The Story of Cirrus Flux by Matthew Skelton Read Free Book Online

gentleman. Even more startling than his frock coat and frills was the savage necklace that circled his throat: a loop of shells, beads and bits of bone, plus some sharp incisors from an unknown species of animal.
    “Sharks’ teeth,” he said, answering the boys’ fascinated looks of horror. His face was long and thin, and crowned by a dark gray wig.
    Very slowly, he began to pace up and down the row of boys, swinging his amber cane. “I am looking,” he said in a reedy voice, “for a boy to shine like a star in my firmament. To be the attraction in my Hall of Wonders. He must be a child of rare courage, discipline and, above all, Virtue.”
    Something about the way he said this last word sent a shiver down the young boys’ necks.
    As if sensing this, he gravitated toward Cirrus and planted his fingers on the boy’s head. An odor like the Gallows Tree seemed to hover over him and Cirrus noticed tiny trails of dirt on his skin.
    Summoning all of his courage, Cirrus glanced up into the man’s face and said, “Begging your pardon, sir. What is a natural philosopher?”
    Mr. Leechcraft let out a hiss of irritation and leaned even closer, emitting a blast of bad breath. “A natural philosopher, boy,” he said, “seeks to understand how this great Universe of ours works. He studies the forces of nature and apprehends the laws of God.” A flash of arrogance lit up his eyes and his voice purred with pride. “It is not for feeble minds to grasp.”
    He released his grip on the boy’s head and continued his inspection of the other foundlings. Then, almost hungrily, he set his sights on Bottle Top, who was staring, transfixed, at the necklace.
    “Ah, such a seraphic child. Who could resist such a face?” he said. “This boy, what is his name?”
    “Abraham Browne, if it please you, sir,” said the Governor, leaping forward. “Though I do believe the other boys call him Bottle Top on account of his teeth.”
    “And would you say that this child is of high spirits?” asked the gentleman, extending a finger to stroke the boy’s cheek, which still shone from Mrs. Kickshaw’s aggressive treatment.
    “The highest, sir,” said Mr. Chalfont. “Why, Bottle Top—Abraham, I mean—is always climbing things. The trees in the garden, the stalls of the chapel. He has even been known to slide down the banister of the great wooden staircase.”
    Bottle Top’s mouth cracked into a grin.
    “Though, regrettably for his teeth, he fell off,” added Mr. Chalfont, hastily closing the boy’s lips.
    If anything, Mr. Leechcraft seemed even more pleased by this information. “A brave boy, a daring boy,” he said. “Notafraid of a little discomfort.” He studied Bottle Top more closely. “His teeth, of course, can be replaced. There is just one thing more I need to consider. His Virtue.”
    Conjuring a pair of silk gloves from his frock-coat pocket, the man slid them over his hands and began rubbing his cane quite vigorously, until it gleamed in the firelight. Then, with a flourish, he raised it above the boy’s head.
    The most amazing thing happened. Bottle Top’s flyaway blond hair floated straight into the air, as if alive. Thin tendrils curled round the rod and made a faint crackling noise as Mr. Leechcraft brushed it back and forth between the grasping hairs. The other boys watched, astonished.
    Mr. Chalfont was not so delighted. “Mr. Leechcraft, I do protest, sir! Whatever are you doing to this poor boy?”
    “I am merely determining the quality of his Virtue,” said the gentleman. “All of God’s creatures are invested with a quantity of Aether, which escapes from their bodies in the form of electrics. Or, as I prefer to call it, Virtue. It is quite painless, I assure you.”
    Mr. Chalfont’s face was a picture of concern. He knelt down and examined the boy minutely. “Abraham, are you hurt? Speak to me, child!”
    Bottle Top tried unsuccessfully not to giggle. “It tickles, sir,” he said, jogging from one