Page 90 of Morel Dilemma

“I believe some of them spoke the truth,” Jildarin continued, “but others were being mendacious.”

“Does that mean you think Captain Tassani was right about having a bad feeling about some of the elves?”

“If one has feelings about his troops, one should not bring them along.”

“It didn’t sound like he had a choice. He was a chaff of wheat in the wind, blown about by the political machinations of those in power.”

Jildarin made a disgusted noise. “You should not go on the coffee excursion with him.”

Rylana blinked. “Why? Because he has to answer to superiors?”

“A dragon is not a chaff of wheat.”

“No dragons have asked me on coffee excursions,” Rylana said a little tartly, more offended on Tassani’s behalf than her own.

“Chef Jildarin?” Rolf called softly up from the bottom of the stairs. “We need you in the dining room. Some of the elves are, uhm. They passed out at their tables!”

Jildarin nodded to himself and descended the stairs.

“That is desired,” he said calmly.

Rylana leaned back and grabbed a railing. Had he gone along with her plan and served the elves an overdose of enchanted morels?

“Desired!” Rolf blurted. “Chef, unconscious elves can’t leave tips.”

“I do not believe these elves would tip you, regardless.” Jildarin gave Rylana a long look over his shoulder before stepping off the stairs.

She lay a hand on her chest, touched. After he’d been so affronted, she hadn’t dreamed he would go along with her scheme.

“I suppose their purses will be accessible while they’re out,” Rolf murmured as Jildarin passed him.

Instead of heading straight into the diner, Jildarin halted at the corner. The clip-clop of horse hooves came from the street. A lot of them. Jildarin’s back went as stiff as Sylin’s had moments earlier.

Rolf trotted past him but also paused. From the stairs on the side of the building, Rylana couldn’t see the street but, from Jildarin’s reactions, didn’t know if she wanted to.

In a much different reaction, Rolf threw his arms up and spun a circle. “Look at all those ritzy carriages. Are those reins decorated with silver? And I see gilding on that fancy steam-powered lorry. A whole bunch of lords and ladies are coming. I bet they’ll tip.”

As Rolf ran forward, no doubt to schmooze whoever was arriving, Jildarin looked up at Rylana. “Zilek’s carriage is in the lead.”

“Has he brought his wine club buddies for an impromptu gathering?” Rylana asked. “Or a bunch of trouble we don’t need on top of our other trouble?”

“Yes,” Jildarin said with certainty, then walked after Rolf.

“Archer!” someone yelled from the rooftop.

“Protect the queen,” Tassani barked.

Rylana cursed and ran for the bar—and her bow. The anticipated trouble had begun.

26

As Rylana ran for her bow, lamenting that tranquility ribbons bound it and the arrows in her quiver, Sylin knocked over the table at which she and the queen had been sitting. Cookies, plates of mushrooms, and coffee cups flew as she tipped it on its side and turned it into a shield, pulling Fareesa behind it with her. Some elven warriors were already gathering around to protect them, but another drew a dagger and ran toward Sylin.

Tassani rushed in from the side and smashed into that elf, bowling him over. As they fell to the mossy tiles, the dagger flew free.

An arrow arched out of the darkness—had that come from the rooftop Tassani had been eyeing earlier? It pierced the table, the tip almost going through.

“Get down,” Rylana barked to Brella and Tezilly.