Earlier in the day, Tomaaz had dragged his shovel to prove he was numlocked. Now, he doubted he could lift it. He hadn’t eaten properly; he hadn’t slept; and he’d been digging all day.
Ahead, a tharuk was throwing mice onto a heap of dead animals—squirrels, birds, but mainly rats. No wonder the place stank.
“Get the beast food.” 568’s shove nearly sent Tomaaz sprawling.
568 speared a dead rat on its claw and crunched it down, tail flicking against its tusks.
Tomaaz pushed his spade into the heap, piling it with dead rats and a squirrel carcass.
“No. Squirrels and birds is for tharuks.” 568 shook the spade, making everything but one rat fall off. “Not too much. Zens wants a hungry beast.”
The tharuk tending the heap gave a throaty snarl, grimacing at Tomaaz. “An angry beast to feed.” It sprinkled gray powder over the rat on Tomaaz’s shovel. Shrugging at Tomaaz’s lack of response, it spat. “Humans. All dumb.”
With the rat balanced on the end of his shovel, Tomaaz followed 568 out of the narrow gully, past the heaps of rotting tharuks and dead slaves, hopelessness building inside him. Not only had he managed to get noticed by the tharuks, they’d singled him out for feeding some beast. He’d never had a chance to look for Ma—fat lot of help he was. The only chance he had of surviving this hellhole was to submit to the tharuks and hope he didn’t run out of dragon’s scale or clear-mind before he got out of here. He traipsed along, balancing the dead rat on his spade, arms burning.
The tharuks slowed. “It’s your turn,” said Droopy Eye. “Train the slave, 489.”
Bent Tusk stopped, shaking its head, its face dark against the setting sun. “568’s turn.”
568 snarled. “Coward. I’m not going. I train him here.” It shifted from foot to foot, then grabbed Tomaaz’s shoulder. “Go to the end.” It pointed up the narrow side valley. “Caves up there. Beast in large cave.” 568 flashed sharp teeth. “Drop rat outside cave. Watch beast eat. If you throw wrong, you go get rat.”
“Don’t do that.” Droopy Eye gestured at the scar pulling its eye down. “I did. Look what happened.”
The other tharuks guffawed.
Tomaaz swallowed, trudging away. He turned a bend. Out of sight of the tharuks, he scurried further along the canyon. The sun was dipping below the hills as he reached the end of the gully, swathes of shadows creeping across his path and shrouding the cave entrances. The largest cavern was a dark maw in the shadowy hillside.
The rattle of a chain and a growl made Tomaaz’s neck hair stand on end. He was no longer alone. Snatching the rat by the tail, he flung it through the air toward the gaping hollow.
The snap of jaws and crunching told him all he needed to know. The beast had caught its meager meal.
There were caves on either side of the beast’s. Hopefully, the creature’s chain wasn’t long enough to reach them. Tomaaz ducked into the cave on the right, the one furthest from the beast, and pulled the calling stone out of his pocket. He sunk to the cavern floor, leaning on the rough wall. Rubbing the crystal vigorously, he kept Pa’s face in his mind, staring at the flat surface. It was too dark to see anything. He could hardly see his own hands, but he had to know if Pa was still alive. Rubbing again, he willed his father to answer.
The crystal grew warm in his hands, then glowed. A vibrant sunset rippled across its surface, casting light around it. Pa’s face came into view. “Pa,” Tomaaz whispered. He was alive, thank the Egg. His breath whooshed out of him in relief.
His father’s words drifted through his mind. “Tomaaz, did you make it down to the valley? Have you found Marlies?”
“Yes, I’m here. No sign of Ma yet.”
“Handel says she’s captive. Been beaten. You have to …” Pa winced as a spasm wracked his face.
“Pa, are you all right?”
“I’ll be fine. Find your ma.”
“I’ll sneak out tonight and search for her.” His voice caught. “Pa, the poison—they said it was a strong dose. That you’ll die in two days. You have to get help.”
Pa managed a grimace as another spasm wracked him.
Tomaaz peered at the image of Pa glowing in the dim cavern. Sweat beaded Pa’s face and his skin was ashen.
A low rumble skittered through the wall behind Tomaaz’s spine, making his skin crawl. He turned.
A hand span from where he’d been leaning was a hole in the wall the size of his head. Bathed in the glow from the calling stone was a large gray eye with a slitted pupil, watching him.
The glow on the stone was fading. Tomaaz raced for the entrance. The beast growled. Its chain clanked. Tomaaz ran back toward the waiting tharuks, its roars echoing behind him. Just before the bend in the valley, he heard the tharuks snarling at each other about who was going to fetch him. He slowed to catch his breath, then slumped and shuffled around the corner. No! He’d forgotten his shovel. Hopefully his captors wouldn’t notice in the dark.
568 yanked his arm, dragging him down the valley. “Stupid slave. You dropped the spade.”
§
The sprawling buildings Tomaaz had seen when they entered the valley turned out to be the slaves’ sleeping quarters. 568 took Tomaaz’s crew to the closest one. They were each given more numlocked water as they filed inside. Crammed with dirty pallets and sweaty unwashed bodies, the place reeked. Tomaaz shuffled forward. Imitating the slaves who collapsed, dragging tattered blankets over their bodies, he sank to his knees on a filthy pallet, hoping it wasn’t infested with lice or vermin. He pulled the thin blanket over him.
