Page 45 of Morel Dilemma

Deep resonating barks came from the ferry. Two gnome peacekeepers with their canine log inspectors on leashes looked up at Jildarin. The copper-furred dogs not only barked but pulled at their handlers, one even rising up on two legs, as if it would spring over the railing and try to reach Jildarin. The other’s long whippy tail wagged furiously as it bayed, slapping its handler in the hip. The gnome’s cap fell off, revealing short red hair, and he hurried to retrieve it before the agitated dog stepped on it.

Since the pillars hadn’t sounded, and nobody tried to enforce the Tranquility no-dragons-in-their-native-forms-allowed policy for their airspace, the gnomes didn’t do anything other than try to calm the hounds and watch Jildarin fly languidly across the lake. At least, Rylana thought he was flying in that direction. Then his tail twitched, and he turned slightly to circle over the ferry.

Those hounds are trained to sniff out magic.

“And apparently bark at dragons,” Rylana said, though that was a natural instinct and not a trained behavior.

Dragons are the highest form of magical creature.

“I think it’s more your fangs and talons that they’re alerting everyone on the ferry to.”

That is possible. Do you suppose the peacekeepers’ hounds could find magical morels in the forest?

“Maybe. I know there are breeds of dogs trained specifically to find desirable types of mushrooms.”

Enchanted morels are especially desirable.

“If you’re an elf, maybe.” Rylana would happily try his dish if he found some morels, but she didn’t get excited in general by the prospect of mushrooms. And hadn’t Sylin said something about side effects from the magical morels if one overconsumed them?

Noticing that Jildarin was now flying back and forth over the center of the lake, thoughtfully considering the ferry instead of continuing to the far side, Rylana poked him in the back.

“Why don’t you drop me off at my father’s castle, and then you can go ask those gnomes if you can hire them—and their dogs—to search for your mushrooms?”

Hire?

“Yeah, you’re supposed to pay people to work for you, not make them subsist on tips.” Since that was an old argument for them, and Rylana didn’t expect his opinion on the matter to change, she didn’t mention their servers, but she doubted he would talk the gnomes into trekking outside the city and deep into the forest for tips.

They should be honored to work for a prominent dragon chef from a distinguished clan.

“You can try telling them that, but I’d be prepared to offer gold.”

Gold!

“Silver at least.”

I will offer them several complimentary meals at the diner.

“If they’ve heard of your food, that might suffice. And I’ll bet those hounds would track mushrooms across the world for you if you gave them some bacon.”

Since mushrooms are not ambulatory, they do not need to be tracked, only located.

“It was a joke. Not the part about them working for bacon though. But don’t give them the coffee-rubbed version. Those dogs don’t look like they need any extra stimulation.” Besides, the coffee-rubbed bacon was for her.

Hm. Jildarin shifted his route toward the far bank. I will drop you off to confer with your father and meet the elf. Then I will shift into my human form to speak with the gnomes before returning to the diner to make meal preparations. Once they are satisfactorily underway, I will retrieve you.

“That works.” Rylana hadn’t expected him to return and had planned to take the ferry back to the diner, but if he was offering, she wouldn’t object to a much swifter dragon-back ride. “And I think you’ve got a good idea about getting a gnome with a hound to help.”

Yes. We will locate enchanted morels.

Nervous as Jildarin spread his wings to descend toward the castle, Rylana vacillated between hoping her father wasn’t home again and knowing she had to resolve the eviction issue.

Perhaps cognizant of the wards in the castle, Jildarin didn’t land on the rooftop—not that even the strongest of gnomish security systems would perturb a dragon. He alighted on the grassy lawn between the castle and the kennel and stable. Though they couldn’t see them from their enclosures, his arrival prompted horses to whinny and dogs to bark—the log inspector hounds weren’t the only canines who objected to dragons. Once Rylana slid off Jildarin’s back and he shifted into his human form, they subsided, aside from a few faint whuffs of unease from the stable.

A gargoyle on a corner of the castle roof pulsed and glowed, a warning that the security system had noted their presence. Rylana headed for one of the back doors and waved at Jildarin as he, not bothered by the animals or the gargoyle, strode around the castle and toward the road to walk down to the dock to greet the peacekeepers.

The door opened before Rylana reached it, and the butler, Zames, stepped out.

“What’s bothering the hounds?” Right away, he spotted Rylana, but he kept looking around until he noticed Jildarin walking away.