Brother to Dragons, Companion to Owls - Jane Lindskold [24]
We cross and she continues, “Yes, I am nobody, Sarah, but I still know someone in the Admin Center. So do you.”
Puzzled, I review the sea of faces, most without names, from my years at the Home. Most of those I knew well enough to beg a favor of—if I could make them understand me—were like Jerome or Nani, my sewing teacher, staff, not administration. I shrug.
“I’m nobody,” I admit. “Who are you? Are you nobody, too?”
“Yes”—she nudges Abalone who has been listening with lively interest—“but I know someone who can get us into Admin Center’s very heart. Abalone here, with her skillful tappety-tap.”
“Hmm.” The blue lips curl. “Yes, let’s rent a room.” We check into an automated facility, Abalone resisting the urge to reprogram the computer to give us our room for free. Once in, Professor Isabella goes to shower and I sit and whisper with Betwixt and Between so that I will not disturb Abalone.
She mutters to herself as she secures us from tracing and then starts into the Home’s systems. If I try, I can hear her tappety-tap answering her—cursing back when she swears, cheering along with her as they break a security code, sniffling indignantly at the slovenly programming.
When Abalone was teaching me to drive, I learned that she heard nothing but the flat synthetic voice used by some programs. Now, I try not to hear because it seems like eavesdropping on lovers, but sadder because the beloved is deaf to the whispered endearments, encouragement, and support.
My dragons have been unusually quiet since the previous evening’s conversation with Conejito Moreno and the events following. I wonder if they are still worrying that I will freak out. Surely that would be terrible for them, because they have already lost Dylan. I scratch Betwixt’s eye ridge, rubbing in front of Between’s nose horn at the same time.
Both seem to stretch and lean into my fingers.
“In much wisdom is much grief,” I say softly, breathing mute thanksgiving to those mad-folk who raved in passages from the Bible, “and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.”
“Think we’re sad, Sarah?” Betwixt asks.
I nod.
“Yeah, we are but—Hey! Don’t stop scratching!—You scared us. We thought we’d hurt you.”
“I am a brother to dragons, a companion to owls,” I repeat.
The red eyes sparkle gratefully.
Between says, “We do know stuff from when you were little, back in the Institute. You’re a success, Sarah. The only one who ended up crazy and out of there. We lost Dylan; we don’t want to lose you.”
Questions for which I lack words flutter into my throat and get trapped there. My hands rise to shake them free.
“Easy, Sarah.” Professor Isabella has reemerged, wrapped in a towel. “Calm down.”
I let my hands fall and the dragons look at each other, sighing simultaneously so that they blow up each other’s noses. Unable to help myself, I giggle. Professor Isabella shakes her head with concern and retreats to dress. I realize that she too, is worried that I am losing control.
Between nods thoughtfully. “We can’t explain it, Sarah. We’re just us and the Institute people weren’t exactly chatty.”
Betwixt interrupts. “You know the Bible quote? ‘Eyes have they, but they see not. They have ears, but they hear not’? Someone wanted people who could hear and see what most people can’t and that’s you and that’s Dylan and that’s too much for any human.”
I nod and hold up my hand, signaling “enough.” I need to think, to reflect. Memories without words are rising up and I know if I do not carefully handle them, I will be drowned.
When Professor Isabella returns, coifed and wearing only one skirt and sweater, Abalone ignores her questions and keeps working. She does nod thanks when the professor supplies her with cocoa from a vending machine. Then the two of us withdraw to a corner and Professor begins to read to me from the collected works of Mark Twain.
We are both so immersed in the essay she is reading that when Abalone lets out a long whistle of amazement, we both jump.
“Found something?” Professor Isabella asks, flipping