A Dash of Dragon

by Heidi Lang

  Lailu bit her lip, thinking of Starling. Would the elves suspect her? There was already no love lost between them and the scientists. What would happen if they learned the truth?

  “So now, chef, it’s your turn.”

  Lailu looked at Master Slipshod, then realized Fahr was addressing her. “Me? My turn? For what?”

  “To show us where our brethren are being held,” Fahr said just as Ryon stepped through the doorway.

  Ryon nodded at Lailu, his eyes more serious than she’d ever seen them.

  “Ryon will go with you,” Fahr said. “Now, show us this building at the corner of Steam Avenue and Iron Way.”

  Lailu shivered, wishing the sun were still up. The glare of the Industrial District’s fake lights set her teeth on edge and made all these buildings look the same. Still, she recognized the split in the center of the door in front of her, and the way the building loomed so tall and skinny, its metal panels distorting her reflection like a cursed mirror.

  “This the one?” Ryon glanced around, looking as anxious as she felt, but the street around them was empty. Almost too empty.

  “There’s the button.” Lailu pointed to the small round circle glowing softly against the metallic surface of the building. “Should we wait for the others?” Master Slipshod had stayed behind to prepare Mystic Cooking for the next day’s customers, but Fahr was close by with a small army of his elves, waiting for Ryon and Lailu to scout out the place first.

  Ryon hesitated, then shook his head. “If it’s a trap, better not to drag everyone into it. In fact, why don’t you wait here while I go check it out?”

  With a pang, Lailu realized Vahn had said something similar, and she hadn’t seen him since. “I’m coming with you,” she decided, jabbing the button.

  Ding!

  The door split in the middle, opening to reveal the familiar box of a room. Ryon followed her in, the doors closing behind him.

  Lailu silently prayed to the God of Cookery, trying not to dwell on what happened the last time she was in this room. Instead, she studied the four glowing buttons and pressed the one with an arrow pointing up. A soft rumbling began under her feet, and then the room gave a stomach-dropping lurch as it moved upward.

  Ding!

  The doors slid open, revealing a dimly lit hallway. The air was filled with a soft buzzing sound, and Lailu could smell something sharp, acrid, like nothing she’d ever smelled before.

  “You okay?” Ryon whispered.

  “Fine,” she lied, and moved out of the room.

  The hall stretched in both directions. To the right it ended in a small metal door, and to the left it vanished around a corner. Lailu hesitated, but that distinct smell was definitely stronger to the left, so she resolutely turned in that direction. Her feet moved soundlessly on the metallic floor as she fell into her hunting stride, her hand on the hilt of the chef’s knife at her hip.

  They got to the end of the hall, then paused, listening. Ryon stood silently behind her, his movements even quieter than her own. She couldn’t even hear him breathing. All she could hear was the thrumming of her blood in her ears, her own soft, ragged breaths, and . . .

  Rumble, rumble, rumble. Drip, drip, drip.

  “Round the corner on the count of three?” Ryon asked softly.

  Gulping, Lailu nodded and held up three fingers . . . two . . .one.

  They sprang around the corner.

  35

  THE AFTERMATH

  The long, narrow room in front of them was lit up by more of those glass orbs from outside, their harsh light spilling over everything and turning the shadows to knives. Lailu shielded her eyes against the glare, waiting for an attack that never came.

  As her eyes adjusted, the looming shapes against the far wall resolved into a dozen metallic coffins, each set into a raised dais. Wires curled and trailed from the coffins over to a huge circular contraption in the center of the room, steam puffing in steady, pungent bursts from the top of it.

  “What is this place?” Ryon asked, but Lailu had no answer for him. Judging by the empty vials lying on a nearby table and the shattered glass on the floor, the people who had the answers had all left in a hurry.

  Lailu ran her hands over the top of one of the coffins, then gasped. The metal had changed, becoming transparent like glass. Inside lay a very thin elf, her hair nothing more than wispy white straw, her eyes sunk deep into hollows in her face. Every few seconds a trickle of purple hissed through the wires bulging under the translucent skin of her arms, winding its way to the machine in the middle of the room.

  “Ryon, come see— Ack!” Lailu leaped back as the elf’s eyes shot open, her chapped lips pulling back from her teeth in a wordless howl of anguish.

  “What? Oh . . . my . . . ,” Ryon whispered, his own mouth falling open in horror.

  A rush of sound behind them heralded the arrival of the rest of the elves, who had clearly not been content to wait for Ryon and Lailu’s signal. “They’re in the coffins,” Ryon told them, turning back to the first one and trying to open it. It didn’t budge. Eirad joined him, shoving and pounding at the top, while Lailu ran her hands along the sides. There were no latches, no levers, no buttons of any kind.

  “How do we open these?” Eirad demanded, his eyes narrowing on Lailu. “Little chef?”

  “I—I don’t know—I swear I don’t.” Lailu took a step back as all around her the elves unsuccessfully tried opening the other coffins. And then she remembered. Vahn! Was he stuck in here too? Was he trapped inside one of these creepy glass coffins? She raced down the row, but saw only pale and drained elven faces.

  And then she heard it. A soft knocking noise, but it was impossible to hear where it was coming from with all the elves pounding at the coffins around her. “Everyone, stop!” she yelled.

  Fahr turned to Lailu. “What is it?”

  Lailu listened harder.

  Tap-tap. Tap!

  She spun around, but it sounded like it was coming from . . . the ceiling? Lailu looked up just in time to see Vahn come crashing through it.

  He managed to do some kind of fancy roll as he fell, springing to his feet, his hair a wild tangle, his shirt dirty and mussed, but his smile as wide and confident as always. “You made it,” he said cheerfully. “And good timing, too.”

  “V-Vahn?” Lailu almost melted with relief.

  “The one and only.”

  “But . . . the ceiling. You fell out of the ceiling.” Lailu couldn’t help staring at that jagged hole. It looked like the ceiling was made of multiple flat metal panels and one of them had simply crumbled.

  He brushed himself off and bowed to the astonished elves. “Don’t worry, I know exactly how to free your people.” And he turned and fiddled with something in the side of the large metal contraption in the center of the room. It whined, steam pouring in larger streams from the top, and then it was still.

  Around the room the coffins popped open one by one.

  “I managed to find a space between the walls right back there with vents so I could see.” He pointed behind the coffins, and now Lailu could see how the walls were made of the same metal panels as the ceiling, many of them with small slits carved in to let air escape. “Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get out again to tell you. This place has been under constant supervision since I snuck in here, people coming and going and taking a lot of the equipment with them. I tried finding another exit up through the ceiling panels, and, well, you saw how that worked out.”

  “And who are these people?” Fahr demanded.

  Vahn’s smile dimmed around the edge. “Er, well, I never did see who they were. They always wore masks. But I do know they were draining the blood from your people. They were careful, though; they made sure to keep them alive.” Vahn lifted his chin, throwing back his hair. “In fact, if you follow my instructions, it is my professional opinion that all your people should be able to make a full recovery.”

  Several of the elves gave a cheer, and even Eirad looked margin
ally happy.

  “I’m going to take Lailu home,” Ryon said, as Vahn instructed the elves on the proper way to remove their kidnapped brethren. “She’s done her part.”

  “Has she?” Eirad asked.

  Fahr sighed. “Is this really the time?” he asked his companion. He nodded at Ryon. “Thank you for your help. And yours,” he added, looking at Lailu.

  Lailu nodded, but she had barely taken two steps when Fahr called out to her.

  “Little chef!”

  Lailu froze, then reluctantly turned back.

  “I thought you would like to know that we decided your meal was excellent—the best dragon cuisine any of us ever tasted,” Fahr said.

  Eirad coughed.

  “Even Eirad agreed.” Fahr shot him a look.

  Eirad shrugged, but his lips curved up in the hint of a smile as he looked away from them.

  “So your friend’s debt is cleared.”

  Lailu sagged with relief. “Thank the gods,” she whispered.

  “And you are free of Victor Boss and your debt to him,” Fahr continued.

  “Free.” Lailu liked the sound of that word.

  “So now you just need to take care of your debt to us.” Fahr’s smile was cold enough to freeze dragon blood.

  Lailu blinked, sure she had heard that incorrectly. “I what?”

  Eirad chuckled. It was a horrifying sound. “We were Victor’s backers, so when he died, all his businesses reverted to us, and all his loans became our loans. Including yours. So you see, little chef, you are far from free.”

  “But you were going to take care of my loan to Mr. Boss. That was the deal,” Lailu said slowly.

  “And strictly speaking, your loan to Mr. Boss has been taken care of.” Fahr inclined his head, and Lailu could see the inevitability of it all. Her shoulders sagged. He was right; the elves had upheld their end of the bargain. Technically. She just hadn’t been specific enough with her request.

  “We’ll send someone by to go over all the details with you at a later time,” Fahr added. “And to draw up a reasonable payment plan for your loan.”

  Eirad bared his teeth. “Oh, I plan to handle this account personally.”

  “Even better.” Fahr’s smile was almost gentle. Still, Lailu thought, it had to be better than the madness that was Mr. Boss and his ever-changing loan due dates. This time, she was going to make sure she got a copy of that contract.

  “Come on, Lailu, let’s get you home,” Ryon said.

  She waited until they were past the Industrial District to speak. “Why does Eirad hate me so much?”

  Ryon’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “On the contrary, I think he’s rather fond of you, in his own way.”

  “Yeah, right,” Lailu snorted.

  “Seriously. I haven’t seen him take a personal interest in a human in . . . oh, it’s been a long time.”

  “I suppose I should be honored, then,” Lailu muttered. Just her luck. Elves. She could have gone her whole life without attracting their interest, and here she was, stuck owing them money. “Were you ever working for Mr. Boss, or were you working for the elves this whole time?”

  “I told you before, I’m in the business of information. I’m not in the business of freely giving information.”

  “So you’re not going to tell me? Even after all this?” Lailu’s frustration rose. She hated mysteries.

  “We-ell,” he said slowly. “I really was working for Mr. Boss. Somewhat. He did hire me a few months back, and I did collect information for him. But he was never my sole client. Never good to put all your eggs in one basket.” He grinned. “That cooking reference was for you, by the way.”

  “Thanks,” Lailu said dryly. “But elves . . . why would you work for the elves?”

  “Technically, we could make the claim that you are also working for the elves. Everyone has their reasons.”

  “Yes, but what are yours?”

  Ryon glanced sideways at her. “Let’s just call them . . . familial obligations.”

  Lailu thought of the way Ryon and Fahr had looked with their faces so close together. The resemblance. Was Ryon . . . ? But no. Even with all that hair, she’d have noticed a pair of elf ears. She was too tired right now to think properly. Tomorrow, after a good night’s sleep, she’d tackle the mystery that was Ryon and his ever-changing loyalties.

  “Thanks for helping me out on this whole thing,” Ryon added when the silence had grown thick as salamander stew around them.

  “Didn’t have much choice, did I?” she asked.

  Ryon grinned. “No, I suppose you didn’t. Still, I enjoyed this, working together.”

  Lailu waited, but that was it. “No winks?”

  Ryon shrugged. “I think I’m all out.”

  “And here I thought this day couldn’t get any better,” Lailu laughed.

  “Don’t start celebrating yet. I’m sure I’ll see you again soon, and I’ll have a fresh supply.”

  “You’re still planning on coming by?” Lailu felt strangely relieved.

  “Of course! We’re friends, right?”

  She considered. “I guess we are.”

  Ryon ruffled her hair. “Of course we are. Plus you’re the best chef I know. I’ll be back.”

  Lailu smoothed her hair. “Just to eat, though, right?”

  No answer.

  “Ryon?” Lailu glared up at him. “You don’t have any other tasks for me, right? No more ridiculous spying missions?”

  Ryon looked her full in the face and winked. “What do you know, I still had one left after all.”

  “I can’t believe I just called you my friend,” Lailu grumbled, and she refused to speak to him the rest of the walk back.

  The sun had dipped well below the horizon by the time Lailu finished cleaning the restaurant again the next evening, but she still found herself whistling cheerfully. The day had passed in complete chaos, but it was the good kind of chaos. The kind of chaos that involved long lines of people all clamoring for dragon cuisine, and leaving behind large tips.

  “Don’t you look happy today,” Hannah remarked as she helped Lailu finish packing away the leftovers.

  “I feel happy today,” Lailu admitted, grinning. “No more Mr. Boss hanging over our heads, we have enough dragon for at least a week’s worth of specials, and Master Slipshod is back.”

  “Hmm.” Hannah pursed her lips.

  “I know you don’t forgive him, but he’s really a great chef. And he promised he’ll be a better mentor from here on out. No more gambling.”

  “Didn’t he promise that the last time?” Hannah asked skeptically.

  “Yes, but this time he means it. And besides, his gamble worked, didn’t it?”

  “But he lost all your money!”

  “He gave it to Brennon’s family.”

  “Supposedly,” Hannah grumbled.

  “Plus he replaced your haircomb,” Lailu added. With one that you can wear without having your limbs removed, she amended silently.

  Hannah touched the comb in her hair. “It’s not really the same,” she began, but Lailu could tell by the way Hannah’s fingers lingered that she liked this one, with its opal stones and velvet ribbons. Hannah dropped her hand and folded her arms over her chest. “Besides, it doesn’t change the fact that he got us both in a lot of trouble, and he abandoned you.”

  “He was only on a temporary leave of absence,” Lailu argued. “He was helping me grow in character.”

  “Is that what he told you?”

  “Maybe.” Lailu shifted uncomfortably under Hannah’s angry scrutiny. “Those might have been his exact words, actually.”

  “What a load of complete—”

  Knock-knock!

  Both girls looked up as the front door creaked open.

  “V-Vahn?” Lailu stammered.

  “The one and only.” Vahn gave her a small bow, a newspaper held loosely in one hand.

  Hannah looked quickly from Vahn to Lailu. “I just remembered something I have to
do,” she said abruptly, and hurried from the room.

  Vahn raised his eyebrows in surprise, then shrugged and turned back to Lailu, who really didn’t know what to think. He glanced down at the bell sitting in a dejected heap next to the door. “You might want to fix that.”

  “Yeah,” Lailu said. She felt strange, almost empty. Vahn was as handsome as ever, wearing immaculate clothing, his hair brushed and shining again, but somehow her heart wasn’t beating any faster. Looking at him, she wasn’t sure how she felt. “Why are you here?”

  “Well, I thought I’d thank you for your help, and also collect on that meal you promised me.” He flashed his trademark grin.

  A few minutes later, Vahn was happily munching down on a well-seasoned dragon skirt steak. In between bites, he filled her in on the outcome of his quest. “Never did figure out who they were, those people behind the masks,” he admitted. “The building was rented out under a fictitious name, no connections to anyone. But the elves are okay.” He took another bite. “Delicious, Lana, by the way.”

  “Lailu,” Lailu corrected automatically. She stared at him, sitting there in her restaurant enjoying her food, and suddenly she was annoyed. “Why do you always get it wrong?”

  Vahn stopped midbite. “Mrmph?”

  “My name. It’s Lailu. Laaai-luuu. It’s not so hard to remember, and I know you know it.” She put her hands on her hips.

  Vahn swallowed. “Sorry. Didn’t realize you were so touchy about it.”

  Lailu had the strangest urge to slap him. “Touchy? It’s my name, Vahn.”

  He inclined his head toward her. “That it is.” He grinned, adding, “And a lovely name at that. A lovely name for a lovely girl.”

  A lovely girl. He had called her lovely. Lailu had waited years for Vahn to say something like that to her, but now she realized they were just words. He didn’t mean it. He would never mean it. “Whatever,” she said. “Just get it right next time or I won’t feed you anymore.”

  Vahn’s eyes widened. “Wow. You’ve changed, you know that?”

  Lailu shrugged. She didn’t feel changed. But after all the craziness she’d had to go through, from loan sharks to dragon hunts, she wasn’t willing to put up with any unnecessary nonsense. She had enough necessary nonsense to deal with.