Pandora Gets Lazy (5 page)

Moving fast toward the boulders was a large group of men in light armor surrounding another, even larger group. Also with them were about a dozen extremely short, misshapen creatures of an almost reddish color waving short swords or spears. As the armed men would shift and change places, Pandy could see the other group was actually in a line, chained hand and foot, making progress somewhat slow. Someone tripped and fell as they watched. The line halted and the hapless prisoner was flogged twice and hauled back to his feet.

“Have you seen this before?” Pandy whispered. “Not just the group with your parents?”

“Since we have been here, at least three times every day,” Ismailil said quietly.

Pandy looked up the road toward the west. They would have to get off the boulders quickly once the prisoners went by: the road rose steadily and anyone on the rise could easily look back and see the three of them lying on top.

Then she saw the remains of the pine-nut cup, still lying in a huge, enormous,
obvious
pile right at the entrance to the secret camp. Like a giant welcome mat.

“Gods!” she gasped. Could she get down fast enough to scatter them and get back on top before being discovered?

She was about to move when she heard a soft chattering right behind her. Twisting her body, she saw Dionysus's attack squirrel sitting on top of a boulder about three meters away, his black eyes trained on her, his whiskers twitching. Both his little hands were behind his back holding something, and before Pandy could utter a word, he flung out a tiny arm and sent a pinecone bouncing off her forehead. Then he put his claws to his mouth and gave a sharp, very short whistle, which could have been mistaken for a birdcall.

Instantly, the hillside behind the boulder cluster was blanketed with hundreds of gray and brown squirrels racing pell-mell toward the pine nuts. Pandy and the boys watched as the squirrels stuffed their cheeks with nuts until they could hold no more and then, as quickly as they appeared, they raced back up the hill and faded into the brush, leaving not one pine nut—anywhere.

Ismailil and Amri just gaped at Pandy.

“Your friends?” Ismailil asked.

“Uh—okay—sure,” Pandy said, privately thanking Dionysus. It had all happened so fast and, she thought with relief, not one moment too soon. The captors and captives had just started to march past the secret opening. The brothers were scanning the people in chains.

“Do you recognize anyone?” she asked.

There was silence until Amri began to shake, tapping the rock underneath him. Ismailil followed his gaze toward the last few prisoners and a woman, older and very weak, being prodded to hurry.

“My father's mother,” he gasped. “She lived in a village much farther to the east than ours.”

As the captives moved off to the west and up the rise, Pandy and the boys scurried back down into the opening. Once back in the clearing, the boys watched Pandy as she contemplated the potential meaning of everything she'd just witnessed.

She remained still and silent for the rest of the afternoon, moving only once to venture outside the boulders and look at the western sky. The dark, filmy cloud seemed closer now, giving the appearance of night falling much earlier than normal. What was this? It had to be linked to everything else—the slaves, Dionysus's instructions—she was certain of it.

Finally, when true night fell, Ismailil began to rub two small sticks together for a fire. After watching him struggle for long minutes, Pandy asked Ismailil and Amri to venture out, not too far, and find just a few more branches. While they were gone, Pandy knelt down by the sad little pile of twigs and blew gently, using her special power until a thin wisp of smoke began to rise into the air and the kindling burst into flame. These boys would flee, terrified, if they knew of her secret; they'd obviously been through too much already. When the brothers returned, their arms heavy with wood, Pandy was sitting by a nice, warm fire, talking into something small she held up to her ear.

“No . . .
lots
of people, Daddy . . . like, thousands . . . yes, in chains . . . Okay, gotta go, Dad.” She spotted the boys and began to whisper. “No, that's it . . . yeah, Daddy, I'm fine . . . no, they can't understand me but I still have to use my inside voice. Big-time phileo. Oh, and Daddy, will you kiss Xander for me? Yes, I'm serious. Bye.”

Reaching into her carrying pouch to retrieve some flatbread, she also found a nice fresh strip of lamb, and without hesitation, a tear coursed down her cheek.

“Thank you, Athena, again,” she said in her heart.

Having eaten better and feeling warmer than they had in days, the brothers immediately fell into a deep sleep, only faintly hearing Pandy say that they would be leaving early in the morning.

“She will help us find our parents, Amri, I am certain,” said Ismailil, passing out.

Amri said nothing as his little eyelids closed.

Pandy rose noiselessly and tiptoed a few steps to the far side of the camp, settling herself against the side of a rock wall. She needed to attend to her evening prayers, but she didn't simply want to think them . . . she wanted to say them, whisper them if necessary, if only to feel her lips forming the words and the air moving over her teeth. She had thought of almost nothing all day but her stark new surroundings, the slavers and their chained prisoners, and of the two little strangers who had suddenly come into her life. She'd thought of her friends only twice, early that morning and when she'd described them to Ismailil and Amri. But those moments were fleeting, tinged with stress or part of an effort to coerce the brothers into trusting her. Now, alone in the glow of the fire, she ached with fear and began to beseech the gods on their behalf.

“Mighty Zeus, supreme above all . . . Wise Athena, Lovely Aphrodite, Fleet-footed Hermes . . .”

She paused.

“. . . Hera, most wondrous Queen of Heaven . . .”

One by one she called out to them all, even including the lesser gods and goddesses, begging them to keep her friends alive and safe. Her words flew out of her mouth, asking the gods to please ignore Alcie's temper and sass, to keep Homer strong, and to please, please be mindful that Iole wasn't as hearty as the other two . . . that she needed special physical protection.

Then Pandy paused for a moment, using the cunning and wit she'd been developing over the past weeks to create a very special prayer, saying the words slowly and quietly, yet very clearly.

“Fierce and Merciless Ares . . . you who understand and appreciate loyalty . . . on the battlefield and at your side . . . you, whose favorite creature is the dog . . . keep watch over my precious Dido. I cannot say where he is, but I beg of you . . .
I beg of you
. . . to keep him free of harm.”

(Ares, at that moment, was standing with Hades by a particular wall in Hades' apartments that wailed whenever touched, both of them pressing it in various places, listening to the sounds of souls in torment that issued forth—a favorite pastime for both gods. Over the din of agony and terror came Pandy's voice, soft and clear, in prayer. Ares paused for a second, his gaze meeting Hades' and then traveling upward toward the direction of Hera's rooms. He sighed heavily, then continued touching the wall.)

Finished, Pandy walked back to the fire and lay down, curling up close to the sleeping boys.

Pandy slept very, very little.

CHAPTER SIX
On the Syracusa

Climbing onto the deck of the massive
Syracusa,
Iole and Alcie were immediately stunned by all the noisy activity. While the captives were herded into rows and ordered to keep their eyes down, the girls managed to peek at dozens of groups of pirates behaving almost . . . merrily. Some were drinking out of large metal goblets, spilling red wine down the front of their togas. Iole saw two pirates get into a shoving match over the last drop of wine in a bottle. The skirmish, which started out good-naturedly, ended with one pirate hurling the other over the side of the ship, whereupon all the pirates in the group rushed to the railing, stared down for a moment, then threw back their heads, screaming in hysterics. Festive but discordant music was everywhere, as there were several groups of pirates playing old, broken instruments while others danced until they tripped over each other. One group was gambling, tossing odd coins, jewelry, and trinkets into a circle made of white sticks. A pirate would throw a very strange pair of dice and then, depending on the outcome, would punch another and gather up the treasures. Iole gasped when she realized that the sticks forming the gambling circle were actually human finger bones. She was loud enough that one of the pirates whispered to the others, who giggled and nodded madly. The pirate then picked up the dice and threw them low in the girls' direction. Iole watched as the dice picked up speed, bouncing over the deck until they landed at her feet. She shrieked, realizing they were dried eyeballs.

“Keep your eyes
down
!”

Iole had shifted her gaze upward in horror for only a split second, but it was enough. Swiftly, a man in nearly full battle dress was standing in front of her, carrying a sinister-looking whip.

“Look up once more and the end of my whip will be the last thing you see,” said the man, his voice now close in her ear. He then turned toward the crowd.

“I am Gaius,” he said, speaking to everyone, “slave master aboard this ship, and I alone will determine your fate—at least for the foreseeable future.”

“Figgy apricots,” Alcie muttered involuntarily.

“I have equal skill in removing tongues, maiden,” said Gaius, thrusting his whip under Alcie's chin and forcing her head upward, her eyes looking directly into his, seeing nothing but hatred. He yelled over his shoulder, “Isn't that correct, Primus?”

“Muh-huh,” mumbled a glum-looking pirate, standing close by.

“Primus interrupted me once,” Gaius said, never taking his eyes from Alcie, small flecks of spittle in the corners of his mouth, “and I was telling a story about my mother. He won't do it again. So I'd listen if I were you. Because you won't need a tongue where you're going.”

Alcie, her head raised, was able to see that at least a hundred pirates and a greater number of tiny creatures, hanging from the mast ropes, clustered on top of the guard towers, surrounded them. Then she noticed that all the men were completely bald . . . hairless, actually; not an eyebrow, not a whisker. Iole had noticed it as well, but she was also noticing something more important: these pirates were calling each other by Roman names and one of them had used the name “Jupiter,” the Roman name for Zeus. She knew that the Roman Empire had spread as far south as the northern part of the African continent, so that meant that this was a whole band of Roman soldiers who had turned pirate. “But why?” she wondered.

“Where you're going,” Gaius now addressed the captives, “you'll need only the sorry muscles of your arms and backs. We've been given free license to do with you what we will, as long as your backs arrive in good condition. Let's see how many of you can keep yourselves intact until we reach our destination. Now, what shall we do with each of you . . .”

Gaius moved to the head of the rows and began to walk slowly down each line.

“Galley. Oar room. Oar room. Hold. Oh, this one gave us trouble, didn't he? Chain him to the railing. Oar room. Stable.”

Suddenly, he stopped in front of Homer.

“Exalted Juno,” Gaius said, gazing up, “the Great One will put quite a value on your head. Look at me, youth!”

But Homer stared straight ahead.

“Too proud to look at your betters, eh?” Gaius sneered. “
Chain him to the prow
! You don't want to look at me, let us see how you like looking down into the sea for a day or two.”

Three large men grabbed Homer as another approached with a heavy chain.

“Wait!”

A voice Alcie thought she recognized cut through the din on deck.

“I'll take him.”

A solitary figure moved through the band of creatures. A black-haired, black-browed man who, Alcie had thought only days ago, wouldn't know a smile if one popped up out of the ocean and landed at his feet.

It was the captain of the
Peacock,
the ship on which they'd left Greece bound for Egypt . . . the ship that had been completely destroyed.

“You'll take nothing, wretch,” Gaius sputtered. “Now get back to the helm of this ship before I throw you into the arms of Neptune. And no one will fish you out this time!”

(Iole knew now she was right: Neptune was the Roman name for Poseidon.)

“Then you'll have no one to guide this vessel. Since you pirates have killed her entire crew and not one of you can control her, you'll let me have this youth or, by Zeus, in the dead of night I'll lay her on the rocks and then we'll see how you fare with . . . the Great One.”

Gaius looked as if he were about to explode—literally.

“I need help with the charts. None of you can read. Most of you can barely speak. He looks like he can read. Can you read, youth?”

“Yes, sir,” Homer replied.

“Then follow me. And those two maidens as well. I need cabin slaves.”

Without even a backward glance, the captain strode off back across the deck the way he came. Still chained, Iole and Homer immediately began to follow; Alcie looked around, not quite sure what had just happened.

“Alcie, come on!” Iole called back, glimpsing Gaius's face, looking like he'd just been slapped.

Alcie caught up as quickly as she could and the three followed the captain to a short set of stairs leading below deck, down a narrow corridor to two doors directly opposite each other.

“You maidens, in here,” he said, showing them into a small cabin. Alcie and Iole rushed inside as the door was closed behind them and Homer's footsteps faded as he trailed behind the captain.

“Cabin slave!”
Alcie squealed. “Black, rotting
pears
! What do I know about being a cabin slave? I've never done washing! I think I made up my pallet once when our house slave was sick. I would rather die than
touch
someone's soiled . . . unmentionables.”