“I’m praying to the new god thatthatdoesn’t happen.” Tezilly hesitated, then lowered her voice to whisper, “I’m also praying to the old gods. Just in case.”
“You might want to drop off an offering at a temple to the troll gods.”
“The troll gods?” Tezilly blinked. “You’re human too. You can’t possibly worship them.”
“Worship, no. Have a newfound desire to ensure they’re not irritated and disgruntled, yes.”
“Why them specifically?”
“Just a hunch.” Rylana sipped from her drink, appreciating its warmth and the taste of the mild milk mixed with the strong coffee. And had Tezilly dusted the latte foam with a touch of cinnamon? Perfect.
“I suppose it couldn’t hurt.” Tezilly started to turn away but paused. “What kinds of offerings do the troll gods like?”
Sylin raised her eyebrows, perhaps wondering if Rylana had learned anything useful during the day.
“If only I knew,” was all Rylana could offer, but the memory of the rye stalks came to mind.
“I suppose I could ask Mogla. She’s half-troll and supposed todeliver supplies later today. Assuming no more docks spontaneously sink into the lake and cargoes can still be unloaded.” Shaking her head, Tezilly walked to another table to collect empty cups. “Should have known we were in trouble as soon as the glowing water critters disappeared from the lake,” her last muttered words floated back to them.
“Didyouleave an offering at a troll temple in town?” Sylin asked. “Or perhaps in your castle’s basement?”
“I don’t think an ancient troll religious chamber can be considered a part of one’s basement.”
“Even if it’s under your library?”
“Even if. I’m assuming it was there before the castle was built. I wonder why someone decided to construct a dwelling on top of it. Judging by the way we got in, whoever did so knew it was there. It’s not as if there were ten feet of stone on top or it had been caved in.” Rylana took another sip and peered out the window to check on the diner, making sure there wasn’t smoke coming out the front door or anything else dire going on. Other than the lack of customers in line outside, it appeared normal. So far. Another ogre with burning incense wandered past, waving smoke toward building fronts and wagons. A wheel had fallen off one of those wagons, leaving it canted toward its back corner.
“Maybe the castle was originally built by trolls,” Sylin said.
Rylana started to shake her head but paused. “I’ve never heard that suggested, but I know ithasbeen there for a long time, long before the city and most of the other estates over there were built. I suppose at least some of the structure could have been standing when my ancestors claimed the area. The librarydoeshave wide doorways and high ceilings.”
“And we all know of the trolls’ love for fine literature.”
Rylana snorted. “I don’t think anyone but a handful of monks enjoyed fine literature in those days. That was before the printing press. Long before.” She nibbled on a cookie, delighting in thesimple, sweet flavor, and licked the sugar crystals embedded in the top. “There are architectural plans in the castle that show many additions and renovations over the years.”
“Such as the turning of a troll shrine into a library.”
“The library isabove.” Rylana waved. “I could go back and look at the plans, but I doubt my ancestors would have admitted it, even in architectural drawings, if they’d stolen the land from trolls. The early humans fought them for territory here. Over the centuries, many of the intelligent species considered the lake lucky, because of the luminescent water life, and coveted the area. It didn’t hurt that the lands around it have always been fertile with lots of nearby forests for building materials and burning wood. Now, I regret that I didn’t read more about the ancient history of the area when I was growing up. My tutors usually focused on what happenedafterhumans, gnomes, and dwarves arrived in the area and started building the city.”
“Perhaps the library at the gnomish university would cover the trollish influence that existed before then,” Sylin suggested.
“I’m… not sure how much stock I’d put in the gnome version of the history of this area.”
Sylin arched her eyebrows. “They built the city. Wouldn’t they be most apt to have thorough records?”
“I spoke to Vormalt today. His… research, we’ll call it, makes me wonder about that. I didn’t get to question him as thoroughly as I would have liked, though I can’t blame him for fleeing to avoid possible dragon incineration, but the stuff he said…” Rylana dug into her pack to pull out the journal she’d brought back.
“Dragon incineration? I assumed you were being melodramatic when you spoke of having a rough day.”
“Yes, I’m terribly prone to melodrama.” If anything, Rylana thought she underreacted to chaos. All her years of war had inured her to events that would frazzle many people.
“Most humans are,” Sylin said, perhaps disagreeing withRylana’s self-assessment. “What happened? I assume it wasn’t the curse that brought dragons.”
“Probably not, though Jildarin may disagree.” Rylana summed up her meeting with his aunt and mother at the ruins—and the possibility that both dragons wanted her dead. She also laid the book on the table so Sylin could read Vormalt’s notes on the various gnome leaders in the city.
“You should have taken my advice and not applied for a job working for a dragon,” Sylin said. “Especially not a dragon you had an antagonistic past with.”
“Then I wouldn’t now be a partner in a thriving diner business.”
