Dragon's Egg by Sarah L. Thomson Page A

up at Gwyn. “Please,” she whispered. “Please, it’s true—”
    But Gwyn didn’t look back at her. He was frowning at the metal box in Alain’s hands. And when he spoke, his deep, low voice caught the attention of everyone in the tiny room.
    â€œI don’t believe that’s yours to handle, master.”
    Hope flared up brightly in Mella’s heart. Did the shepherd believe them after all?
    Alain laughed shortly. “You can’t mean you think it belongs to them? Two children?”
    â€œYou said she’d taken a bracelet. Not…such a thing as that.”
    Alain shrugged. “I told you she’s a thief. Who knows where she took this from?”
    â€œIf it’s not hers, it doesn’t follow that it belongs to you.”
    Alain turned to Rhil. “This is idle talk. Surely you can see who’s lying here?”
    â€œLies enough,” Gwyn agreed before Rhilcould answer. “But because the children can’t account well for themselves, that doesn’t mean this man’s words are true.”
    Alain snorted. “You’ve two stories to choose from. One of us must be telling the truth.”
    â€œIndeed?” Gwyn looked keenly at Alain. “Nothing so far as I can see shows that all three of you are not lying.”

Chapter Twelve
    T he villagers shut Roger and Mella up in an empty croft while they talked over what to do with them. The small stone building had once been a stable, and it was windowless, with two small rooms but no door to connect them. Alain was in the other. They’d heard him arguing angrily and then shouting as the door had been shut on him and a heavy stone rolled in front of it to keep it closed. Then silence.
    Lelan had insisted that the two children would not be left without food and warmth, so there was a small fire burning in a hearth against the wall, and they had warm oatcakes and fresh white cheese. But the food tasted flat and dull to Mella,and she felt cold down to her bones. She sat on the hearth while Roger, restless, walked around and around the room. After a while he stopped and came to crouch on his heels next to Mella.
    â€œI’m sorry.”
    â€œWhat for?”
    â€œWell, if I hadn’t—I mean, if I had—”
    â€œKilled him?”
    Roger swallowed, his face pale in the firelight. He nodded.
    â€œYou couldn’t have.”
    â€œI’m supposed to.”
    â€œDon’t be stupid. I couldn’t have either. It’s not your fault.”
    If it was anybody’s fault, it was hers. She was the keeper. She should have fought and kicked and bitten to get the Egg back in her hands, and then she should have run. She wouldn’t cry now, as if she were no older than Jes. She wouldn’t. But her hands felt light and empty and so cold. She’d never be warm again unless she could hold the Egg once more.
    Mella pulled her knees up, wrapped her arms around them, and laid her head down. She lost track of how long she sat, listening to the whispery sound that the leather soles of Roger’s boots made against the smooth dirt floor.
    A new sound, someone breathing hard outside the door, made Mella raise her head. There came a grunt of effort and then a soft thud, like a heavy stone falling onto dirt.
    She and Roger looked at each other, wide-eyed, and Mella rose to her feet as the door opened and Gwyn entered. In his hands was the box that held the Egg.
    Mella burst forward, biting back a cry, her hands out. She would have fought him for the box, but he gave it to her easily and didn’t speak a word, only stood closely watching as she knelt by the hearth, Roger at her shoulder. She opened up the box with shaking hands.
    The Egg had not been in the fire since the night before. Had it been too long? Would it be too cold?
    But the Egg was hot enough to send a cloud ofsteam into the air when she released the catch and swung the box’s lid open. In fact, it