“You’re welcome.”
22
“It’s gorgeous up here,” Rylana said as she reached the top of the new staircase on the outside of the diner and surveyed what had once been nothing but a flat oft-patched roof. It now looked like a section carved out of an enchanted forest, a beacon of variegated greens among the browns and grays of the surrounding rooftops and the cobblestone streets below.
Though Rylana had popped up to check on the progress a few times over the past week, she looked around in wonder and approval at what the plant master and her elven helpers had created. She marveled even more that they hadn’t asked for pay beyond a few delicious meals. The elves, as they’d informed Rylana and Jildarin, were aware of the work the two of them had done to lift the troll-god curse and had taken this on to show their appreciation.
Numerous kinds of mosses and tiny flowering vines covered the new slate-tile floor. Vegetation that ranged from tidy shrubs to trees rising fifteen feet in height rose from dozens of artistic ceramic pots defining seating areas in and around the pergola. That pergola, which she and Jildarin had been discussing for weeks, was made entirely from the trunks of the potted trees, with branches stretching toward each other to provide shade, their leaves offering further protection from the elements. On pedestals that looked like stumps that had grown out of the mossy tiles, large opaque orbs glowed softly, providing light and warmth. The tables and chairs were made from wood that appeared like it might also have grown out of the slate tiles, and Rylana had to nudge a few to make sure they could be moved and arranged for parties of different sizes.
As they were placed now, many seats offered views between the buildings along the waterfront and out to the lake. With some amusement, Rylana noted the clear line of sight to Sylin’s table on the roof of the coffee shop. She might be a less frequent guest up there now, at least on pleasant days when the diner’s terrace was in use.
Arms laden with coffee accoutrements, Brella and Tezilly arrived at the top of the stairs. Rolf and Gniknik had also been commandeered to help carry up everything needed for the Grand Sampling, as Tezilly was calling it. A vine-draped bar at the back of the pergola offered a place for additional seating, and she beelined toward it to set up their equipment.
“Less than an hour until people start arriving and lots to do,” Tezilly said.
“It’s not been my experience that people tip when they’re sampling free things.” Rolf’s green nose twitched, possibly with disapproval of their endeavor.
“Oh, we’ll be charging for full cups of coffee that they’ll undoubtedly purchase after they enjoy their samples,” Brella said. “Business owners have to pay their rent and buy supplies.”
“That’s a relief,” Rolf said. “One of my wives is due to have our latest baby soon. I need to make coin to bring home. How much will you charge for your coffees? The flier said they’re very exotic. That means expensive, yes? So if I receive twenty percent, I’ll make a decent amount.”
“Twenty?” Gniknik asked him. “I usually get ten. Fifteen if my service is good and people are feeling generous.”
“Goblin tips are for at least twenty,” Rolf said.
“Because that’s standard or because you pickpocket those who don’t leave that much?”
“I’m not a thief. I haven’t pickpocketed anyone since Chef Jildarin informed me that he wouldn’t allow that.”
“Was that the time he grabbed you by the scruff of your neck and dangled you over his stockpot, threatening to make goblin soup if you thieved from his patrons again?”
“Don’t be melodramatic,” Rolf said. “He grabbed me by the shirtfront, and he only dangled me in front of the stockpot.”
“But it must have been an alarming experience to have halted your tendency to help yourself to people’s purses.”
“I only helped myself when the tips were insufficient.”
Brella and Tezilly looked at each other and rolled their eyes but didn’t tell Rolf and Gniknik to hush, probably because they were busy setting out cups and saucers. At their request, Rylana headed for the stairs with instructions to collect more cups. Brella and Tezilly were certain there would be a lot of visitors this evening. They were probably right. Earlier, Rylana had caught people out front not only looking at fliers but pointing with interest at the rooftop improvements that included dangling clematis, elfsky, and climbing (or in this case descending) hydrangea with beautiful and fragrant blooms that ran down the walls to the street. Some of the diner’s faithful regulars had been watching with interest all week at the terrace creation.
As Rylana headed down the stairs, Captain Tassani arrived from the street, several elven warriors with him. Their bows and swords were tied with tranquility ribbons, but they looked like they’d come for a military maneuver rather than a mushroom meal.
She hurried to the bottom and followed them into the dining room.
“Ah, Sergeant Falcon,” he said before remembering to correct himself. “Bookkeeper Rylana.” He bowed to her.
“Have you, ah, come for our coffee-shop date?” Rylana eyed no fewer than ten elven warriors frowning around the establishment. It wasn’t yet filled with diners for the evening meal, but scintillating scents of sautéing mushrooms, grilling meat, simmering soups, and baking quiches wafted out of the kitchen as the service hour approached.
“I’m afraid I have to work tonight and can’t break away,” Tassani said. “I would like to speak with you in private for a moment, though, if you don’t mind?”
“Will the topic be why you’ve arrived with a legion of warriors?”
“Ten elves hardly constitute a legion. In fact, we’d barely be considered a squad.”
Gniknik and Rolf entered and gaped at the elves. They skirted the warriors by walking far to the side of the dining room, then slipping into the hallway and rushing to the safety of Jildarin’s kitchen—mostly made safe by its chef occupant.
“They’re intimidating my staff,” Rylana said but let Tassani lead her to a corner.
“Those particular staff didn’t appear particularly courageous.”