Brothers to Dragons Read Online Free PDF

true that you accompanied Bonifant when he went and bought food?"
    "Yes, Colonel. Food, and other things, too."
    "Indeed." Della Porta wandered over to the sideboard and helped himself to a handful of chocolates. "Describe those trips to me."
    "Yes, Colonel." Job's mouth was watering, but he did his best to tell everything, about buying, bargaining, scrounging, wandering through the whole city (except the proscribed zone of the Mall Compound), sometimes to return with a laden cart, sometimes—though rarely—empty-handed. When he explained his own role in obtaining the junky furniture and old food that were their usual prizes, he saw della Porta's expression change.
    "You are telling me," said the colonel when Job was done, "that you—an uneducated and ugly runt of a nine-year-old—were permitted to serve as Father Bonifant's chief negotiator ?"
    "Yes, sir . . . Colonel."
    "Then Bonifant was an even bigger fool—or you are a bigger liar—than I thought. Anyway, that nonsense is finished. You will receive other assignments. Do you admire Father Bonifant, and what he did?"
    "Yes, Colonel." Job sensed a trap, but what could he say?
    "Then since you are so great an admirer of my predecessor, I will allow your work to be judged and rewarded as I understand that he rewarded it."
    Job didn't know what that meant. But he was dismissed and sent back upstairs. The next day he learned that he had a special assignment at Cloak House. He was to work in Colonel della Porta's own suite of rooms, cleaning and dusting.
    "Light duties, compared with other work," said della Porta's assistant. But he was grinning to himself.
    At first it seemed easy to Job, too. When the colonel had a meeting, Job was not allowed to do any work. He made himself inconspicuous, said nothing, and listened hard. The language that Colonel della Porta spoke for most of his meetings, Job learned, was called Italian. In less than a month he could follow the conversations, and he mouthed phrases and then whole sentences to himself as he worked.
    By the end of that month he knew two other things. First, he understood the source of Cloak House's food supplies. A visitor had spoken of a shipment that was ready for delivery. That night, long after official lights-out, Job stood at a second floor window and watched as a truck backed up to Cloak House's rear entrance. A dozen of the older boys unloaded bale after bale and box after unmarked box.
    Second, Job learned that his assignment to Colonel della Porta's quarters was no favor. When the colonel was in meetings, Job was not allowed to do any cleaning. And no matter how well Job cleaned and dusted and polished in the limited time that was left, the colonel would find fault.
    Job learned of that at dinnertime, when he and he alone was denied a meal. Every other night he went to bed famished. Within the month he realized that the colonel was starving him deliberately. Della Porta made a point of eating the delicacies on his sideboard and offering them to visitors while Job was watching.
    "No, he gets more than enough food already," the colonel said, when one man commented on Job's longing look. He laughed. "He's a greedy little devil, you know, he'd eat all day if I let him."
    It could not go on. Job was losing weight. He found it hard to think of anything but food. But it was forced starvation that saved him, when the fourth bad thing happened.
    The bread at Cloak House under Father Bonifant's rule was always two or more days old, and often so stale that it had to be toasted to make it edible. Mister Bones had done an economic analysis, and found that even if he bought flour in bulk, fresh bread was more expensive than old bread, and more than Cloak House could afford. Under Colonel della Porta, all that had changed. Great sacks of flour were delivered to Cloak House late at night, and bread was fresh-baked for the day's needs in the kitchens. It was made by the older children. Since the colonel's arrival they were no