“I’ll agree with that. Do you want to get a cup of coffee?” Rylana pointed up the street to the shop.
“What?”
“It’s a caffeinated beverage, so it might stimulate you, but… someone lit your diner on fire. You weren’t going to sleep tonight anyway.” Since she, as a good worker—andnothis enemy—felt compelled to go back and help clean after this, she didn’t expect she would be able to sleep for quite a while either.
“I have tasted it before.”
Right. She remembered that he’d called itflavored waterand Sylin had been affronted.
“And you didn’t like it?” Rylana asked. “Have you tried a latte or a mocha? I didn’t think I liked coffee either until I had it mixed with milk and sugar. Those ingredients improve a lot of things.”
His lip twitched with distaste. “The half-elf suggested I make bacon coated with maple syrup, sugar, and other sweet offerings because the two-legs enjoy such things. To drench delicious meat in sweet substances sounded loathsome to me, but it has proven popular. Especially the bacon glazed with blueberry jam and other fruits. I am attempting to adapt my cooking to the palates of my clients.” That admission didn’t keep him from twitching his lip again.
“Humans don’t mind sweets mixed with savory. Or with bitter, as in the case of coffee. Why don’t you let me buy you a latte, and you can try it? They don’thaveto add sugar. Do you like milk?”
“Milk is a peculiar thing for adults to consume since it is produced as part of the mammalian birthing and weaning cycle, but its viscosity, fat content, and taste are not entirely unappealing.”
“Yeah, I’m a fan too.” Rylana presumed to take his hand, the very hand that had been smashed to her mouth, and started toward the coffee shop.
Jildarin walked with her but warned, “You will not attempt to poison my beverage.”
“I will not, no. A moment ago, I thought you were starting to realize that I want to help you, not kill you.”
“It is strange for any two-legs except an elf to desire to help a dragon.”
“Yes, but we just established my strangeness.”
“That is true. Poison came to mind because I noticed a bulging pouch of something malleable, likely a powder, against my thigh when I pulled you into me.”
“Oh. I forgot about that.” Rylana stopped under a streetlamp, released Jildarin's hand, and pulled out the sack. “I don’t know what’s inside. I suppose itcouldbe poison, but there’s a lot of it.” She lifted it to demonstrate its heft. “My elven friend is far more knowledgeable on the subject than I, but I think poisons tend to be hard to come by and purchased by the dram rather than the pound.”
“Whatever is inside is magical.” As Jildarin eyed the pouch, some of his perennial suspicion returned to his gaze.
“Is it? I took it from the goblin who started the fires. Maybe it’s something magical mixed with black powder. If so, we’re lucky he didn’t blow up the entire diner.”
“He did enough damage,” Jildarin said glumly, doubtless thinking of his ruined dragon spices.
When Rylana untied the knot in a ribbon holding the pouch shut, Jildarin stepped back.
“I do not know what the magic signifies,” he said, “but my instincts warn me to be wary.”
“Funny, my instincts always warn me to be wary ofyou.”
“It is wise for the lesser species to be cautious around dragons. Even other dragons are wary among our own kind.”
There wasn’t enough light to see much when Rylana peeked into the pouch. She sniffed the substance inside. It didn’t smelllike black powder or strongly of anything. She risked pinching out some of the granular substance and spreading it on her palm to study under the light. It was closer to sand than a powder and a dull gray-green in color. She opened the access panel on the side of the streetlamp and tossed a pinch of the substance into the flame, then jumped back in case it exploded.
It didn’t, but it didflash, and a silver ring of light floated like a halo in the air around the flame for a moment before disappearing.
“Magical,” Jildarin stated with a nod.
“Yes, but to what end?”
“I do not know.”
After tying the pouch shut again, Rylana tucked it away. “I’ll try to find out later. An alchemist might be able to tell.”
“Yes.”
