Page 27 of Ale Storm

“At least I don’t have a lot of clothes,” she muttered, then found a pair of her undergarments dangling from the corner of a crate.

The idea of cleaning the mess daunted her. Before starting, she looked all over the storeroom, but whoever had created the chaos was gone.

“They were searching for something,” she decided, closing the door. Her hand strayed to her quiver, and she made sure the horn was still inside. It was, but that didn’t hearten her much, and she slumped against one of the stacks of crates. “I should have left it in the forest.”

8

Daylight permeated the windows of the storeroom by the time Rylana woke up. The scents of coffee-rubbed bacon—her favorite—quiche, pancakes and syrup, and sautéing vegetables wafted back to her. With her mouth watering, she took care of her biological needs and dressed quickly, certain Jildarin had returned.

Tired after cleaning up as much of the mess as had been practical by lantern light, she’d slept hard and hadn’t heard anyone come in. It was a good thing the intruder hadn’t been the one to return.

“Greetings, my business partner,” Jildarin said as Rylana entered the kitchen.

If he was tired from whatever had kept him out late, he didn’t show it. His errand had probably been more appealing than cleaning a ransacked storeroom. No, that might not be true. If, as she’d been thinking, he’d visited her father, that wouldn’t have been a delightful time.

“Good morning, Jildarin. Sorry about the mess in your lair. Someone broke in while I was at the market. I tried to sweep up the oats and flour so they wouldn’t stick to your scales, but I might need the help of Gniknik and his cleaning contraption when he comes in.”

“You are most thoughtful. I was perturbed when I returned and caught an unfamiliar scent lingering in the storeroom and saw that my ingredients had been disturbed.”

“Was it the scent of a couple of dwarves searching for a hunting horn?”

“It is difficult to tell what a person might be seeking simply by the odor that lingers after their passing. I am not even certain of the species of the intruder, as dwarves living in the city don’t smell particularly different from equally urban humans and orcs and elves and such.” Jildarin plucked up tongs and offered her a hot piece of bacon.

“Do dwarves living in tunnels smell different?” Rylana accepted the bacon and chomped into it. Oh, yes. All she needed was a hot cup of coffee to go with it, and she would be ready to face the day.

“Like their surroundings, yes. Ore and rock, and sometimes brimstone and molten lava.”

“Those sound like the ingredients of an interesting cologne.”

“I believe it was a female who intruded. There are variations in the scents between the sexes that a dragon’s nose can detect.”

“There was a female dwarf following me in the market.” Rylana grabbed a plate to fill with hot food and explained what had happened with the horn the night before. Once again, she felt guilty that his diner had been put in danger—or at least vandalized—because of something intruding from her life.

“How unexpected that a simple tool lost in the forest for centuries would draw the attention of so many,” he said.

“Maybe it was stashed in the woods rather than lost. Even if the story those two dwarves told wasn’t true, I think someone hid it in that log. It’s not like it would have tucked itself away so nicely if it had fallen out of someone’s pack.”

“Yes, I believe that is correct. Also, Calling Rock has been a landmark for as long as intelligent species have lived in and visited this area. The horn may have been placed near it intentionally so it would be easier to find later.” Jildarin took two more pieces of bacon from the pan and placed them atop the mound of delicious food she’d prepared for herself.

She’d already put several strips on the plate, but she didn’t object to more, merely beaming a smile at him before sitting at the table. She was about to tell him about the dragon sisters, but Sylin walked in first, carrying her gnomish vacuum flask as well as a to-go cup, which she offered to Rylana.

“Is that a latte?” Rylana accepted it gratefully.

“Despite my aversion to seeing a delicious and robust dark roast degraded by the addition of milk and sugar, I did suggest to Vilma that you would enjoy your usual.”

“I adore you.”

“Were that true, you wouldn’t have set me up with that overly loquacious and solipsistic dragon.” Sylin eyed Jildarin, perhaps wondering if he would be offended by her description of his brother.

He merely looked at Sylin and said, “The front door is locked since the breakfast service doesn’t start for ten more minutes.”

“I came in through the back.”

His gaze shifted to Rylana before he bent to take a quiche out of the oven. “You are certain it was a dwarf female who ransacked the storeroom?”

“No, but I know it wasn’t Sylin. She wouldn’t do anything to risk the ire of her favorite chef and deliverer of breakfast.”

“Absolutely true. But what was ransacked? And why?” Sylin placed two silver coins on the counter and grabbed a plate.