“What happened?” she asked Jildarin, though she could guess.
“The orcs came in to eat, and I did not think there would be any trouble, but when the last of their party entered, he sprang upon the trolls, accusing them of being the cause of his woes. These are our groceries.” Jildarin picked up a dented can of beans.
“Yes, unfortunately some of them collided with the heads of orcs.”
“Hm.” He examined the dented can, then placed it in a crate in the back of the wagon and hefted the load to carry inside. “That should not affect the flavor of the contents.”
Rylana also grabbed a few items, telling the dwarf she would send Gniknik out to help him with repairs and that there would be a tip. Hazard pay, she called it, something she’d sometimes received as a mercenary. Right now, delivering groceries in Tranquility wasn’t all that different from maneuvering across a battlefield.A hint of smoke hung in the air, promising another fire burned nearby, and green vapors continued to waft from the storm grates.
“I do have some good news for you,” Rylana told Jildarin as they returned for another load.
All except one of the orcs had slunk off. He was slumped against the wall by the door and appeared unconscious. The peacekeeper with the hand device, perhaps believingsomeoneneeded to be fined for the battle, tucked a slip of paper into his belt. After warning everyone in the area not to give in to the urge to break the law, even though these were fraught times, the gnomes and the golems departed.
“Good news is needed,” Jildarin said. “Though the trolls enjoyed my meal, especially the squid-ink bread, one said it was a popular recipe and that loaves had already been left on offering pedestals to no avail.”
“Plopping down a loaf of bread on a temple table may not be enough to alleviate the curse, regardless, but I have a new recipe for you to try.”
“It involves rye?”
“I… didn’t look, but, according to the heading, it’s forsacred bread.”
“Hm.”
“Unless we’re fortunate, though, and baking it happens to be enough, I think I’ll need to find Vormalt again and wring his neck for information.”
“Should we locate him outside of the city, I could incinerate him.”
Rylana didn’t point out that he’d suggested that before. The curse probably had him perturbed too. “As a dragon, you’ve had more experience with fire than I, but isn’t it hard for piles of ashes to share information?”
“Yes, but perhaps if we placedthemon the offering table, itwould appease the gods. This Vormalt is the one who disturbed their slumber, is he not?”
“Yeah.”
Jildarin nodded firmly as they brought in the last of the groceries, leaving Gniknik out front to help the dwarf repair the wagon. “Incineration. The human deserves it for causing all this trouble. Did you see how few of our booths and bar seats were filled?”
“I was somewhat distracted by trolls and orcs flying every which way. That’ll empty seats too, I imagine.” Leaving the groceries to put away later, Rylana grabbed the recipe book, opened it to the bookmarked page, and set it on the counter in the kitchen. “While you’re working on this, I’ll look for Vormalt. So I can question himbeforethe incineration.”
She hoped Jildarin wasn’t serious about that, but hewaswearing an irritated expression, his jaw tight as he came to stand beside her and consider the cookbook.
“We’ll find a solution.” She patted him on the shoulder for reassurance. “I would also like to return to the normal duties of running a diner. Even if we could get the landlord’s approval, we wouldn’t dare add outdoor seating on the roof right now. The pergola might burst into flames.”
“The landlord’s approval?”
Realizing she hadn’t yet mentioned that, Rylana filled him in on her conversation with Aztor.
“Regardless, a magical pergola crafted from the living branches of trees placed by an elven plant master would be unlikely to spontaneously combust.”
“I don’t know. This curse is proving powerful.”
“Not more powerful than elven magic. We will deal with the landlord after the curse is lifted.” Jildarin ran a finger down the page. “You’ve looked at this recipe to determine if all the ingredients are available for purchase?”
“Not yet.” Rylana perused it with him. His finger slid past rye flour, honey, salt, water, a glug of oil—whatever a glug was—and paused onbioluminescent aquatic yeast.
“Thatis not a typical bread ingredient,” Jildarin said.
“That’s not a typical ingredient at all, is it?”
“Not in bread. Perhaps for managing aquariums in the Tranquility Zoo.” Jildarin gazed at her, as if waiting for something.
