“I believe that fellow’s ears are pointed.” Rylana joined Sylin behind the fountain, though she continued to watch the elf through a gap between the goblins.
“It’s one of the males we saw on the waterfront.”
“You’re certain?” Rylana asked, though she agreed. “Elves all dress so similarly, and most have some green in their hair.”
“I’m certain, and so are you. But where’s the second one?” Sylin looked around, her gaze lingering on the nearby rooftops. Probably more because she was thinking of vaulting up to one and disappearing into the city than because she believed an elf was perched up there.
The door of the diner opened, and the other green-cloaked figure walked out holding a bag that reminded Rylana of the one Rolf had packed for Yerin.
“Acquiring a dragon-spice aphrodisiac apparently,” she said.
“I do not believe it’s a coincidence that they are visiting an establishment where I’ve been lately,” Sylin said.
“Probably no more of a coincidence than Vormalt knowing to seek me out there. Do you think there’s a spy at the dragon diner that tells the world when interesting new customers—or employees—arrive?” Rylana asked the question jokingly, but she did wonder how Vormalt had so quickly learned she was in the city and at the diner. She supposed he might have found out via Yerin, who might be keeping an eye on the establishments of his competitors. And the elves… Well, they were an observant people, and Sylin had mentioned spotting one at the coffee shop the day before. As an assassin, she was good at seeing others without being seen herself, but if she’d been sipping coffee at a table, and distracted by assessing the elevation at which the beans had been grown, she might not have been applying all her talents at remaining unnoticed.
“While I’ve been about in the city,” Sylin said, “I’ve heard several different people mention that diner. Dragons visiting Tranquility are rare, and one opening a business is unheard of. I do not know who would pay to have it spied upon, but I don’t doubt that many are keeping an eye on it.”
Two gnomes in peacekeeper uniforms walked past the fountain with a short-furred, copper-colored dog on a leash, the animal wearing a green vest that saidLOG INSPECTOR. They were doubtless on the way to one of the parks or beaches to look for stolen goods stashed by goblins or—even more likely—pixies, stumps and logs being a favorite spot for them to tuck items. Rylana doubted the search team had anything to do with the diner but thought of all the times she’d seen peacekeepers and golems loitering nearby the last couple of days and decided that Sylin was right. A lotof peoplewerekeeping an eye on the diner and its dragon owner.
“I will depart.” Sylin pointed up a side street. “Should youdesire to sleep separate from the dragon, my room at the Dockside Lodge will be available.”
“Willyoube in it?” Rylana wouldn’t be surprised if her comrade left the city to avoid the elves.
Sylin waved noncommittally and trotted into an alley.
By the time Rylana reached the diner, the elves were walking away with their bag. Their faces were beautiful but haughty and aloof, and they gave her long, cool looks as their paths crossed. They didn’t, however, stop her. For Sylin’s sake, Rylana hoped the elves weren’t holding a grudge after the war and looking for assassins.
12
Scintillatingscents filled the dining room when Rylana walked in. Rolf, Gniknik, and Zalani were all there, tending the needs of customers seated in the booths as well as on the barstools. In addition, a wheeled gnomish contraption circled the dining room, a tub fastened to its back so that people could set their dishes in it. Small nozzles sprayed soapy water onto glasses and bowls as they were deposited.
So far, none of the couples seated in booths were engaged in amorous acts. Maybe Jildarin wasn’t serving soup tonight—or maybe he was refining the amounts of the spices he used so that their effects weren’t as strong.
“Let us know what he did with the freshwater conch,” Zalani said as Rylana headed toward the kitchen. “They’re so hard to get tender.”
“Er, all right,” Rylana said.
“It’s a favorite goblin food that few outside of our species can properly cook,” Rolf said. “It’s right up there with fermented freshwater shark, scorpions, and mealworms. He did a good job with those ingredients in his taste test last week. For a non-goblin.”
“Other species cook with those too,” Zalani said as she carried a water jug to one table.
“Not with thezestthat goblins cook with them.”
“Goblins domostthings with zest.”
“We’re a joyful species.” Rolf patted a pocket that jangled. With tips? Or had he absconded with a few purses today?
“I won’t argue that,” Zalani said.
She jangled a little bit too as she sashayed around the dining room, filling water cups and smiling at unattached men. They both appeared to be in good spirits, maybe due to the increased patronage. If the busyness was a result of the review in the newspaper, Yerin had done Jildarin a favor. At the least, he’d done his job fairly when, as a competitor, he might have been tempted to sabotage others in the contest. Maybe he thought, after tasting the food, that his own was better and Jildarin wouldn’t be a threat. Or maybe Sylin had been right, and Yerin had grown up and become honorable.
“My bicycle would be surprised by that,” Rylana murmured.
As she stepped into the hallway, the dwarf baker from across the street walked into the diner with a tray full of tiny loaves of bread, cookies, and biscuits. She looked around—in surprise?—at the full room, then walked from table to table, offering samples.
Rylana paused, wondering if she should object, but she’d spoken earlier in the day with the baker, trying to convince her that she needed to buy a gnomish oven, so maintaining a good relationship would be ideal. Besides, it was possible this happened regularly, and the dwarf had a deal with Jildarin to do this.
Smiling, the baker reached the hallway and held her tray out toward Rylana. “Cookie? Honeyed biscuit?”
