Eye of the Oracle - By Bryan Davis Page 0,69

the table and picked up a red, oblong fruit. “Morgan bring.”

Sapphira took the fruit and held it in her hands. Instantly, the Ovulum in her pocket stung her leg like a hot poker. She dropped the fruit onto the table and stepped back. “Morgan wants you to put that in the stew?”

Paili nodded.

“How did you know to come to me?”

“I dream.” She pointed at the fruit and stuck out her tongue, grimacing. “That bad.”

Sapphira wrapped the girl in her arms. “Oh, Paili! You did the right thing! You were so brave to come into the control room and find me.”

“I knock.” She pushed her finger into Sapphira’s stomach. “You not come.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you.” Sapphira picked up a knife from the table and tapped it against the stone. “If you don’t put it in the stew, she’ll probably figure it out, and then you’ll be in big trouble.” She chopped down on the fruit and split it in two. Inside, a half dozen tiny red seeds spilled out from the core of the cream-colored flesh.

Sapphira snapped her fingers. “Is there another pot in here?”

Paili pointed under the table. “Two more.”

Sapphira pulled out one of them and hustled it to the bigger stewpot. Transferring ladle full after ladle full, she filled the new pot about halfway with stew. “Okay,” she said, grunting as she lifted the new pot to the table. “Go ahead and put the fruit in the big pot, and I’ll hide this one in our hovel. We’ll pass the word that Morgan’s up to something and warn them not to eat the stew tonight. If anyone listens to us, she can come to our hovel and get something to eat after baths.”

Paili nodded and picked up the two halves of fruit. “I eat . . . our stew . . . later.”

Sapphira patted her on the head. “Good girl.” She let out a long sigh. “But will anyone else believe us?”

In the darkness of the hovel, Sapphira slurped stew from a ladle. “Ahhh!” she said, handing the dipper to Paili.

“Good?” Paili asked.

“Excellent!” Sapphira wiped her mouth on her sleeve, then jerked her arm down. “Oops. I shouldn’t have done that. Now there’s stew on my tunic.”

“No one come to eat,” Paili said.

Sapphira nodded slowly. “I know. Not even Taalah. I guess they all ate that fruit.”

Paili pointed at a light in the mouse hole. “Qatan have lantern?”

Sapphira pressed a finger to her lips and slid down to the floor. “Elam?” she whispered, “Are you there?”

“Yes,” came the quiet voice.

She put her lips near the hole, hoping a whisper could make it through. “Have you had dinner yet?”

“No. I don’t eat until Nabal’s finished. I get whatever he leaves behind. I don’t know if I’ll get anything tonight, though. I haven’t seen him in quite a while.”

Sapphira drummed her fingers on the floor. “Listen. Even if they do feed you, don’t eat the stew. Morgan made Paili put something bad in it, some kind of poisoned fruit.”

“Maybe it was fruit from the tree in her room.”

“No. It was from the tower museum. It’s growing in the middle of ” Sapphira paused, furrowing her brow. “Did you say, ‘Morgan’s room’?”

“Yes. I saw a little tree growing there with blossoms and fruit. She’s using our magneto bricks to give it light.”

“She let you into her room!? That’s the most forbidden area of all!”

“She summoned me, so I had to go.”

“What did her fruit look like? The bad stuff is red and kind of oblong.”

“I’m pretty sure it was white. As soon as I heard what she wanted, I told her I wouldn’t do it and walked out, so I didn’t get a real good look at it.”

“What did she want?”

“For me to do some of her dirty work, but it’s not worth talking about. Besides, I’m in big enough trouble already. Nabal killed the other brick maker, a boy named Raphah, the day after he was called to Morgan’s room. Raphah never told me why he was called, but I think he refused Morgan, too.”

“If Nabal’s gone, he can’t whip you to death.”

“True, but there’s always the chasm.”

Sapphira nodded. “How could I forget?”

“I’m going to sneak back to her room and see if I can get some of that fruit.”

“No!” she hissed. “If she catches you, she’ll kill you for sure!”

“No, she won’t. Before I refused her, she offered me some fruit to . . . well, bribe me, I guess. I’ll just say I’m coming back to collect

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