Free Meghan's Dragon by E. M. Foner Page A

herself for sounding like a child. “Crows eat crops, though they eat the insects that damage crops as well, so the farmers around the castle mainly leave them alone. It was how you killed it without a thought, like brushing away a fly.”
    “Sorry,” Bryan said, but the simultaneous shrug made it clear that he was only sorry she was unhappy, not that he had roasted the crow. “I’ve been listening in for a while on those guys at the table in the corner and they talked about taking a shortcut to Castle Foregone. One of them said it cuts a day off of the trip, plus there aren’t many people.”
    Meghan put a finger to her lips and shushed him, looking towards the corner at the same time to see if the well-armed trio had overheard Bryan’s recitation of their private conversation.
    “You can hear what those guys are saying?” she whispered.
    “Sure. The one they call Dagger is telling the other two about the time—uh, I don’t think you want to know,” Bryan concluded awkwardly.
    “They’re bandits,” she hissed at him. “No, don’t look over there. I’m not interested in a shortcut that has men like them traveling it, and you realize that leaving the road means no inns or settlements to buy food.”
    “Forget that!” Bryan exclaimed. “Hey, since you’re buying lunch, how about asking if they’ll sell us a couple of chickens to go?”
    “You’re impossible,” Meghan retorted, though his obsession with food was sort of endearing. “Uh, oh. I think those bandits are looking at us now. It was a mistake getting your clothes fixed for you. We should have just bought you something new.”
    “What’s wrong with blue jeans and a white T-shirt?”
    “Nobody else wears anything similar if you haven’t noticed. It may lead some people to assume you’re from a rich family, since they’re the only ones who can afford to spend money on clothes for the sake of looking different. Oh, crumbs. They’re heading over here, so let me do the talking.”
    Three tough-looking men with iron spurs strapped to their boots approached the young couple’s table. Two of them rested axes on their shoulders, and the third carried a short sword by the scabbard in his left hand.
    “My friends and I noticed that the two of you kept looking our way,” drawled the bandit with the sword. An ugly scar ran from corner of his mouth up to his left eye, as if he had tried eating something on the tip of a knife while drunk and missed badly. “The only explanation we could come up with for your interest is that you wanted to treat us to lunch.”
    “Dream on,” Bryan growled, ignoring Meghan’s frantic gestures and rising to his feet. He was a fist taller than the scarred leader, and somehow he seemed to loom over all three of the older men, even with the table between them. He lazily stretched his hands above his head, causing his vertebrae to crack loudly, and a subtle red glow danced around his fingertips.
    “Watch it, Dagger. That one’s packing heavy magic,” said the man to the leader’s right. He spat ostentatiously on the floor.
    “They’re kids,” Dagger snorted, moving his free hand deliberately to the hilt of his sword.
    “He’ll burn you before you draw,” the sideman stated flatly, backing towards the door to be out of the line of fire. “You know my talent is measuring what people have inside, but even you should be able to see it in his eyes.”
    Meghan risked a glance away from the bandits and saw immediately what the man was talking about. Little flames sparked in her companion’s green eyes, as if they were just waiting for an excuse to get free and burn something. She shuddered involuntarily, and then forced herself to speak.
    “Please, just leave,” she said, reaching for the talisman hanging around her neck. Meghan wasn’t sure what she would do if the highwayman drew his sword, but she knew if she didn’t come up with something, Bryan might accidentally send the whole place up in