Page 4 of Morel Dilemma

“As I was explaining to Lord Jildarin-grozanarav,” Chalora said, “I’m quite experienced and have thought of and calculated the needs of this establishment. I will be able to magically reinforce the structure as necessary.”

Rylana always approved of proper calculations and beamed her pleasure at the elf.

“Enough so that a cave would be plausible?” Jildarin removed a butter-honey biscuit from a covered basket and placed it on the plate he was preparing. “I do not suggest that we use rocks to make a real cave, but if you can shape trees into that formation, can they not also be curved into the roof of a sheltered area inspired by a cave? One that would keep the water from falling on the heads of the diners.”

Chalora pursed her lips. “A solid mass would not allow airflow, which trees require, and it would not entice birds and butterflies to visit.”

“We do not need birds to visit. They are scavengers that would eat our diners’ food and leave droppings that must be cleaned. What if there were droppings deposited on my food?” Jildarin threw an aghast look at Rylana, his expression suggesting it was the plant master who needed to be talked into being reasonable.

The bird concern, Rylana admitted, was a good point. Though she believed they should largely give the plant master free rein, it would be best if the area were as low maintenance as possible. How difficult would it be to keep moss alive when people would be walking across it regularly?

“This rendering is most beautiful, Plant Master,” Rylana said. “And we’re grateful to you for coming on what must be a busy day of preparations for your people. Are there perhaps any other design options for us to consider?”

“I do have another option, and I am not needed in the enclave at this time to do any work for the queen’s arrival. It is, in fact, because of the busyness of others, and the anticipation of the many visitors who will come, that I’m pleased to depart the enclave today.”

“Chaotic, huh?” Rylana asked.

“Inasmuch as elves indulge in chaos.” A dismissive hand flick suggested they didn’t much. “My landscaping team is prepared to begin as soon as you approve the design.”

“Oh, that’s exciting.”

They were deep into spring, and it would be wonderful to have the new seating area ready by the time the warmer weather of summer arrived.

“Naturally.” Chalora was watching Jildarin prepare the plate. Had he offered her anything to eat?

Her gaze slipped lower. Was she checking out his butt? Maybe it wasn’t the food preparations that held her attention.

Rylana doubted the elven elder would get handsy, but she took an apron from a peg on the wall. Jildarin liked to cook bacon, and anything else that could spatter, without a shirt on. His magical dragon chest could handle hot grease better than clothing, which would require the attention of a gnomish laundromat. Still, when they had guests, wandering around shirtless wasn’t that professional.

Chalora cleared her throat, looked away, and lifted her hands into the air. The illusion dropped, and she summoned magic to craft another.

After Rylana draped the apron over Jildarin’s head and tied the strings—he tolerated this with a bemused expression—he handed the plate he’d prepared to her.

“You will eat while we discuss this business,” he said.

Oh, yes, Rylana would be delighted to do so and had to tamp down the urge to kiss him on the cheek as she accepted the meal. “Usually, when you give me orders, I find it a touch arrogant and presumptuous, but sometimes I don’t mind.”

“I am aware,” he stated, then handed her a fork and folded his arms over his chest as he gazed through the illusion at Chalora.

“Our guest might like a meal,” Rylana said. “Do you have anything… vegetarian?”

Not all elves eschewed meat—Sylin was quite the carnivore—but it was usually in line with their tastes to serve them something heavy on fruits and vegetables.

“I typically make the mushroom medley for lunch and dinner,” Jildarin said, “but I will see what I can compose. I have recently received a gift of plantains and bananas from the magical greenhouses near the botanical gardens.”

“That sounds like a tasty gift, one I would enjoy sampling. As long as it wasn’t from either of those dragon sisters who’ve been trying to woo you.” Rylana didn’t know if woo was the right term. They’d first tried to bribe Jildarin and then, when he’d blocked one from attacking Rylana, they had battled him. That all seemed to be representative of how their kind courted, however.

“Dragons do not woo each other with gifts. It is lesser species who give offerings to our kind. That is the way of the world.” Jildarin pulled plantains out of the pantry and grabbed a knife to peel and slice them.

Maybe it was Rylana’s imagination, but their elven visitor seemed to be looking wistfully at the pile of bacon.

A mechanical dish-collection device rolled into the kitchen, almost bumping Rylana in the back of the legs. Their gnome server, Gniknik, trailed after it, more dirty dishes in his arms.

“The tips are good today,” he said cheerfully as he climbed onto a stool to deposit his load into the sink. “I’m going to be able to afford a new spiral combobulator wrench and all kinds of materials for future projects. We’ll need to enhance the dish collector if it’s going to help out on the rooftop. I didn’t originally design it to go up and down stairs. I’m also buying parts for a clockwork battle chicken that I want to make for, ah—” Gniknik glanced over his shoulder at them, then whispered, “—a lady friend,” to Rylana.

“I guess we know what kinds of gifts gnomes use in the wooing process,” she said.

Gniknik’s cheeks turned pink, and he grabbed a sponge to clean dishes.