She headed straight for the railing of the terrace, her mind spinning, and she allowed herself to find a tiny ray of hope in the adulation from all of those strangers. Maybe things weren’t so bad and maybe—wait—was it possible that she’d recognized one or two of those faces in the crowd? No—that was ludicrous. What would Balbina, chief cook and head of house slaves of Lucius Valerius, and Cleopatra, future Queen of Egypt be doing in the great hall on Mount Olympus?
She turned toward the entrance back into the room, her curiosity rising, and just at that moment out of the corner of her eye she saw three figures flying at breakneck speed down the length of the terrace.
Alcie, Iole, and Homer threw themselves onto Pandy with such force that Prometheus and Hermes had to catch them all to keep them from tumbling onto the tiles in a heap.
“We thought you’d never wake up!” Iole said, hugging Pandy tight about her waist.
“Zeus let you sleep as long as you wanted,” Alcie said. “At least that’s the rumor, lucky. We didn’t get such royal treatment.”
“Did you sleep here?” Pandy asked. “How long have you been up?”
“Well, we’ve had morning meal and midday meal …,” Homer began.
“Homer’s also had midmorning meal and pre-midday meal.” Iole laughed.
“They’ve set up a feast table in the far corner of the terrace, Pandy, just for us,” Alcie said, jumping up and down a little. “You just have to think of what you want and it appears, and Aphrodite says we can eat everything and nothing will make us fat—for today only. It was only you coming out here that made Homer budge away from it.”
“The three of us slept most of the day before yesterday, the entire day yesterday, and all of last night,” Iole said. “You, just a little longer. But then, after what you did, I’m not surprised in the least.”
“How ’bout those clouds, huh?” Alcie grinned.
“Guys, wait! Wait,” Pandy said, holding her hands up for silence. “The end in Hades is a little fuzzy for me, but I’m guessing we did it … right?”
“Are you kidding me?” Alcie said, her jaw dropping. “You’re kidding right?”
“Pandy …,” Iole said, her face becoming very serious. “Yes, we were all there and yes, we helped, but in final analysis, you—you—were magnificent.”
“Duh!” cried Alcie, who instantly furrowed her brow and regained her composure, trying to be a little more mature. Then she shrugged her shoulders and just giggled at herself.
Pandy looked at Homer, who caught her in hug and whirled her around in the air.
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, setting her down on the ground. “Not terribly adult of me.”
“Homer,” Pandy said, the wonderful realization that she was probably not going back to the fire pits of Hades anytime soon settling over her like a silk scarf, “you can do that all you like.”
“Until he and Alcie get married, at any rate,” Iole said.
A horn sounded from somewhere deep in the great hall.
“I think that means it’s showtime!” Alcie chirped.
“Why are we out here?” Pandy asked.
“They sent all of us out here as soon as we awoke,” Homer replied. “Apparently, it’s quite a to-do in there.”
A sharp movement—Hermes raising his hand to his ear—caught Pandy’s attention, and she looked to see him listening intently, nodding slightly as if something was being said to him by a tiny or invisible person. Then Pandy spotted a shell, nearly identical to the one she’d been carrying for the last six months only much smaller, embedded in Hermes’ ear. She saw a second shell fastened to a gold cuff around Hermes’ wrist. Hermes nodded, then brought the cuff up to his mouth and spoke into the shell.
“Acknowledged, Sky-command. We are on the move,” he said. “Repeat, ‘Travelers’ are on the move. Hermes out.”
Hermes and Prometheus, who had separated themselves from Pandy and her friends to give them just a little privacy for their reunion, now approached as if they were on some type of secretive mission.
“This way, Pandora—Alcie, Iole,” Hermes was saying, pretending to be stern and somber now as he corralled them all toward an open door farther down the terrace. “Homer, this way, please.”
Prometheus chuckled at his friend.
“Goof.”
“Hey,” Hermes said, a mock serious look on his perfect face. “I’m on Sky-Lord business. Big doings. This way, please. Pandy? Cohorts? This way.”
As Hermes led them down the terrace to another entryway, he called out to the few lesser immortals and demigods manning the feast table or drinking nectar and enjoying the view.
“Everyone, we’re beginning. Inside, please. Come on, let’s go—don’t make me smite you.”
Those around them nodded and bowed low as Pandy and her friends passed by. Drawing aside heavy purple curtains, Hermes ushered them all into the great hall. Immediately, the applause began, accompanied by much bowing. Again, Hermes went before them, magically but gently parting the crowd. Now more than a little confident that she’d not doomed the world and had actually been successful in her quest (oh—who was she kidding?—their quest: this had been a four-person operation pretty much the entire time), she gratefully accepted the adulation and smiles—at least, she assumed people were smiling. She tried to focus on some of the faces around her, but it was impossible: everyone was bowing so deeply at the group’s passing that she couldn’t identify anyone. But with everyone nearly down on the ground, Pandy could see just how far back the crowd stretched; the entire hall was jammed wall to wall, and Hermes was heading toward a huge dais—the teardrop table was nowhere to be seen—on which were seated, on large jeweled chairs, most of the great Olympians. Athena caught Pandy’s eye and gave her a wink. Aphrodite smiled so big and bright, all four friends felt a white-hot glow in their stomachs and nearly dropped with joy. Ares, his helmet still on and his yellow eyes glinting, drew a big smile with his fingers right where his mouth would be just to let them know that, underneath, he actually was … smiling. Even Hades was there—not smiling, exactly—but a look of admiration and amusement on his face. Persephone stood next to his chair, nearly beside herself with glee.
Zeus sat in the center of the greatest immortals on his enormous throne with Dido at his feet. On seeing his mistress, Dido bolted up but Zeus held him back from running pell-mell into the mob. Pandy’s heart soared seeing her beloved dog and she turned back to Alcie to grasp her hand.
Wait …
Did she spy a purple toga close to the back of the hall? Like the one Julius Caesar wore? And off to the left, was that the pointed blue headdress and light green skin of Osiris, God of the Egyptian Underworld? Then, close to the dais, an old woman raised her head for a moment.
“What did I tell you about peeking?” Zeus said. “Head down!”
“Listen, Mr. Sassy-Toga,” screeched the woman. “I’ve had just about enough ordering from you …”
Zeus blinked once and the woman’s head went down again.
“Sabina!” Pandy gasped, recognizing at once the voice of her house slave.
“Hi, honey,” said Sabina, her voice muffled by her robes. “Good job!”
Then, of course, it was too late. Heads popped up all over the room and Pandy, Alcie, Iole, and Homer were jolted to a full stop.
“Mahfouza?” Pandy cried, seeing the beautiful dancer in the crowd and remembering the last time she’d seen Mahfouza’s family in Baghdad.
Mahfouza waved, as did all of her brothers and sisters standing beside her.
“Hi, Homer!” cooed a voice right next to him.
Homer turned to see Rufina winking scandalously and nearly jumped back a full meter.
“I look a little better than the last time you saw me in Rome, don’t I?”
“I’m gonna deck that cow if it’s last thing I …,” Alcie muttered, balling up her fists.
“Stop it,” Iole scolded, turning Alcie back toward the dais. “She’s nothing. She’s a …
oh, what would you say? She’s a plebe. You’re his intended. Keep walking.”
“Iole, look!” Alcie nearly shrieked as she moved forward. “It’s the pirates! The ones who captured us and took us up Jbel Toubkal!”
“Hi there!” the pirates called.
“Yes, hello. Hello,” Iole answered, thrilled to see that they were all in chains.
“Pandy! Pandy!” yelled Ismalil and Amri, jumping up and down at the back of the room, next to their mother and a man who was obviously their father.
“Oh, boys.” Pandy gulped, so glad to see them and—even in the few weeks since they’d parted—how much they’d grown.
Everyone was there.
Wang Chun Lo’s entire troupe of entertainers; the Persian barbers; the captain of the Peacock; the slaves of Cleopatra; the old man who sat at the golden door of the Garden of the Jinn; Achilles; all the Roman immortals except for Juno and Ceres; King Peleus and Thetis; the generous silver merchant from Baghdad; Echidna; Lucius Valerius and Varinia; Chiron; Charon; Prince Camaralzaman and his evil grand vizier, momentarily restored, gagged, and looking much the worse for wear; and all the Vestal Virgins with Melania spreading her arms wide in respect; the Danaids; Pelops with his ivory shoulder; and so many more. There was even an enormous tank of water against the far wall in which swam the dolphins who had taken them up the Nile, balancing on their noses and waving their tails.
In addition to the entire pantheon of demigods and goddesses, nymphs, naiads, dryads, creatures and immortals of every stripe, every individual they had ever met on the course of their travels and adventures was there in the great hall of Olympus. Except, Pandy thought, there was something—someone—missing, she was sure of it; but she was too taken aback to be able to think clearly.
“And so much for the surprise.” Zeus sighed. “Very well, you may all rise.”
Only a few more steps and Pandy and her friends were all on the dais. Zeus beckoned them forward and Pandy walked in as stately a manner as she could, her heart beating so fast at the now thunderous applause. Hermes lined them up; Homer next to Iole next to Alcie next to Pandy. At this point, Dido was straining so that his veins were bulging on his hind legs.
“Go,” Zeus said.
Dido shot like an arrow and actually knocked Pandy down as another huge cheer went up from the crowd. Pandy let Dido lick her face for few seconds, burying her face in his fur. He was right there, as he’d been from the very start—except for the days that Hera had stolen him away. She flung her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. He was the most real, true, and tangible thing about this moment. In a strange way, his hot doggy breath on her face was the only proof she needed that she was home—almost home—at last.
Hera!
Pandy moved Dido aside and got to her feet. Where was Hera? And Demeter? Her eyes frantically searched the hall and found nothing—except a huge, rather bulbous mass shoved into one corner and nearly knocking out the ceiling which, when she recognized her uncle Atlas, caused her jaw to drop. He was actually sitting cross-legged on the floor and he still had to scrunch over to keep from banging his head. He gave her a little wave and patted the side of his nose. She waved back as she turned to Zeus.
“Not to worry,” said the Sky-Lord, reading her mind—as, she’d come to realize, all immortals were able to do. “I’m seeing to it that the heavens stay in place while he’s here. I couldn’t have him miss the festivities.”
Zeus looked out over the crowd and raised his hand.
“All right, that will do. Quiet down. Everyone. Everyone … inside voices. Thank you. While I think the achievements of the past six moons speak for themselves, Gray-Eyes—you’ll pardon me—my daughter Athena has prevailed upon me to say a few words about our returning wanderers and their adventures. But as I have tried to tell her upon many occasions and as most of you well know, I have absolutely no idea of anything that’s happened since I sent Pandora out of this hall so long ago; and I’m sure neither do any of the Olympians seated here.”
There was an uncomfortable silence that settled in the room. Ares sank deeper into his chair as Zeus paused.
“After all,” he continued after taking a moment to gaze sternly around the room, “it was my express wish that Pandora receive no help of any kind, my order that she be left entirely to her own devices, that she sink or swim of her own accord. And we all know that each of the Olympians always obeys my every word.”
He scowled for a moment, then broke into a wide grin and the entire room began to laugh; of course Zeus had known about everything.
“So, what to say regarding Athens’s prodigal daughters and adopted son? Oh, that’s quite nice—prodigal—I must remember that.”
Zeus rose off his throne and began to walk between Athena, Ares, Aphrodite, Artemis, Apollo, and a sleeping Dionysus seated on their chairs, and the line of four friends; the confused and worried looks on Pandy’s and Alcie’s faces causing a ripple of laughter through the crowd. Zeus stopped directly behind Homer and although Homer towered over most people, Zeus now towered over him. Zeus paused again—not only for effect, but to allow Homer’s father, Iole’s parents, Alcie’s parents, and Prometheus to emerge at once through the crowd and into the front row.
“Homer of Crisa,” he said at last, his voice booming through the hall.
Homer stood straight, at full attention.
“Relax, youth. Just relax,” said Zeus, as everyone began to laugh. “Homer of Crisa. You took on a task that was not yours. You shared no blame in the origination; you carried neither responsibility nor allegiance to this cause. Yet you have served this quest with more honor and dignity than We would be able to find in ten of the finest men in the known world.”
Zeus glanced at Alcie, who was beaming at Homer.
“And you did this because, not only was your heart true, it was no longer truly your own. You had lost it and, to keep feeling its beat, you needed to stay close to the one who now possesses it; to keep her safe. Yet, We also know how your affection for Pandora and Iole has grown as well on this great journey, just as We know every incident of your courage and bravery. It was not merely love that made you stay but a broader perspective of a world potentially in peril and the sacrifices that must be made to put things to rights. A perspective shared, I believe, with an ancestor of yours … a poet, I think he was.”
There was a twitter through the crowd; many nodded their heads and smiled. On cue, three young, identically dressed maidens stepped up onto the dais; one held something behind her back.
“We know your heart’s desire—with whomever your heart happens to be—and We say yes. Calliope, Erato, and Euterpe, muses of all known poetic forms, at my request, have fashioned for you this small token of Our appreciation, infusing it with all of their inspiration and powers of creativity. Wear it well. Write well. Live and love well.”
The maiden with the object stepped in front of Homer and floated off the floor to lay a golden laurel wreath on his head. Then she kissed Homer on the forehead and floated back to the ground.
“Thank you, Calliope,” Zeus said as he moved to stand behind Iole.
“Iole. I have never said this before to or about anyone, but you might be smarter than me.”
The crowd roared with laughter.
“Yes … well, it’s not that funny,” Zeus said scowling, at which the crowd nearly convulsed. “Uh-huh … yes. Who wants to be a goat?”
Instant silence.
“Right. So we have established that your brain, which started out the size of Athens and is now probably the size of Greece, is a mighty force. But, maiden, you have proven yourself to be much more than a collection of large words and a keen grasp of facts and figures. You are loyalty personified. You, too, did not have to accompany Pandora on this adventure and no one would have thought any worse. It was your intuition that urged you to go, and We know what you have gained from this adventure. Something that no philosopher has ever put into words and something that has, unfortunately, elude
d the immortal mind for eons: a true comprehension of the human heart, most especially, your own. And so I present you with this …”
Two incredibly old men were shuffling onto the dais, one holding a golden wreath and the other assisting a third who looked twice as old. Iole gasped audibly; Pandy and Alcie looked questioningly at each other and just shrugged.
“You have one cycle of the moon to learn as much from these men as you can. At that point, Aristotle, Plato, and Socrates will be returned to the underworld and you will be given a one-year internship in the Athens senate and then either the position of curator of historical and philosophical documents at the Athens library or a professorship at the university of your choice … what?”
Zeus had noticed that Iole was looking at him, almost pleadingly.
“You’d prefer something else?”
Iole felt a twinge of fear at actually addressing the greatest being in the universe with anything less that full-blown gratitude, but then, certainty in her mind and newfound confidence coursing through her veins, she squared her shoulders.
“I have no words to express my true appreciation, Sky-Lord. But I would like to teach. Here. In Athens, at the Athena Maiden Middle School.”
“Yes!” hissed Athena in glee from her chair, pumping the air with her fist.
“I believe that my abilities will be best served helping girls such as myself to recognize and utilize their own potential—and greatness.”
A ripple ran through the crowd; not only had what Zeus proposed been nearly unheard of, a young woman teaching other young women was a fantasy. Then the crowd broke into applause. Zeus almost—almost—smiled.
“As I said,” he murmured to himself. “Smarter than me.”
He placed his hand on Iole’s shoulder.
“Done.”
Then one of the old men took the wreath and placed it on Iole’s head.
“Thank you, Plato. Wear easy this golden wreath upon your brow, Iole. It has been infused with knowledge, understanding, and enlightenment. We know you will use these tools well.”
Pandora Gets Frightened Page 19
