Sapphira slinked to Acacia’s side and kept pace with her. “Just that they don’t remind me of any babies I’d like to snuggle.” She joined her light with her sister’s, trying to see the face on each bowed head. “Yereq must be around here somewhere.”
“Do you think you’ll recognize him? They all look pretty much alike.”
“They do.” Sapphira firmed her chin. “But I’ll recognize him.”
Creeping past each chamber and peering at each hideous expression took several minutes, but Sapphira finally stopped and studied one face more carefully, a much more pleasant face. The giant’s brow arched over his closed eyes, and his firm, square jaws supported a smooth, rounded chin. His thin lips carried the delicate smile of a contented sleeper.
Sapphira pointed at the giant with her cross. “This is Yereq. I’m sure of it.”
Acacia propped a hand on her hip and gazed at the sleeping giant. “Okay. Now that we’ve found him, what do we do?”
“Figure out what’s going on.” Sapphira pivoted and reached her light toward the center of the chamber. “If I know Mardon, he has a worktable around here and probably a scroll for recording what he’s been up to.”
Sapphira ventured ahead, slower now as she passed over a rougher part of the floor. A shadow loomed in front of her, and as the cross’s glow shifted toward it, the dark form sloughed its shroud, revealing a high, square table. Sapphira laid her hand on the smooth surface. There were no glass jars with struggling embryos, only a large scroll perched at one corner.
She swung her head around. “I found it!”
“I’ll be right there.”
Sapphira rolled open one side of the scroll and held it in place. Since most of the revealed portion was blank, the data entry that led up to the empty space likely represented Mardon’s last work. She squinted at the smudged cacography. It had been many years since she had read Mardon’s data, and now his handwriting was worse than ever.
Acacia joined her and held the scroll open. “You found the record?”
“Uh-huh, but it’s a mess.” She pointed at the top of one entry. “I think he’s complaining about hitting bedrock while digging for the surface.” Sliding her finger down the parchment, she read on. “The giants don’t have enough food, and they’re getting tired and cranky, so instead of continuing the dig, he makes them carve out growth chambers for themselves.”
Acacia pulled the scroll open a few more inches. “Hunger is a good incentive, I suppose.”
Sapphira pointed again. “He says that right here. In fact, they don’t have room to make chambers for all of them, so he poisons the least productive ones and leaves them outside of the mobility room to rot.”
Acacia nodded. “That explains the bones in front of the door.”
“But after they finish digging the chambers” Sapphira moved her finger to the top of the next section “he invents a new kind of magneto brick, something about a timer built inside it, a counter of some kind. It’s supposed to wake them up when it counts down to zero, but there’s a way to wake them up earlier in case he figures out how to get them out of here.”
“Well, not that I want to wake them up, but does he tell how?”
Sapphira tapped her finger on the paper. “There are seven lines of numbers. It must be some kind of code, but I have no idea how to break it.”
“Any clue where Mardon is now?”
“This is the messiest part of all, but I think he found an air shaft through the bedrock that’s too small for the giants.” Sapphira slid her finger to the bottom of the entry and shrugged her shoulders. “And that’s the end.”
“But he’s not really alive. How can he get out?”
Sapphira raised her cross as high as she could, but the glow still wouldn’t reach the ceiling. “The land above us is still in the dimension of the dead, so if he made it out, he should be fine, but he’d probably need help to open a way big enough for the giants to escape.”
The girls locked gazes and nodded at each other. “Morgan,” they said together.
Sapphira rolled up the scroll and tucked it under her arm. “Let’s take this back to the museum.”
“What about the counters he mentioned?” Acacia stooped and looked under the table. “Should we be able to see them?” she asked, rising again.
Sapphira nodded toward the scroll. “Mardon said they were built into the bricks.”
“Then how could he tell how far they’ve counted down? Wouldn’t he want to keep track of that?”
“Good point.” Sapphira strode toward the wall, much more confident than before. Mardon was likely nowhere around, at least for now. “If he has external counters, they’re probably near the bricks.”
Arriving at Yereq’s chamber, she squatted and set her torch near the magneto’s control lever. “There is something here. It looks like a candy bar with numbers on it.”
Acacia’s light flickered on the meter. “It says, ‘9856.’ What do you think it means?”
“Like Mardon wrote. When it counts down to zero, they’ll wake up.”
“I guessed that, but is it 9856 years, months, days?”
Sapphira shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe if we come and check every once in a while, we’ll figure it out.”
Acacia rubbed her arm with her free hand. “Okay, but let’s get out of here. It’s cold and creepy, and Paili’s bound to wake up soon. She’ll need more herbal tea and a cold compress.”
“Okay. Awven’s going to need it, too.” Sapphira swung her torch to the side. “The main door should be over there. I don’t think we’ll need a combination to get out.”
Acacia pointed toward the center of the room. “What about the rope?”
“I’ll go up the back way and reel it in. We might as well make it look like we weren’t here. You never know when Mardon might return.”
Acacia tapped the scroll under Sapphira’s arm. “Then you’d better leave that here.”
“But how am I going to study the code?”
“Come back with your own scroll and copy it.”
“Of course!” Sapphira rapped her forehead with the heel of her hand. “How dumb of me!”
Acacia grinned. “I didn’t say that!”
Sapphira lifted her torch close to Acacia, catching the mirthful glimmer in her sister’s flashing blue eyes. As the flames warmed her skin, Sapphira winked. “I know. I said it. Sometimes I can’t see the answer to my question even if it’s staring me right in the face.”
Circa AD 1929
With the dusk of evening just beginning to fade to darkness, Sapphira stopped at the doorstep and crouched in front of Paili. Combing through silky strands of dark hair with her fingers, Sapphira whispered, “We want to make a good first impression.” After several more sweeps, Sapphira lowered her hands and smiled. Though tossed and tangled from walking two miles in a stiff breeze, the bedraggled mop of tresses wasn’t as bad as usual.
After retying a scarf over Paili’s head, Sapphira lifted the little girl’s chin. “Are you ready?”
Paili just nodded, a tear forming in her eye.
Sapphira pointed at the growing tear. “Don’t cry. We want them to like you. Don’t you want a comfortable bed and good food, maybe even fig cakes?”
“I don’t want fig cakes.” Paili threw her arms around Sapphira. “I want you!”
Sapphira patted her lightly on the back. “We’ve been over this. I’ll visit you whenever I can. I promise.”
Paili looked up at Sapphira, her eyes glistening. “Tomorrow?”
“I’ll check on your progress in a couple of days. Everything will be fine.”
Paili squeezed more tightly. “But what if they don’t like me?”
“How can anyone not like you? You’re loving, you work hard, your speech is normal now, and you’ll probably age right along with the other girls here in Glastonbury.” Sapphira pushed her gently away. “Trust me. The local gypsies told me these people take in hungry strangers all the time, so I’m sure you’ll be all right. But you must never, never tell anyone about where you’re from, even if you think they might already know. Got that?”
Paili nodded meekly and turned toward the modest home, a noticeable tremble in her hands. Sapphira pulled the wooden cross from her belt and knocked on the door. After a few seconds, the door swung open revealing a stout, red-haired woman holding a lantern. With soft, round cheeks and chin and bright shining eyes, she seemed just as friendly as she had been during the evenings Sapphira had spied on her.