Bryan Davis - Eye of the Oracle

“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.