Page 19 of Ale Storm

“But… dragons weren’t allies to humans during the war.” Forehead creasing, Mikon looked at his older comrade.

“This human is my ally.” Jildarin rested his hand on Rylana’s shoulder.

She appreciated his protection, and it touched her when he stood up for her. Even so, she felt bleak at the thought that she might need to stay close to him going forward, not only because of jealous female dragons who might attack her but also because of a new threat from the dwarven kingdom.

“You will inform your king,” Jildarin repeated.

“We can let him know, but it changes little. You are bound by the laws of Tranquility as long as you work and reside here, right? We’ll get the peacekeepers involved if we must.” Gormer tugged on his beard as he nodded. “You have a stolen horn, and theft isn’t allowed in this city.”

“I didn’t steal it,” Rylana said. “I already told you that I found it outside of the city.”

“Yet you insist on keeping it, even now that I’ve told you it’s stolen. We will give you a night and a day to consider if you’ll give it to us before we pursue legal action.”

“We can still stay for dinner, right?” Mikon asked his comrade.

Gormer squinted at Rylana. “We’ll stay.”

Yeah, so they could spy on her. She barely withheld a grimace.

As the dwarves walked to a booth, Jildarin lowered his hand, but he remained close, and he watched them coolly.

“Do you think they’re telling the truth?” Rylana asked.

“I do not know.”

“Do you sense anything about them?” Rylana wondered if, through his magic, he could detect anything awry about the dwarves. Other than that they’d threatened her.

She wasn’t positive they were scheming, but she was inclined to believe so, if only because their story didn’t sound that plausible. If the high priest could sense the horn in Tranquility from a hundred miles away, why couldn’t he have sensed it in the forest? It wasn’t as if Bixtok, the gnome, and his log-inspecting dog had excavated it from great depths.

“I can tell only that they do not possess greater than average power for the modest attributes of their kind,” Jildarin said. “It is unlikely that they sensed a magical antique from afar.”

“So they’re someone’s minions.”

As they’d implied. But were they the dwarven king’s minions?

“I will ask Rolf to keep an eye on them as he serves them. It is time for me to begin preparations for the evening meal, regardless, so it is not extra work to make them food.” Jildarin ripped the list off his notepad and handed it to her. “So that I may make pickled porcinis, you will gather… I request that you gather these ingredients for me at the market.”

“There’s extra work involved for someone here,” Rylana said wryly, but she accepted the list, pleased that he’d changed his burgeoning command into a request. Regardless, she would rather go to the market than be here for the dwarves to pepper with more questions about the horn.

“I will not make the pickled items immediately, so you need not hurry back.” Jildarin gazed thoughtfully at her. “Once the dinner service is well underway, with sufficient amounts of food prepared for our staff to complete it, I may leave on an errand.”

What errand would be calling to him at night?

“All right,” Rylana said, though the temptation to pry was on the tip of her tongue.

Jildarin pointed at the list and said, “Your willingness to do work to further the greatness of our diner pleases me.”

“Such as getting ingredients for pickled porcinis?”

“Yes. Tonight, I shall prove to at least two dwarves that the mushrooms a dragon can prepare are excellent and never slimy.” Chin raised, he strode toward the kitchen.

Rylana noted that he’d effectively distracted her from asking where he intended to go on his errand.

6

Before heading to the market, Rylana grabbed a shopping bag and her bow and quiver, tucking the horn inside among the arrows. She doubted the dwarves would dare search the diner while Jildarin was working in the kitchen, but, just in case, she hadn’t wanted to leave the antique in her desk. Besides, once he departed on his errand, and only the staff remained, the dwarves might be more brazen.

“Is there a reason you’re taking your weapons on a journey?” came Sylin’s voice from behind as Rylana passed through an intersection.