“Yet you are here to visit the social gathering house for flavored waters.”
“No, we’re looking for someone who is a threat to our queen.”
His comrade nudged him and nodded toward Rylana, then murmured something softly in their native language.
“Yes, that’s true,” the other said. “Wewilltake you to theenclave, Lord Dragon. Our captain of arms would like to see your bookkeeper. He has questions for her.”
“She is prepared to answer questions on pergola requirements and trees that can grow in large pots.”
“I’m sure that will come up.” The elf nodded again and extended his hand toward the southwest, the corner of the city that held their enclave.
Rylana sighed, fearing Jildarin's presence might not be enough to keep her from being interrogated.
14
Their elven escortwalked to either side of Rylana and Jildarin.Hemming them in, she couldn’t help but think. Jildarin didn’t appear alarmed in the least. Of course not. They didn’t want to questionhim.
On the way, the group passed through Boxwood Park, a sprawling grassy area interspersed with deciduous trees, their branches laden with blossoming white and pink flowers. On the far end, a stand of evergreens surrounded a pond, and two teams of uniformed peacekeepers navigated among ferns and logs, excited hounds on leashes leading them. One bayed, as if it had treed a raccoon, but its handler bent to pat around the fungus-studded base of a log and withdrew something from a hollow. A bracelet? Made from silver and probably laced with magic, it gleamed in the sunlight.
“Good find,” the gnome crooned to his dog.
“That’s a pretty one,” another nearby gnome said, “but it’s not on our list. It’ll go to the lost-and-found.”
“It’ll go to my wife’s wrist if nobody claims it in two weeks.” The dog handler winked and patted his hound.
More baying came from deeper in the copse.
“One day, maybe the pixies will think to hide their stolen treasures beyond the borders of the city,” Rylana said, having seen similar scenarios in her youth. The special peacekeeper unit of canine handlers with their four-legged log inspectors had existed in Tranquility for centuries.
“There are some people who hunt pixies because of their mischievous ways,” one of their escorts said, coolly side-eyeing her, as if she might fall into that category. “Even though they are themselves good at hiding, it is not safe for them beyond the borders. Many pixies find refuge in these parks.”
“They wouldn’t need refuge if they weren’t always stealing shiny objects.”
The elf waved in dismissal. “It is their nature.”
Doubting the pixies respected the borders of their enclave, Rylana wondered how the elves dealt with thefts, but its entry arch had come into view toward the end of the park, so she didn’t ask. That great arch, softly glowing as if lit from within by a silvery moon, rose more than twenty feet and was almost as wide. Two elven warriors stood within it to either side of a path that transitioned from gravel in the park to smooth white river rocks that also glowed faintly with moonlight. The warriors wore tan leathers and green cloaks as well as swords and bows. With a start, Rylana realized their weapons weren’t secured by tranquility knots.
“Your people are allowed to use their weapons within the city limits?” she asked.
Despite Sylin’s suggestion that she wouldn’t bephysicallytortured, Rylana envisioned elves with faces chiseled from ice wielding sadistic serrated tools while she lay strapped helplessly on a bloodstained slab.
“Within the borders of the enclave, we may do as we wish,” one elf said.
“Our kind have a diplomatic understanding with the gnomes,” the other said.
“Meaning you’re special.” Rylana knew some of the other intelligent species had portions of the city where predominately their kind lived, but none of them hadenclavesor guards to keep others out.
“Centuries ago, we were specifically invited to come and lend our magic to the establishment and enrichment of Tranquility. Unlike the other two-legged species that showed up opportunistically. Half of the early inhabitants were criminals fleeing the wrath of law enforcers from their own lands.” The elf curled a derisive lip. “To draw our kind here, dispensations were offered.”
“So youarespecial.”
“No more so than your dragon ally who may also employ his weapons—his fangs, talons, and fire magic—while in his lair.” The elf nodded politely toward Jildarin, though he was gazing skyward, lost in thought. Musing on culinary troll-god offerings, perhaps.
“Allhegets is permission to sleep in his native form in his own lair,” Rylana said. “Which doesn’t extend past the storeroom of his diner. It’s not hundreds of acres in the middle of the city.”
“The enclave is a mere two hundred acres, and there are many of our kind living within it. A solitary dragon does not need much space.”
Jildarin twitched an eyebrow at that, proving he was listening.
