“There is a magically-induced combustion that occurs within a dragon as he or she breathes fire, but we technically exhale mostly nitrogen, the same as humans. It is an inert and nonflammable gas that doesnotsupport combustion. The gnomes even isolate it and use it in their fire-extinguishing engines.”
“You’re a knowledgeable dragon.”
“On matters related to fire, certainly.” Jildarin lifted his hand, palm upward. “Do not tell the peacekeepers about this.”
A small ball of swirling flames appeared in the air a couple of inches above his hand. It rolled away from him, floating through theair to a position a few feet ahead of them, spreading enough light to illuminate the stone walls. This far from the entrance and sunlight, there was no growth on them, but bat droppings and small scattered bones on the ground meant various creatures used the tunnel.
“Are you afraid they’ll tie a ribbon around your wrist?” Rylana asked as they continued, rounding a bend. And was the tunnel descending slightly?
“When my brother and I arrived and announced our intention to live in the city for a time, the peacekeepers did discuss how to keep us from using magic while in human form. Their tranquility ribbons are adequate for nullifying weapons but do not work against magic unless one uses a wand or crystal or other tool for casting spells.” Jildarin sniffed disdainfully. “Dragons have no need for tools. We are inherently magical.”
“That must be the reason your allure draws me.” She pointed at a faded painting on the wall.
Jildarin stopped, not to look at it but to look at her.
“It was a joke,” Rylana said, wishing she could take it back. Hadn’t she just been thinking that his mother’s accusations about seduction might have him wary around her for a while?
“Youaredrawn to me,” he stated.
“Right now, I’m drawn to figure out how to end the troll curse.” She pointed toward the floating ball of flame, hoping he would send it ahead so they could continue on.
He did, and he walked with her, but he didn’t drop the matter. “My mother has the power to see into the minds of those without the ability to block her, those who aren’t dragons or elves, generally. If you had no interest in mating with me, she would have known it. That is probably why she came. To see if Loxvonla’s words had any truth to them.”
“Look, even if I find you attractive, I have nothing to do with your relationship with those loathsome sisters.”
“That is true. And they are somewhat loathsome. I do not think even Zilek desires to mate with them.”
“No, he’s hot for an elf ballerina, right?”
“She seems to have captured his attention this week. He is oddly randy for one of our kind and seeks many partners and experiences with females from different species.”
“I don’t think you should make him seduction soup for the elf. Partners should go voluntarily to each other, not be duped by drugs.”
Jildarin gazed over at her as they walked. “The spice generally amplifies lustful emotions rather than creating them from nothing.”
“Well, people usually have inhibitions and ideologies that keep them from acting on every little base urge.”
The tunnel opened into a chamber with several stout stone posts and arches supporting the weight of a ceiling that was high enough to barely be visible in the gloom. Even Jildarin's ball of fire wasn’t enough to push back the darkness entirely. As Rylana peered up and around, she realized that a good portion of the pyramid had to be hollow and that this chamber took up most of the space. She was surprised that the posts and arches had been enough to keep it from collapsing over the centuries.
“Some magic lingers here.” Jildarin walked across the chamber, his light moving to brighten the way ahead.
A pedestal larger than but similar to the one under the castle came into view, but there weren’t any idols on it. It was flat and empty as if awaiting an offering. The opposite had probably happened, with looters coming in over the centuries and removing anything of value, or even vague archaeological interest, from this space. Two large trolls—the two gods?—with broad, flat faces had been carved into the wall behind the pedestal and looked down upon it. Their hands were spread similarly to those she’d seenunder the castle, also seeming to invite someone to place something on the flat surface, and she decided her first thought of anofferinghad been right. Also carved into the wall were sacks at the feet of the trolls; they reminded Rylana of the various bags of oats and flours in the diner’s storeroom. Long sticks lay horizontally between the sacks, chiseled in surprising detail. Maybe those weren’t sticks but stalks of wheat or some other grain.
“Trolls are mostly carnivores, aren’t they?” she mused.
“Meat and fish comprise a large portion of their diet, but they enjoy fruits and also some items made from grains.” Jildarin pointed at the stalks in the carving. “They are especially delighted by bread, cakes, and beer.”
“We’realldelighted by those things.”
“Dragons do not crave sweets.” Yes, he’d mentioned that before.
“It must be a challenge for you to make those crème brûlées.”
“I do prefer cooking meat dishes, but I’ve been learning to expand my offerings to appeal to the many palates that visit the diner. I do, admittedly, still acquire several items from the dwarf baker.”
“So, are those stalks a call for an offering of beer or cake?” Rylana glimpsed a piece of paper on the floor and picked it up. There was something half-drawn on it. No, that was a rubbing. Of the grain stalk? “This paper is crisp and new, not like something that was left here weeks or months ago. Vormalt must have been drawing this. But why? To take it back so someone could identify the grain?”
“It is rye.”
