“I’m a quality employee.”
11
Rylana soldanother oven the next day and deposited another bag of gold on Jildarin's desk, which prompted him to suggest she spend evenmoretime away from the diner during work hours. She wouldn’t take him up on that. There was too much to do to stabilize his business and set it on a sustainable path forward. Her latest project was calculating the costs of all the meals that Jildarin made and coming up with prices for a menu that they could post outside the door. That would ensure the diner didn’t lose money on any of the dishes and that the amounts didn’t fluctuate depending on who served the patrons. Rolf, in particular, always added agoblin tip.
By the end of the day, Rylana had posted the menu and felt accomplished. Needing a touch of exercise, she took off before the dinner hour to accompany Sylin on a jog. She vowed not to be gone for long in case the servers needed help. As the bookkeeper, carrying trays and washing dishes probably wasn’t one of her duties, but, since she wanted the place to succeed, she felt obligated to assist whenever it was useful.
“There’s plenty of space in the room I’ve leased if you want tosleep there,” Sylin offered as they trotted through the streets of Tranquility. With spring creeping into the northern city, the days were growing longer, and twilight hadn’t yet descended, but the gnomish fire-fliers were out, the buzzing contraptions applying flame to the streetlamps that brightened the intersections after dark. “I’ve paid for it through the next two weeks, and, as we discussed, I’m not using the bed.”
“That does sound more comfortable than sleeping on the hard floor of Jildarin's storeroom.” Rylana wiped sweat from her brow.
The air was cool, but Sylin’s pace always pressed her. Since Rylana didn’t plan to return to the mercenary life, she supposed she didn’tneedto keep training, but she’d continued sparring and doing jogs with her elven comrade since they’d left the south. It seemed wise to remain fit, for more reasons than her increased consumption of delicious food. Shehopedshe wouldn’t see Vormalt again but couldn’t help but believe she would—and that trouble might come with his appearances. There was also something unsettling about the peacekeepers being around the diner so often. Maybe it was simply because Jildarin had changed into his native form the other day, but she had a feeling that walking at a dragon’s side—and working in his diner—might also deliver trouble.
“There were only two drunken knocks on the door during the middle of the night,” Sylin said, “by men who’d seen me go upstairs and hoped I was lonely and pining for their company.”
“Only two men bothered you? That’s a quality establishment.”
They turned onto the waterfront street, jogging north, away from the cargo docks and deeper into the heart of the city. With the weather decent, numerous humans, dwarves, gnomes, orcs, and people with mixed blood were out. In a bump-ball court on a sandy beach, a goblin team battled a dwarf team, none of the contestants daunted by the net being strung for taller competitors.
“You’d think my aloof and chilly demeanor would deter men,” Sylin said.
“No, they like a challenge, and they’re always certain they’re the ones with the ability to melt the ice statue.” Rylana didn’t find her elven comradeicybut had heard many others describe her that way.
“I’ve noticed alcohol further bolsters their self-confidence.”
“It’s a powerful elixir, yes.”
As they neared the ferry that could carry passengers, horses, and wagons across the lake to the estates on the monied west side, Rylana had a view of her family’s castle perched on its rocky point to the south of the landing on that shoreline. Though plumbed and otherwise modernized, it still looked like a vestige from the time when Tranquility had been little more than a troll-fishing village with a few family farms stretching between the water and the forests. Back then, the gnomes, who’d eventually traded for much of the land, had lived in the mountains, much like the dwarves, many of whom remained there, preferring subterranean homes.
“Of course, you might get an even more appealing room if you visited your family there,” Sylin said, following her gaze across the lake. “One less frequented by drunk males.”
“True. The men in my family haven’t been that prone to drink, unless my uncle Chanlin was visiting.”
“Even if he were, I would assume he wouldn’t knock on the door to your room seeking a mating experience.”
“Probably not,” Rylana said. “High society frowns upon incest, though there have been some plays involving the topic published and performed and lauded by critics. But my beauty isn’t as great as yours and as likely to tempt men to foolishness.”
“Your beauty is fine. It’s not your fault you don’t have any elven blood.” Sylin veered to run up a street perpendicular to the waterfront.
As Rylana followed, she saw the reason why her comrade had rerouted. Two elven males in green cloaks with blond-green hair to their shoulders and bows on their backs had been heading toward them. Their weapons were knotted with tranquility ribbons, so their arrows weren’t a threat, but Sylin picked up the pace, regardless.
“Are you going to avoid the elves who live in the city for as long as you’re here?” Rylana asked.
“As assiduously as the drunks in the tavern, yes. And as assiduously as you’re avoiding your relatives.” Sylin slanted her a don’t-judge-me-lest-I-judge-you look, and Rylana waved her fingers in acknowledgment.
But as they jogged up the slope away from the waterfront, she looked thoughtfully back across the lake. As part of her return to Tranquility, she’d hoped to reconnect with some of the friends she’d grown up with, but they likely still lived over there on their family estates. If Rylana crossed the lake to visit others, she would feel compelled to see her father. Maybe she should have felt compelled to do that regardless, out of a sense of familial duty, but the thought made her grimace.
Ahead, on one corner of an intersection, Rylana spotted a gnomish newspaper dispenser.
“Hold up,” she said, remembering Yerin’s visit. It was probably too soon to expect a review of the diner, but more people than usual hadvisited during the breakfast and lunch hours, so she wondered if a piece about it might have already been published. As Gniknik had said, even a poor review could increase business.
“Are you tired already?” Sylin asked. “We’ve only run four miles.”
“Yeah, but the last mile was uphill at a flee-from-wyverns pace.” Rylana wiped her brow again, then fished in her pocket to find a copper for the dispenser.
“A flee-from-elves pace only.”
“For you, that’s as brisk. Do you think your people will attack you if they see you? Here in Tranquility?”
