Brothers to Dragons Read Free Page B

is that?"
    "I wish I could tell you. She was deposited at the front door of Cloak House two months ago, frightened, badly beaten, and undernourished. The only word she could say that made sense to us was Laga , which is now her name."
    "But she's talking a blue streak to Job, and he's jabbering back like nobody's business!"
    "I know. She is learning English—slowly—but for the time being Job is her interpreter. He is the only one here, child or adult, who understands her."
    "But how?"
    "By God's good grace—that is my only explanation." Father Bonifant's cadaverous face wore an expression of real pleasure. "Nurse Calder, when Job Salk came here from the hospital, you told me your fears: that his mother's addictions during pregnancy would add mental retardation to his physical problems.
    "I told you that it was useless to worry, and that the Lord tempers the wind to a shorn lamb. I said that we would pray for him. We did, everyone here at Cloak House. Maybe you thought that it accomplished nothing. When you looked at Job, you still saw that deformed jaw. But look inside his head, and you will find no defect, but a great God-sent gift. He picked up the street argot—which the children here are officially forbidden to speak—through his pores, before he was two years old. No one knows how he came by it. He has had no tutoring, but he speaks Spanish as well as he speaks English."
    The plates of food had been rapidly emptied as Bonifant was speaking, and were disappearing back into the kitchen hand-to-hand, like a well-run assembly line. Within two minutes the food was gone and cups of milk had taken its place.
    "Everyone helps," said Father Bonifant, at Eileen Calder's nod of approval. "It is one of my rules. By two years old, a child can understand enough to contribute."
    "Understanding is one thing, but children are children. How do you make them obey you?"
    "You will be horrified to hear my answer. I told you that Cloak House works through prayer and discipline. Both are needed, if we are to survive. I can scour the city for cheap meat and three-day-old bread and give-away furniture and condemned cleaning materials, but even so Cloak House sits at the very edge of survival. I cannot afford to waste anything, or see anything wantonly destroyed. If a child who is more than two years old wilfully breaks something, or dirties something and does not clean it, or wastes food or drink, he or she joins me in prayer. And he forfeits the next meal. I make no exceptions."
    Eileen Calder said nothing, but her lips tightened with shock.
    Father Bonifant could see her grim-faced disapproval, and then her skepticism. She did not really believe him. He had expected nothing less. As the cups of milk were emptied and vanished back to be washed, he walked forward to collect Job.
    What he had told Eileen Calder was exactly true. He did not see the need to mention that whenever any child missed a meal, so too did he.
    * * *
    "Come on, Job. There's nothing to be afraid of, it's quite safe up here."
    Eileen Calder could not understand why Job was so reluctant to take the last few steps. He had walked up the stairs willingly enough, although he had been forced to stop frequently for breath—those lungs, flawed at birth, would never have normal efficiency. But Job seemed excited at the idea of visiting the very top of Cloak House. He had wanted to look out of each window as they moved higher and higher, and he had paused and gaped with pleasure and amazement at the great, noisy air handlers, drawing their intake at the top floor of the building, above the smog layers, and pumping air down to provide tolerable breathing for all the lower levels. The handlers were not so necessary now, at night, but in the afternoon Eileen Calder had been forced to wear a filter mask when she walked over to Cloak House.
    They had finally arrived at the door that led out into the night and onto the flat roof. And now Job was hanging back. Was he afraid of the night