Dragon's Egg by Sarah L. Thomson Page B

bracelet. I have a little money. Enough for this.”
    Mella thought she should object. “It’s my journey. The dragon laid it on me. I ought—”
    â€œSave it in case we’re in real need later,” Roger said practically. “While I have coins, why not spend them?” He finished tying the mare to a hitching post, gave her a quick pat, and headed for the door of the inn. Mella slipped the chain back over her wrist and followed him.
    When the innkeeper asked double what Mella’s father would have charged for a room, she nearly objected. But Roger caught her eye and shook his head, warning her not to call attention to herself. So Mella just snorted in disapproval as Roger handed over five silver coins.
    â€œAnd we’ll need a fire in the room,” Roger added. The innkeeper, his clothes and hair greasy and his fingernails edged with black, frowned.
    â€œâ€™Tis full spring. We only burn firewood in the winter.”
    â€œMy sister’s ill,” Roger improvised. Mella took her cue and coughed, trying to look pale. “She needs the warmth.” The man still looked unwilling, and Roger reached into his purse for another coin.
    â€œDon’t be such a skinflint, Han.” The merchantfrom the yard stood in the doorway, listening to the conversation. “Can’t you see that these are not the quality of travelers you ordinarily entertain?”
    The man’s voice was mocking, but Mella could not tell who he was making fun of, herself or Roger or the innkeeper.
    â€œIf you take my advice,” the man continued, eyeing the innkeeper hard, “you’ll treat these two guests well indeed.”
    The innkeeper gave the merchant a puzzled, resentful look but muttered, “Well enough, well enough.” Roger drew his hand back out of his purse.
    The merchant gave Roger and Mella a friendly smile. He was handsome, with eyes of a keen blue and long fair hair braided smoothly down his back, and prosperous as well. A gold ring shone on his finger; his vest was fine green wool, dark to contrast with the long, narrow red silk scarf around his neck. Still, Mella found herself a little uneasy. She wanted to turn aside from his attention.
    But the man had helped them, after all, and shedidn’t want to act like a stupid peasant girl, frightened of everything in the city. And what was she afraid of? It was not as if they had anything to steal—the few coins in Roger’s purse, her two bits of jewelry, and a dragon’s egg. Hardly enough to tempt a rogue or a thief. She gave the man a nod of thanks before the innkeeper led them upstairs to their room.
    The floor needed scrubbing, and the bedding could have used a good airing, Mella thought fastidiously. But at least the room had a fireplace and a door that shut and latched.
    Mella took the metal box out of her sack and opened it to check on the Egg. It was still hot enough to redden the fingers she held nearly an inch above the black surface.
    â€œYou stay and wait for the fire,” Roger said. “I’ll go to the marketplace. We’ll need food to travel into the mountains.”
    Mella nodded. She was having a hard time taking her eyes off the Egg. It was so dark it almost seemed to glow, she thought dreamily. It was like ahole in the air. She forgot to say farewell to Roger when he left. She forgot to argue that he should not spend his coins on what was, after all, her quest.
    After a while she shut the box again, to keep the Egg’s heat contained, and stowed it at the bottom of her sack. Yawning, she moved over to the bed and stretched out on top of the shabby quilt. She’d had less than a night’s sleep, and this seemed like a good time to catch up. Her eyes had just drifted shut when she heard the door swing slowly open on its hinges. It must be the servant come to make up the fire. But she couldn’t be troubled to open her eyes and make sure.

Chapter Eight
    M ella had