15
After finishing her mocha,Rylana returned to the diner, intending to ask Jildarin if she could leave early and try to find Yerin. The lack of ingredients mentioned in the review didn’tmeananything and was scant evidence that he was up to something shifty, but if she spoke to him, maybe she could learn more about his motives and also find out who the other competitors in the Golden Whisk were.
It was between meal services, and she found Jildarin not in the kitchen but in the storeroom in the back, talking to his brother. They noticed her approaching from the hallway, so she didn’t have an opportunity to spy this time.
“Ah, your new servant.” Zilek smirked and extended an arm toward her. “You can commandherto stay tonight and oversee the distribution of your cherished morsels.”
“She has worked here for only a short time.Sheis not who I would leave in charge, should I desire to accompany you to your meeting, which I do not.”
“Are you certain? She has a stern aspect about her whichmight instill good behavior in your other servants. Some of them are, shall we say, capricious. If not erratic.”
“They perform adequately at their serving duties.”
“The goblin attempted to wheedle five extra silver coins out of me while inspecting the heft of my purse. Lesser species are terribly emboldened in dealing with dragons in this city.”
“Did you give it to him?”
“I did not.”
“Check your purse later. You may have.”
“I’m aghast at the mere implication, dear brother.Sternnessis required here.” Zilek pointed again at Rylana.
Standing in the hallway, she didn’t know whether to feel insulted and indignant, or simply agree. From what she’d seen since starting work here, Zalani was the most reliable of the staff and a more likely candidate to oversee a meal service. As the bookkeeper, Rylana didn’t feel qualified. As far as sternness went… Well, shehadbeen an officer in the Moon Daggers for years, so maybe she exuded more schoolmarm firmness than feminine whimsy.
When Jildarin only sighed in response, Zilek continued. “Further, it is not ameeting,dear brother—what a pedestrian term—but a culinary, cultural event, a delicious one at that. And, as I mentioned, attending the conclave could present you with an opportunity.”
“I am not interested in your opportunity.”
“What opportunity?” Rylana risked asking, though neither dragon had invited her to participate in the conversation. If Zilek wanted to bring someone to a social gathering where chefs would be present, maybe she could volunteer to attend and sell a few more ovens.
“Zilek is attempting to entice me into going to his monthlywine clubmeeting,” Jildarin said, “and there is nothingculinaryabout listless legatees swilling alcohol.”
“We don’t swillit but sample it, and people from all walks of life may attend, providing someone gives them an invitation and they’re capable of bringing the required fine vintages for all to enjoy. The goal is not to become sloshed, as the humans call it, ortrokdon, as the dwarves say. One desires to have good and intelligent conversation—inasmuch as the lesser species are capable of such—while appreciating and discussing the merits of the offerings.”
“Are there chefs there?” Rylana looked toward the tidy row of ovens, a few having been sold but more remaining.
“Oh, not many of the members toil in any capacity anymore, certainly not in a hot and chaotic kitchen. They are generally retired or independently wealthy. Many are, however, attuned to the culinary world, as I informed my brother, and it’s possible one might even be a judge at his little contest.”
“The judges haven’t been announced,” Jildarin said, “thus to ensure nobody can send them bribes to sway their vote, which would be fruitless regardless, since the meals will be tasted and rated blindly.”
“Ah, but I suspect one might be drawn from this esteemed crowd,” Zilek said. “Regardless, should you attend with me, it would give you an opportunity to schmooze with the elites of the city. The gnomish mayor Sedgewick is a frequent attendee. As is the retired dwarven rock-violin virtuoso, Dondark. I’ve learned through my interactions with them that they’ve previously been recruited to judge the various cultural contests hosted in Tranquility.”
“I will not win the Golden Whisk because Ischmoozedwith influential city dwellers. I will win because my dishes are superior.”
“Then simply go to enjoy the wine and take an evening off. You labor in this constrained box all hours of the day every day.” Zilekwaved toward the walls. “When was the last time you left the city, assumed your native form, and went for a hunt?”
“Not recently, but that would appeal more than a wine meeting.”
“It is a conclave,” Zilek corrected, “not a simple meeting. But if you’ll not attend, let us go for a hunt. I crave the companionship of another dragon, and you need to stretch your wings. I am certain of it.”
Jildarin sighed again and looked at Rylana. Maybe she should have left. Neither mayors nor violinists sounded like the kinds of people who would be searching for a good deal on a gnomish commercial oven, so her interest in the meeting—theconclave—had faded.
“Perhaps Iwillhunt.” Jildarin rotated his shoulders, muscles bunching against the fabric of his shirt. “Ithasbeen some time, and this work can leave me tense.”
“Perhaps it is your rigid obsession that leaves you tense,” Zilek suggested. “Should you go south to mate with Mother’s female friends, you would doubtless find the act a release, and you would return refreshed.”
“Friends?” Jildarin asked. “More than one seeks my… me?”
