“The chefs care deeply about their creations,” Rylana said. “Do you want me to see if I can get you in to watch?”
“Get me in? Is it an exclusive event with tickets required? Like the final performance in a season of the dwarven opera?”
“I’m certain.”
“Fascinating.”
“It could be.”
Sylin sipped from her cup. “Hm.”
23
The night before the competition,Rylana woke in her corner of the storeroom when a knock sounded at the back door. As she sat up, habitually reaching for her sword, the clack of talons on the concrete floor sounded, Jildarin stirring. She felt a whisper of magic from him, and the door opened, a hint of light creeping in from a streetlamp.
From her position, Rylana couldn’t see who stood there, but she rolled to her feet in case it was trouble. Remembering that her sword scabbard was tied with a tranquility ribbon, she found her knife instead. Fortunately, her weapons and other belongings hadn’t been damaged during the fire.
“Message delivery,” called a reedy voice, followed by a gasp of alarm. “Is that adragon?”
Jildarin growled, the deep rumble reverberating from the walls and beamed ceiling. Even though it wasn’t directed at Rylana, and enough crates were stacked between them that she couldn’t see his eyes, the hair on the back of her neck rose, her instincts promising that he was a dangerous threat.
“I’ll just toss it in.” The speaker sounded like he was backing away. “No tip required. Have a good night!”
A scroll case arced through the doorway and clattered as it hit the floor.
“I’ll get it,” Rylana said, more a warning so that she wouldn’t startle Jildarin than because she expected him to snatch it up with his talons.
She reached the doorway in time to see a goblin jumping onto a bicycle and pedaling away. As she picked up the scroll case, the great silver dragon she shared the storeroom with bent his long neck, lowering his head to regard it—and her.
She held up the case, not presuming to investigate the delivery without permission. “Do you want me to open it? Or are you expecting something private and personal?”
It may contain an explosive, Jildarin said into her mind, startling her.
Even though they’d spent several nights in the storeroom together, and she’d been aware from her mercenary days that dragons could speak telepathically to others, he hadn’t done so with her before.
“I’d consider that private and personal.” Rylana held the case toward him in offering.
Jildarin huffed out a warm breath that stirred her hair. Was that the dragon equivalent of a snort? Then his head came closer, and he sniffed the case. Even though she didn’t think he wanted to harm her at this point, it was unsettling to have all those fangs so close to her. Regardless, she held the case still.
I do not smell black powder, nor do I sense magic.
Rylana shook the case, hearing the soft sound of rolled parchment inside knocking against the end cap. “It sounds like a scroll. Maybe one of your rivals has some recipe suggestions.”
My rivals do not write to me. You may open it.
“One left graffiti on your door.” Rylana waved in that direction,though they’d already painted over the mess. She removed the cap, dumped out a scroll, and turned up the lantern by the door so she could read.
A minion was sent to do that.
“Minions are handy. Maybe you should get some.”
He gazed blandly at her. Right, his brother had openly called her aservant.
“I set myself up for that, didn’t I?”
His talons clacked on the floor as he took a few steps back. Magic rippled around him, and he changed into his human form.
“Lord Jildarin-grozanarav of Clan Killcrusher,” Rylana read aloud, “we have heard that a foul dragon-hating rival destroyed the spices with which you season your dishes. Though we find it strange that you’ve decided on a hobby of feeding lowly life-forms—and even stranger that their opinions should matter to you—we consider you an ally after our many years fighting together in the war. We’ve brought some driedvagrothmolanandxfrayzitorfrom the mountains of our homeland.” Rylana waved an apology for her pronunciation of the unfamiliar words. “As you are aware, these magical herbs and fungi are rare and have value even among our people, so we would ask a small favor in exchange for containers of them. If you are interested and desire more details on our proposed trade, come this midnight to the Calling Rock in the forests in the foothills of the Icefang Mountains. We will be there with the spices.” Rylana lowered the scroll. “It’s signedThe Sisters. Do you know who that is?”
