Brothers to Dragons Read Free

pencil-thin man who prowled the dining hall, led the morning prayers and hymns in a deep, cracking bass, and once a week examined everyone's hair, ears, and teeth.
    The big meeting with Mister Bones took place on Job's fourth birthday.
    He did not know that it was his birthday. All he knew was that in the late afternoon he was thoroughly washed by the dormitory attendant, dressed in a clean shirt and pants, and taken downstairs to a part of Cloak House that he had never seen before.
    "You sit right here, Fish-face." With thirty-nine other kids to attend to, the fourteen-year-old attendant could not hang around. "Stay where you are, and wait. Someone will come and get you in a few minutes."
    The big door slammed behind her. Job ran over and tried to open it. The handle was at the limit of his reach, and it would not move. He went back and sat, knees tightly together, on the old black chair. He stared at the heavy dark wood of the other door to the room and wondered what might come through.
    Someone will come and get you, that's what Cobby had said. But what did she mean ?
    Spick 'n'span, Tandyman,
    Blin' your eyes an' burn your wan',
    Night-time watch say one-two-three,
    Tandyman, you won't catch me.
    The big kids all agreed that what they chanted was true, that the Tandyman with his white-hot hands came only when it was dark, at three o'clock in the late night-time. Now it was still light, and Job had not even had dinner. But still he trembled. Sometimes, he knew, even the big kids were wrong.
    As he sat silent he began to hear a voice from the other side of the wooden door. He stopped shivering. That voice he knew, and it was not the Tandyman. It was the woman who came to see him and sometimes brought him presents; not food—Mister Bones would take away any food that was not served in the big hall—but toys; little figures of carved wood, a metal chain and cross to wear around his neck, and once a box that you could shake, look into, and see something like sparkling lights. He did not know the woman's name, but she would not let anything bad happen to him.
    "I don't know how you do it, Father Bonifant." When Job leaned back to the wall, he could hear the reassuring voice more clearly. "You are paid no more money than any of the other Houses. This building is older than most, and I haven't see a dime spent on it by the government in the years I've been coming here. But—"
    The next sentence was drowned for Job as the wooden door creaked open. He jerked forward off the chair.
    "And yet Cloak House is clean, and the children are healthy," went on the woman's voice, much louder now. "Or as healthy as some of the poor bairns will ever be. How do you manage to feed and clothe and clean, on so little?" She had moved through the door and was smiling down at Job. "Hi. Remember me?"
    She reached for him. But he had not seen her for a long time (almost three months) and, suddenly shy, he ran and hid his face against the other door.
    "Job Salk! Come back here at once. You are four years old now—not a baby." The other voice was Mister Bones's rough, crackly bass. It reassured Job, even as it scared him. Everyone in Cloak House did what Father Bonifant told them to do. Fast. He returned, to stand by the black chair.
    "You ask how we manage it," went on Mister Bones, as though Job did not exist. "Nurse Calder, I do not know if you expected an answer to that question, but I will give one. We have two great forces working for us in Cloak House. They are called prayer and discipline. Together they can produce miracles."
    He bent down towards Job. "And you, Job Napoleon Salk, you are a very fortunate boy. Today is your birthday, and you have a visitor. Not many children at Cloak House are so lucky. Can you say hello to Nurse Calder?"
    Job nodded dumbly. All he wanted was to go back upstairs and join the other children. He was hungry, and soon they would be eating dinner. But the nurse had grasped his arm and was leaning over to inspect