At once the rings on the outside of the bowl began to turn left and right, crossing over each other again and again. At last, three symbols, three distinct words in Greek, lined up with one another from the top ring to the bottom and radiated a bright blue light.
"Tears, Pandora!" said Prometheus. "The map works with your tears!"
"Great. I have to be crying all the time," she said, reaching up to brush the remaining tears away.
"Stop! Don't touch them!" said her father. Prometheus hurried to the drainage counter and found a small glass vial. He laid it carefully against his daughter's cheek, catching five large tears inside.
"That's a start," he said, corking the vial tightly. "You can use these if you keep the air out."
"Thanks, Dad."
"Maybe it's a good thing not to be so brave sometimes," he said. "Now, let's see what we're dealing with."
Delphi read the word on the top ring. The city was the site of the famous Oracle of Apollo and the high priestess who knew all and told all, good and bad. The oracle was the destination for those who wanted to know what their future held.
Underneath, on the middle ring, was the number 180. In fact, that number was the only symbol on the ring at all.
And the bottom ring radiated a single word.
Jealousy.
"That's where you have to go first, Pandora," Prometheus said, pointing past her a little to the north and a little to the west. "That way."
"Dad," she blurted, truly starting to panic. "How am I going to be able to read the rest of the map? How do I capture anything when I get. . . wherever I have to go?"
Prometheus uncorked the vial and caught a few more of her tears and then he took Pandy by the shoulders. He began slowly, unsure where his words would take him, but needing to say something that would comfort his child.
"Listen very carefully, Pandora. I know you saw that fountain in the great hallway on Olympus. You asked me about it then, but then was not the best time. Now is."
He paused.
"You know that I am one of the immortals . . . ageless, and endowed with certain powers. But what you don't know, because I've never told you, is that I am actually a Titan . . . created before the great gods of Olympus. When the world was very young we, my brothers and sisters and I, were basically the only beings on the earth, except for a few monsters and a couple of Cyclops. Then, my brother Cronus and his wife, Rhea, rulers of the sky and earth, gave birth to the great gods. But Cronus didn't want any of his children to live because he'd been foretold that one of them would defeat him and become supreme ruler. So he ate them, all of them, except one boy that Rhea hid away."
"Zeus?"
"Right. And when Zeus was old enough, he fought his father for supremacy. Now we—all the Titans-knew the prophecy. Zeus was going to win, plain and simple. So even though the rest of my brothers and sisters decided 'prophecy-shmophecy' and fought against Zeus, I sided with him, because, well. . . basically I wanted to stay alive. After the battle, Zeus rewarded me by not sending me down into the pits of Tartarus or giving me something like the weight of the world to bear upon my shoulders for eternity."
"Uncle Atlas?"
"Right again. Why don't we have the rest of the family over for feast days? It's because they're all chained up in a pit deep in the earth. But Zeus bestowed great favors upon me. I became even more cunning and shrewd. That's why Hermes and I are such good friends. I was clever before, but after the battle I was even smarter. Able to figure almost anything out with enough time . . . except maybe your mother."
"Dad . . . ," Pandy blurted, ". . . you've done all this wonderful stuff, you've seen everything and . . . and you're really strong and now . . . your job . . . now you . . . you . . ."
"Build atriums? Is that it? Why do I do that for a living instead of chasing down Hydras and Chimeras or something like that?"
Pandy shrugged.
"It's simple, Pandora. I fell in love and married your mother. When you were on the way, I realized that I needed to find something more suitable for a family man to keep me occupied. And then, of course, I took one look at my baby girl and knew I couldn't be off risking my life when you and your mother and then Xander were depending on me. Also, your mother . . . well, she didn't like all the attention I got. . . being a hero."
"She didn't want anyone else to get any attention, you mean," said Pandy.
"Stop it, Pandora," he said softly "Don't forget, your mother was courted by the bravest and noblest young heroes. She could have had anyone, you know. She tries hard to be a good . . . She fails a lot, but she tries. Look, Pandora, I do what I do for the same reason I married your mother. I love it. I laid the groundwork for the Pyramids. I poured the first casting of the Colossus of Rhodes. I hung the first basket of hydrangeas after building the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. Sure, Zeus has me ignite the odd extinct volcano now and then, when he wants to lay waste to this or that city. It's fun and a good chance to travel. But basically, I build things; it's what I do . . . and it gives me great pleasure. Only now I do it on a smaller scale so I can be with my family. People will always need atriums. I just build them in fun, clever ways . . . no one else but your dad can cleverly weld decorative ironwork with their hands . . . it's my trademark. Which brings me back to my point. In addition to heightening my brainpower, cunning, and shrewdness, Zeus promised me that these traits would pass down to my family That's why, Pandora, even though I am absolutely despondent about what you've done, deep down I am not surprised. It was just too tempting."
She stared at her dad.
"And since you've become a maiden, I have no doubt that your powers will start developing."
"What powers, Dad? Iole was talking about them, too."
"The power to think things through, to see the big picture, not just the small scene. To use your wonderful mind to its absolute fullest. And don't forget, sweetheart, you're semi-immortal... so the power of your mind might manifest itself in interesting ways. You'll be able to figure out this map. You'll ask, you'll ponder, you'll learn."
"Me being semi-immortal... is that what kept me from being harmed by the box like Alcie and Iole?"
"No, that was Zeus," her father replied.
"What?"
"Hermes told me. Zeus didn't want you feeling any ill effects until and unless he inflicted them."
"Gods. Then I really need to thank Hera again tonight."
"Yes," Prometheus said thoughtfully. "Yes . . . well. . . don't count on anything more from heaven's queen. She's a bit like your mother that way . . . she can be generous, but there's usually a price."
"Huh?"
"Never mind," he answered.
Pandy started crying again.
"Dad, I didn't mean to get Mom turned into a pile of ashes!"
"I know you didn't, sweetheart," Prometheus said, uncorking the vial of tears again and holding it against her face.
"I know we aren't really getting along so good Pandy said. "That is, when she's even home, but I miss her. I don't know why she doesn't love me anymore, but I'm not just going away so Zeus won't chain us in a pit. I'm doing it for Mom, too. You know that, right?"
"Of course I know that. And don't ever think your mother doesn't love you. The truth is this, Pandora, you're not a little girl anymore and she's having trouble adjusting to you becoming such a grown-up young maiden. I know it reminds her that she's not getting any younger. Your mother was and still is one of the most beautiful women in all of Greece, but seeing you . . . well, she's just a little insecure. But believe me, somewhere on Olympus there's a pile of ashes in an urn that loves you very much."
Pandy had never thought of her mother as anything other than cool and strong; the fact that her mother didn't feel confident and self-assured all the time never occurred to her. She thought of her mother's urn, seeing it sitting on the great teardrop table, and hoped it was being kept safe and warm.
"Okay," Prometheus said, corking the vial, "off to sleep. I'll be up in a minute to kiss you g
ood night."
Pandy looked once more at the things they had gathered. She took her mother's silver girdle and walked upstairs for what she knew would be the last safe night in a long time.
In her room, Pandy just stood for many minutes, staring without really seeing anything. Then her sleeping pallet came into focus with Dido snoring peacefully on top. She looked hard at her writing desk and her small chair. Then she gazed at her fire grate and the embers giving off soothing warmth. Pandy picked up a piece of hot, glowing wood. Tossing it back into the grate, she began to touch everything else around her. She climbed her wooden shelves, running her hands over old, outgrown togas and forgotten accessories. She touched each piece of wood, every bump in the clay walls, the wood of her soiled-toga basket. . .
Gods!
She'd put her lunch in it the day of the project almost three weeks ago! She cautiously approached and lifted the lid, expecting it to be full of crawly things.
Instead, the basket was empty except for a small scrap of papyrus.
This is not the drainage counter. when you come home, please deposite your food in the proper receptacle.
Sabina
Addendum: Look after yourself
Suddenly she couldn't look at everything fast enough. She knew she should be sleeping, but her whole world was going to be terrifyingly different starting at daybreak and she wanted to sear this moment in her memory; something she could call on to cover her like a soft blanket in the days ahead.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Dear Diary
"Dear Diary . . ."
"Blessed you are among mortals. Good evening, Pandora. What do you have to tell me?" said the wolf head, then added, "As if I didn't know. And I do, so don't even think about telling me the whole thing again."
"How do you know?"
"I hear things. You think I'm only alert when you talk, but I'm not. I see things, too. And the Huntress speaks to me. She was here earlier, before you came in."
"Artemis was here? In my room?"
"Yes, Pandora. She left a message for you. In all of my years with you, this will be the first time that I have given advice, but as it comes from the great one herself, I do it gladly."
"What is it?"
"You are to take me with you," said the wolf.
"Why?"
"You dare question the goddess who, out of love and respect for your father, his selflessness and torment, gave me to you? A diary . . . a record keeper the likes of which no other maiden has?"
"No . . . it's only . . . where will I keep you? My pouch is full and I. . ."
"Astonishing! Still thinking only about you. Make room, Pandora!"
"Yes, yes, of course. I'm sorry," she muttered.
"Good. Now don't roll me up; lay me flat in front of your fire grate. I'd like to be warm tonight, if you please."
Pandy unfolded the skin and put it in front of the fire. Dido immediately got off the pallet and plopped himself down right on top.
"Yes . . . well," the wolfskin panted, "this was unexpected. Is he going to lie here all night? Get off!"
Dido didn't move.
"Oh, well, just fine. I'm very warm now, thanks," said the skin. "What has this dog been eating?"
"I was wondering . . . ," Pandy said. "Could you tell Dido a little bit of the story? I know he's been worried, and . . ."
"Yes, of course. Why on earth would I need to sleep, hmm?"
"Thank you. Good night, then," said Pandy
"Good night, daughter of Prometheus." The wolfskin sounded as if all the air had been sucked out of it.
"Sleep well in the arms of Morpheus. Blessed are you among mortals."
Pandy put on her sleeping robes. She threw her training girdle into the wastebasket, knowing she would never wear it again. Lying on her pallet she listened to the wolfskin making soft whining noises and Dido answering with gulps and whimpers. There were a thousand things she should be taking instead of her diary. Who would ever want to know what she was going to go through? She'd probably end up lost forever in a cave or on a mountaintop before the cycle of seasons had passed anyway.
She lay awake for a long time imagining impossible terrors, but finally, just as she began to doze, she felt a light kiss and the soft brush of her father's beard on her forehead.
Oh yes, Pandy thought, Dad always kisses me good night. That's the way it always is. Always will be.
And she slept.
Prometheus sat at the large table in the family living space, alternately gazing through the window at the night sky and looking down at a small oval disc in his hand. It was a marble and black onyx carving of Pandy when she was about six years old, just her profile. He remembered a little girl sitting on the edge of the catch basin in the lavatorium watching him use his shaving blade and making him laugh so hard by asking him all sorts of silly questions that he had to pause every so often before he brought the blade to his neck. What he wouldn't give to have her that age and size again, just staring at him adoringly as he shaved.
He scanned the darkness for any sign that Apollo was preparing to draw the sun through the sky.
"It won't be light anytime soon," whispered a voice from behind his chair. "Besides, there's a big . . . shall we say, discussion going on up at home, and until we get a few things resolved, daybreak will just have to wait."
"I was beginning to give up on you," said Prometheus.
"Were you really? Nice. Very nice. Doubting a god, my friend? I'm crushed," said Hermes.
"What happened to the bright lights?" said Prometheus. "I thought you were under orders to shine."
"That's when I'm on the clock, bringing news or messages, edicts, pronouncements, and that sort of thing, blah, blah, blah. Not when I'm on my own time, bringing you this."
Hermes withdrew from the folds of his toga a small green silk bag.
"What is it?"
"Well, open it, for my sake!"
Prometheus laid the bag on the table and loosened the thin yellow cord. Inside were two small conch shells, each about the size of an average lemon. Prometheus held one in his hand, turning it gently. "Hold it up to your ear," said Hermes.
Prometheus did so and looked at Hermes.
"Nothing . . . ," Prometheus said after a moment.
"Oh, right! Someone has to be on the other end. Okay, put it down on the table and when it rattles, pick it up and listen. Hang on."
Hermes snatched up the other shell and disappeared in a quiet puff of silver smoke.
After a number of seconds, Prometheus was starting to feel silly staring at the shell when he heard a slight rattling sound coming out of it. He quickly put the conch to his ear and heard Hermes' voice; it was higher pitched, but as clear as if he'd been in the room.
"Come in, Athens. Calling out to Athens. Athens, come in!"
"Hermes? Where are you?"
"I can barely hear you, pal. Put the shell to your mouth when you want to say something," said Hermes.
Prometheus took the shell from his ear and spoke into it directly.
"Where are you?" he said again, then put the conch quickly back to his ear.
"Mesopotamia!"
"I can hear you! I can hear you!" said Prometheus.
"And that, my friend, is the whole idea," came a voice again from behind his chair.
Prometheus realized exactly what this meant.
"Hermes! You wouldn't lie to me. Were you really in . . . ? Were you really so far away?" he began. "It's . . . it's not that I'm doubting you. It's just that. . . that. . . this means I can . . ."
He sat down again and was silent, staring up at the god.
Hermes knelt by his friend, putting a huge hand on his shoulder.
"I would have brought you a little water from the Euphrates, but I wanted to get back."
"I can talk to her, Hermes? Tomorrow, when she's on her way to Delphi? Wherever she is, I'll be able to talk to her?" said Prometheus, a tremor in his voice.
"Rather fantastic, am I right? Uncle Poseidon
brought the shells from the shores of some island or other, and Athena took them and made with the hocus-pocus. Now they're yours. Whenever Pandora wants to talk, you'll hear a small rattle. Or if you want silence, just run your finger straight down along the lip of the shell and then it will vibrate ever so slightly with no noise. However, there's a catch."
"Well of course, there had to be, didn't there?" Prometheus said, slumping.
"It's not that bad. They just don't work well in the mountains. There's a lot of interference. Also, Zeus may be monitoring her closely for a little while, so don't use the shells too frequently. Use them at night, or if it's really cloudy. Be discreet. Because, let me tell you, if he finds out that anyone in my family is aiding her in any way . . . what he'll do to us will make what he was going to do to you look like a picnic in the Elysian Fields."
Prometheus's eyes lit up.
"Hermes! Are the others in on this? Not just you?"
"Pal, the less you know, the better. Let me put it this way: you can worry, just not as much. All right?"
Prometheus threw his arms about Hermes and almost knocked the wind out of him.
"Thank you, my friend."
"Yeah, well, don't go dancing around a fire pit yet, pal. Okay, I am so late. Be smart with the shells. I'm gone!"
And he was.
Prometheus picked up one of the shells and tucked it into the leather carrying pouch. He glanced over the table to make sure nothing had been forgotten. Then he ascended the stairs, moving past his children's curtained rooms until he parted his own red privacy curtain and lay down to catch what little sleep he could.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Meating
High on Mount Olympus, Artemis followed Hermes down a long, dimly lit flight of marble stairs to a darkened suite of rooms.
"Why are you so late?" she asked.
"I was delivering something to Prometheus," Hermes answered. "Just an informal communication device for father and daughter. What about you?"
"I was giving some last-minute instructions to her diary. Why are we doing this down here?" She shuddered.
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