“I knew you liked me.”
Sylin snorted.
“But how do you know him?” Rylana pointed to the captain, though he’d turned and was directing his troops to round up the crossbowman and look for the goblin that had run down to the lake.
“Since we’ve arrived, I’ve assisted a couple of times with locating heinous criminals that have been vexing the city and that the peacekeepers were having trouble finding.”
Wasthathow she’d earned those gold coins? Rylana had assumed she’d taken on a new mission on her own.
“Justlocating them?” she asked.
Sylin smiled enigmatically. “As the captain would be quick to point out, vigilante justice isn’t permitted in Tranquility.”
The announcer rang the gong, startling almost everyone since they’d been distracted by the chaos. Nonetheless, Jildarin and six of the other chefs had completed their dishes. They stepped back, nodding their readiness when the servers trotted up to the stage.
Several of the judges had scattered when the jaguar had appeared, but they returned, noses twitching at the aromas wafting through the air. Those passionate about cuisine couldn’t be distracted for long from tasting delectable new dishes.
“I’ve seen a handful of elves in here,” Rylana murmured to Sylin as the judges dug into the dishes. Jildarin stood with his chin up and his arms crossed, as if already certain of the outcome. “Is itsafe for you to stand there with your hood down and your ears aggressively poking through your noteworthy green hair?”
“My ears are elegant, not aggressive.”
“That one is sticking out almost three inches.”
“It’s notthatlong,” Sylin said dryly. “It’s not like elves are jackrabbits.”
“No, the wolves would have eaten you if you were.”
“If it had been winter when they found me, and they’d been hungry, they would have eaten me regardless.” As if to make Rylana’s earlier point, Sylin gazed at one of the elven chefs who was gazing back at her with a suspicious frown. “As to the rest, you know I’m planning to leave Tranquility soon. I won’t stick around and let elves or anyone else capture me.”
“You keep saying that, but I keep finding you at the coffee shop.”
“True.”
“Maybe youlikethe challenge of having people hunting you down. Weren’t you mentioning that you’ve felt listless and bored since the war ended and we left the mercenaries?”
“I do enjoy challenges, but I would be foolish to remain when elves are seeking me out. We are preeminent hunters.”
“Foolish, yes, but also challenged.”
“The results are in,” the announcer called, having recovered her megaphone. “The winner of the last roundandthe grand winner of this year’s Golden Whisk is the dragon chef, Jildarin!”
The applause wasn’t raucous, but it was polite, and several people nodded.
Someone yelled, “We want to try his dish!”
But the judges were devouring it and didn’t look like they would share with the audience.
Wondering what had happened to Vormalt, Rylana looked at the tiers of seating where he’d been. But he’d disappeared. Whether he’d departed the same way the goblin had or simplywalked out one of the entrances when she’d been distracted, she didn’t know, but she doubted she’d seen the last of him.
Once the judges had finished the final course, one of them stepped aside to retrieve a glowing golden whisk from a wooden box. He took it up on the stage to bow to Jildarin and award it to him.
Jildarin, who’d remained calm and composed throughout the competition, even when vials of magical powders were being shot at him, held it aloft and roared. Given that he was in his human form, it was an impressively deep and resonating roar. This time, some peopledidcheer.
“You can enjoy his cooking at the Dragon Diner on Acorn Street,” the announcer informed the audience.
Ah, free publicity. That would be worth more than the prize money for winning.
“He should come up with a more memorable name for his diner.” Rylana wondered if Jildarin would accept advice on such matters from his bookkeeper.
