Pandora Gets Angry (7 page)

“I'd love to try those,” she said brightly, sitting down.

“Good choice,” said Cyrene, heaping a plate high and setting it before her.

Alcie poked at her wilted greens as she watched Persephone devour enormous quantities of everything. Then, and only because Persephone was looking directly at her as she spoke, she actually put a bite in her mouth.

The sour, oily limp leaves … were the best things she had ever tasted in her life.

“Gotcha!” Persephone smiled. “Didn't think you'd like it, right?”

“Oh Gods,” sighed Alcie.

“I
know
! It sounds disgusting! I mean, really, why do you think I basically starved myself the first time I was down here. I only ate six pomegranate seeds when I could have been stuffing myself. Here, try the dove. Don't think about it … just taste.”

Alcie hesitated, then popped a tiny black morsel into her mouth. In that instant she made a silent vow to be as noticeably heroic as possible for the rest of her natural life, just so she could spend eternity in Hades' palace eating delicious food.

When her very mortal stomach was distended over and under her girdle, Alcie pushed back from the table. Then she gave a thunderous belch.

“Oh, lemons, I'm sorry.”

“That's the best compliment you could give them!” Persephone said.

The shades, having hovered in the corners of the great room, all nodded appreciatively.

“Right-o! And off we go,” Persephone said, rising. “Now, let's see if we can talk to your friends.”

CHAPTER TEN
Out and About

Fastening the hooks through her ears, Hera shook her head gently.

“And now for a little test,” she said, satisfied the earrings were secure

She willed the thousands of unsigned papers to rise out of the cart and hover in the air while the bodies of the two monkeys floated off the table and dropped into the bottom of the cart. Then she let the papers fall on top with a sickening thud.

“It's good to be alive!”

She strode back through the offices of the Bureau, catching from the corners of her eyes the smiling faces and nodding heads; after all, if she was wearing an egg, she must have been approved. She ignored everyone. Confidently, she walked out into the main room, cut directly through the long line of deities waiting to apply, and descended the staircase.

But when she stepped out of the building, there was nothing below except the rooftops of Baghdad.

She would have, at that moment, simply used her restored powers and dematerialized, but in the next instant, a new stairway appeared before her; step by step, Hera moved downward, negotiating twists and curves as the building overhead, now invisible, moved over the city.

Finally, with her feet firmly on the ground, Hera decided to test the full effect of the eggs.

“I wonder, where
is
my dear girl?”

CHAPTER ELEVEN
On the Dunes

It had been eight days since Douban the Physician had placed the strange poultice in Iole's mouth and, true to his word, she had been completely healed the following morning. Since then, the caravan had moved slowly across the Arabian desert and now, finally, it was within sight of the small town of Baghdad, situated on a bend in the Tigris River.

Pandy and Iole sat atop a large sand dune as the last thin crescent of the sun sank below the horizon. Overhead, the stars began to twinkle in the twilight sky and lamps were flickering throughout the city, only several kilometers away.

They were watching Homer toss a large bone to Dido far below in a trough of the desert dunes. After one particular toss, Dido raced back to Homer, the bone in his mouth, and, instead of dropping the bone at Homer's feet as usual, Dido sped past him, nearly knocking Homer to the ground. Iole giggled, but when Pandy didn't, Iole turned to her. Pandy's face was serene, her gaze far away to the west.

“And you are cogitating?”

Pandy turned a puzzled expression to her friend.

“What are you thinking?”

“Oh,” Pandy said, gazing again at the intense red glow where sun had been only an instant before. “I am wondering, since nothing else from our homeland seems to work or make sense in this country, who or what is pulling the sun across the sky? Is it still Apollo? Or, when the sun gets to Persia, does he have to hand it over to another god or … or someone … or something … until the sun crosses back into Greece and then he gets to pull it again. What does he do with his chariot while the sun is somewhere else? Does he just fly around for a bit? Is it like that in every different country in the known world? Do the gods of different countries have to share the major responsibilities?”

She turned to look at Iole.

“I have no idea,” Iole replied, smiling. “But your mind is working wonderfully. Do you realize that, months ago, you would never have even considered these possibilities?”

“But I don't have an answer,” Pandy said.

“Not the point. Your mind is expanding. That's big news.”

“I guess,” Pandy sighed, grabbing a handful of desert sand and letting it trickle through her fingers. “I'm just homesick. I want this over, no matter how it turns out.”

“Don't say that,” Iole cautioned.

“It's true, Iole. Alcie's gone. We almost lost you. Tomorrow I have to watch a man get his head lopped off just because he thinks there might be some lesser evils lurking somewhere.”

“We've been through it, I concur. But you have four big evils in the box. You are over the hump, as it were. You didn't lose me; I feel better than ever. You have Dido back, and Homer and me. I have no words about Alcie. There are no words …”

Iole's voice trailed off for a moment.

“And as for tomorrow, we've seen horrible things. I cannot imagine that this will be any worse.”

“But his execution makes no sense!” Pandy cried. “And he could have escaped! That's the most horrible thing!”

“May I join you?”

A soft voice from behind them had floated on the light breeze.

“Oh,” Pandy said, jumping slightly. “Oh, yes, of course. Please.”

Douban's son made his way across the top of the dune and sat down close, but not
too
close, to Pandy.

“Hey, Little D,” she greeted him.

“Good evening, Pandy. Iole,” he said.

“And a good evening to you,” Iole answered.

There was silence for several minutes. When it finally became uncomfortable, Iole got to her feet.

“Well,” she said, “I'm going to go see what Mahfouza's concocting for evening meal.”

“We already had evening meal,” Pandy said.

“I'm talking about the
second
evening meal,” Iole said, walking down the dune. “The one we have after the first evening meal. Like we do all the time … back home. All right then, see you later … you … two.”

Pandy looked at Douban's son and smiled. For some reason, she felt at once nervous yet comfortable around this handsome youth who was watching her, as he'd done for days, so intently.

“I'm sorry to have interrupted,” he began.

“You didn't,” Pandy laughed. “She's just being a goof. Hey, you don't mind me calling you Little D, right? I can't say Dou-dou.”

Without thinking, she playfully swatted at his arm with the back of her hand. Her hand dropped to the sand and he covered her little finger with his, and didn't move it.

“It's fine. It will all change tomorrow anyway.”

Pandy was silent, staring at their fingers touching. She'd had a few crushes on youths back in Greece but had never known what it was like to have that feeling reciprocated. For the first time in her life, she felt …“crushed.” And it was wonderful. There was nothing in the world except this handsome young man and his little finger touching hers. In the next instant, the full weight of their situation came rushing back in and Pandy was a little ashamed at having let herself go, having forgotten why she was where she was, even for a moment.

“You know, we've been camped here a full day and a half,” Pandy said, slowly putting her hand back in her lap. “The caravan could have gone into the city already.”

“I know,” said Douban's son. “For all of his bluster, the Captain of the Guard deeply respects my father and is taking more time than necessary. He knows that what is going to happen is a corruption of justice. I think he himself is trying to think of a way out of this. But it is all useless, I'm afraid. The lookouts in the highest city towers have seen us here, and the Prince of Baghdad has sent more guards to discover the delay. There is to be no more stalling. It is to be tomorrow.”

“This is the stupidest thing I have ever heard of, and if you knew what some of our gods have done back home, that's saying something.”

“Pandy,” Douban's son said, “do not think for a moment that the prince will get away with this.”

Pandy looked at the youth, surprised.

“My father is a man of honor,” he went on. “But he is not without the desire for vengeance. My father is not the only one who will die tomorrow. Pay close attention to the instructions my father has for the prince. And be ready to seize the prince's blood … and there will be blood.”

“I'm so sorry,” Pandy said softly. “This is my fault.”

Douban's son waited a bit.

“Nothing happens without a reason. My father believes, and so do I, that every choice we make is the right one, even though we might not know it at the time.”

“Where I come from, everything is set from the moment you're born,” Pandy countered. “It's all predetermined and we don't have choices. Although I can't imagine you or your father being subject to our rules.”

“Then our two different views have conspired to allow you and me to meet. And for you to be able to recapture some of those lesser evils.”

He paused again.

“It will all be rather hectic tomorrow and I just wanted to say that I have enjoyed knowing you. I have enjoyed listening to the stories of your adventures. You are very … impressive.”

“Thank you, Douban. So are you.”

After another long silence, the youth spoke. There was a tremor in his voice.

“That is the first time I have heard my new name on another's lips. It is … bittersweet.”

CHAPTER TWELVE
Buster's Bowl of
Borrower's Bile

Looking backward, Alcie knew that without Persephone, she would be lost in the maze of the palace forever. But as they had been walking together through yet another long, complicated labyrinth of palace corridors, Alcie had been marveling not at the endless gray sumptuousness, but at how much Persephone could eat.

She had cleared every one of the platters and bowls that had been set out (for which Alcie was actually grateful. She'd loved everything she'd tasted, but could not bring herself to try the entrails or the tripe soup), and still Persephone was now traipsing along with a large silver goblet of dove hearts (“Just a little something to go,” she'd said as Cyrene had heaped the cup full only minutes ago. “In case we get peckish.”)

“So I am guessing that you don't get food like this on Olympus?” Alcie asked, a flash of green outside a window turning her head for a moment.

“Have you ever had ambrosia?” Persephone asked by way of a reply.

“Uh, no.”

“Can I even begin to describe how disgusting it is? And it's the only thing up there! If I never see a piece of it again, it will be too soon. All right, now slow down a little.”

Alcie dropped back as Persephone cautiously approached a small doorway with a plain white privacy curtain at the end of a corridor.

“You just never know when Buster might be using it,” Persephone whispered, poking her head into the room. “Of course, I can use it anytime, but he might not be so keen on letting someone else, if you get me. Okay, all clear.”

They entered a windowless room illuminated only by soft torchlight. It was completely empty except for a large, shallow basin on a stand in the very center. Standing across from Persephone, Alcie stared down into the bowl brimming with a hot, milky, yellowish (she thought) liquid. The aroma of the steam rising off it made Alcie gag almost instantly.

“I know, I know,” Persephone said. “But don't bring up the dove. Just back off a little; you'll get used to it.”

“Bile?” Alcie asked.

“Borrower's bile. Powerful stuff. I don't even want to think how Buster harvests it. But, mind you, it's only from those who don't pay their debts. Of course, you mortals get to lean on each other every once in a while … normal stuff. ‘Hey, lend me a drachma for an apple' or whatever. This bile is from those who take and take and don't give back.”

“I can talk to Pandy through this?” asked Alcie.

“Wait till I tell you … it's brilliant,” Persephone said. “Buster doesn't like to leave the underworld, right? Right. But he also likes to talk to Zeus and Poseidon. The Big Three have to keep in contact, blah bitty blah, and Buster can be very chatty. So he devised this, and all he does is call out the name of whomever he wants to contact, and blammo! There they are.”

“Well, that doesn't seem so magical. I mean Pandy has shells that do the same thing—”

“Not done.”

“Sorry.”

“Because no one else has a bile bowl and Buster never knows where anyone is at any given time, it's only Buster's voice that they hear when he makes contact. His voice is channeled through the closest living mortal thing. So if Zeus is standing next to a horse, or Hermes is sitting next to a cat or Artemis is relaxing underneath an olive tree, the horse or the cat or a tiny green olive will start speaking for Buster.”

“That must be weird,” Alcie replied.

“I know! It's too weird, and it's too much for them, or anyone. After the conversation is done, the experience of channeling Hades, the Dark Lord of the Underworld, causes complete and fatal physical collapse.”

“You mean …?”

“Yep. Instant death. That's why Buster really works hard to channel through vegetation, but sometimes we lose a mouse or a frog or worse.”

“People?”

“Sometimes. Hey, we're gods, nobody said we were perfect,” Persephone said. “So? You wanna give it a try?”

The thought of being able to contact Pandy was exhilarating, but what if the closest thing to Pandy at that moment was Iole … or Homer? The idea that Iole or her dear Homie or even Dido might be the channel and lose their life was too much to bear.

“I can't risk it,” she said.

“Oh, come on! You mean to tell me we came all this way, spent all this time, and now you don't want to do it?
I did this for you!
”

“Interesting,” came a low voice from the doorway.

Persephone didn't take her eyes off of Alcie's face.

“
You made me do this!
” Persephone cried after a second.

Alcie's jaw dropped.

“Persephone,” said Hades, now blocking any light from the corridor.

There was a pause, and then Persephone burst out laughing.

“Kidding!” she said, then she turned to her husband. “Kid-
ding.
Oh, of course it was all my idea. Don't be angry with Alcie. Punish me all you want! I deserve it.”

She flounced her way toward Hades and flung her arms about him. He was solid and unmoving for a moment, then relented at her touch and held her face to his.

“I simply asked you to entertain her,” he said. “To engage her in conversation, I believe, was my exact phrase. Yet you brought her here … one of my private chambers to see one of my most treasured devices … on a whim. And still I forgive you. I always forgive you, my wife. Why can't I ever be angry with you?”

“I don't know, but I love it! I'll use it and abuse it!” Persephone giggled, kissing him lightly.

Suddenly, Alcie noticed that Hades was not alone. He moved farther into the room and was followed by a tiny, white-haired, wrinkled creature. Had to be a woman, Alcie thought, but she couldn't be sure; the figure was bent with age at a severe angle. Suddenly Alcie thought she knew who this was. But why was
she
here? Gods, Alcie thought with a start, had
she
died while they'd been gone?

“Sabina?” Alcie said, certain that this was Pandy's house-slave.

At once, the old woman raised her head and stared Alcie down with her pus-colored eyes. Then she smiled wide.

“You know my sister, do you?”

Alcie was stunned; the resemblance to Sabina, whom Alcie had known ever since she'd known Pandy, was astonishing. Of course, Pandy had told Alcie that Sabina was, in reality, one of the Fates (albeit the Hapless Fate. The Fate nobody talked about because she was the only one who couldn't really
do
anything); Alcie had known this for years. Then the hard fact hit Alcie and nearly knocked the wind out of her: if this wasn't Sabina, it was one of her sisters, which meant that Alcie was now in the presence of one of the three true, terrible Fates.

The woman began to laugh softly.

“Alcestis,” Hades said, “this is Lachesis, the Disposer of Lots.”

Alcie was frozen. Each of the Fates was supremely powerful in her own way. Clotho, the Spinner, spun a thread from a great wheel when someone was born. Atropos with her enormous shears would cut the thread at the end of someone's life. But it was Lachesis who decided what went on in between: king or slave, warrior or potter or scholar or thief; it was she who decided their destiny.

“I told you, Alcestis,” Hades said, “that I would find a solution to your problem. And I believe,” he said, turning to Lachesis, “that we have.”

He gazed down at the wizened woman with a conspiratorial smile.

“Eh,” said the old woman with a shrug.

Alcie remained silent, her eyes moving from Hades to Lachesis. Her mind went back to her first day at her preschool, Medea's Mini Muse and Happy Hero Day Care. There had been a big sign over the teacher's head and the teacher had pointed to it, shouting to make certain everyone understood. Growing up, the message was everywhere. It was embroidered on floor cushions, painted on the back walls of market stalls, and verbally woven into greetings and farewells. It was the one thing that was seared into everyone's brain from the time they could comprehend the meaning of words, because it was the coldest, hardest, most cruel fact in the whole known world.

There was no bargaining with the Fates.

They decided and that was it. Period. They paid attention to the wishes and desires of no one. Not even Zeus could sway them if a destiny or death had been set.

And yet, here stood Lachesis, smiling and giving a little shrug of her shoulders as if to say “whatever.”

Lachesis hobbled toward Alcie, one hand stretched out and the other balled into a tight fist. For a second, Alcie thought she might need a lavatorium. Lachesis stopped only centimeters from Alcie's face; her breath wheezed out in a mist, rank, fetid, and the same yellowish color as her eyes.

“We aren't often surprised,” she said, her voice sounding like sap-filled wood burning with pops and little explosions. “In fact, my sisters and I have never been surprised. And then, there's
you
.
You
we were not prepared for.
You
are a mystery. But, thanks to Hera, you happened. I might have been able to redesign a different destiny, but Clotho had already cut your thread.”

Alcie gasped. That was it … there was no escaping. A cut thread meant only one thing.

“Fortunately,” Lachesis continued, “when our dear Hades arrived and told us of your situation, we had not yet tossed your thread into our fire. Had we done that, we would not be standing here discussing it. After much debate—you must realize that this is new territory for us as well as you—and after a generous bargain made by the Dark Lord, we have come to a conclusion.”

Lachesis opened her tiny fist, revealing a long white thread. For a moment, Alcie thought Lachesis had pulled a hair out of her head. Then she realized it was much thicker.

“This, maiden, is your life.”

Alcie's stomach flipped over hard.

“A mortal only gets one. Since yours was cut short before its time, the pathway I set for you is gone and you cannot return to it. However, since this was a mistake, even Atropos agrees with that, we have spun a clean thread and woven it onto the end of the original. This section is blank. It is wholly and only yours. You may do with it what you will. I cannot believe I am saying this, but you are in charge of your own life.”

She held the thread out to Alcie. Alcie didn't move. There were so many questions filling her mind that they all blended into bright whiteness.

“Is she rather dense?” Alcie heard Lachesis ask out of the side of her mouth.

Alcie reached forward and, as if she were holding a butterfly by its wings, gently took the thread between her forefinger and thumb.

“Here!” Persephone said, rushing up. “Here, put it in this.”

Out of thin air, she plucked a small cobalt blue enamel and gold box and handed it to Alcie. The words “Alcie's Life!” were engraved across the top, with the word “Wahoo!” in smaller script underneath.

Alcie opened her mouth to speak. How much time did she have left? What
would she have been
if not for Hera's attempted murder? Was Pandy going to succeed in the quest? Was there any special care of the thread?

“My dear,” Lachesis said, reading Alcie's thoughts as she turned away to leave, “if I won't answer any of those kinds of questions for anyone else, why would I answer them for you?”

She stopped and turned back.

“Besides, and this I can safely say where you're concerned, I really don't know. It's all up to you. Just live!”

And she was gone.

“Buster!” Persephone squealed. “A Fate …
here
! And me looking like five kilometers of chariot road! You might have at least warned me so that I could put a little berry juice on my lips!”

“You're gorgeous, my wife.”

“Oh, stop. Don't stop!” she cried, and kissed him again.

Slightly uncomfortable, Alcie started looking off into the corners of the room.

“Alcie!” Persephone turned to her. “You have to put that box someplace safe.”

“All I have is my pouch,” Alcie replied, thrusting the box deep inside.

“Well, guard it with your life!”

Suddenly Persephone started laughing so hard at her ridiculous joke, Alcie thought the goddess might throw up. Then Alcie started laughing, but stopped when she saw Hades just staring at her.

“Ahhh, I amuse, I amuse. So, what bargain did you make with the Fates?” Persephone asked when she had calmed down a bit.

“They never get to have any fun, so I invited them all down for a picnic, and they asked if, perhaps, we might do it on a regular basis. We decided the day after every third full moon, they're showing up for a little sunbathing without the sun, and some lamb. Clotho wants to throw rocks at Tantalus in his pool. Lachesis wants to watch Achilles toss a javelin. Things like that.”

“You're so good!” Persephone said.

“No, wife,” Hades said, attempting to loosen up and be casual. “
You're
good!”

“I
know
! Oh, but Buster … we have another problem. Alcie's going back now and she wants to let her friends know that she's coming. Otherwise they may fall down dead at the sight of her and then we'd have to do this all over again. Do you think that she could use the Borrower's Bile?”

“I think that might be arranged. Although your friends, Alcie, are in Persia. It will be quite a reach. I cannot vouch for the clarity.”

“S'okay,” Alcie replied.

“But she's worried,” Persephone continued, “about the whole channeling thing and one of her friends losing their life.”

“Wife, do you not think that I take that into account every time I communicate with another immortal?”

Hades looked at Alcie.

“While I, perhaps more than any other immortal, understand that all life is precious, there is a hierarchy of living things. This device singles out that which is the closest but lowest form to the recipient. I'm always hoping for a fly or a snail or a slug.”