Rylanapaid attention to her, not confident that they were safe because they were on the island. The dragon roared, sounding irritated, and their gazes met across the lake. The fire burning in the dragon’s eyes promised she hadn’t learned to love Rylana in the time since their last encounter.
“Where’s the other sister?” she wondered aloud.
“Much more wood will be required.” Jildarin physically hurled a rock out of the oven.
“I’ll get it,” Rylana said, figuring it wasn’t the time to request he saypleasewhen issuing orders.
“Being partners with a dragon must be a delight.” Maybe Sylin had decided there wasn’t room for her to employ her shovel alongside a magic-slinging dragon because she jumped out to help with gathering wood.
“Making the diner successful is satisfying,” Rylana said, “and Jildarin is coming to appreciate me.”
“Is he still making you coffee-rubbed bacon?”
“That’s how he shows his appreciation.”
“I guess I might tolerate being given orders in exchange for that.”
“It’s very good.” Rylana kept an eye on the dragon as they fetched branches. “She’s getting closer. Do you think… I mean, the pillars aresupposedto do more than sound alarms if violent beings descend upon the city, but I’ve not actually seen one lash out against a dragon before. What if it doesn’t doanything?”
“Then we’ll have to do something,” Sylin said.
“Did you bring your case of assassins’ knives, daggers, garrotes, and whatever else is stashed in there?”
Her case was, unfortunately, as bound by tranquility ribbons as Rylana’s weapons.
“I did not. A garrote wouldn’t prove effective on a dragon, regardless. Their scales are like armor.”
Yes. Rylana had loosed arrows at them before and only managed severe blows when the heads had been made from fine dwarven mithril.
“What did you use the time you cut off one’s tail?” she asked.
“As I told you before, it was only thetipof the tail, and I used an enchanted mithril blade, which I do not have along.”
“Did you bringanyspecial weapons with you?” Rylana asked.
Sylin held up her shovel.
“Oh, that’ll be vastly effective. Entire ballads have been written about noble warriors who slew dragons with garden tools.”
“I thought we were excavating a bread oven, not going into battle.”
“Technically, the dragon probably only wants to battleme.” Rylana snapped a couple of broken branches in half to add to her pile, hoping the unseasoned wood would be good enough for heating the oven.
“That’s a relief.”
“Of course, your beauty is such that the dragons may determine you a possible distraction to Jildarin too.”
“He doesn’t even know my name.” Arms full of wood, Sylin headed back toward the oven.
“I’ve not noticed that men need that information to be distracted by women.”
“True, but he’s not aman.” Sylin waved a branch in the air. “He’s a quirky shape-shifted chef with tendencies toward pomposity.”
“Yeah, I like him too.” Rylana grinned.
“He’s not bad when he’s shirtless,” Sylin allowed. “Is he still cooking bacon with his top off?”
“Bacon and anything else that spatters grease. Apparently, it’seasier for a dragon to endure heat and wash his torso than to do laundry.”
