Eye of the Oracle - By Bryan Davis Page 0,46

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

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