“They attack with words as readily as with weapons. I do not seek to engage with them.” Sylin looked back down the slope as Rylana exchanged her coin for a newspaper. “Since you also battled elves for years, I would think you would likewise desire to avoid them.”
“I doubt any of them would recognize me.” Rylana opened the paper and found the culture section where events such as the dwarven opera, ogre wrestling matches, and the latest plays were reviewed. “If I see one with an arrow scar beside his eye, I’ll run the other way.”
“They are all arrogant, supercilious, and best avoided. Unless, of course, one has an assignment to eliminate one.” Sylin said the latter words as if she were remembering a pleasant experience, one she hoped to relive one day.
“You’re going to have a hard time transitioning to a new line of work, aren’t you?” Rylana ran her finger down the columns, looking for something about diners.
“I also enjoyed the challenge, and I was among the few to lament the end of the war. I even debated remaining with the mercenaries in the hope of more unrest arising. Tranquility is…”
“A brilliant and blazing start under the leadership of an atypical bellwether.”
“I assume you refer to the diner and not the city,” Sylin said.
“Yerinrefers to the diner that way.”
“Though the gnomes are atypical, and some people with peace-loving demeanors do think the city brilliant.”
Busy reading the column, Rylana didn’t answer. “Huh. It’s approving.”
“That is a review by the food critic?”
“Yeah, he even liked the spruce-tip bacon.”
“Allof the bacon was good.”
Rylana lowered the newspaper. “When Jildarin said Yerin was a fellow chef and a rival in the cooking competition, I assumed he would write a scathing review.”
“Maybe he’s honorable.”
“He stole my bicycle chain and hid it in the flower garden when my brother and I wouldn’t come play with him.”
“Mischief undertaken at a young age, presumably. People can mature.”
“Like the people who knocked on your door in the middle of the night?”
“Somepeople can mature.”
Rylana supposed that was true. Unlike Vormalt, she didn’t have any reason to be suspicious of Yerin. He’d been a quirky kid but not a mean one, crimes against bicycles notwithstanding.
Trusting the elves had passed on the waterfront street, Rylana gestured that she wanted to head back. She’d had enough exercise and wanted to show the newspaper to Jildarin.
Sylin allowed Rylana to change their route, but she eyed the waterfront warily and turned a block before it to walk back on a parallel street.
“Is it more than wanting to avoid some unpleasantness that has you dodging elves?” Rylana looked across the lake to a stone manor perched three estates down from her family’s castle. Assuming the property hadn’t changed hands in the years she’d been gone, it belonged to the Molingvars—Yerin’s family.
“There are many reasons why doing so is prudent.”
Rylana gave Sylin a sidelong look but didn’t pry further. Her elven comrade opened up to her more than she did most people, but she knew Sylin didn’t share everything. The captain had known some of Sylin’s secrets that Rylana had never learned, and he’d never spoken of them, even after he and Rylana had become intimate. It wasn’t healthy to dig deeply into the pasts of assassins.
“All right,” Rylana said as Sylin started jogging again. Rylanawould have been content to walk back, but she coerced her cooling muscles into a trot with thoughts of visiting the coffee shop or the bakery for some cookies later. “Let me know if you need me to cover for you if any elves come to the diner to seek you out.”
“I assume you will cover for me whether I suggest it or not.”
“I suppose that’s true. You’ve saved my life multiple times over the years, and I would be bereft of companionship if something happened to you.”
Two blocks from the diner, Sylin slowed, then stopped altogether, easing behind a fountain featuring two goblins wrestling while spitting water from their mouths. She swept the hood of her cloak over her green hair, putting her face in shadow.
With eyes practiced at picking out targets at great range, Rylana had keen vision, almost as good as that of an elf, and she spotted what had made Sylin pause. A figure with blond-green hair, who wore a green cloak and a bow on his back, was peering through one of the front windows of the diner.
