flavored beverage could easily mask their taste.”
“I doubt he wants to drug me into having sex with him, but if he tries, I’ll stab the hand offering me a spiced libation with a fork.” Rylana made a fencing motion in the air.
“You will stab him with a knife,” Jildarin said. “Multiple times.”
“Your dragon tendency toward violence is seeping out today,” Rylana said as Zalani and Tranklin, who’d finished his measurements and was waiting for her to try on a dress, raised their eyebrows. Even the golem’s smooth, hairless brow twitched.
“Because I would be furious if my brother attempted to seduce my partner,” Jildarin stated without apology.
“That is unacceptable behavior, and you…” He stretched a hand in the air toward her as he groped for a way to finish the sentence.
“You are the reason the business is now profitable. You are valuable. Zilek will not lay his libidinous hands on you.” Jildarin skewed her with a surprisingly intense look that made her flush with warmth before he nodded and said, “I must return to prepare for the evening meal and to read more about enchanted morel mushrooms. Never before has a dragon had to research such a thing. Enchanted rhinoceros is much more to the tastes of my kind.” Shaking his head, Jildarin tucked his book under his arm and walked out the door.
“Someday,” Zalani said, “I hope to meet a man who appreciates me the way Chef Jildarin appreciates you.”
“He does appreciate me, and that means a lot, but I do wish he’d looked at my boobs.”
“They’re very nice,” Zalani offered.
“Thank you.”