Page 90 of Ale Storm

“Your people are almost as arrogant as dragons, you know. I guess that’s why you naturally became allies during the war.” Rylana breathed in delicious scents of frying meat and simmering gravies wafting from the kitchen. Though she never would have thought she’d long for something called a rockball, she looked forward to sampling the evening’s fare. “I, for one, thought the goblin children were cute. For the sake of peaceful dining ambiance, I hope Rolf doesn’t bring them by that often—at least not all at once—but it’s nice to see young people playing and being happy. I didn’t realize I missed that during the war.”

“Are you having maternal stirrings? Shall I inform your cousin? She was the one asking about that, wasn’t she?”

“On behalf of my father, yes. And, no, I’m not stirred. I’m just…”

Sylin raised her eyebrows.

“Well, I guess it’s something I should start to consider more seriously. I’m not that young anymore, and if I decide I do want children….”

“You’ll have to go on quite a quest with your dragon to figure out how you might hatch his offspring.” Sylin smirked.

“That’s not possible.”

“Oh, I don’t know. As we discussed the other day, there are tales of dragons having offspring with two-legged species. Magically assisted of course.”

“Jildarin and I haven’t even gone on a date yet. I’m not bringing up magically assisted offspring to him.”

“After all the time you’ve spent with him, what could you possibly need to do with him on a date that you can’t simply do here?”

“Have two minutes alone with him without being interrupted,” Rylana said, frustration seeping into her words.

“Only two minutes? Dragons are known for more stamina than that.”

“Then we definitely need to go on a date.”

“Can’t you hire someone to stand in front of the door of the storeroom and keep people out while you engage?”

“Are you volunteering?”

“No, I’m not.”

“You said security is an expertise of yours.”

“It is,” Sylin said, “but I don’t want to be nearby when he finally has a release for that tension he radiates. I don’t know when exactly he decided humans are capable of making him horny, but his desire for you is apparent to everyone now.”

Rylana thought of Shebly’s comment and couldn’t disagree, but her cheeks heated. How had they gotten on this topic of conversation?

“The dwarves are coming,” Gniknik called from the window by the front door. Outside, the ornate carriage they’d seen from above rolled into view.

“Thank the new and old gods,” Rylana said.

Sylin smiled knowingly and sipped her coffee.

The door opened wide, and several armored dwarves strode in, chain mail and swords and axes clinking and clanking, iron boots clomping on the tile floor. Reminded of the night the elves had turned on their queen, Rylana eyed those weapons, making sure tranquility knots tied them into scabbards and onto belts. They did, but as she well knew, if one was willing to endure a few zaps—and risk alerting the authorities—one could untie the knots.

A herald, or perhaps a priest, walked in after the guards; he wore robes and a helmet covered in blue velvet with an emblem of a silver pickax crossing a sword on the front.

“I am High Priest Vaknorok,” he announced, looking expectantly—or maybe imperiously—around. “King Ekton has arrived.”

“We’ve a table for him right here, friend dwarf.” Gniknik gestured to the largest booth in the diner. “If he prefers a more open eating experience, we’ve also pushed these tables together.” He pointed to seating in the middle of the room.

“The booth looks good,” a dwarf with a deep voice rumbled.

King Ekton walked in, a rotundness to his form suggesting he enjoyed food often and might not be too hard for Jildarin to please with his offerings. Silver streaked his red hair, and, despite carrying some extra weight, he seemed sturdy and reasonably fit. He was dressed more like the guards than his priest, with a tied war hammer on his belt, though he wore a mithril crown rather than a helmet. It gleamed in the light from the sconces and hanging ceiling lamps.

“A monarch likes his privacy to more easily gossip and whisper about the food and company.” Ekton directed the comment toward his priest but also looked around, considering Gniknik, Rolf, and finally Rylana and Sylin. “What an eclectic group of servers.”

Sylin’s eyebrows rose at being lumped in with the servers.