Page 73 of Morel Dilemma

“This business is more appealing to me.” Rylana tilted her thumb toward the diner and customers heading in, perhaps believing the sighting of the dragon meant the next meal service would start early.

“Working with a dragon is more appealing to you than working with Father?” Frodin didn’t sound that surprised; maybe his smile was even rueful. “Maybe your partner is less draconian.”

“I don’t know if that’s true. What’s this all about, Frodin?”

“I want you to take my position working for Father so that I can go off and have an adventure for seventeen years. You’ve had your turn.”

“Don’t you have a wife and kids?” Rylana felt guilty that she hadn’t yet made a point to go visit him and meet his family, but since he was scheming against the diner—against her—maybe she shouldn’t regret that choice.

“Yes. I want to take them with me. To see the world. Not be tied down to a business I’ve never adored. Ry, it’s shipping. Moving huge boxes of cargo around and arranging their storage and loading and unloading. Who, besides Father, could ever adore it?” Frodin flung his hands toward the sky, as if sending his question to the gods for an answer. “And I’ve been doing it almost twenty years. I need a break.”

Rylana’s first instinct was to bristle and defend herself, since she’d left for a good reason—Father’s attempt to marry her off to Vernest Vormalt—but… she had, however inadvertently, left Frodin to accept the sole burden of Father’s expectations. It was a little surprising he’d remained here and accepted them. Maybe she shouldn’t have stayed away so long.

Even acknowledging that in her mind, she couldn’t make herself offer to step in and take her brother’s place. “Can’t you tell Father that you need a break?” was what she asked.

“I’ve tried. He’s determined that one of us be involved in the family business. And it’s your turn.” Frodin thrust a finger toward her.

“How was getting the Dragon Diner kicked out of its building going to accomplish that? I’m not feeling exceedingly kindly toward you right now.”

“I was going to let you know that the landlord is agreeable to leaving the diner’s lease in place if you come take my place in Father’s business.”

“Because the landlord is really concerned about the Avandar shipping consortium.”

“I’ve ensured he is.” Frodin folded his arms over his chest.

“You can’t blackmail your own sister, Frodin.”

“This isn’t blackmail. It’s coercion.”

“That’s not allowed either.”

“Sure it is. I think it’s even a family tradition.”

Rylana sighed, but since she’d brought the antique hunting horn to bribe him, she didn’t know if her behavior was much better. Even though Father might have been innocent of this particular scheme, he was at the root of it.

“What if I trade you this to put on your wall?” She’d had the horn tucked under her arm, and he hadn’t noticed it, but she held it out on display with both hands.

“I’m not interested in— Is that an ancient dwarven hunting horn? A gilded horn? Those are rare. The trolls, ogres, and orcs who were native to this area liked to steal them from the dwarves and weren’t that gentle with their acquisitions. Oh, and it’s decorated with a hunting scene. Is that a woolly mammoth?” His fingers twitched toward the horn. “Those have been extinct for a long time. That doesn’t necessarily mean the horn is that old, but how old is it? Do you know?”

“Willow didn’t say.” Rylana held up the horn so he could look more closely, but she didn’t let him take it from her grip. He did try.

“Who?”

“The antiques expert who acquired it for me. I thought you’d enjoy having it in your collection. I just need you to talk to our landlord and rescind whatever threat or bribe you used to coerce him.”

Frodin lowered his arms. “Really, Ry. I’m not a criminal.”

“What are you holding over him? His wife mentioned an orc thug.”

“My half-orc assistant is hardly a heavy. I believe you met her. As for Aztor, I offered him two bottles of late-harvest Mergasiner Estate sweet wine. He and his wife had it once years ago, but it’s hard to come by. I happened to have some in the cellar.”

“My landlord is kicking us out for wine?”

“It’s a very rare wine.”

“Well, this is a very rare horn. I see the way your fingers keep twitching toward it. You want to make a deal with me.”

“Ry.” Frodin groaned as he bent forward and gripped his knees. “I need a break from this business. Just for a couple of years. And then I could come back. If I had to.” He groaned again. “It’s stressful and a lot of work. The hours are ridiculous. I barely know my kids’ names.”