Page 96 of Morel Dilemma

“Are there at least some iron bars?”

“I believe there are constrictive vines.”

Rylana looked toward the rooftop dining area, thinking of how the magical elven flora had delivered some effective blows. “That may be sufficient. But I’m going to hope the vines have thorns.” She held up her thumb and forefinger to indicate an appropriate length for such thorns.

“Yes.”

“Anyway, thank you again for deciding to help with that somewhat atypical plan. I’m glad you decided it was worth it, for the good of the elven kingdom.”

Jildarin’s silver eyebrows twitched. “I did it because you’re my partner, and you requested it.”

That surprised her, touched her, and even flustered her a bit, and she didn’t know what to say. He merely nodded and walked into the diner.

Sylin, who’d been close enough to hear the conversation, issued a, “Huh. I think that dragon is falling in love with you.”

“He’s just… a good business partner.” Rylana couldn’t help but sigh and gaze through the window, watching as Jildarin disappeared down the hallway and into his kitchen.

Sylin, observing her gaze, asked, “Are you falling in love with him?”

Rylana hesitated. “I don’t know.”

28

Before dawn, Rylana extricated herself from her blankets and mattress—oh, how she loved that new bed—and went up to the rooftop to tidy the mess that had been left behind. She looked forward to what she hoped would be a quiet few days of rest and relaxation, inasmuch as one helping run a busy diner could do those things.

Surprisingly, none of the cups and dishes that had gone flying as tables were upturned and used as shields had broken. The mossy blanket covering the slate tiles acted as lovely padding. The vegetation that had come alive to spit thorns at attackers, not caring that they were pointy-eared elven attackers, had gone quiescent. Once again, they appeared as little more than trees, shrubs, and vines full of aromatic blooms.

Pleased by their rooftop terrace, Rylana might have given a few of those trees and plants loving pats as she passed. Whether elven flora appreciated that or not, she didn’t know, but she wanted to stay on their good side.

After picking up the fallen utensils and dishes, she cleaned up the bar area, putting the coffee equipment that had been left behind into a stack so she could return it to Brella and Tezilly later. As she worked, someone climbed into view, enough daylight brightening the morning sky for her to make out his face.

Rylana tensed warily but kept from groaning. “Hello, Aztor.”

Their landlord, she recalled, had been at the diner the night before, but he’d disappeared early during the attack and hadn’t returned. Maybe he hadn’t found that arrows flying overhead provided a soothing eating experience.

“Hello, Bookkeeper Rylana.”

Deciding she wouldn’t bring up the eviction he’d threatened them with, she kept tidying and waited for him to say more. Maybe he’d forgotten about it.

She snorted to herself. Sure.

Aztor wandered around the terrace. Here and there, he touched a branch or a pot, and he paused to gaze up at the tree trunks that acted as the posts of the pergola. A few leaves had been knocked down during the battle, but Rylana had already swept them up.

“Last night was eventful, from what I saw, but I heard things were resolved without death,” Aztor said.

“That’s right. We fended off some elven turncoats.”

Aztor ran a hand over a table. “Is this growing out of the tiles?” He bent to investigate.

“That one is, yes. Some are normal tables that can easily be moved around, but Plant Master Chalora picked a few spots where she must have decided anchored furniture wouldn’t impede the flow. She waved her magical fingers to cause them to grow or form. Whatever the right term is.”

“Plant Master Chalora,” Aztor said with reverence and rested a hand on his chest.

Since he was usually a surly landlord, at least when dealing with Jildarin and Rylana, his respectful tone and the awe on his face as he gazed about seemed strange. But he’d apparently studied the plant master’s work around the city and had known of it well before Rylana had met the elf. Maybe it wasn’t that strange that a real-estate maven would appreciate architecture and outdoor design.

“Did the trees truly come alive and shoot projectiles?” he asked. “There are rumors going around about that.”

“A few did, yes.”