Rylana fished coins from her purse to show him, holding them in the air as a promise. “Describe the snooty human who purchased from you. Are you sure it was this pouch and this substance?”
The goblin leaned forward to peer inside and inhaled deeply. “Yes, that is my anti-magic powder. You can try it for yourself if you wish.”
“What does it do? If I tossed it into magical spices, could it diminish or nullify their effects?”
“I… suppose that’s possible. Usually, my people throw it at powerful shape-shifted enemies like kitsune or selkies to force them to change into their less dangerous native forms.”
“Interesting. Could it force a dragon that was shape-shifted into a human to change back into his native form?”
“Yes, but that would be foolish. In the case of a dragon, its native form is much more dangerous.” The goblin chuckled. “Who would want to change such a being from a human or an elf into adragon?”
“Someone who wants to see that dragon kicked out of Tranquility,” Rylana said with certainty. She placed the two coins in the goblin’s hand, then pulled out two more. “Describe the snooty human, please.”
“He called my assistant a fleshy shrub, said my prices were ludicrous, and wore spectacles on his beaky nose.”
A lot of people wore spectacles, and Yerin was only one ofthem, but this gave Rylana enough to believe he was likely the culprit. Nodding to herself, she paid the goblin another two coins.
“Thank you for your time.” She turned and almost ran into the elf alchemist. Though alarmed that he’d sneaked up on her, she made herself return his gaze calmly. “I won’t need your services, after all.”
“Our kind keep an eye on the dragons here,” he warned her, his expression cool. “Especially Jildarin-grozanarav.”
He must have been listening in on her conversation but misconstrued her mutterings.
“Good. I’m looking out for him too.”
His eyes narrowed with suspicion, and he plucked the pouch out of her hand. She hadn’t expected that and reacted too slowly to stop him. He secreted it inside a pocket in his apron.
“You will not use this on Lord Jildarin,” he stated. “He makes fine food and has broken no laws.”
“I hadn’t intended to use it on him. I work for him. Someoneelseintended to use it, I think.”
Maybe, when the goblin had come to set his fires, he hadn’t known that Jildarin would be away with his brother, and he’d planned to force a shape-shifting at the diner.
“Then you will not mind if I take it.” The elf turned and walked away, though he again perused the crowd. He also gave her a long look over his shoulder before stepping out of sight into his stand.
Rylana passed a couple more elves on the way out of the market and was glad Sylin hadn’t come with her. The next time she saw her comrade, she would have to tell her to leave the city, for her own safety. In the meantime, she would make sure Jildarin knew to avoid anyone running toward him with sacks of anti-magic powder.
21
When Rylana returnedto the diner, a surprising number of people were inside. They weren’t eating but wielding paintbrushes, brooms, and mops. Gniknik and two gnomes she hadn’t seen before squatted in the middle of the floor around a rumbling bronze box with hoses protruding in all directions like octopus tentacles. Some wavered in the air and others drifted across the floor, twisting under tables and between chair legs.
“Gnomish combination air purifier and vacuum,” Gniknik explained when Rylana paused to stare at the contraption. “It sucks in smoke, ashes, dander, dirt, and pollen, then incinerates the particles while outputting fresh, pure air, perfect for a dining experience.”
The airdidsmell better than when Rylana had left. One of the waving hoses floated over and attached itself to her leg, trying to suck her trouser material into the box.
“I don’t want my pants incinerated.” She stepped back to break the connection.
“How about purified?” Gniknik winked.
“I thought I’d pay the laundromat to handle that. Who are allthese people? I’ll run some calculations, but I don’t think we can afford to hire handymen.” As Rylana waved around the room, looking at faces, she realized she recognized many of them. Wasn’t that handsome broad-faced man with a paintbrush the fellow Zalani had been with in the kitchen the night before? And there was the couple who’d come in for soup to help with the husband’s impotency problem. He appeared quite cheerful as he fixed a table leg that had been wobbly even before the fire.
“They’re volunteering their time,” Zalani said, walking out of the hallway with two mop buckets of fresh water. “They’re customers who heard about the fire and want to see the Dragon Diner reopened as soon as possible. They like the food.”
“Because the food isdelicious.” Gniknik beamed a smile toward the kitchen. “Chef Jildarin is making smoked-fish and fiddlehead-fern frittatas and black-pepper bacon this morning. He said he would also fry up some of the mesquite bacon he just cured. And the stuff rubbed with his signature onion-garlic-three-peppers blend. That’ssotasty.”
“I won’t disagree with that,” Rylana said.
When it came to ingredients, she was as suspicious of fiddlehead ferns as spruce tips, but her mouth watered, regardless. With thoughts of bacon in mind, she headed toward the kitchen, hoping to snag a few pieces for herself. She found it encouraging that Jildarin was cooking. The night before, he’d been so dejected that she’d wondered if he might leave the city forever and return to a normal life for a dragon. The thought saddened her.
