Page 56 of Ale Storm

“If he is not already aware of the results and that a dragon won the contest for the first time in the entire history of the world, he will appreciate it if you inform him of the fact,” Jildarin said. “Also, he will enjoy dining here. I will ensure it.”

“You won’t make mushrooms, will you?” Did Shebly sound wary? Maybe she’d heard about the queen’s visit and what Jildarin had served that night. “Dwarves prefer well-roasted haunches of meat,” she added.

“I am familiar with dwarven culinary preferences,” Jildarin said, “and know that they are quite different from what elves prefer.”

“Quite,” one of the bodyguards rumbled, speaking for the first time. And had the second appeared aghast at the mention of mushrooms?

“Deliver to me a list of his favorite foods, and, as soon as you know, tell me when he will come dine,” Jildarin said.

“I will ask him about those things, Lord Dragon,” Shebly said politely, “and I’ll verify that I’ve seen what may be the Horn of Agomoral.”

“That is acceptable,” Jildarin said.

“Bookkeeper Rylana, should that be the genuine artifact, will a monetary reward be sufficient to offer in exchange for its return?”

“You don’t have to give me coin. If it really belongs to your king, I’ll be happy to return it. I just didn’t want to let thieves take it.”

“I’m relieved they didn’t succeed in absconding with it. To have lost it for centuries, found it, and lost it again would be insufferable. But I’ll trust it’s in safe hands—and talons—here.” Shebly bowed again to them, then led the bodyguards away.

As soon as the door closed, Jildarin said, “The dwarven king will dine here. I must do my research and ensure I serve him a meal perfectly suited to his palate. If—no, when—he’s satisfied, he will spread the word of the talented dragon chef Jildarin-grozanarav to the entire dwarven realm.”

“I’m sure he’ll send out a memo on that, yes.”

Not seeming to hear her, probably because he was already lost in menu musings, Jildarin strode for the kitchen.

“I don’t think I’m getting my date this week.” Rylana sighed, but she knew all about Jildarin’s passion, and she couldn’t blame him for prioritizing it. And this would be a wonderful opportunity for him and for the diner.

Only as she headed to her sleeping area to dress did she realize that there was a reward she might ask for if the horn turned out to be authentic. Whether the king would grant it, she didn’t know, but if he had any influence over that awful female Mya had described, maybe he could do something about her. At the least, couldn’t he say something to suggest Mya’s family should visit her?

Rylana hoped so. No dwarven grandmother deserved to be ostracized by her people, and certainly not one who made such delicious desserts.

16

Between the lunch and dinner service, Rylana settled into the office to update the books. Jildarin was humming happily in the kitchen, and did she catch him repeating a few phrases in the dwarven tongue? Maybe they were quotes highlighting the culinary passions of the largely subterranean people.

As Rylana was putting together a grocery list to replenish the pantry, Sylin poked her head through the door.

“Are you aware that there are numerous goblin children ranging from toddlers to surly teenagers in your dining room?” she asked.

“Uhm?” Rylana leaned out of her chair to peer down the hallway. “The last I saw, a couple of diners were lingering up front and on the rooftop terrace, but they weren’t surly. They were fat and content after their orange-sauce-smothered duck-salad croissant sandwiches. Those are delicious, by the way. If Jildarin has any left you should snag…”

She trailed off as two laughing green-skinned children with wild white hair ran through the dining room. From halfway down the hallway, Rylana only saw them briefly.

“Rolf’s kids?” she guessed.

He’d never brought them by the diner before, but she’d heard often of his dual wives and numerous offspring.

“One hopped up to me when I walked in,” Sylin said, “and asked if I wanted to tip him.”

“They must be Rolf’s kids then.”

As if her saying his name had summoned him, Rolf strode into view with a toddler perched on his shoulders, a rag in his hand, and a finger pointing at someone out of view. “You’re here to clean and learn how to be good worker goblins, not play.”

Giggles came from the direction he was pointing. The kid on his shoulders tugged at his hair.

“That… looks like a handful.” Rylana glanced toward the kitchen, hoping Jildarin wouldn’t storm out, grumpy at pint-sized goblins running around in the dining room.

“It was about eleven handfuls from what I saw. I came to see if you were grievously injured last night.” Sylin looked her up and down, though Rylana’s upright position should have suggested a degree of haleness. “I heard from Captain Laridon, for whom I’ve been completing a small task, who spoke with Captain Dindarin, that a pair of dwarves waylaid you in an alley last night. They said Mya was also there.”