Chapter 25 #3
After Rolf and Gniknik trotted down the stairs to collect more trays, Zalani remained.
She lowered her voice and said, “Chef Jildarin also seemed a little impatient before we came up—or maybe agitated is the right word. It was when he was ladling up dishes and serving them to the elves in the dining room. I’m not sure any of them noticed, but I’ve worked with him for months now, so I caught it as atypical for him.
Do you know why he would be upset? He was muttering to himself now and then, and I caught your name.
Also something about elven factions and politics. ”
“I…” Before Rylana could formulate an answer, Jildarin, apparently satisfied that the queen had taken her first bite and nodded to him, turned toward the stairs. “I guess we can ask him ourselves.”
“I’ll let you handle that.” Zalani descended first.
As Jildarin approached, Rylana noticed Tassani was looking toward the rooftop of a warehouse on the block behind Acorn Street. Full darkness had descended, and she didn’t see anything over there, but she remembered the shadowy elves she’d spotted earlier.
“The elves in the diner below are enjoying their mushroom meals,” Jildarin told Rylana.
“That’s good. Was there something bothering you about them?” she asked.
He again gave her what she interpreted as a significant look, but she didn’t know what it meant.
“Are they enjoying the food?” she asked.
“Evidently, though many of them are glancing toward the exit and also the stairs visible out the side window. They seemed agitated. Or maybe anticipatory.”
“They’re technically on duty, I suppose.” Rylana looked toward Tassani again.
He hadn’t moved, and his hand was resting on the hilt of his sword. And were his fingers starting to work on the tranquility knot?
“They are here, they informed me, in case anything unexpected happens while the queen is dining. I would not have thought anything of their comments, but…” Jildarin looked sidelong at her.
“Because of what you said earlier, I was more alert and attentive to the body language of the elves than usual.”
“Oh?” Rylana lifted a finger, trying to get Tassani’s attention, but he was looking at another shadowy rooftop now.
He continued to subtly work at the tranquility knot, and he whispered something, calling a couple of his warriors to him. His most trusted warriors?
“I believe some of them spoke the truth,” Jildarin continued, “but others were being mendacious.”
“Does that mean you think Captain Tassani was right about having a bad feeling about some of the elves?”
“If one has feelings about his troops, one should not bring them along.”
“It didn’t sound like he had a choice. He was a chaff of wheat in the wind, blown about by the political machinations of those in power.”
Jildarin made a disgusted noise. “You should not go on the coffee excursion with him.”
Rylana blinked. “Why? Because he has to answer to superiors?”
“A dragon is not a chaff of wheat.”
“No dragons have asked me on coffee excursions,” Rylana said a little tartly, more offended on Tassani’s behalf than her own.
“Chef Jildarin?” Rolf called softly up from the bottom of the stairs. “We need you in the dining room. Some of the elves are, uhm. They passed out at their tables!”
Jildarin nodded to himself and descended the stairs.
“That is desired,” he said calmly.
Rylana leaned back and grabbed a railing. Had he gone along with her plan and served the elves an overdose of enchanted morels?
“Desired!” Rolf blurted. “Chef, unconscious elves can’t leave tips.”
“I do not believe these elves would tip you, regardless.” Jildarin gave Rylana a long look over his shoulder before stepping off the stairs.
She lay a hand on her chest, touched. After he’d been so affronted, she hadn’t dreamed he would go along with her scheme.
“I suppose their purses will be accessible while they’re out,” Rolf murmured as Jildarin passed him.
Instead of heading straight into the diner, Jildarin halted at the corner. The clip-clop of horse hooves came from the street. A lot of them. Jildarin’s back went as stiff as Sylin’s had moments earlier.
Rolf trotted past him but also paused. From the stairs on the side of the building, Rylana couldn’t see the street but, from Jildarin’s reactions, didn’t know if she wanted to.
In a much different reaction, Rolf threw his arms up and spun a circle. “Look at all those ritzy carriages. Are those reins decorated with silver? And I see gilding on that fancy steam-powered lorry. A whole bunch of lords and ladies are coming. I bet they’ll tip.”
As Rolf ran forward, no doubt to schmooze whoever was arriving, Jildarin looked up at Rylana. “Zilek’s carriage is in the lead.”
“Has he brought his wine club buddies for an impromptu gathering?” Rylana asked. “Or a bunch of trouble we don’t need on top of our other trouble?”
“Yes,” Jildarin said with certainty, then walked after Rolf.
“Archer!” someone yelled from the rooftop.
“Protect the queen,” Tassani barked.
Rylana cursed and ran for the bar—and her bow. The anticipated trouble had begun.