“But you also wouldn’t have an overbearing dragon auntie hunting you down.”
“Is that any worse than having the entire elven contingent of a city hunting you down?”
Sylin grimaced. “Shall we start a contest to see which one of us is killed first?”
“That’s a contest I would prefer not to win—or even participate in.”
“Maybe we should both return to the south. The war was more soothing than this.” Even as she said that, Sylin gazed with feeling at her cup. “The coffee down therewasdreadful though.” When Tezilly swung by again, Sylin placed a couple of silver coins on the table and held up a finger to order another cup.
“I imagine you could find a shop that sells a quality roast in one of the cities. Coffee isfromsouthern climates, after all. It’s just that they sent the cheapest and least fresh supplies to the soldiers. Remember the moldy, lumpy vegetables and fruit we received? When we got any at all?”
“Yes, lumpy vegetables are what distressed me most about the war experience.” Sylin leaned forward to read Vormalt’s notes.
When she finished, Rylana summarized the other things he’dsaid, the suggestion that the new god was a hoax that the gnomes had created and perpetuated over the centuries.
“If that’s true, I can see why you may doubt their records,” Sylin said.
“Do you think it’s possible? Vormalt has archaeology training and has been poking around on the subject for years, but I’m not inclined to trust him. Now that this has come out, I can’t help but wonder if the only reason he ever wanted to marry me was to gain access to the castle. I asked him, and he was… noncommittal. Maybe he thought he could move in and do a little renovating to find that temple. He admitted that it wasn’t until later that he figured out it was under that section of the library, so maybe he thought he would need time.”
“An entire marriage’s worth of time?”
“For all I know, he was snooping about the premises every time he visited me and I left the room. Maybe he originally applied to work for my father’s business for the same reason, to get close to the family—and our castle.”
“Are you distressed by the possibility that it wasn’t adoration for your wit and beauty that drew his interest?”
“I would have been at the time. Now, I’m older, more cynical, and relieved Ididn’tend up marrying a man who was only interested in me for my family’s castle.”
“Yes.” Sylin accepted a fresh cup of coffee from Tezilly as she passed by.
Rylana unfolded the rubbing of the rye stalk and explained about the carving in the temple. “I know you’re not from this area, and probably don’t care much about what happens to Tranquility, but if you have any ideas where I could go next, feel free to voice them.”
“I care about my coffee shop being cursed.” Sylin waved to indicate the building. “I wasn’t here for the fated flying of the beans, but I lament that such quality coffee was wasted.”
“That’s my biggest concern about what’s going on here too.” Rylana peered again toward the diner, certain it wouldn’t escape the curse unscathed. Maybe it was good that she hadn’t yet started the rooftop seating addition. The way the day was going, people might fall off the edges left and right. “I’m thinking of picking up a loaf of bread and some cookies from the bakery to leave on the offering platform at the nearest troll temple. Or maybe I should take them across the lake to leave under the castle.”
“That would attract mice, surely.”
“Father’s hounds ought to keep them at bay.”
“You’d best find out exactly whatthe troll gods historically preferred for their offerings. If you don’t want to consult the gnomish university library…”
“Yes?” Rylana prompted when her comrade trailed off with a frown.
“Well, my people are long-lived and have seen a lot of the movements of the various shorter-lived andbusierintelligent species. They keep records. I’ve heard there’s a library at the elven enclave. It would have been installed after the founding of the city and the establishment of an elven outpost here, but… they could have brought in older histories. You might even find living elders who remember the time of the new god’s coming.” Her eyebrows twitched. “Supposedcoming?”
Sylin hadn’t appeared appalled at any point by the suggestion that the new god might have beenmade uprather than appearing in the world, as the history texts and songs and legends said, but Rylana hadn’t seen much evidence to suggest that Sylin was religious in any way herself. She didn’t pray or even ever mention the elven gods. Rylana supposed that if one actually believed in the deities and their accompanying hells—new and old—with the possibility of damnation for sins, one wouldn’t become an assassin.
“So,” Rylana said, “you’re suggesting I visit the people whohave been trying to snatch me off the streets and usher me to the enclave to answer questions about you?”
“It’s not whatIwould do, but I’m not intricately involved in what’s going on in the city.”
“It’s mycastlethat’s intricately involved.”
“Just the basement.”
“Allof it was glowing blue the other night.”
“That was mostly centered around the library.”
