The Runaway Princess by Kate Coombs Page B

dragon breathed out. Little flames licked the nearest coins, melting them atop a glob of already blurry gold.
    â€œIt’s beautiful,” Meg said. “You see?”
    â€œSee what?”
    â€œWe can’t let them kill it!”
    Cam sighed. “I hope you have a plan.”
    â€œIt’s just—What was that ?”
    But they both knew, hearing the voices and footsteps outside. Prince Vantor was already here.
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    â€œAnother ale!” Dagle called. The barkeep obliged.
    â€œWonderful stuff,” Dorn said. “Do you know where we might find the dragon?”
    The men at the nearest table looked around. The customers of Ye Broken Egg appeared to be mostly farmers, but here and there a flash of velvet shone amid the homespun.

    â€œNo,” the man replied. “Sorry, good sirs.” He turned as if to go, then hesitated. “If any of this lot has the information you need, he’ll be most likely to assist you when his throat is wet.”
    â€œWet throat?” Dagle repeated.
    â€œHe means buy them ale,” Dorn whispered loudly.
    Still more men were watching the twin princes now. Dagle smiled back at them. “I’m buying,” he announced, “for the man who can tell us about the dragon.”
    A dozen chairs scooted in their direction. A dozen voices began talking at once. “Here, my granddad saw the creature with his own eyes!” cried a peasant.
    â€œYour granddad’s long dead!” another burst out. “My father, now, he knows the exact cave—”
    â€œThe thing only eats young girls, so you best bring one of those along for bait!” said a farmer with a grim chuckle.
    Dagle laughed, pleased. “One at a time, good sirs. Barkeep, bring us a round of drinks!” The men around them cheered.
    It was well past noon when the brothers emerged into the street, their pockets lighter along with their hearts. “That went well,” Dorn told his brother.
    Dagle frowned, striding back through the city of Crown. “But if it has six heads and can smell a mouse at a distance of two miles, how do we kill it?”
    â€œDagle,” his twin exclaimed, “we have to trick the creature!”
    â€œHow?” Dagle neatly sidestepped a bit of gutter muck.

    Dorn thought for a mere four blocks before he came up with the answer. When he did, he stopped and put his hands on his brother’s shoulders. “We, the twin princes of Hanaby Keep, are going to build a dragon trap,” he proclaimed.
    Dagle’s eyes lit up. “That’s fantastic! And we’ll bait it with—well, not the princess.”
    â€œNo,” Dorn said regretfully. “I’ve heard they like a juicy cow nearly as much, though,” he added.
    â€œSo the first thing we need is a cow,” Dagle mused. He looked around and soon spotted a small boy. “You there!” The boy came closer. “Where can we get a cow in these parts?”
    The boy hitched up his scruffy britches. “My granny has a cow.”
    â€œWell then,” Dorn said, holding out a coin, “take us to your granny!”
    â€œDorn, what about those other princes?” Dagle said when they were on their way to the cow by means of a series of winding streets.
    â€œYou’re not worried, are you?” Dorn asked, astonished.
    â€œI don’t want them getting to the beast first, is all.”
    â€œI do.”
    Dagle blinked. “Whatever for?”
    â€œSo the dragon can eat them.”
    Dagle laughed, and Dorn laughed with him, till the small boy faltered and Dagle had to wave another coin to get him moving.

    â€œSo that’s how we narrow the competition,” Dagle said, snorting.
    Dorn guffawed. “What competition?”
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    Prince Vantor held the torch high, his eyes burning amber in the reflected light of the dragon’s treasure.
    Horace waited behind him. “What do you see?” he asked finally. Vantor