Eye of the Oracle

chapter 6

UNDERBORNS

Mara held open the bottom of the scroll with her elbow and ran her finger along a line of text. The light from her lantern flickered across the page. She squinted in the dim glow, nearly swallowed by the shadows of the stony cavern, yet bright enough to read Mardon’s handwriting. The story filled her with wonder dragons, elephants, monkeys, and hundreds of other wonderful creatures all loaded on an amazing floating vessel long before she was born. She rubbed her hand along a sketch of a dragon, admiring the image of a world she had never known. What she wouldn’t give to have been there!

She glanced at the hourglass perched on her worktable next to her elbow. Only a few grains of sand remained at the top. As she rolled up the scroll with its heavy wooden dowel, pain throbbed in her stiff shoulder. She grimaced at the ache. The soreness was worse than usual, but no surprise, considering all the digging she had been doing.

She hugged the scroll to her chest and closed her eyes. As a tear trickled down her cheek, she wagged her head back and forth, trying to chase the beautiful images out of her mind. Seeing all those wonders was just a dream. There was no way an insignificant slave girl could ever hope to visit such a paradise, much less live there, so she might as well get back to reality, the reality of hard work, sweat, darkness, and pain.

Breathing a big sigh, she opened her eyes and admired the tall, arching alcove she had excavated in a massive wall, her rocky workplace for the past several days. Although it was fairly shallow, only about as deep as the fireplace cavities up in Shinar that she had read about, it still had taken a long time to chisel out.

She knelt at the ankle-high hearth at the base of her alcove and pulled out three loose bricks, making a low, wide cubbyhole, perfect for hiding away the scroll for a while. As she pushed the scroll inside, a clicking noise made her swing her head around. She gazed into the dimness that shrouded the massive chamber. It was probably just one of the timid rock mice that sometimes skittered through the air vents. Then again, maybe it was Mardon coming to inspect her work.

While giving her shoulder a one-handed massage, she slid a lever embedded near the bottom of the hearth, opening the magnetic field. A chorus of low hums sounded from the wall, each with a slightly different pitch that slowly rose in volume.

Taking a step back, she surveyed the bricks that lined the border of the alcove. The magneto brick at the top of the arch glowed green, just as it should. The three on the left glowed blue, indigo, and violet, while yellow and orange emanated from two of the bricks on the right. A third one remained dark.

Mara wrinkled her nose. What was wrong with the red one? The magneto should have energized by now. She leaped onto the hearth and pushed on the end of the malfunctioning brick, budging it just enough to align it with the side of the alcove. It pulsed red, then glowed steadily, adding its hum to the chorus. She brushed her hands together and smiled. Finally! The last magnet was working!

Stepping inside the alcove, she pressed her back against the rear wall. When she reached forward, her hands didn’t quite pass the point where the wall was before she chiseled it away. Stretching her arms to the sides, she could barely touch the magnetized bricks with her fingertips. Finally, she reached as high as she could, but the arch was still more than twice her body’s length over her head. It was perfect.

She skipped out of the alcove, jumped off the hearth, and spun around, crossing her arms as she admired her creation again. The lantern on her worktable flashed and beamed a strong yellow light that painted her shadow on the recessed wall. Shallow as it was, the grotto had taken eleven days to excavate, even with the sharpened chisel Mardon had given her, but now it was finally ready for her spawn.

As Mara retied the sash on her smock, she noticed a tiny pebble sliding toward one of the magnets. She slapped her forehead. She still had to check the balance! Reaching under her smock, she pulled a glass vial from her dress pocket and held it close to the light. She shook it, loosening the iron filings that had settled at the bottom. After setting the vial inside and at the center of the alcove, she scanned the seven magnets in turn. Each metallic brick seemed to aim its end directly at her iron filings.

Kneeling on the hearth, she peered into the vial. The filings began to dance, arranging themselves into a perfectly symmetrical crystal with tiny black diamonds sketched throughout.

Mara laughed. “I wonder if they’re always that pretty.” An echo repeated her words, ending with a quiet, “pretty . . . pretty . . . pretty.” She glanced around the empty cavern, her gaze finally landing on the dark passageway that led out of her work area. Not a soul in sight. The voice was just a cruel joke bouncing off mindless walls through a heartless underground world. She wiped her dirty hands on her even dirtier smock. Of course no one in the hidden realms would ever consider her pretty.

She untied her smock and sighed. Getting banished to the growth lab was bad enough, but having to do everything alone was the worst. Sure, mining in the trenches was hard, but at least she could talk to the other girls there. Even the boy laborers on the brick level had each other . . . or so she had heard.

She shut off the magnets’ lever, silencing the hum, snatched up her vial, and dropped it back into her pocket. After picking up her lantern, she sauntered toward the passageway. Time to venture to the seedling room and get the newest nursling. Maybe Naamah would be in a good mood today and tell her a story about the great giants of old.

As her bare feet padded on the warm, stony floor, she stuffed her hair back up into her coif and retied it over her head. Mardon wouldn’t like it if he knew her hair had fallen loose while excavating, and even though her work was finished, it still wasn’t a good time to take it off. The river lay just ahead.

The tunnel slowly brightened, and as she passed by a stone-framed window in the wall, she winced at the light pouring from it and pulled down the coif’s attached veil. Although she could see through the material well enough to walk, it protected her eyes from the terror that lay beyond the window. She had seen the river of magma at the bottom of the chasm once before, and the image would never leave her mind a bubbling and churning flow crawling toward who-knows-where. She shuddered as she passed by, nearly in tears at the thought of the underborns who had perished in the fiery stream. When she cleared the window’s glow, she jerked off her coif, crumpled it up, and stuffed it into her pocket.

As she continued, the tunnel darkened again, and her lantern’s flame burned green. The familiar sounds of this darkest portion crept into her ears a chorus of squeaks from bats hiding somewhere in the recesses of the tunnel; cascading water from the stream falling into Lucifer’s Pool; the tiny splashes of minnows in their never-ending pursuit of larvae; the incessant pounding of a chisel in the hands of a faraway laborer, probably one of the girls desperately trying to get her magnetite quota from the trenches; and finally . . . yes, there it was, the pleasant warble of Naamah’s song.

Mara peeked into the seedling room. A trio of lanterns hung from the high reaches of the cavern, casting a blend of yellow light and crisscrossing shadows. Mara hid her own lantern behind her back. Naamah’s singing meant she was probably in a good mood, but Mara didn’t want to take any chances. Better to wait a few minutes and watch for signs of bad temper.

Her mistress raised a watering can over a tiny potted plant. As always, she crooned in a haunting contralto.


To grow and live, escape the flames

Of darkest nights and endless toil,

O stretch and thrive my precious flower

And drink the rain from fertile soil.

As she sprinkled the plant, it stretched out two stalks at its sides, like a man waking after a long nap. A thumb-sized pod between the two stalks turned its face toward her, two eyelets blinking as drops streamed down its green skin.

Naamah smiled and continued her song, cooing at the pod as a mother would to a baby.


A day will come, my little child,

When roots transform to warrior’s feet

And stalks become tight fists of steel

To grind all men like sifted wheat.

Mara walked in, but a new shadow from the far side of the cavern glided into view. Morgan! Mara stopped and clenched her teeth. What now? She couldn’t run back to the passageway. Morgan would notice for sure. She froze in place and listened.

Morgan stepped into the light and applauded. “The echo compliments your voice, Naamah. It’s more beautiful than ever.”

Naamah spread out her black dress and curtsied. “The male plants seem especially fond of my singing.” She chucked the pod under its tiny chin. “This one is my favorite.”

“Actually, the females are more important right now.” Morgan waved her arm toward Mara. “The most impetuous of the girls seems smarter and more talented than any males in the land above, though she can be treacherous enough to betray even a twin sister.”

Mara balled her hands into fists. She wanted to stomp her foot and shout a defense, but that would just prove Morgan’s “impetuous” comment. She breathed deeply and buried the insult in the pit of her stomach along with all the others. Still, heat rose past her cheeks and inflamed her ears. She hoped Morgan wouldn’t notice.

Morgan glared at Mara. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I . . .” Mara swallowed and took a tentative step forward. “I’ve come for a new spawn. My growth chamber is ready.”

Morgan raised her eyebrows. “Has Mardon checked the magnets?”

“He taught me how.” Mara withdrew her vial and held it up. “The magnets are perfect.”

Morgan’s frown slackened, but her brow stayed taut. “Very well.” She turned to Naamah. “Is number four of suitable size?”

“Yes.” Naamah pointed at a plant near the passageway, close to where Mara stood. “It’s almost too big for the pot already.”

Morgan nodded at the plant. “Get it and be on your way. I’ll be by to check its growth soon enough. Your chamber had better be perfectly balanced, or you’ll take the next step past banishment.”

Mara tried not to flinch, but she couldn’t help it. She knew what that meant. As she thought of the terror in Acacia’s face, her lantern flickered weakly, as if sympathizing with her pain. She gathered the pot in one arm and hustled back into the passage, but her lantern winked out, leaving her in darkness except for the light from the seedling room behind her. Mara halted. Could she go all the way through the dark part of the tunnel without a light? Would the bats notice her? She turned back and leaned against the wall, peering at Morgan and Naamah. She didn’t want to ask for light, not while Morgan was still around. Maybe she would leave soon through the other tunnel, then Naamah might help her. Naamah was always the more patient of the two, though that wasn’t saying much.

Mara breathed a quiet sigh and set her lantern on the floor. Being banished had one advantage. Nabal wouldn’t be waiting with a whip. In fact, no one would notice her absence until bed check. She could just watch and listen, and maybe learn more about the land above.

Morgan crossed her arms over her chest. “As I was about to say, the females will never be giantesses; at least according to Mardon’s genetic analysis. But we need more laborers than Nephilim candidates right now. Once the hive is complete with thriving giants, we’ll keep a few of the strongest and stupidest females for laborers, then throw the rest in the chasm.”

Mara gulped. She probably wasn’t supposed to hear that. Who would be chosen to live? She rubbed a finger along her toned bicep. She was strong, but not the strongest of the female laborers, and far from stupid. Crouching low, she hugged her plant close.

Naamah carried her pot to a dimly lit wall and set it on the end of a shelf of identical pots. Each one held a human-like seedling, some barely poking up from the soil and others as tall as the breadth of her hand. She turned the pot so the plant could see her. “I began to wonder what happened to you, Sister. You’ve been gone for weeks.”

“Months, actually. Time shifts in strange ways between the upper and lower worlds. I’m beginning to think time is slowing down here, since the older spawns have slowed their aging.”

“Did you bring more produce?” Naamah asked. “We ran out of fruit days ago.”

“It’s in the pantry. Nimrod’s farms are producing well.”

Naamah dipped her finger into the potting soil, then pulled it out, examining the mud on the tip. “Is there any other news from above?”

“Yes. It seems that Mardon has a solution to why our hybrids aren’t thriving.”

“They need more light, don’t they?” Naamah wiped the mud on a cloth hanging on the shelf. “I always said that plants should be out in the sun where they ”

“No,” Morgan interrupted. “Almost the opposite. It seems that the flood did more than simply snuff out innocent lives and scrub the planet. All light is harsher now, brighter than before, so the seeds I took from Samyaza are too pure, even when we dilute them with Canaan’s genes. They make a plant that grows poorly when exposed to any kind of light, even lantern light and magneto radiance down here.”

“How can Mardon fix a problem like that? Even he isn’t smart enough.”

“You might be surprised. Mardon and his scientists are confident they can do anything. Right now they’re working on a tower that already reaches past the clouds.”

Naamah’s eyebrows shot up. “Past the clouds?! May I go above and see it?”

“Only if you go after dark and in your winged form.” Morgan looked up at the cavern’s high ceiling. “There’s a full moon tonight, so you should be able to see the tower.”

“Even if I can’t, being a bat for a while is better than being stuck in this cave.”

“Patience. Just a few more weeks. One of the craftsmen is building a home for us on the surface. It still has to be in this dimension, but at least you’ll be able to go there whenever you wish.”

“Not as a bat?” Naamah asked.

“As long as you’re in the circles of seven, you can be yourself.”

“Good.” Naamah fanned her face with her hand. “The air down here gets stuffy, and flying makes me tired.”

“Don’t worry. The house will be on a lovely island, and I planted apple trees and gardenias all around. Soon the air on our island will be saturated with the scents of wisdom and life.”

“Will we have any company up there?” Naamah asked.

“The circles are filling with the souls of humans who wander in the land of the dead, but the serpents I put in the waters around the island will protect us from their interference.” Morgan caressed Naamah’s delicate arm. “Still, we have a boat, and you will be free to stalk the shores and sing a victim into your clutches whenever you wish.”

“Perfect. I’ve been practicing a song just for that purpose.” Naamah smiled, and for a brief second, a pair of fangs appeared over her bottom lip.

Mara nearly fell backwards. What kind of creature was Naamah, anyway?

“If you keep your mind on your work,” Morgan said, “I won’t care how many men you capture. Just remember to collect what we need from them.”

Naamah twirled her dress. “Have you begun to doubt my charms, Sister?”

“Not your charms, just your prudence. Our mission is more important than fun. Canaan has aged more quickly than I expected, so he’s already useless.”

“We have the hybrid embryos in the vault. We could always use their genes.”

Morgan propped up one of the wilting plants. “The hybrids are stronger than the purebreds, but not strong enough. We have to keep experimenting until we get the right combination for survival in the world’s new environment.”

“What about your other plan?” Naamah asked. “Any luck finding homes for the spirits?”

“Perhaps. The dragons have birthed several younglings in quick succession. The spirits have repeatedly visited the eldest son at night, and he believes he is merely dreaming. He is already showing signs of giving in to the songs.”

“You decided to use dragons as hosts, after all? I thought you decided you wanted them dead.”

“I do, but I have no way to kill them . . . yet.” Morgan plucked a wrinkled leaf from one of the plants, making its little green face wince. “Still, if my plan works, we will eliminate every dragon, release the Watchers from the abyss so they can live in a dragon-free land, and have an army of Nephilim to conquer the world.”

“I see.” Naamah stroked the stalk of the injured plant. “Home-grown Nephilim instead of dragon-born.”

“Exactly. The Nephilim spirits should eventually break through the dragons’ minds and secure them as hosts, but even if the spirits someday lose their scaly bodies, it will be a small price to pay to create our paradise.”

“I keep hearing about this paradise. When will we get to enjoy it?”

“That’s the hard part, Sister. We have to be patient. I still have to find the abyss. Then, I have to raise up a champion for our cause, a dragon slayer, you might call him. I’ll mold him like putty in my hands, and place him in circles of authority. We also have to conquer the minds of the dragons one by one. Such a scheme can take millennia to accomplish, but we can afford to wait as long as necessary.”

Naamah picked up a plant and gazed into the tiny eyelets of the blinking pod. Its emaciated stalk could barely hold up its oversized head, and it finally keeled over as if gasping for breath. “And in the meantime?”

“In the meantime” Morgan strangled the plant and ripped it out of the soil “we cultivate, sow, and water until our army is ready to uproot and march.”

Mara gagged. Nausea boiled in her stomach. Still crouching as she cradled her new spawn, she picked up her lantern and tiptoed through the dim tunnel. With so little light, she could easily step on a sharp stalagmite . . . or worse. As the passage grew darker, she slowed, standing straight and probing the blackness, listening to the squeaks of awakening bats. Her spawn’s prickly pod nuzzled her cheek. It was scared, too.

When she approached the magma window, she didn’t bother to put on her coif; she just rushed past it as quickly as she could and slowed again as the tunnel darkened once more. Soon, a flickering beam revealed the oval entryway into her workroom. Clutching her spawn even more tightly, she ran the rest of the way, stopping at the opening and holding her hand on her chest as she caught her breath. She pressed her lips together, trying not to cry. She was such a failure! She had to be the only underborn in all of the below lands who was scared of the dark.

“Is there a problem?” a deep voice asked.

Mara dropped her lantern and twisted to the side. A man stood next to her, only inches away. “Mardon!” she cried, her hand on her chest again. “You startled me!”

“My apologies.” Mardon’s egg-shaped head tilted as he held up the scroll she had been reading. “Mara, isn’t it?”

Mara sniffed and nodded. “Yessir.”

Mardon cupped Mara’s chin and turned her head from side to side. Under his closely cropped brown hair, a pair of thin eyebrows arched downward. His coal black pupils seemed to breathe, swelling and deflating as he probed her eyes. “Number fourteen, correct?” He released her chin and combed through her hair as if searching for bugs in her scalp.

“Yessir. Number fourteen.” She hated being called by a number, but at least he remembered her name this time.

“Did you cut your hair again?” he asked.

“Weeks ago, but only because it got caught between some rocks.” She ran her fingers through the tangled ends. “Paili had to slice off a bunch to get me loose, and then I had to cut the rest to make it even.”

“It’s acceptable. Just remember to tuck it in your coif while you’re working. I’m just checking for signs of biological degradation, and hair loss would be a big concern, as would loss of muscle tone.” He laid his hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. Pain ripped through her body, and she couldn’t hold back a tight grimace.

Mardon quickly lifted his hand. “Did that hurt?”

Mara squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. “Nabal’s whip. It’s an old wound, but it never seems to heal.”

Mardon pushed the collar of her dress to the side, exposing her shoulder. Shaking his head and whispering “Tsk, tsk,” he covered her wound again. “Make sure you scrub that out tonight, or it could be dangerous.”

Mara opened her eyes, hoping she wouldn’t cry. “I will.”

“Your muscles are quite firm,” he said, grasping her other shoulder. “Actually, overall, you’re a very lucky girl. Have I ever told you what happened to the first twelve females?”

“Yessir.” She smoothed down her hair. “But you talk to so many underborns, it’s no wonder you’ve forgotten.”

“Not so many. There are only twenty-one surviving females at my last count. Morgan has a habit of tossing the insubordinates into the chasm when she gets angry, including number thirteen, an excellent specimen.” Mardon tapped his head with his finger. “Actually, I’ve been so busy, I seem to be getting a bit absent-minded. I don’t remember everything I tell people.”

“Yessir.” She sniffed hard. Thinking about lost underborns was sure to make her cry, so she tried to change the subject. Steadying her voice, she nodded at the scroll. “I was just borrowing that. I hope you don’t mind.”

Mardon stared at the scroll, his eyes widening as if startled that it was still in his hand. “Oh, you mean this.”

“Yessir. Your library isn’t forbidden, so I thought it would be okay to read it.”

“Of course. I was just wondering why it was in the hearth. I didn’t think mice could read.”

Mara pointed a thumb at herself. “But I can!” She immediately felt stupid for saying it. Being smart wasn’t exactly cheered among the other laborers.

“Yes, yes, I have heard. You’re the only one who can, aren’t you?”

“Yessir. I kind of taught myself how.”

Mardon cupped her chin again and gazed into her eyes. “Remarkable!”

Mara swallowed and lifted her plant. “My spawn is ready. Do you want to check the magnetic field?”

He tucked the scroll under his arm and headed toward the alcove. “I already have. Your workmanship is flawless.” He held out his hands for the potted spawn. “Please don’t ever cross Morgan. I can’t afford to lose you.”

“Don’t worry. Making her mad is the last thing I want to do.” Mara handed him the spawn and smiled. That was the first kind word she had heard in weeks. As Mardon grasped one of the spawn’s stalks, she propped her hands on her knees and leaned forward. She didn’t get to see implanting very often. “Is this a good spawn?” she asked.

Mardon eyed the plant from top to bottom. The face on the pod turned the edges of its thin lips upward. “I think so. The two lower stalks are thick and sturdy, the torso stalk supports the pod quite well, and the new hybridization seems to have made it more alert than the others.”

“Good!” Mara rubbed her hands on her smock and scooted closer.

Mardon turned the pot over and let the ball of dirt slide out into his hand. Then, carefully extracting each root from the dirt, he painstakingly cleaned them with a cotton cloth. The pod’s eyelets widened with each soft rub, and its lips spread wider.

Grasping the stalk again in one hand and supporting the roots with the other, Mardon suspended the plant in the middle of the alcove. “Turn on the magnets.”

Mara jumped up and slid the lever at the base, reawakening the humming choir. The colored lights began flashing on again one by one, first violet, then indigo, then blue. Within seconds, all seven magnets had lit up, each one radiating a color of the rainbow and sending a wide beam at the new spawn.

Mardon slowly released the plant. Mara barely held back a giggle when her new baby stayed suspended in midair. She clapped her hands. It worked! Her growth chamber really worked! And she had built this one without any help!

Mardon looked back at her and nodded. “Well done, Mara. Maybe this spawn won’t have to go to the control room.”

Mara flinched at the sound of the words. The control room except for Morgan’s quarters, it was the most forbidden zone in all of the lower reaches, the place where the weaker spawns were taken, and they never returned.

Mardon folded his cloth and tucked it into his pocket. “If I’m reading your expression correctly, you really want to know how everything works, don’t you?” As he rubbed the scroll against his palm, his gaze wandered around the cavern. “Most of the laborers haven’t even bothered to learn the language. A grunt is the best I can get out of some of them.”

“They can talk a little bit, but Morgan punishes us if we talk too much. The smarter ones always seem to get thrown into the chasm, so why try to learn?”

He pointed the scroll at her. “You’re the smartest girl here, and the oldest surviving female, yet you’ve avoided the chasm. She must fancy you.”

Mara rubbed her shoulder and smirked. “Could’ve fooled me!”

Mardon stroked his chin, speaking so softly Mara could barely hear him. “You may be exactly what I need.”

“Excuse me, sir?”

Mardon tapped her on the head with the scroll. “I think it’s time you learned the process. I could use a personal assistant.”

Mara sat down on the floor cross-legged and spread her tattered outer tunic over her knees. “I’m ready to learn!” She folded her hands in her lap and gazed up at him.

“No, not here. It would be better if no one else knew.” He extended his hand toward her. “I’ll show you the control room. That will make everything clear.”

Mara allowed him to pull her to her feet. He picked up a lantern on the worktable, and as he marched into a passage tunnel on the other side of the chamber, she trailed close behind, drinking in his every word as his voice bounced gently off the walls.

“You’ve probably read stories about the world above, haven’t you?”

“Yessir.” She tried to keep pace, but with her shorter legs, she had to step quickly. “But I don’t see how they can be true. How can a light hang in the middle of an endless sky? And is there really such a thing as a dragon? I heard Morgan talking about them. They sound awful.”

“They are quite terrible.” Mardon stopped at a wooden door embedded in a stone wall, but there was no latch handle, just a large wheel protruding from the center. “The stories in my scrolls are true, but not everything Morgan says is true.” He grasped the rim of the wheel and turned it. “Count the clicks.”

The turning wheel clicked, and Mara extended one finger for each sound.

When he stopped the wheel, he swiveled his head toward her. “How many?”

“Six,” she replied.

“Good. Now count again.” He turned the wheel in the opposite direction, and she counted another series of clicks.

When he stopped, she spoke up without being asked. “Nine.”

“You’ll need to use your toes for the last turn.”

Again the clicks sounded. When they stopped, Mara sang out, “Thirteen!”

Mardon pushed the door open, releasing the familiar hum of magneto bricks from inside. “Remember that combination of numbers and tell no one.” He entered and directed Mara to follow. As they walked across a smooth, stone floor, she could barely take in all the sights. At least a dozen growth alcoves, smaller than hers, had been excavated in the wall on one side. A spawn hovered in each chamber, fragile and sickly looking plants, but alive and wiggling in their suspended states. On the other wall, stacks of scrolls lay haphazardly on row after row of shelves, not as many as in the library, but they still seemed to call for her to roll them out and absorb their knowledge.

“Back to the stories,” Mardon said, as he approached a large worktable at the far end of the room. “There is a sun that shines brighter than the most brilliant lantern, and it is suspended in an endless blue sky” he nodded toward one of the spawns, who seemed to be sleeping amidst a spectral bath “much like he hangs in his growth chamber. And thousands of people work together in peace, advancing technology at a remarkable pace.”

“You mean like using a sharpened chisel instead of a hammer to dig an alcove? And carrying lanterns in the tunnels instead of glow worms?”

Mardon pointed at her. “Exactly.”

“Yessir. A lot has changed just since I’ve been here.”

Mardon laughed. “As if you’ve ever been anywhere else.” He sighed and gazed at her, his eyes seeming to blur. “Do you know how long you’ve been here, Mara? Do you know how old you are?”

Mara shrugged her shoulders. “Naamah says I look about fourteen years old, but I never could figure out what the stories meant when they talked about years.”

“Naamah is right, and it’s no wonder you don’t understand time. A hundred years ago, Morgan planted you in an older-style growth chamber, much like I just did to your spawn, and I uprooted you in your current form almost twenty years ago. But since time passage is skewed here, and you don’t age as the overworlders do, it’s useless to teach you about time, that is, until you visit the land above.”

Mara shivered. Her throat squeezed so tight, she could barely speak. “May . . . may I?”

“If your training goes well, I should be able to arrange it.”

Mara straightened her shoulders. “I’ll train well. Don’t worry about that.”

Mardon stared at her again, this time with narrowed eyes, as if trying to penetrate her mind. “We’ll see, won’t we?”

Mara clutched the edge of her smock. Why was he looking at her with that strange expression? But she had enough to think about just concentrating on what she needed to learn. This was her one chance to see the upper world.

Mardon waved his arm over the worktable. “Here is where it all begins.”

A collection of small glass jars covered the wooden surface, each one filled with clear liquid. She leaned over and peered into one of the jars. Suspended in the midst of the liquid, an eyeball-sized egg stared back at her. The eggshell’s outer membrane was semitransparent, and a tiny creature floated at the center, acting like it was trying to swim. It looked sort of like her spawn, except much smaller and without eyelets or lips.

“This is where we plant the garden, Mara. I experiment with different combinations of eggs and seeds to find which ones make the strongest embryos. I sometimes even combine two seeds into one to make them stronger.”

Mara kept her gaze fixed on the embryo. “Where do you get the seeds and eggs?”

“That lesson can wait until later. For now, I want you to see the beginning and the end.”

She looked up at him. “The end?”

He picked up a jar near the middle of the table and held it close to her eyes. “Do you see anything unusual about this one?”

She squinted at the tiny spawn. “It’s smaller, and it’s not swimming as hard as the others.”

“Exactly.” Mardon walked the jar to a door on his right. When he opened it, flames shot up from within, and a hot blast of air swept into the room. He dumped the embryo into the fire and slammed the door shut.

Mara pressed her hand against her chest and stifled a gasp. Nausea boiled in her stomach again.

“No use wasting time and space with that one,” Mardon said. He pointed at the spawns in the growth chambers she had seen when she came in. “These aren’t thriving, so I transported them in here to extract some genetic material. Maybe I can learn what we did wrong.”

“Then you’ll . . .” She gulped, nodding toward the fiery room.

“Yes. They’ll go into the furnace.” He counted the jars on the table. “I’m not sure yet, but it looks like five out of the twenty are female. When their gender becomes clear, I’ll keep one as a laborer to replace you.”

“Replace me? But . . . but . . .” She couldn’t even breathe.

Mardon laughed. “I didn’t mean you’re going to be eliminated! You’ll become my assistant. Someone has to do your old job.”

Mara exhaled slowly, but her relief quickly vanished. She pinched herself on the arm. How dare she feel relieved? She wasn’t going into the furnace, but what about all these poor spawns? Her lips trembled, yet she managed to talk without squeaking. “Will I have to do both the beginning and the end?”

Mardon tapped one of the jars with his fingertip. “You’re really worried about these spawns, aren’t you?”

“Shouldn’t I be?”

“They’re just embryos, not living, breathing, hard workers like you and your friends. But don’t worry. I’m not going to ask you to dispose of any. I’ll do that.” He picked up a fat scroll from the corner of the table and rolled it open. “I’ll teach you to keep track of the genetic combinations and note the characteristics of the embryos and the growing spawns. You’ll also learn to move the embryos to pots when they’re ready to root in soil.”

Mara tried to read the last line on the scroll, but it appeared to be just a bunch of indecipherable numbers. “Can I take care of the spawn I have now?”

“You may keep that responsibility along with your new duties.” Mardon rolled up the scroll. “He seems to be a good specimen, so you can perform the daily maintenance.”

“I’ve done feedings plenty of times.”

He patted her on the head. “Why don’t you feed him now? After you’re done, you can consider your banishment terminated and go back to your normal labors for the rest of the day. You may tell the other girls about your new position in the control room, if you wish, but they may not join you here. You know the penalty for anyone who enters this room without permission.”

Mara firmed her chin. She didn’t want to utter the words. Acacia had haunted her dreams for too many nights, and she didn’t want anyone else to suffer like that.

Mardon nodded toward the door. “After the feeding, go back to the quarry level. I’ll see you here in the morning.”

Mara walked out without a word. With the image of Acacia’s terrified face searing her mind, she knew a round of nightmares would torment her again tonight.

The light from the control room guided her to the lantern shelf. She picked up a lantern and mechanically struck two flint stones together to light it, listening to the sound of the control room door snapping shut and the lock wheel clicking as it spun around. Plodding in a daze toward her growth chamber, she remembered to pick up a jar of plant food from the spawns’ pantry as she passed by.

Her stomach grumbled. “Quiet,” she scolded. “There’s nothing in there for you to eat, unless you’re hungry for ground-up worm guts.” Her stomach churned again. “Yeah, I know. Our dinner won’t be much better.”

When she arrived at the growth chamber, her spawn grinned. Mara jumped up to the hearth. “Are you happy to see me?” She opened the jar and angled it toward the plant. “I have something new for you. I’m going to teach you to eat through your mouth!” She dipped her finger into the wet, loamy goop and smeared a dab across the spawn’s tiny lips. The little plant moved his mouth, allowing a narrow slit to open, and Mara pushed a morsel of food in. The spawn’s thin smile widened as it smacked its lips together.

Mara laughed. “This is going to be easy! You have to be the smartest spawn ever!”

When she finished the feeding, she caressed his green cheek. “Good night,” she whispered. The spawn’s lips stretched into a yawn, his eyelets fluttered, and he seemed to drift into sleep.

Mara kissed the top of his pod, then dashed out of the growth chamber. She bolted through the corridor and into the elevation shaft, grabbing a cudgel from the shaft’s platform floor. After rapping on a metal plate that hung from the wall, she shouted into a tube that ran down the shaft. “Chazaq! It’s Mara. I need to go down three levels.”

The platform eased downward. As the descent paused intermittently, Mara imagined the huge giant at the bottom letting the rope slide through his massive hands, grabbing it every few seconds to keep her from plummeting all the way to the brick-making kilns, a forbidden zone for all the girls.

Sulfur fumes assaulted her nose, intensifying by the second. When she reached the third quarry level, she jumped out and swiveled her head. A glow from the nearby magma river illuminated the enormous cavern, but it flowed behind a granite wall, safely away from her sensitive eyes.

“Paili!” she called. “Are you down here?” Three girls walked by, each carrying a bucket of wet rocks, but only one turned to look at Mara. With her glazed eyes and dirty chin and sweat dripping from her stringy hair, she seemed more dead than alive.

Mara pulled her coif from her pocket and mopped her brow. The heat was more oppressive than usual. “Paili!” she called again, tying her coif and stuffing her hair underneath. “Has anyone seen Paili?”

One girl poked her reddish head out from behind a stone column. “Washing.” She formed her words carefully. “Paili . . . is . . . washing.”

Mara knelt and untied a cloth from the girl’s ankle. “Taalah, hold still while I have a look at that cut.” The girl’s leg trembled, but Mara held it firm as she eyed a finger-length gash. “It’s still oozing blood, but I think it’s healing.” She reconfigured the cloth to place a clean spot on the wound and tied it securely. “Make sure you soak your ankle in the sulfur springs tonight and wash out the bandage.”

Taalah nodded and pointed. “Paili . . . come . . . now.”

Mara rose to her feet. Down in the quarry, a little girl skipped along a stony path that ran between a pair of shallow trenches, clutching the sides of her too-long inner shirt as she bounced toward them.

Mara waved at her. “Paili!”

The little girl glanced up and spread out her arms. “Mara!” She ran across a narrow rock bridge that spanned the closer trench and lunged into Mara’s arms. “You back!” she cried, nuzzling Mara’s waist.

Mara laid a hand on Paili’s dark wet hair. “Were you playing in the water?”

Paili shook her head, but when Mara glared at her, her head’s back and forth motion slowly changed to up and down.

“Where’s your over-tunic?”

Paili pointed at the closer trench.

Mara groaned. “Oh, Paili! What am I going to do with you? It’s a good thing Nabal didn’t see you.” She glanced around the cavern. “Where is he, anyway?”

Paili stomped once on the ground. “Brick room. He . . . back soon.”

Mara fished in Paili’s pocket and jerked out her coif. “He’s going to catch you someday, and you’ll be chiseling out growth chambers until you wrinkle up and die!” She tied the coif back on Paili’s head and gestured toward the trench. “Come on. Let’s dig up some magnetite.”

She slid down the short slope and grabbed up the dirty, wrinkled tunic. When Paili joined her, Mara pushed the girl’s outer garment over her head and tried to smooth it out, but her hand touched a sticky spot on Paili’s collar. She drew her fingers close to her eyes. “Blood?” She spun Paili around, pulled her collar away from her neck, and peeked down her back. She gritted her teeth and growled. “Did Nabal do this? Did he whip you?”

Paili nodded, whimpering.

“And he told you to wash the blood to hide it, right?”

Paili nodded again.

Mara released Paili’s collar and kissed her cheek. Tightening both her fists, she hissed, “Someday I’m going to kill that stupid dung-eater.” She snatched up a nearby bucket and glanced at the few small pebbles covering the bottom. “Was he mad because you’re behind on your quota?”

“No . . . find,” Paili said, turning up her palms. “All gone.”

Mara dug through Paili’s pocket. “Where’s your locater?”

Paili tucked her hair under her coif. “It . . . not work.”

“Here it is.” Mara pulled out a glass disk and laid it in her palm, gently swirling the metal filings inside. “It seems all right to me.” She took Paili’s hand. “Come on. Let’s find the biggest strike ever. Maybe Naamah will give us a fig cake with dinner.”

Paili grinned. “Fig cakes!”

Mara eyed the disk while slogging along the trench. As they passed by a trio of laborers digging into the slope, her leg brushed against a kneeling girl and knocked her into a pile of soot. “Oops!” Mara reached down to help the girl up. “I’m sorry!”

The other girl straightened and slapped Mara’s cheek. “You are bad!” she said, pushing her finger into Mara’s chest. “Acacia was good!”

Rage boiled, sending a surge of stinging heat through Mara’s wounded cheek. “Qadar!” she growled, raising a fist, but when Qadar covered her face with trembling hands, Mara let her arm flop to the side. She turned and strode farther down the trench. “Come on, Paili. Let’s go to the new dig area. I doubt anyone’s gone there yet.”

As she marched on, Paili’s gentle hum lilting behind her, the trench sank into a darker region of the cavern. The air grew cold, and the light faded, almost too dim to continue, but as they rounded a curve, new light poured through tiny holes in the floor up ahead. She stooped and signaled for Paili to join her.

The little girl huddled against her side. “Cold!”

“Stay close to me.” Mara hugged Paili and pointed at the holes. “I thought the light meant that the magma river flowed right under us. I guess it doesn’t, or it’d be a lot warmer in here.” She tapped on the rocks and listened. “Sounds solid enough.”

Paili wrapped both arms around Mara’s waist. “Go back. . . . I scared.”

“It’s okay.” Mara pushed on the ground with her free hand. The rocky layer bent downward, and small cracks etched jagged streaks in every direction. “Hmmm . . . Maybe it’s not so solid after all.” Grunting under the Paili-sized load, Mara pivoted on her knees and headed back. “I think we’d better ”

Suddenly the floor crumbled away. “Whoooaaa!” Mara slid into a gaping hole with Paili still latched to her waist. Mara clawed at the sloping sides until her fingers snagged something solid, keeping her from sliding any farther. Pain rifled through her arms as she and Paili dangled over a seemingly bottomless pit.

“Paili!” she screamed. “Hang on!”