Read Online Brother to Dragons, Companion to Owls by Jane Lindskold - Free Book Online Page A

belongs to Peep, who has recently left begging to become a Tail Wolf, I scoop it up and wash off the soap scum before wringing out what water I can.
    â€œOuch!” the bunny yells as I wring one ear. “ Madre de Dios , that smarts!”
    â€œAnd in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain,” Ichuckle, hanging it by the ears to drip while I continue rinsing myself free of soap.
    â€œYou heard me?” the bunny says incredulously.
    I nod, reaching for a towel and wrapping my hair.
    â€œHow did you do that? No one ever heard me before except for Peep sometimes.” The soggy bunny appears to sag. “And he hears less and less these days, now that these buggering hedonists have him by the cojones .”
    I shrug and finish drying, but am pleased to have found another friend. The things that talk to me have never done so in the condescending fashion that even the best humans do. Betwixt and Between get bossy, but that’s different.
    Once I am covered, I take Peep’s bunny and ascend to the Heights. Abalone is only starting to stir, so I sit on the hammock swing-style and wrap the bunny in the drier of my two towels. Betwixt and Between express lively interest in the soggy toy, especially when it refuses any breakfast.
    â€œWhat’s your name?” Betwixt asks.
    â€œConejito Moreno,” the bunny replies. “Do you belong to this strange señorita ?”
    â€œWe watch out for her,” Between says. “We took up with her first back in the Institute. One of the other patients had us first and talked to us all the time. Like Sarah, this fellow could understand us, but he was wilder than her. He could talk to almost anything, even people. It ripped…”
    Between halts, suddenly aware that I am listening, Betwixt hesitates, then takes up the story.
    â€œIt ripped his mind up sometimes. I think he might havegone crazy, but they moved Sarah to the Home and he gave us to her before she went, so we never saw him again.”
    When the conversation drifts to more general things, I stop listening. I barely remember the Institute; something like cotton is wrapped around the memories. Still, I know that it was different than the Home. Since I couldn’t talk at all, I was pretty much left alone.
    My few memories of the place are a jumble of corridors and things that sometimes spoke and erratic sessions with intense people whose words said less than did their actions, whose favorite pen or lucky coin might warn me to never ever speak with them or they would drive me as mad as they had Dylan.
    Dylan. I had not even realized that I knew his name, but now I recalled him. Skinny, eyes full of fear. Ears full of voices that he could answer in a way I could not.
    I bite on the knuckle of one balled fist, fighting a certain urge to scream. For in that moment, everything in the room is talking to me—Abalone’s tappety-tap, the hammock beneath me, the walls, the painted tent from which Head Wolf is emerging, Edelweiss’s pillow.
    Clamping my hands over my ears, I scream, “Much learning doth make thee mad!”
    Abalone comes awake so suddenly that only habit keeps her from falling. Those of the Free People who have not gone hunting grow silent and then their eyes turn to me, the buzz of their voices rising.
    Head Wolf grabs a ladder and swarms upward. He lands beside me, gesturing the eyes away, but it is Abalone’s shoulder on which I weep, burying my eyes and achingsenses in her sweet-smelling skin as if it will smother this sudden awareness.
    As she pats me, muttering soothing nonsense, the voices fade until all I hear are hers and Head Wolf’s. Concerned, Betwixt and Between whisper softly to each other and Conejito Moreno.
    Grabbing a guide rope for stability in a way I have not since I graduated from the cubwalks, I finally sit up, wiping my eyes on my shirt. Neither Head Wolf nor Abalone ask me to explain what happened. Perhaps they know I could not