Eye of the Oracle (10 page)

“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?”