Page 67 of Ale Storm

And did Plant Master Chalora’s cheeks redden?

Rylana would have guessed the elven lady past the years of being flirtatious, but maybe one didn’t necessarily grow out of that.

“I don’t think you can claim that kind of aptitude has anything to do with your heritage,” Chalora whispered to him.

“Probably just my innate desire to please people.” He nodded sagely and pointed at the horn. “Where did you find that?”

Rylana relayed the tale of the mushroom hunting, finishing with, “Did you call it a tasting horn?”

“Yes, isn’t it?” Shalikon asked.

“I’ve been assuming it was a hunting horn.”

“Well, it looks like you can blow it and call to a team in the woods, but the artwork with food and drink implies it’s also a tasting horn. The protection magic I sense emanating from it also suggests that. May I?” Shalikon held out calloused palms.

Rylana rested it on them. “Mya did mention these horns were often used for drinking ale.”

“Mya the baker? How’s she doing? Poor gal. She’s somewhat ostracized by her people, you know. She doesn’t deserve that. It must be terribly lonely for her.” Even as he spoke, Shalikon closed his eyes and ran his hands over the horn. And was he drawing upon some magic?

Rylana couldn’t always determine that for certain, but Sylin stirred, watching curiously. No doubt, she could sense more.

“Do you want the assistance of elven plant magic?” Chalora asked.

“Usually.” Shalikon smiled in her direction without opening his eyes.

Chalora rested her hand on the horn and also on his.

“Ah, perfect,” he rumbled.

Rylana didn’t know if he referred to something about the horn, her magic, or if he was still thinking of trysts.

“Yes, protection magic,” he said. “Very strong protection magic.”

“I agree,” Chalora said. “For it to be so many centuries old without having faded is impressive. Rylana, you said it belongs to the dwarven royal family?”

“We’re going to find out soon, I think,” Rylana said.

“The king should be pleased to get it back.”

“What does it do?” Rylana asked. “When it warms? And when the mugs glow? Those seem to happen independently of each other.”

“The purpose of a tasting horn is to determine if it’s safe to drink the beverage within,” Shalikon said. “Dwarves had many enemies in the old days. Both among the rival clans of their own kind but also from the other intelligent species. Dwarves are a hardy people but not so hardy that they can’t be poisoned.”

“Is it the presence of something poisonous that makes the mugs and clouds glow?” Rylana wouldn’t be surprised to learn that the troll alchemist had a few toxic formulations available—even if the laws of Tranquility expressly forbade using such substances on people within its borders.

“I believe that’s likely,” Shalikon said.

“And it warms because…?”

“That should indicate it’s ready for use,” Shalikon said. “To test the contents that are poured into it.”

“Ah, that’s why it kept warming at the tavern while we were drinking. Well, I’m glad the mugs never glowed blue then. Especially after the third or fourth cup, when my senses weren’t at their sharpest.”

“Third or fourth cup?” Sylin asked. “You weren’t the one who puked in the alley, were you?”

Rylana stared at her.

“The attic of the bakery has a window overlooking that alley, you know,” Sylin said. “And oversmelling it.”