by Bryan Davis
“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.
&n
bsp; “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?”