CHAPTER EIGHT
A Visit
There was a violent jolt, a blinding flash, and the walls of her room began to glow white hot. Dido, who had been lying at her feet, yelped and hid under her pallet. Another jolt shook the house. She staggered out into the hallway. Prometheus, Xander in his arms, was just emerging from his room. Everything was glowing like the inside of a furnace. As quickly as it began, the shaking stopped and the glowing walls returned to normal. But there was a brilliant light shining up the stairwell from the main room below.
Sabina was just reaching the top of the stairs, panting hard.
"You've . . . you've got company!"
Prometheus headed down the stairs, with Pandy and Sabina close behind.
Descending into the bright light, Prometheus had to shield his eyes. He stopped suddenly at the bottom of the stairs, unable to see. Pandy and Sabina crashed into him from behind like a chariot wreck.
"Prometheus!"
They all heard a voice coming through the light, high pitched yet booming.
"Prometheus, you are summoned!"
Prometheus stood still a moment.
"Hermes?" he finally said.
"It is I."
"Well, cut the light already!" Prometheus said, handing Xander to Sabina.
At once the light disappeared, and standing in the middle of the room was the most beautiful being Pandy had ever seen. He was dressed in a short, shimmering silver toga and there were golden wings on his sandals. And he was so tall that the fluttering wings on his golden helmet brushed against the bottom of the ceiling. He held an odd twisted gold wand in his huge hand.
Hermes, Messenger of the Gods, the swiftest, shrewdest, and most cunning of all the Olympians, faced the family of Prometheus, arms folded and a tremendous scowl on his face.
Neither the god nor Prometheus spoke for a moment, then Hermes broke into a huge grin and the two grabbed each other in a great hug.
"Good to see you, Prometheus!" he said.
"And you, my friend."
"Hey, sorry about the light," Hermes said. "Standard procedure. Zeus wants everyone to be terribly afraid when I appear, whether it's good news or bad; but that kind of thinking is so Bronze Age, right? If I bring good news, I only have to shine a little. But if it's a message of punishment and doom, I have to really turn on the brights. Blinding flashes, heart-stopping fear, that sort of thing."
"Well, I guess I'm in big trouble then, huh?" said Prometheus.
"Not you so much as the girl. It's really your daughter he wants to see. Is this her?" asked Hermes, pointing to Pandy.
"Yes. Pandora," he said, pulling Pandy toward the god. "This is Hermes, Zeus's messenger, Master Thief, holder of the Caduceus . . ."
The thing in his hand, thought Pandy.
". . . professional lyre maker and protector of traders and merchants."
"Oh, please! Stop already, you're making me blush!"
Hermes gave Prometheus a giant pat on the back that almost sent him flying across the room. He wasn't acting the way Pandora had expected. He wasn't blustery or pompous. He was kinda fun, in a wacky sort of way.
"Hi, Pandora," he said, smiling. He leaned casually against the wall, which immediately started to separate from the rest of the house.
"Um . . . hi."
"Listen," Hermes went on, "forget all that stuff you just heard. I'm basically an errand boy. You know your dad and I go way, way back. Hey, let's have a look at you. Wow, Pandora! Are you gonna look like your mom when you get older. Am I right, Prometheus? Well, that is if Zeus lets you live. Oh, forget I said that! Okay . . . it's time we got going!"
"Who's 'we,' my friend?" said Prometheus, panic creeping into his voice. "She's not going. The box was mine to protect—my responsibility! Leave her here, Hermes."
"No can do, Pro. I've got my orders." He snapped his fingers and a small sheepskin scroll appeared in midair, unrolled itself flat, and declaimed in a squeaky voice: 'The House of Prometheus of Athens is hereby summoned to appear for judgment before the Sky-Lord and Cloud-Gatherer, Zeus. And, yes, Prometheus . . . that means everybody."
At the bottom of the scroll was the great red wax seal of Zeus.
"Hermes, I'm begging you . . . ," Prometheus started.
"Look"—Hermes dropped his voice to a whisper— "you think I'm enjoying this? One second of it? I'm not, okay? This is serious, my friend. I'm trying my best to be jolly because I don't want to scare the girl any more than necessary Now, you can make this easy or hard, your choice."
Too confused to panic, Pandy felt as if she were somewhere high above her body looking down on an exciting scene. But she couldn't comprehend that she was actually a part of it.
Prometheus hung his face in his hands.
"We'll go. We'll all go."
"Of course you will! Like you really had a choice, am I right?" Hermes said, the joviality back in his voice. "Now, what size sandal do you take, Pandora?"
"Huh?"
Nice. Oh, she was really making a good impression, she thought.
"What size are your sandals?" Hermes asked again, repeating the words more slowly this time.
"Oh . . . size six."
"Very good." Hermes snapped his fingers again and, in a flash of gold sparks, a large wooden shoe rack appeared in the middle of the room. On it were dozens of pairs of men's and women's sandals. Each pair was different; some encrusted with jewels, some lined with exotic furs, a few even had heels.
"There we go," said Hermes, handing her a pair of bright pink leather sandals with tiny diamonds on the laces and two silver wings on each side. "These should fit. And the color goes great with your hair. But don't go getting any ideas, cutie-pie . . . these aren't for buyin', they're for flyin'. I need these back if... I mean when we return from Olympus."
"Olympus?" said Pandy.
"Yep," said Hermes. "We're all gonna take a little trip."
He handed Prometheus a pair of sandals lined in fox fur with bronze wings. Sabina tied tiny rabbit-trimmed and gold-winged sandals on Xander. Hermes handed her a pair with lead wings that looked like they were made from a large snake.
"Could I see something in a mink maybe, with . . . ?" Sabina said.
"Take what you get! Just think of it as fate . . . ," Hermes said.
"Yes, yes, of course . . . thanks," she said, wrinkling her nose behind his back. "Oh, very clever . . . fate! Very funny," she mumbled.
"Are we all strapped in? Ready? Wait. . . Prometheus, where's your wife?" said Hermes.
"Oh Gods, she's still upstairs in her urn!"
"Never mind. I'll pick her up on the way," said Hermes.
He waved his Caduceus and Pandy felt a small vibration in her feet. She looked down to see the small silver wings flapping furiously. The next instant she felt herself propelled upward through the ceiling, which parted for her like it was made of foam. Tiny bits of clay brushed against her skin and, as she was drawn up through the floor of her sleeping room, she could feel the slight scratch of the floor tapestries. She saw Dido's white face for only a moment as she whizzed on up toward the roof of the house. She felt the coolness of the tiles as they dematerialized to let her pass. A second later she was out into the crisp night air. It was still light enough to see the devastation that had befallen Athens in only a few hours. The whole city looked as if it were on fire. Buildings had collapsed in on themselves. There was a huge break in the sea wall and the Aegean was flooding nearby farmland, ruining it for centuries to come. Mobs of people were in the streets with nowhere to go, nowhere to turn.
A few moments later she saw something black circling her head for just a second. She felt a soft touch, like a hand cupping her face gently, then a whisper in her ear, "Now, Pandora," before the black shape disappeared. She felt herself falling into a deep sleep, almost like a faint, but before she completely lost consciousness, she saw her father fighting to stand upright in his sandals a short distance away, his hand holding tight to Xander's arm. She saw Sabina passed ou
t cold, her snakeskin sandals struggling to keep pace with the others. She watched as Hermes streaked past all of them like a comet, her mother's urn held close to his side. And she saw the lights of her house, then Athens, then the world get smaller and smaller as she passed into darkness.
CHAPTER NINE
Qlympus
In the instant before her eyes opened, Pandy thought that everything she had seen and done only moments (hours? days?) before had all been a dream. She stretched out, expecting the feel of well-worn cotton pallet sheets.
Instead, her limbs brushed against. . . what? What was she lying on? She opened her eyes and saw nothing but white, not bright but soft and gentle: white walls, white sky outside the paneless windows, and a big puffy white bed. Her whole body was surrounded by a billowy, bulbous substance that she could poke through with her fingers yet, somehow, supported her weight. It was damp to the touch, but her toga was still dry.
"Clouds!" she said. "I'm lying on clouds."
"Ah, you're awake," said a tender chorus of voices.
Pandy was startled into silence.
"Hello?" she whispered at length.
"Hello!"
"Who are you?" asked Pandy, now frightened.
"We are daughters of daughters of daughters of Zeus."
Little pink mouths and tiny pairs of eyes in vibrant blues, greens, and grays began to appear, hovering in midair; all staring at her.
"You have been summoned. Arise!" said the mouths in unison.
With that, the cloud bed evaporated instantly and Pandy saw below her a steep expanse of a jagged, rocky mountaintop. She was going to fall to her death! But before she could panic, the vision was replaced by a white marble floor and she found herself standing upright and very wide-awake.
A door in the room swung outward and Pandy felt unseen hands gently push her through the opening and down a long, impossibly high, white marble hallway. The air was perfumed with lavender and honeysuckle. Oil lamps in the shape of great eagles hung from the ceiling on long gold chains, their flames burning brightly even though the very walls seemed to be made of light itself. What really captivated her, though, were the fountains. At various intervals, in the middle of a shallow pool that ran the length of the hallway, were large fountains in the forms of the original Titans, the rulers of the earth and sky before their war with Zeus and the other great gods of Olympus.
There was Cronus, father of Zeus, wrestling in vain with his son. Zeus's mother, Rhea, was shown weeping, the water in the fountain flowing from her eyes. Another Titan, Oceanus, ruler of the rivers and seas before Poseidon, was depicted being subdued by his own waves. One of the most beautiful fountains was of the Titan Mnemosyne, whose name meant Memory, holding a large hourglass as if perhaps she knew the days of the Titans were at an end.
Pandy gazed at these and others as the hands guided her toward two large golden doors, which swung inward to reveal a dim amber light. Pandy was just about to walk through when she looked up at the face of the last fountain.
She gasped and stopped in her tracks.
Was it? No . . . it couldn't be, she thought. But it was true.
It was her father.
Prometheus, in full battle armor, his muscles taut and a long sword raised high above his head in victory.
"Huh?" she said aloud.
The invisible hands pushed harder now and Pandy almost stumbled as she passed through the golden doors.
She entered a hall the size of the amphitheater back at the Athena Maiden Middle School. The hands were steering her toward the center, where Pandy could just make out an enormous golden table, over which hung a single oil lamp as big around as an eagle's nest . . . if it were a really huge eagle. As she got closer, weaving her way through gigantic columns, she saw that the table wasn't quite circular; it was a teardrop.
Standing in front of the large, fat end, Sabina held a sleeping Xander in her arms alongside her father, who clutched the urn containing her mother.
Pandy stepped into line with the others and looked first at her father . . . the Titan. He was staring, grim faced, straight ahead. But when he felt his daughter next to him, he looked down at her and smiled.
"Hi, honey," he said.
Pandy started to cry. She was more confused than scared, but she didn't want to look in front of her; she desperately didn't want to see who or what was at the head of the table.
"Oh, Daddy . . ."
"Don't cry, sweetheart. We'll be fine," he said, but he didn't sound convincing. "Look up now."
Pandy turned her head.
At a distance behind the teardrop table were hundreds of large robed figures, men and women, some holding strange objects, some wearing garlands, a few had the lower bodies of goats and horses, many looked to be very wet. She squinted: these must be all the immortals of Greece, she thought. Pandy only recognized a few. There was Aeolus, King of the Winds, his blue-tipped hair flying wildly about his head and the skin on his face pulled back as if he were standing in the middle of a violent storm. She saw Pan, son of Hermes, half-man, half-goat, picking a stone out of one of his hooves. Helios, whose palace housed the sun that Apollo's chariot drove across the heavens, seemed to have the sun inside of him: his eyes, mouth, and ears radiated light. There, in the corner, was Iris, the Goddess of the Rainbow, her skin streaked in broad bands of every color.
All of the lesser gods must be here too, she thought, and the river and wood nymphs, satyrs, and the half-man, half-horse centaurs. Then she summoned up her courage and looked around the enormous table.
The great gods of Olympus were staring straight at her.
Closest to Pandy, but still a good distance away, sat Demeter, Goddess of Corn, the Harvest, and the Seasons. Her hair was magnificent—long strands of greenish tendrils with hundreds of little spring flowers. But as Pandy watched, the tendrils turned into the parched, cracked wheat grass of summer and then immediately changed into dry twigs sprouting dying autumn leaves in fiery colors, until at last her head was covered with icicles. Then, before Pandy's eyes, the whole cycle started again.
Hephaestus, God of the Forge and Fire, sat in his chair, grimy and covered with soot, cleaning his teeth with a bronze toothpick. He was a brilliant metalworker and the maker of Zeus's thunderbolts, with the muscles of his upper body rivaling those of Hercules in their size and strength. But his lower body was small, scarcely larger than a baby's, and hideously misshapen.
Ares, God of War and son of Zeus, was seated at the table in full battle dress; his breastplate and arm guards splattered with layers of dried black blood. Gross! Pandy thought. Only his yellow eyes were visible between the slits in his helmet, but every few moments hot steam shot out from the breathing hole. He cracked his knuckles occasionally, a huge fierce-looking dog at his side.
Another son of Zeus, Apollo, God of the Sun and Music and Healing, sat restringing his golden lyre, plucking the strings gently every so often. Even in those single notes, Pandy had never heard music as beautiful. If Zeus let her live, she would tell Iole that she actually saw the god who gave Iole back her life.
Closest to the head of the table sat Zeus's brother Poseidon, Lord of the all the Waters, blowing his nose into a damp cloth, desperately fighting his allergy to shellfish. Pandy saw his lower body was that of a shiny green fish and his chair was partially submerged in a large tank of water. Occasionally his tail would flip, sending droplets of water flying (and sizzling when they hit Ares' armor).
Across the table was Aphrodite, the beautiful and beguiling. The Goddess of Love was smiling sweetly, staring at her lover, Ares, and steadfastly avoiding the looks from her husband, Hephaestus. Pandy thought that all the light in the entire hall must have been coming from her smile. Two doves perched on her shoulders, cooing as she occasionally reached out for her son Eros, the little Love-God (and whose name also meant romantic love), as he ran about the great hall shooting arrows at everyone.
Zeus's son Dionysus, God of Wine, snored gently, his head slumped slightly fo
rward, the circlet of grapes and vines he wore having fallen over one ear.
At his right was Artemis, Goddess of the Moon and the gods' official huntress. She was also the giver of Pandy's wolfskin diary. She was replacing the silver string on her great bow without even looking at her hands; her sad eyes focused solely on Pandy.
Athena, the Goddess of Wisdom, was having a quiet conversation with the owl perched on her wrist. Athena, like the others, was also looking directly at Pandy, but there was something kind in her leaf green eyes. Pandy realized that the simple statue in its niche back home didn't come close to her true magnificence.
And then Pandy saw Zeus's wife, Hera, in her magnificent blue robes, a crown of peacock feathers on her head. She sat very still, but her thin mouth was clenching and unclenching every few seconds. The poets called Hera "chief among the immortals in beauty." She was lovely indeed, but looking at Aphrodite and Athena, Pandy thought the poets didn't know what they were talking about.
Hermes stood a little to the right of a majestic golden throne that occupied a space where the table came to a point, a much more serious look on his face now than she'd seen before.
The only one missing is Hades, Dark Lord of the Underworld, thought Pandy, I wonder where . . .
Then, as if given a signal, all eyes turned their gaze from the foursome at the end of the table to the one who sat on the golden throne.
Zeus, the Supreme Ruler, Lord of the Sky, whose power was greater than all other gods combined, sat slightly above the others. He was older, but handsome. His silver hair and beard cascaded over his gleaming white robes. The muscles of his upper body were so big, Pandy couldn't have stretched both of her arms around one of his. And he was staring down, through ice blue eyes, from underneath glowering silver eyebrows, at her.
Pandy felt the breath go out of her body. She wanted to faint; she wanted to simply go to sleep right then and there and never, ever wake up. She wanted to die. Or better, she wanted to pass out and wake up in a blanket of clouds again and just stay there forever.
"You wish to flee, Pandora? To run? Are those the thoughts in your tiny mind?" said Zeus. "You could not now—nor ever—escape me." His voice sounded like it should have hurt her ears, yet it didn't. He must be softening it somehow, she thought, otherwise we'd all be deaf. But it also sounded old and a little . . . a little . . . what was it? Pandy thought. Tired, she realized, he's tired.
Pandora Gets Jealous Page 6
