“Zilek hasn’t been bothering you with dragon-spiced offerings, has he?” Rylana thought Jildarin had been too busy to make any of his special soup since last she’d seen his brother, but that didn’t mean Zilek couldn’t have gone by to pester Layothlee with his advances.
“No, but hedidinform me that I could look forward to sampling that soon.”
“I suppose youcouldlook forward to sampling it—it is quitegood—but you may also want to run the other way the next time you see him.”
“That will be difficult since he’s informed me that he has tickets to opening night for our upcoming performance, but he’s not so bad. He’s quite well educated and knows elves well.”
“He does attend a lot of cultural events, I understand.”
“I actually brought tickets for opening night in case you and Jildarin-grozanarav would like to attend.” Layothlee dipped a hand into her pocket to withdraw four forest-green invitations written in golden ink. “You’re welcome to bring a couple of friends.” She looked around the diner again.
Rylana couldn’t keep the niggling suspicion from returning that Layothlee was looking for Sylin. As if she would be present when Captain Tassani and one of his soldiers were in the building.
“Like Rolf?” Rylana asked.
“If you wish.” How impressive that Layothlee could say that without cringing. “Whoever you’d like to enjoy the experience with, should you be available to come.”
“This way, this way,” floated Jildarin’s voice out of the kitchen.
Tassani held the door open as Jildarin walked out with plates balanced in his arms. Zalani followed with two more plates, and the plant master and the landlord trailed after them.
As he passed, Jildarin nodded toward Rylana, then seated the elves at a booth. He set plates of mushrooms—mushrooms sautéed with ingredients that included coffee, perhaps?—on the table, then waved for them to enjoy their meals. Zalani looked nervous about being around so many full-blooded elves, but she sturdily stepped up to take drink orders.
Gniknik came out with a plate filled with similar fare, though strips of bacon were stretched alongside the mushrooms. Aztor rubbed his hands together and seated himself at the bar as Gniknik placed the meal in front of him.
When Jildarin joined Rylana, he looked smug. “The landlordhas approved the addition of a rooftop seating area as long as the elves are involved in the design.”
“That’s good news,” Rylana asked. “Do you usually serve bacon with sautéed mushrooms?”
“No, but he requested both. Since both items share the same special ingredient, I believe they will pair satisfactorily.”
“Is the special ingredient coffee?”
“It is.”
“I’ll trade you a ticket to the elven aerial ballet for a plate like his.” Rylana pointed the green slips at the bar, where the landlord was already digging in.
Jildarin eyed them. “My brother is going to that.”
“Is that all right? These seats probably aren’t next to his.”
“I have not been pleased with him since he threatened to slay you.”
“I appreciate you not approving of that, but I don’t think slayings are allowed at elven cultural events.”
“Certainly not,” Jildarin said.
“Besides, he should be busy being enraptured by the agile acrobatics of Layothlee and the other elves.”
“The otherfemaleelves. He is overly preoccupied with mating.”
“A flaw you’re lucky that you’re not tempted to succumb to.” Rylana smiled a little wistfully as she waved the tickets again, wanting a plate of bacon more than she cared one way or another if Jildarin attended the event, but it did seem wise to stay in good favor with the elves.
“That is correct.” Jildarin gazed at her. “You will also attend?”
“Yes.”
“Very well.” Jildarin took one of the tickets, then strode back to his kitchen.
