Rosa gulped, unable to answer.

“What is your name, child?” Brother Leopold asked.

“Draca,” answered Draconas. He forced himself to meet the monk’s gaze with the frank and unabashed stare of a curious child.

“Come closer, Draca,” said the monk, reaching out his hand. “You are not afraid of me? Good. So many children are,” he added sadly to Rosa. “It’s too bad, really.”

Draconas walked over to the monk. He could not figure out what was going on. One minute he thought the monk knew exactly who and what he was, the next he thought he didn’t. Perhaps this was just business with Anton.

“You are very pretty, Draca.” The monk took hold of her hand. “Smart, too, I’ll wager. Are you smart, Draca?”

“I hope so, Brother,” Draconas answered.

“And you like to walk, don’t you, Draca?” said Brother Leopold. He patted her hand. “I’ve seen you walking about town, haven’t I? Quite the ‘walker’ . . .”

Draconas stared hard at the monk. Still smiling, still affable, still patting Draca’s hand, the monk gazed intently at him.

“Quite the walker,” the monk repeated.

There was no doubt now in Draconas’s mind that the monk knew who and what he was and that he was telling Draconas he knew. Draconas tensed, waiting for the attack, waiting to be arrested, waiting for who knew what . . . The monk released the girl’s hand with a final pat and turned back to Rosa.

“Do you mind if I invite myself to dinner, my good woman? Truly, the food smells wonderful. We get no such meals in the monastery, I assure you. It would be a treat for me.”

“Of course, Brother Leopold,” Rosa stammered. “We . . . we would be honored. Draca, run and fetch Anton. Tell him we have a guest—”

“Oh, do not make Draca walk over there,” protested the monk. His gaze fixed on Draconas. The monk’s eyes were focused and intense and alert and in no way mad. “Draca has walked such a lot this day. She should rest. I am in no hurry. I have been working at the site of the blast,” he added, continuing to look at Draca. “A terrible thing. So many buildings and lives destroyed. Fortunately, that part of the city was only sparsely inhabited. We are indeed lucky that the blast did not occur in this neighborhood. Many more would have died. Hundreds upon hundreds. Including Anton and Rosa and our little Draca here and other children just like her.”

The monk smiled at Draconas, then added, “There are those who believe that human life is cheap. That the life of a human is not worth that of say—a dragon, for example. What do you think, Draca? Such a great walker as yourself must have an opinion.”

“Some believe that,” Draconas replied, meeting the monk’s gaze.

“But not you,” said Brother Leopold.