Page 18 of Ale Storm

“But mushrooms⁠—”

Gormer cleared his throat.

Jildarin ignored him, merely writing pickled summer porcinis in his notepad, but Mikon returned to his fellow dwarf’s side.

“I think you heard about the horn from the antiques appraiser,” Rylana said. “Nobody can sense magic from a hundred miles away.”

She looked to Jildarin for confirmation, but he was penning ingredients in another column. She glimpsed white wine vinegar and prepared herself to be sent to the market later.

“From who?” The dwarves looked at each other in puzzlement. Gormer added, “Perhaps I didn’t speak that clearly, ma’am. Or rather, perhaps the high priest didn’t explain how he was able to detect the horn in a manner that one as simple as I might understand.”

“Didn’t he say he had a vision?” Mikon asked.

“That may have been it. Either way, he informed me that a horn that was in the king’s family for many generations before being stolen away by a servant was recently unearthed. Through the gods or his own magical power—maybe both—the priest could tell it was in Tranquility and sent us to retrieve it. And… you’ve not denied that you have it, so I believe he sent us to the right place.” Gormer stroked his beard and smiled at Rylana.

“If you can prove that it rightfully belonged to the king’s family,” she said, “I’ll return it, but since I’ve promised it to another, I can’t give it away to two seemingly random dwarves who walked into the diner.”

Jildarin looked up, either because he’d sensed something worth paying attention to in the conversation or because he’d finished his grocery list.

“It’s understandable that you can’t tell we’re important, not random,” Gormer said with a bow and a smile. “And, in truth, it’s not as if we serve the king full time. We live in Tranquility, not the tunnels and mines of the Ironhammer capital, but we do handle some of his shipping business on a regular basis. That’s why the high priest knew he could reach out to us.”

“Have him or the king send proof about the horn,” Rylana said.

“In the meantime, you may stay for the dinner meal,” Jildarin said, “providing you’ve the necessary funds for it. It will be excellent. And not slimy.” He skewered Mikon with a look that made the dwarf step back and raise his hands.

Rylana wanted to get rid of these two, not invite them for dinner, but she realized Jildarin might be testing them. If they couldn’t produce the modest coins required to buy a meal, then they might not be gainfully employed in the shipping industry, as they’d implied. Of course, they might also not want to eat here, but word had gotten out about the diner’s excellent fare, so most people who came in did stay.

“Ah.” Gormer looked around the dining room. “Yes, I believe we will enjoy a meal here.”

Did he sound triumphant? Maybe he hoped the opportunity would allow him to pester Rylana further about the horn. Grimacing, she resolved to use the dinner hour to catch up on the books for the day.

“We do have money.” Gormer held up a gold coin with a crowned and bearded dwarf on it. Their current king? “Will this suffice?”

“That’s fine,” Rylana said. It would buy more than two of anything on the menu, but she added, “Unless you succumb to our goblin server and feel the urge to tip him generously.”

“Does one usually tip the goblins generously?” Gormer looked at Mikon, as if he couldn’t imagine it.

“Rolf is a hard worker,” Rylana said.

“I see. What proof did you say you would require before handing over the horn?” Gormer asked as Mikon ambled to one of the booths.

“Some kind of compelling evidence to show who it belongs to. You haven’t seen the horn, so you can’t be sure it’s the one your priest supposedly sensed.”

“Our high priest.” Gormer pulled a folded piece of paper out of a pocket. “He was quite certain of its rough location in the city.”

“That was certainly a pinpoint vision he had.” Rylana watched warily as Gormer unfolded the paper. He held up an accurate drawing of the horn.

Rylana chewed on her lip. Since the antiques appraiser had taken a good look at the horn, he might have replicated it with such accuracy, but why would he have selected these two dwarves to then give his drawing to? Even though the appraiser had wanted to buy it for less than it was worth, Rylana hadn’t gotten the vibe from him that he would hire someone to steal it. He had a business that had been there for generations and, as far as she knew, a decent reputation in the community.

“It is the horn you possess,” Gormer stated with certainty.

“Yes, but, as a peacekeeper gnome informed me, the law that applies to locating something in the forest outside of Tranquility is Finders Keepers.”

Gormer’s bushy red eyebrows rose. “Our people are not by nature aggressive, and we fought alongside humans in the Ore War, but you should not assume that there won’t be repercussions if you choose to keep a stolen item belonging to the dwarven royal family.”

Rylana bristled. She didn’t claim any real right to the horn—she’d only accepted it because she’d thought she might need it to bribe her brother—but the dwarf’s attitude irritated her. He also hadn’t proven that he worked for that priest or the king. What if she handed it over only to later learn these two were scam artists?

An ominous growl came from beside her. Jildarin had lowered the notepad and stood at her shoulder, glowering down at Gormer. “You will not enter our establishment and threaten my business partner with dwarven repercussions. You may inform your king that Rylana is protected by a dragon.”