Jal bit into the pie hungrily, wiping absently and ineffectively at the juice that dribbled free to run down his chin. According to the rich girl, this kind was "blackberry", even though it looked purple. That didn't make much sense to Jal, but he didn't care, because it tasted good, and he hadn't stolen it, so he didn't have to gobble it down so quickly that he got a bellyache. He just had to walk along the street, boldly and as if he belonged there, next to the little girl-- and for one little lie he'd gotten not only the one pie, but a second one, supposedly for his mother. He wasn't entirely sure if the pie would make it that far, but the intent was there, anyway, and intent seemed good enough for the girl to buy it, too.

Then, quite suddenly, the little girl wanted to talk. "What's your name?" she blurted. Jal blinked at her, his mouth full of crust and blackberry filling.

"Wahw," he managed around the mouthful, then swallowed and tried again. "Jal."

"I'm Lashanna," she answered, grinning, "Everyone calls me Shanna, though."

" 'Lo, Shanna," Jal said back. Might as well at least pretend to be polite. Maybe it would get him another pie.

"Hello, Jal," she mimicked. "Dyou like your pie?"

"Mmmhmm," he nodded around another large mouthful. "S'goo'." He swallowed; talking around so much food hurt his jaw. "Never got goo' pies a'fore, no'fuh yers'n'yers."

For a second, Jal wondered if he'd said something wrong, the way the girl looked at him. Then she burst into a sly grin and started babbling. Quickly. "Oh. That's too bad that you don't get pie. Pies are good, really-- though my mama doesn't let me eat whole pies at once, either, really."

What was that "either" stuff? Did she think he didn't get pies because his mother wouldn't let him? Boy, was she stupid; he'd just told her he ate out of the trash. Nobody was dumb enough to throw pies away, though once in a while he found a bit of crust. Before he could so much as get his next big bite of pie out of the way to respond, though, she had changed topics.

"Guess what."

"Uhh," he said around the mouthful, more juice making its way down his chin.

"My da's a dragon-rider," she said-- or, rather, boasted. Jal blinked at her. What was so special about that?

"So?" he came back, bemused. "Lotsa folks're draggers 'round here. There's prolly more draggers'n not-draggers."

Shanna's squeal was muffled by pie this time. Jal snickered as she forced down the mouthful and stammered, "Yeah-- well-- meh!" and stuck out a red-stained tongue at him. He blinked at her, tempted to make a grab for the tongue-- then she'd think twice about sticking it out!-- but she dove back into her pie again and he lost his chance. Shrugging, he popped the last of his own pastry into his mouth, chewing heartily, and started licking his sticky fingers. Despite having to be with the rich girl, the shift was turning out decently. Maybe she'd even try to show him her da's dragon. Now that would be impressive.

Not that he'd ever admit it, of course.

"I think maybe I'd better go home now," Shana was saying, making calf-eyes at him or... something. "Mama's prolly noticed I'm gone."

" 'Kay," Jal said back. No matter to him if she left, after all. Then he could steal again, if he had to-- later, anyway, since he was comfortably full now. But, just to be polite, he added, "Have fun."

"Prolly will," she giggled at him. "You, too! And remember, no stealing!"

And with that, she ducked back into the crowd, waving, and disappeared. Jal shook his head and went on the other way. No stealing. As if. Maybe he'd find his mother and give her his second pie. Maybe she'd be happy. Probably not, since it wouldn't make her drunk. But maybe.

Chapter Three

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