“I told you there was a dragon.” Sylin pointed to a tea andcoffee shop next to the bakery, a steaming cup painted on its wooden sign. “Why don’t you inquire about employment there?”
“Retiring to work at a coffee shop is your dream not mine.” Of course, Rylana was almost as much of a fan of a heady dose of fresh brew as Sylin, and she smiled at a memory that arose. She’d first become the bookkeeper for the Moon Daggers—and registered to Captain Maverick’s awareness as more than a nameless archer in Fleet Foot Squad—when she’d had a fit because the company had been out of coffee. He’d said that if she was that concerned about the status of luxury goods, she could take over the position of supply officer. He’d been surprised when she’d gleefully agreed. Never again had the company been without such an important substance.
“I think it might be a bookstore too.” Sylin pointed at tome-filled cases behind a table visible through the window, then rested her knife across her heart and sighed. “I’m going to investigate.”
“And apply for a job?”
“I would be bored serving coffee. Even traveling has felt mundane without any challenges to occupy my mind and force me to keep my skills honed.”
“As a barista, you might get the opportunity to slap away handsy men.”
“That’snot challenging. And it’s the epitome of mundane.”
“Well, for my sake, ask if they’re hiring.”
Rylana had already inquired at more than twenty establishments and found that nobody was. In the aftermath of the Ore War, a lot of former soldiers had come to Tranquility, the city that welcomed all, as long as they obeyed the laws of the new god that required all intelligent species to exist in peace. Since Rylana and Sylin had taken a roundabout route here, those who’d arrived earlier had acquired all the available jobs and also filled the temporary lodgings, something else Rylana’s inquiries had revealed. When she and Sylin had decided to come to Tranquility,it hadn’t occurred to them that there wouldn’t be work or a place to stay.
Sylin turned back to the door, standing shoulder to shoulder with Rylana. “I won’t let you face a dragon alone.”
“I still don’t believe there’s a real dragon. They’re not allowed to live in their native form in Tranquility because their fangs and claws are too dangerous—not to mention theirmagic. The gnome peacekeepers can’t tie a knot on a dragon’s ability to breathe fire.”
“It would be amusing to see a three-foot-tall gnome attempt to fasten a ribbon around one of those long scaled necks.”
Sylin reached for the door again—nobody had gone in or out in the time they’d stood in front of it, so it definitely wasn’t busy.
“Be careful in there,” came a woman’s call from behind. It was the apron-wearing gray-haired dwarf who’d let the goblins in. She now held a tray filled with miniature cupcakes. “With your beauty, if any of the male patrons have been imbibing the soup, they might try to force a mating on you. Cupcake?” She smiled and held up the tray.
“I assume she’s talking to you,” Rylana murmured.
“You’re more trusting than I and likely to take a sweet from a stranger,” Sylin said.
“I meant about thebeauty.”
“You’ll want to watch out for the dragon too,” the dwarf added, her gaze squarely on Rylana now. “He doesn’t take kindly to human soldiers, and you’ve the look of one.” Cupcake in hand, she gestured toward the chain mail shirt visible under Rylana's tunic, the bow and quiver, and the combat boots that had seen a lot of use in the dragon-filled mountains that rose out of the mists of the southern jungles.
“See, thereisa dragon.” Sylin nodded, as if she’d known for certain all along. Maybe she had. Elves had more ability than humans did to sense the magical, and dragons, with their ability tofly, breathe fire, and shape-shift into other forms, were definitely that.
“He’s the chef,” the dwarf added, then popped the cupcake into her mouth. “I really must stop eating so many of the samples,” she murmured to herself, then went inside.
Rylana faced the diner’s dragon door again, but all the warnings were succeeding in making her believe this establishment would be best avoided. She still had a few coins. She didn’t need a job immediately. Just… soon.
“There have to be alternatives. Didn’t you say your wealthy family lives across the lake here?” Sylin waved toward the west where, opposite of the city core that sprawled along the eastern side of the lake, ancient castles that had been turned into manors of wealthy families stood along the shoreline, each on sprawling acreages overlooking the water.
“I’m not asking the father I haven’t seen or even written to in seventeen years for money.”
“Didn’t he offer you a job in the family business once?”
“He tried toforceme into that job after torturing my brother and me with ten stifling years of nonstop tutoring and testing. If my lute teacher hadn’t let me sneak out into the woods to practice with the neighbor’s bow, I could have gone insane.” Rylana didn’t mention the worst part, that her father had tried to arrange a marriage for her to a socially acceptable landowner whose family also had an estate on the banks of the lake. That had been what had ultimately prompted her to flee the city and become a mercenary in a far-off land. “You’re lucky you were an orphan, Sylin.”
“Oh, yes, all orphans are thankful every day that they weren’t born into wealthy families where missed meals were nonexistent.”
“I bet the wolves didn’t make you learn the lute.” Brimming with determination, Rylana thrust open the door.
So what if there was a dragon? If he was hiring bookkeepers, she was a bookkeeper.
Rylana stepped inside to the most wondrous of smells. Was that bacon? With a hint of sweetness like maple? The scent wafted through a tidy dining room with not a speck of food or grime on the tile floors. Illuminated by daylight flowing through the windows, the back half was further brightened by lamps and sconces adorned with paper-thin wooden shades that had been burned with the same dragon logo that was on the door.
Despite the sumptuous scents, only two booths were occupied, one by a man eating skewers of meat while reading a newspaper, the other by an amorous university-age couple, the girl sitting in the guy’s lap as they giggled over bowls of stew. Or maybe that was the soup the goblins had warned them of. The other booths and a dozen or so stools at an empty bar in the back were unoccupied. A hallway beside it led toward a swinging kitchen door, what might have been an office opposite it, and to what looked like a large supply room taking up the back half of the building.
