Eye of the Oracle

chapter 7

THE ABYSS

Paili’s arms tightened around Mara’s waist, nearly squeezing her breath away. Grunting and pulling, Mara inched higher. Ignoring her throbbing shoulder, she lunged upward, and her fingers groped for a new handhold until they finally found a sturdy ridge. As she dragged their bodies higher, streams of light flowed past her eyes like windblown fog, filtering into the slope and disappearing. Sounds of snapping arose from below, like hungry crocodiles vaulting to catch hold of her feet. Mara lunged again and caught the upper lip of the pit with one hand, then the other.

“Paili! Climb out!”

Paili clambered up Mara’s back and jumped from her shoulders to solid ground. Dropping to her knees, she grabbed Mara behind her upper arms and pulled much harder than seemed possible for a little girl. Mara dug her feet into the slope and scrambled to safety, then rolled to the ground, puffing.

Paili laid a hand on Mara’s cheek. “You okay?”

Mara rubbed her aching shoulder. “I think I’m okay.” She sat up and looked her in the eye. “What about you?”

“I . . . bleeding again.”

Mara scanned her body. “Where?”

Paili showed her a cut on her elbow. “Here.”

Mara eyed it closely. “It’s not too bad.” She looked over Paili’s shoulder at the pit a mere two steps away. She pushed Paili gently to the side and crawled slowly to the edge.

The ground near the pit seemed sturdy now, so she inched close and peered into the hole. Streams of light rose and fell as if something down below inhaled and exhaled radiant energy. With each rhythmic pulse, some of the light disappeared into spots on the wall, sucked in by some kind of mysterious force.

Mara slid her fingers down the side and touched one of the spots. It felt smooth and hard, like a polished stone. While probing the surface, she caught the edge, and the stone shifted. Another stream of light flowed up, weaved between her fingers, and disappeared into the stone. She pried it loose and laid it in her palm. Fitting snugly between the heel of her hand and the base of her fingers, a multifaceted jewel glittered at her, a faint beam of light emanating from one side.

Paili touched it with her fingertip. “Pretty!”

Mara closed her fist. “Yes, but what is it?”

Paili shrugged her shoulders. As Mara rose to her feet, a low moan drifted up from the pit. Both girls jumped back, clutching each other. A new chill ran across Mara’s skin, and she inched farther away.

Paili hung on to her elbow, shivering, while Mara stroked her hair. “I think we’ll look for magnetite somewhere else, okay?”

“Far . . . away.”

After several more steps backwards, Mara turned and held Paili’s hand. “If we tell Morgan about the pit and the gem, maybe we won’t have to make quota today.”

“Fig cakes?” Paili asked.

Mara strode forward, peering through the dimness. “Let’s not push it. I’m just hoping we don’t get whipped.”

Mara and Paili slid into the warm spring, each girl finding a place to sit so that the soothing water covered her dirty, scraped shoulders.

With a flickering lantern at her feet, Morgan sat on a rocky ledge next to the pool, holding the gem in her fingers and examining it carefully. “A deep pit, you say? How deep?”

Mara reached for her outer tunic and pulled it into the bath with her. “I couldn’t see the bottom.” She scrubbed her tunic in the bubbling water. “It was strange,” she said, looking up at Morgan. “Light streamed up and down, and some of it got sucked into that gem.”

“Very interesting.” Morgan drew the gem up to her eyes. “Did you notice anything else?”

“I did.” Mara turned to Paili and examined the whip marks on her back. “Oh, Paili! How could Nabal be so cruel to a little girl?” She squeezed water from a sponge, gently sprinkling the wounds as she looked up again at Morgan. “Did you see this?”

Morgan pressed her lips together and nodded. “Nabal will be terminated. We have a new giant ready to replace him actually a third giant we will call Nabal.”

“A third Nabal?”

“I’m afraid so. The first one died the night after he whipped you. But they are identical, so I fear the new one will be just as stupid as the first two. Still, if I show him the remains of his predecessor, perhaps he will not be as cruel.”

“Wow! I didn’t even realize you switched them.” Mara shivered, but it was a comforting shiver. “Anyway, we did notice something else, a horrible moaning sound, like someone down in the pit was terribly sad, like maybe he was lost.”

Morgan clenched the gem so tightly her knuckles turned white, but her voice remained calm. “Did it speak any words you could understand?”

Mara shook her head. “We didn’t stay long. It was pretty scary.”

“I quite understand.” Morgan nodded toward the tunnel that led to their sleeping quarters and held up the corners of two large cloths. “Here’s a sheet for each of you. After you wash out your clothes, hang them in the breezeway and go straight to bed. Naamah will bring dinner to you later.”

Paili clapped her hands. “Fig cakes!”

Morgan knelt by the pool and laid her palm on Mara’s head, her voice so soft it was almost drowned by the bubbling spring. “Take care not to tell Mardon about the pit. I know how important Paili is to you” her eyes turned fiery red “and how important Acacia was to you.”

Raising a lantern to light the way, Mara led Paili back to their hovel, a chest-high dugout in the stone wall. With her free hand clinging to her wrapped sheet, she ducked low and climbed down into their sanctum. Although their little sand-stuffed mats were no thicker than a finger, when Mara tucked herself into her individual cleft in the rock, she always felt cozy, far removed from stupid giants and their stinging whips, glad to forget about mining magnetite in stifling heat, at least for the night.

She lay on her mat and tucked her sheet around her body. “Are you warm, Paili?”

“No,” came the voice from the other cleft. “Hungry.”

“It shouldn’t be long. Morgan promised ”

“Time to eat,” a sweet voice called from the corridor. “I hear someone wanted fig cakes.” Naamah squeezed into the hovel and handed each girl a bread bowl filled with orange mash. A brown fig cake floated on top like a hunk of granite bobbing in a magma river.

“Enjoy the treat,” Naamah sang as she left the hovel.

Mara picked up her cake and let the mash drip from its edge. Naamah had never prepared appetizing meals, but this was better than nothing and more appetizing than a lot of the gunk they had eaten lately.

After several minutes of quiet chewing, Mara pinched the last bite of her bread bowl and threw it toward a fist-sized hole in the wall at the back side of their dugout. “Don’t forget to save a piece for Qatan!” she called.

Paili mumbled through her mouthful of food. “He not hungry.”

“Come on, Paili. Even a mouse needs to eat.”

Paili swallowed and sang out, “Story now!”

Mara drooped her shoulders. “Oh, Paili, I’m so tired tonight, I don’t think I can ” Mara suddenly lifted her head. “Do you hear that humming?”

“Naamah,” Paili said.

“Whew! Her timing is perfect again.”

Their petite mistress crawled down into the dugout with layers of clothes draped over her arm. “They’re dry,” she said, handing each of them their inner and outer garments.

Mara slipped on her inner tunic and folded her outer dress into a pillow.

“Would you girls like a song tonight?” Naamah asked.

“Song!” Paili chirped.

Mara searched Naamah’s eyes. What could be the reason for such a rare treat? “Sure. Why not?”

Naamah patted Mara’s folded dress. “Lie down, and I will sing you to sleep.”

Mara laid her head on her dress and closed her eyes, letting her mind relax. She might as well enjoy the song instead of questioning Naamah’s sincerity. With all the new happenings of the day, she needed something to help her unwind, and she wanted to be well rested for her new job in the morning.

Naamah’s smooth contralto crooned in Mara’s ears.


Alone in caves through darkest nights,

A bitter girl is mining ore,

With pick and bucket gathering rocks,

Confined to chains forevermore.


No life, no love, no mother’s arms,

Forever empty you will yearn.

The friends you love will fade to ash,

And you will see them fall and burn.


These caverns held the judging flow

Where floods awaited God’s command

To spring into the worlds above

And drown the souls who dared to stand.


So now these caves are empty tombs

For hopeless slaves who chisel stones;

Far worse than death as on their knees

These ghosts unearth their sisters’ bones.


Relinquish now all hope for grace,

For grace and mercy spew their scorn

At girls who live and die in caves

And those who dwell as underborns.

Naamah repeated the verses, each one filling Mara with sorrow. She couldn’t protest. Every word was true. There really was no hope, and her only real friend was gone forever. Grace didn’t exist. Mercy and hope were merely words in Mardon’s dictionary, flat and lifeless.

As the lyrics passed through Mara’s mind a third time, the song faded into oblivion, replaced by a fuzzy, dream-like voice. She knew she had begun dreaming, but as the dream progressed, it grew so real, she lost all consciousness of anything but the image before her.

“We’d better go,” Acacia said. “If Morgan finds us, we’re goners.”

Mara stuffed a small loaf of bread into her pocket and handed one to Acacia. “I’m not leaving without enough food. Paili won’t get her rations if she doesn’t come to the dining chamber.”

Acacia held out the loaf. “She can’t eat this much.”

“Who knows how long she’ll be sick?” Mara pushed the loaf into Acacia’s pocket. “I can’t risk coming back to get more.”

“The bell for roll call already rang.” Acacia pulled Mara’s arm. “Let’s go!”

Mara pulled back. “I have to get the bread to Paili!”

“Roll call first, then we’ll sneak out and feed her.”

The two girls ran through the tunnel, the lantern in Acacia’s hand guiding the way. After riding the platform down to the labor level, they hustled to their places in line, side by side.

Nabal glared at them and raised his whip. “Where were you?”

“Tending to Paili,” Mara said. “She’s sick.”

Nabal, towering at least four feet taller than any of the girls, glanced over at Paili’s empty place in line. He cracked the whip across Mara’s shoulder, tearing her skin.

“Owwww!” Mara dropped to her knees. As she fell, her loaf tumbled out of her pocket.

Nabal’s eyes widened. Acacia snatched up the loaf and took a bite from the end. “I was hungry,” she said, mumbling through her mouthful.

“That was your loaf?” Nabal asked. “Where did you get it?”

“The pantry,” Acacia said casually. She pulled out a loaf from her own pocket. “Want one?”

“You’re not allowed in the pantry!” Nabal roared, raising his whip again. “I will ”

“Stop!” a new voice interrupted. “What’s the problem here?”

Everyone turned. Morgan, her brow bent low, strode toward the line. Mara rose to her feet, trying to hide her pain.

Nabal lowered his whip and pointed at Acacia. “A food thief, Mistress.”

Morgan held out her hands, and Acacia dropped the loaves into them. “You stole the bread?” Morgan asked.

Acacia nodded. Morgan walked slowly past her and touched the wound on Mara’s shoulder as it bled through her outer tunic.

“Alone?” Morgan rubbed Mara’s blood between her finger and thumb.

Acacia’s eyes grew wide. She spoke quickly. “Nabal is a fool. He hit Mara when he should have hit me.” She pressed her thumb against her chest. “I stole the bread. I should be punished.”

Morgan brushed breadcrumbs from the material around Mara’s pocket. “I see.” Taking Nabal’s whip, she wound it up around her hand, her gaze locked on Mara. “Nabal, dismiss the laborers to the trenches and come with me. Bring these two girls with you.”

“Get to work!” Nabal bellowed. He then grabbed Mara and Acacia by their wrists and followed Morgan as she headed down a sloping tunnel. Nabal’s powerful grip seemed to squeeze the blood from Mara’s arm and shoot it up to her head until her brain pounded against her skull.

Morgan finally exited the tunnel through a tall, wide door. Nabal half dragged the girls through it and stood them on a spacious ledge that overlooked a deep, fiery chasm. As Mara blinked at the bright magma river below, she swallowed, hoping she didn’t look too scared.

Morgan eyed them both. She tore off Acacia’s coif and ran her fingers through the long tresses that fell to her waist. “If it wasn’t for the length of your hair” she yanked Mara’s coif away, letting her hair fall to her shoulders “and for Mara’s wound, I wouldn’t be able to tell you two apart.”

Morgan hooked her arm around Mara’s elbow and pulled her to the edge of the cliff. “Stand here,” she ordered.

Mara bent her knees, wobbling in place and hugging herself as she kept her eyes on Acacia.

In the same way, Morgan walked Acacia to the edge, then, keeping hold of her arm, she glared at Mara. “Your friend was ready to take whatever punishment you deserved. Do you think that’s a noble gesture?”

Mara couldn’t answer. She trembled harder and began crying.

“I’ll show you how noble it is. Watch and learn.” Morgan released her grip on Acacia and shoved her with both hands, sending her over the ledge.

Acacia plummeted toward the river of fire, her arms flailing and her cries piercing Mara’s ears. “Maraaaaa!”

Her body splashed in the magma, silencing her forever. Mara fell to her knees and sobbed, coughing, heaving, until she collapsed and fainted.

“Acacia!” Mara yelled, sitting up in bed. She bumped her head on the stone that covered her dugout.

“Mara?” Paili called out. “You okay?”

Mara rubbed her scalp. “I’m all right. Go back to sleep.” She slid out of bed, but as she tiptoed for the dugout opening, a scratching noise arose from the wall somewhere behind her. Spinning on the balls of her feet, she faced the direction of the sound and stared into the darkness, listening intently.

Scritch, scritch.

Mara inched closer. Could it be Qatan? She had never seen the little scavenger, but the bread she saved for him always disappeared. And now, even if she could stay quiet enough not to spook him, it was too dark to catch a glimpse of either whisker or tail.

A wisp of light passed by the inside of the hole, fast and fleeting. Lowering herself to hands and knees, Mara scooted quietly toward the base of the wall. She held her breath and imagined the layout of the caverns in her mind’s eye, but when she tried to draw the room just beyond her hovel, she couldn’t think of what might be there. She had always assumed it was an unused cave, the kind of place Qatan might want for his home.

The light came again, and this time it stayed, illuminating the hole in the wall.

Scritch, scritch.

A pair of fingers poked out, reaching, probing. Finally, an entire hand emerged, and the index finger swept Mara’s bread morsel into its grip. As the hand slowly pulled back, Mara lunged forward. “Wait!”

The hand stopped for a second, then slid back farther.

“Wait!” Mara repeated. “Who are you?”

The hand disappeared. Mara pounded her fist on the wall. “Who’s there?”

A muffled male voice replied. “My name is Elam.”

“Elam?” Mara laid her cheek on the floor and spoke directly into the hole. “My name’s Mara. Are you one of the brick-making boys?”

“I am a brick maker,” came the reply. “But I am the only one.”

“I heard there were at least two. What happened to the other boy?”

His reply seeped through like a quiet breeze. “We don’t need as many bricks as before, so she terminated him.”

“She? Do you mean Morgan?”

“Yes. She told Nabal to beat him with his whip until he died, and they made me watch.”

“How awful!”

“I still hear his screams in my nightmares.”

Mara sighed. “I know what you mean.” The image of Acacia flailing toward the molten river flickered through her mind again. She shook her head to expel the unwanted memories. “How did you learn to speak so well? Most of the girl laborers can hardly speak at all.”

“I could talk pretty well when they brought me here, but ”

“Brought you? Aren’t you an underborn?”

“No. I was taken from my parents when I was little and made a slave here, but I learned how to talk better by listening to you.”

“To me?”

“Yes. I listen to the stories you tell Paili.”

A strange tickle fluttered in Mara’s stomach, and a smile slowly spread across her face. “You do?”

“Not every night, and I never said anything, because I didn’t want you to get in trouble, but it seemed safe enough to sit and listen.” He paused for a moment. “I like to hear about dragons flying through the sky.”

“Me . . .” Mara swallowed hard. “Me too.”

Her heart pounded through another pause. Finally, Elam continued, his voice lower and faltering. “I’d . . . I’d like to see the sky again . . . someday.”

“And a dragon,” Mara added.

Elam’s voice perked up. “My father used to tell me about dragons. He even knew their names, and I made up stories about them.”

Silence descended again, so heavy that Mara’s own breathing sounded like the rushing wind in the breezeway. “Do you miss your parents?” she asked.

“Uh-huh. I miss them a lot.”

“At least you had parents,” Mara said, furrowing her brow. “I never had any, so I don’t even have memories to cherish.”

“Memories are a curse,” Elam countered. “Losing something you had is worse than never having it at all.” He let out a deep, piteous sigh. “But I guess you wouldn’t know. You’ve never had anything, have you?”

“No . . . I haven’t.” Mara’s lip quivered. She inserted her fingers into the hole. “Elam, please keep coming to listen. It’ll be good knowing you’re there.”

Elam’s fingers meshed with hers. “I’ll come, but I can’t talk until after Nabal drinks himself to sleep. That’s when I go hunting for food. He eats most of my dinner.”

The touch of his hand sent a wave of warmth through Mara’s body, radiating from head to toe and making her heart pound. She could barely squeak. “I’ll try to bring more food for you. Stay away from Nabal’s whip.”

“I will.” His fingers withdrew, and the light faded away.

Mara rolled to a sitting position and rested against the wall, trying to slow her heart. But it was all so exciting! Elam was the first laborer since Acacia who was smart enough to communicate, and he seemed so warm and friendly. She pulled her knees up to her chest, sighing. Yes, he was friendly . . . and lonely.

She glanced toward the hole, now a curtain of blackness. She imagined the dozens of times Elam must have groped for morsels of food. She had thrown a piece of cheese the first time thinking that a mouse might find that air vent into her hovel. Now that a flesh and blood person hunted there every night, she had to find a way to get as much food to him as she could. After all, working at the brick kilns was the hardest job in the lower worlds, so he was probably always hungry.

Mara rose to her feet. She felt lighter somehow and wide awake, so there was no way she could go back to sleep. She pulled on her outer dress and crawled from the hovel. On the floor across the corridor, a weak light flickered in one of the lanterns that had been lined up for the girls to grab in the morning. Since wakeup call was only about an hour away, she might as well go ahead and report to her new job early.

She lit one of the other lanterns and traced a path to the control room. After turning the lock wheel through its combination, she pushed open the door and padded toward the embryo table.

As she passed by the growth chambers, she glanced at each sad face, pitiful spawns destined to die. When her light fell on the last pod in line, its familiar lips smiled. She lunged toward it and caressed its strong, thick stalk. “My spawn!”

Another light flashed on. Mara spun around. Mardon stood over her, his lantern rocking back and forth in his hand. “What are you doing here?”

She pressed down her wrinkled clothes. “Reporting for work.”

Mardon stretched and yawned. “Is it morning already? I guess I fell asleep on the floor.”

“Why is my spawn here? Is he ”

“Don’t worry. He’s not going to be terminated. I moved him so you could take care of him while you worked here.”

“Oh.” She laid her hand against her chest. “Thank you.”

Mardon set his lantern on the worktable and rolled open the big scroll. “How many hours is Morgan allotting to this project?”

“She decided to let me come all day.”

“Really? That’s a surprise. I was hoping for just a few hours, but all day is even better.”

“She even assigned Paili to food preparation.” Mara bit her tongue. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to tell him that. She didn’t want to explain the reason for Morgan’s kindness. “Could Morgan be in a good mood for a change?”

“Not likely.” Mardon’s eyes moved toward the door, then returned to Mara. “Just watch your back. She’s probably up to something.”

“Yessir.”

“Well,” he said, waving toward the scroll, “let’s get started. You have a lot to learn.”

Mara ran her finger along a line of numbers and, with a sharpened piece of graphite, added a new one to the end. “Okay,” she whispered to herself, “Mardon spliced Samyaza with Canaan for that set, and he blended those with” she pointed to another line “with the normal human pair, giving us . . .” She bit her tongue and scratched down a long string of numbers before setting down her graphite and wiping her brow. “Whew! This is complicated!”

After rolling up the scroll, she turned to her spawn and smiled. “I think I have it figured out . . . uh . . . what should I call you, anyway? You need a name.” She rested her chin in her hand. “How about Yereq? It means green. If you like it ”

“Mara.” Mardon stomped into the room, his hand cupped in a cradle.

Mara sat up straight. “Yessir?”

“I have something to show you,” he said, extending his hand.

She tiptoed up to him and peeked over his fingers. A red, glassy egg fit perfectly in his palm. “What’s that?”

“I’m not sure. I found it when we were digging the foundation for a fountain near the tower. I think it’s a device that allows communication with Elohim.”

“With Elohim? The one who flooded the upper world?”

“Exactly.”

She scowled at the egg. “Isn’t he the one you called a tyrant in your scrolls?”

“Shhh!” Mardon covered the egg with his hand. “Like it or not, Elohim is in control, so I want to learn to communicate with him. That’s one of the reasons we’re building the tower.”

“I read about the tower. It sounds wonderful!”

Mardon looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “It is magnificent. The greatest accomplishment the world has ever seen. We hope the tower will get Elohim’s attention, because tradition says he lives in the sky.”

“What will you say to him?”

“Oh, not me,” he said, laying a hand on his chest. “My father will speak to him.”

“King Nimrod?”

“He wants to make a treaty with Elohim in order to prevent another disaster. For our part, we’ll make whatever sacrifice Elohim requires if he will only agree to speak to the rest of us through my father. The people are bound to listen and comply when their own king gives the orders.”

She pointed at the egg. “What makes you think this thing can talk to Elohim, and why are you showing it to me?”

“Listen carefully.” He uncovered the egg and held it close to his mouth. “Elohim? Are you listening? Please speak to me.”

Red fog boiled inside the crystalline egg, swirling until it formed the shape of an angry-looking eye. The scarlet pupil pulsed as it spoke in gruff verse.


This place accursed in demons’ hands,

Where giants grow from pits of hell,

Cannot contain the prophet’s eye

Until the maiden grasps its shell.


The maid endowed with nimble mind,

An oracle of fire born,

Can speak to me of toil and pain,

And I will raise the friend she mourns.


Until she comes with mind unspoiled,

Untaught in ways of God by men,

My words of knowledge silent lie;

The lips of God are sealed again.

The eye faded away, and as the fog dissipated, Mardon held the egg out for Mara to see. “That’s what it says every time. Since it refers to the lips of God, I thought it might be a way to communicate with him. Imagine the effect on the people if we constructed a temple at the top of the tower and placed this as the mouthpiece of Elohim. The city would be the capital of the world, and our control over the people would be established forever.”

Mara half closed one eye. “You still haven’t told me where I come in.”

“Well, obviously it doesn’t want to talk to me, but when I realized how smart you are, I thought you might be the maid of nimble mind.”

Mara touched the egg with her finger. A splotch of red on the inside seemed to follow her fingertip as she moved it along the surface. “What does ‘oracle of fire born’ mean?”

“I have no idea.” He rolled the egg into her hands. “Speak to it and see what happens.”

Mara brought it close to her lips, keeping her eyes on Mardon as she spoke. “Is anyone in there?”

A sense of warmth radiated into her hand. She stared at the glass, and once again, red fog swirled within the transparent shell. Halos of crimson light pulsed from the center, ring after ring of radiant energy passing over her skin, warming her whole body.

When the eye appeared, its pupil seemed awash in a softer, steady scarlet. It poured out new words that chanted in joyous rhythm, reminding Mara of a story Mardon once told of his father singing while bouncing him on his knee.


The maid of fire has come at last

To set the upper world aright.

Ascend dear girl to lands above

And cast the tower in holy light.

As the eye faded away again in the fog, the egg whispered three final words. “Make haste, child!” Mara gazed at the red glass, her skin still tingling from the warm radiance.

Mardon clapped his hands. “Did you hear that? Elohim wants to use this egg in the tower, just as I thought! He will speak from the tower and establish my father’s kingdom!”

Mara held the egg in her fingertips. “I didn’t hear it say anything about his kingdom.”

“What else could it mean? Elohim wants to establish his rule through my father and protect the people from further punishment.”

Mara extended the egg toward him. “Then why did it want me to talk to it instead of you?”

“We’ll find out soon enough.” Mardon pulled down the bottom hem of his outer shirt, smoothing the material. “Come. We’ll go immediately. The sun will be too bright for you, so you’ll have to wear some kind of hood to shield your eyes.”

She pulled her coif from her pocket and held it up. “I have my veil.”

“Oh, yes. For the magma river. That should work fine.”

She tied it on and began pushing her hair underneath. “When will we return?”

“It depends on what Elohim says to my father. Could be soon; could be later.”

“Will my spawn be okay?”

“Who cares about your spawn?” Mardon twisted his sandal on the floor as if squishing a bug. “He’s expendable. He’s nothing compared to the glory of what we are about to accomplish!”

“But I don’t want him to die!”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the control room exit. “Come now. Let’s not play the fool! Do you have a safe place for the egg?”

Mara nodded. As she carefully placed it in her dress pocket, she pressed her lips together. The thought of her spawn being suspended in his new chamber without being fed tore her apart.

Mardon grabbed a lantern and flung open the door. “We’ll have to find Morgan first and make up some kind of excuse for taking you to the top. I can’t open the lower portal without her.”

“Portal?”

“Too complicated to explain fully. There is no physical path to the surface, so we have to pass through a dimensional window. You see, there are multiple dimensions ” He sighed and pulled her faster. “Never mind. Since you’re friends with Elohim now, just pray that my father likes you. Like all good kings, with all the pressures on him, he can be . . . temperamental.”

“Like Morgan?”

He jerked her wrist hard, lifting her to her tiptoes. “No! Not like Morgan! My father is gentle and kind to his friends, but he has to be harsh with fools and insubordinates, or his enemies will think him spineless.” He raised a tightening fist. “No king will survive for long if he doesn’t crush rebellion.”

The pain from his vise-like grip burned across Mara’s skin. “You’re hurting me!”

“Oh.” He released her and brushed his palm on his shirt. “Sorry. I got carried away.”

Mara rubbed her wrist. She thought of a dozen snide comments to make about the gentility of Mardon’s father, but she didn’t want to risk missing out on visiting the upper lands. “It’s okay,” she whispered.

Mardon patted her on the back. “We’ll go and see Morgan first, then the endless sky.”