Page 51 of Ale Storm

“By then, her gnome handler Bixtok was dropping treats into her mouth. Lamb lung and bovine trachea, if I recall correctly.”

“I prefer apple pie, blackberry cobbler, and a delicious banana bread. Chef Jildarin received some bananas as a gift from someone who grows exotic fare in a magical greenhouse, and he gave me a few to experiment with. The results were far superior to lamb lung.”

“I won’t argue with you.” Giving up on the horn, Rylana eased gingerly off the chair. She had to grip the edge of the bar to steady herself.

As Mya finished off her mug, Rylana had regrets over how much she’d imbibed. At least it wasn’t much of a walk back to the diner. “Tomorrow, I’ll find the dwarven diplomat and hand this horn over to him to deal with.”

“Sounds sensible. There’s no reason it should have been your responsibility anyway.”

“It’s glowed twice in my presence.”

“How does that change anything?”

“I guess it doesn’t. But I thought it might like me.”

“It’s not a hound, and you’re not a gnome handler with a pocketful of dehydrated organs.”

“True. Are you staying here?” Rylana didn’t expect trouble on the short walk home, not in Tranquility, but she remembered other cities she’d visited as a mercenary and knew that drunks could be preyed upon. Since Mya didn’t live at the bakery, she would have a longer walk home.

“No, I’ve had enough. If I get tipsy, I’ll have trouble waking up early enough to start the bread.”

Tipsy. Rylana was far beyond that, but she draped the horn over her neck again and waved an acknowledgment before walking—wobbling—to the door.

“You’re not inebriated, are you?” Mya steadied her as Rylana navigated the doorjamb.

“Maybe a little. I don’t drink that often.”

“It could be that the magic of the horn is to enhance the effects of the drink it holds.”

“I imagine it would have to do something a little more useful to have been treasured and carried around by kings for generation after generation.” The main bar had grown less crowded and raucous, but Rylana hurried toward the exit, feeling claustrophobic and a little queasy. Eager for fresh air, she pushed the door open.

When she and Mya stepped into the alley, soft summer mist fell from the cloudy night sky. Since they were departing out the back door, there weren’t streetlamps, but the rustle of clothing nearby promised they weren’t alone.

Two stout figures with clubs rushed out of the darkness toward them.

14

Though her mind was dulled by the alcohol, Rylana’s instincts took over. She was fast enough to leap back and avoid a club swinging toward her head. The other attacker—based on their height and breadth, they had to be dwarves—lunged for Mya.

Mya’s heel caught on something in the dark, and she pitched backward. Rylana lunged in, catching the club before it could strike her friend. She could feel the ale slowing her reaction speed and stumbled herself. Fortunately, she managed to knock the club aside, giving Mya time to skitter back.

“Don’t worry about that one,” a male voice said. “Get the horn!”

Rylana recognized the speaker, one of the two dwarves who’d come to the diner. As both attackers rushed her, she kicked one in the stomach and slammed her elbow into the side of the other’s head, deterring another club swing.

“Thieves!” she yelled.

Whether it was her voice or the magic of the nearest pillar recognizing a battle, alarms started gonging. The noise startled their attackers, as if they hadn’t expected it, and Rylana took advantage. She charged in, grabbed one dwarf’s shoulders, and pulled him forward while kicking him in the groin. When she lowered her leg, she almost lost her balance and had to hold on to him to keep from falling over.

“Dumb decision,” she growled at herself, annoyed that she’d drunk so much.

Though the closest dwarf had doubled over to grab his groin, his buddy lunged in and grabbed the horn. Only the twine tying it around Rylana’s neck kept him from pulling it away. She snarled and launched an uppercut toward his face. He tried to dodge, but she was quick enough to catch his fleshy cheek.

Too stout to be easily driven back, the dwarf didn’t release the horn. But Mya appeared behind him and leaped onto his back, wrapping her arms around his neck. He let out a startled cry and spun away from Rylana.

The dwarf she’d kicked was recovering, but shouts came from the mouth of the alley. The would-be thief cursed and ran in the opposite direction. A uniformed gnome with a golem stepped into view, and he halted, cursing again.

It took Rylana’s inebriated mind a moment to realize that she had been fighting and had as much to worry about from the peacekeepers as the dwarves did. She raised her hands and stepped back from the melee.