Page 84 of Morel Dilemma

One of his fellow gnomes gazed up the street past her shoulder at two more elves approaching the diner. His brow furrowed pensively.

Rylana hoped that meant the peacekeepers had noticed that an entire legion—surely, by now, all the elves who’d arrived had to constitute a legion—was descending upon the Dragon Diner. If the gnomes already wondered if trouble was afoot, she might not have to nudge them much to pay attention to that particular block of Acorn Street.

“Good evening, Bixtok,” Rylana said. “And Willow.”

Since they were in town, the energetic hound was on her leash, her green log inspector vest brushed free of grime. Even so, the gnome gave her enough of a lead that she could bound over to lean against Rylana’s leg and wag vigorously.

“You’ve made a new friend,” Bixtok informed her.

“Because we went on a hunt together?” Rylana asked.

“Yes, also I let her know that your generous tip was what bought this month’s treats for her.”

“The lamb lung and bovine trachea?”

“Yes.” Bixtok’s eyes twinkled. “And some delicious extras since she found such a treasure trove of magical items. She also loves cheese, prosciutto, salami, and goose liver pâté.”

“It’s possible that you spoil that dog, Bixtok,” one of the gnomes said.

“I’ve seen charcuterie boards in the Gated Estates with less extravagant offerings,” the other gnome said.

“It’s important to reward log-inspector hounds to keep up their enthusiasm for their work,” Bixtok said.

“With goose liver pâté?”

“Treats that motivate a dog to perform.” Bixtok pulled a compact book out of a pocket, the spine weathered and pages worn. The title read: The Handguide to Training a Log Inspecting Hound. “It’s in the first chapter.”

Willow turned her back end toward Rylana for a scratch, and she obliged. She was looking for a way to invite the peacekeepers to patrol around the diner that evening when Bixtok spoke again.

“I suppose this wouldn’t be a good night to come by for the meals we earned?” He waved at Willow and himself while raising hopeful eyebrows toward Rylana. “We’ve spotted a bunch of elves heading in there and saw that the coffee shop is hosting a tasting, so I guess it’s some kind of special event?”

“There is a special event, but I could talk to Zalani about squeezing you in if you three want to come to dinner.”

“You mean us four?” Bixtok smiled and pointed at Willow again.

“Er.”

Rylana remembered that Jildarin had indeed said he would feed the hound something—he might not have had goose liver pâté in mind—but that he’d objected to the idea of Willow eating inside the diner. But dogs had keen senses, didn’t they? Maybe if the hound was present, she would bark at the elves with nefarious intent. That was probably wishful thinking, but Rylana liked the idea of having the peacekeepers in the diner, and she doubted the dog would be too much of a nuisance. Further, seeing the gnomes’ uniforms might make the elves hesitate to draw their weapons.

“Sure,” Rylana said. “In addition to dinner, there’ll be special coffee samples on the rooftop terrace. You may want to check out that area.” She was talking to the peacekeepers rather than the hound, but Willow woofed, her tail wagging vigorously again. She must have approved of being invited to dinner, because her entire back end wiggled with the wags.

“That dog doesn’t need any caffeine, Bixtok,” one of his comrades said. “Ever.”

“I know,” Bixtok said. “I wish I woke up as perky and full of energy as our hounds.”

“As do we all,” the other gnome said. “Perhaps if we had breeders who carefully chose our sires and dams for superior traits…”

“You’d actually be able to convince a woman to marry you?” his comrade suggested.

“That would be nice. I’d like babies as well as puppies.”

“What if the breeder didn’t find you worthy of passing along your blood?”

Willow hopped onto the lip of the fountain and barked, not at the commentary but at something in the direction of the docks. Rylana also climbed up so she had an elevated view of the waterfront. Ah. The elven ship had sailed close, moving from its earlier anchoring spot to a public dock near the diner. Dozens of elves in green and brown uniforms were out on its island-like deck, all armed, and a carriage reminiscent of a tulip bulb mounted sideways on wheels waited to unload.

“The queen’s carriage,” Rylana realized with certainty. Though Fareesa had been in the enclave when they’d met, she must have chosen to stay in whatever palatial suite she had on the elven vessel. “She’s coming to dinner.”

Willow barked again and wagged.