Page 22 of Ale Storm

“Right now, it looks like she’s scouting.” Rylana looked around, realizing her dwarf follower could use the diversion to get close and try to steal the horn. Of course, since it was in Rylana’s hand, she would have to be quite distracted to let someone swipe it.

She didn’t see the dwarf, but…

“Your horn is glowing,” Sylin remarked, spotting the luminescent blue mugs in the carving at the same time as Rylana.

And were those tiny gray storm clouds also glowing above the mugs? They weren’t even a part of the carving. They’d simply appeared.

“Strange.” Rylana looked around for what might have activated the horn’s magic. Before, she’d thought it had something to do with that elven tree or even the special soil or pots the plant master had used. But since she hadn’t gotten the horn to glow when she’d taken it up there a second time, she didn’t know.

Could it be doing so now because of the dragon? There hadn’t been any dragons around the last time it had glowed. Well, no, Jildarin had been in the diner below. But he’d been in the area several of the times she’d carried the horn around.

“Perhaps something that’s for sale in the market that was also served at the rooftop dinner is prompting that?” Sylin suggested.

Rylana pointed the horn at her. “That could be it. Food was flying everywhere that night. For all I know, enchanted morels were dangling from the branches of the tree where this landed.”

“Are there any enchanted morels for sale here?” Sylin asked the question more of the half-elf merchant than Rylana.

“Those are a rarity in the market, and the foragers have likely gone home for the day.” The merchant pointed farther down their aisle. “You can try checking down there for their tables.”

“Thank you.” Rylana saluted her with the horn, then tucked Jildarin’s ingredients into her shopping bag and slung her quiver back over her shoulder.

As she and Sylin headed down the aisle, the alarm pillar started gonging.

“Is it going to attack?” someone yelled in alarm.

People were still pointing and shouting as the dragon circled the market. She’d flown lower, to an altitude the pillar found offensive. A single reptilian eye was visible now, her head tilted so she could look straight at Rylana and Sylin.

“There’s not much point in pretending she’s not here for us,” Sylin said. “Or, more likely, you.”

“You’re so certain she’s not feeling vengeful toward you about that net.” Rylana stepped aside as two peacekeepers strode toward the pillar, towering golems marching behind them.

Had the horn started glowing more brightly?

“That one may be.” Sylin pointed at the dragon, then shifted her finger farther to the south. “But that one is here for you. I’m certain of it.”

Though she didn’t want to look, Rylana did. A second black dragon had appeared. Loxvonla.

“That’s the one you shot,” Sylin added.

“Thanks for the reminder.”

“I’m here to loyally use my elven senses to compensate for your weak human attributes.”

“I don’t deserve such a faithful friend.”

Though the dragons worried Rylana, more and more peacekeepers were arriving with their magical nets and other tools for enforcing the law. More golems were stomping down the aisles as well. With the horn still glowing, Rylana pointed it from booth to wagon to tent to ambulatory merchants, who had everything from scarves and jewelry to rope twists of herbs dangling from their arms. She was trying to pinpoint what was making the horn glow.

Directly over the market now, Loxvonla roared and breathed a gout of fire. She was still forty or fifty feet in the air, so it was only a warning, and the dragon glanced at the pillar. She must remember the Lucky Island incident where a similar pillar had struck her with a beam.

That didn’t make Rylana feel safe, and she reluctantly decided the horn quest would have to wait. She ought to be back in the diner, standing at Jildarin’s shoulder. Or maybe behind his shoulder.

“For the safety of all present,” a nearby gnome peacekeeper called through a megaphone, “the market will close early tonight. All visitors and vendors must leave immediately.”

With people already scurrying for the exits—running into carts, fountains, and each other as they glanced at the dragons—it was good advice. But the horn was glowing more brightly than ever.

“Just a couple more seconds…” Rylana murmured.

She spotted a booth with a sign mentioning fresh foraged goods and headed toward it, but the glowing ale mugs grew less bright, and the storm clouds disappeared.