He was looking over his shoulder instead of at the trolls.
“Is the elf still following us?” Rylana hadn’t seen anyone but trusted his senses were superior to hers, especially his ability to detect magical beings. “Followingme.” Unless the elders were aching and impatient for him to make their soup, she doubted they would be afterhim.
“Now, there are two elves.”
“If they’d put as much time into tracking down Sylin as they do me, they would have found her already,” Rylana said, though she was glad the elves hadn’t located Sylin yet. She hoped they never did.
“Perhaps they do not truly wish to find her.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure they do.” Rylana turned down the alley and headed for the pyramid entrance.
“Findingan assassin can be dangerous.”
“Less so in Tranquility. And Sylin is retired. The last I heard, she was doing work for the peacekeepers.” Rylana spoke loudly, in case the elves were close enough to overhear. “She’s helpingkeep order, and she’s certainly not plotting against the elven queen.”
“I believe you.”
“Too bad your ears aren’t pointed.”
Jildarin touched one of his lobes. “I’m capable of shape-shifting into an elven form. It is no more difficult than choosing a human body.”
“You’d better not. Sylin assures me that pointy ears are sexy. I’d have a hard time keeping my hands off you.”
Jildarin lowered his hand. “You refer to recreational mating?”
“Yeah. Don’t worry. It was a joke. As long as you don’t give me any more soup to try, I can keep my hands to myself.”
“That is agreeable.”
“I figured.” Rylana led the way into the tall and wide stone hallway at the base of the pyramid. This one was much shorter than the one in the ruins outside the city, and they promptly came to an open chamber.
Flames flickered in lanterns mounted on the stone walls, and centuries’ worth of soot covered the ceiling. In the center of the chamber, there were two huge statues of trolls kneeling before a wide stone pedestal. The gods. Gox and Nox. With their hands spread, they were situated to receive offerings, and offerings overflowed. Everything from baskets of bread and rolls to dried fish to cured and fresh meats to the head of an elk lay on and around the pedestal, filling the chamber with a strange mixture of scents. A couple of rats had found their way in and were helping themselves.
“Presumptuous of them to eat the gods’ offerings,” Rylana said.
Jildarin walked forward, his approach sending the furry vermin scurrying into holes in the walls, and picked up one of the loaves of bread. He sniffed it. He did the same to the rolls.
“Are they made from rye flour?” Rylana asked.
“Some are.” Jildarin returned the baked items to the platform. “Some aren’t.”
“Maybe the trolls have forgotten what offerings their gods prefer. Though what deity wouldn’t be delighted by an elk head?”
Chin in hand, Jildarin gazed thoughtfully at the statues and around the chamber. Only a few carvings and paintings decorated the walls in this temple, and none were enlightening, as far as Rylana could tell.
A female troll with a braid of white hair bouncing on her shoulder trotted in with a bag. She glanced at them in surprise, but their presence didn’t keep her from setting eight muffins on top of the pile and murmuring something to the gods as she bowed low.
A tremor went through the ground, startling Rylana into spreading her arms. “Is that an earthquake?”
The troll ran out. Rylana was on the verge of following—swiftly—but Jildarin hadn’t moved. The ground trembled one more time before subsiding.
“I believe you are correct,” Jildarin said. “The trolls have forgotten how to appease their gods.”
“That’s going to be a problem for the city, isn’t it?”
Jildarin picked up one of the muffins, sniffed it, and returned it to its perch. “Yes.”
17
