Pandora Gets Jealous

by Carolyn Hennesy

  Xander didn't flinch, but Sabina started awake, looking about with a terrified expression. Then smelling the delicious food and realizing where she was, she propelled herself—at a snail's pace—out of the floor pillow and sat down at the table.

  "Come on, honey . . . you've got to eat something," said Prometheus to Pandy, feeding Xander a fig.

  Just then, Dido wandered in from the courtyard looking dirty and confused, but not any thinner.

  "Dido!" Pandy threw her arms around his neck. "C'mere ghost dog. Did you miss me, huh? Hey, hey . . . look at me, Dido. Dad, I think something's wrong with him. He's gotten fatter."

  "I've been feeding him," came a small voice from the doorway.

  "Iole!" said Pandy.

  "Mom and Dad kept turning him away when he started coming to our house for food. So I've been sneaking him some sacrificial leavings and a little rice after everyone goes to sleep."

  Iole stood with the sun at her back, but even in silhouette Pandy could tell there was something very wrong. As she got closer, she saw small grayish bumps covering lole's arms and legs. Then she saw that they were—ever so slightly—wiggling.

  "Iole, what happened?" said Pandy, leading her to the table.

  "I don't know," Iole said. "But I've been ruminating. I'm pretty sure it's because I was so close to the box when all the vapors and fumes came rushing out. You saw Helen and Hippia. Well, I was standing just a little farther back and this is what happened. Where have you been?"

  "But those plagues aren't supposed to be physical or anything like that; they're just supposed to make people say and do and feel terrible things."

  "I think we got it in concentrated form. Where were you?" said Iole.

  "Why are they wiggling?" asked Pandy.

  Xander had stopped eating and was gaping at lole's bumps.

  "I'm not quite sure," Iole answered. "Pandy, where have you been?"

  "Do they . . . hurt?" Pandy asked cautiously.

  "Oh no. In fact"—Iole suddenly started giggling— "they tickle sometimes. Pandy . . . ?"

  "I've been on Mount Olympus," Pandy began, and as she told the story of the map and her quest, the terrible importance of what she'd agreed to do came rushing in upon her. Tears started to well up again.

  "You're gonna do it? All by yourself? And you've only got a day to get ready? Let me help you! My parents think I'm off floating in the sulfur baths, trying to get rid of these things. But when Dido started heading for your house, I knew you were back."

  "Dad?" said Pandy, turning suddenly. "Why were we gone almost three weeks and I don't remember it?"

  "Because," Prometheus said, "you know that Zeus built his palace on Olympus at a height exactly nine days above the earth, just as the gates of the underworld below us are a nine-day journey from the top of the earth. So it takes exactly nine days to ascend to Olympus from earth and nine days to return. There was no need for you to be awake during the trip, so Morpheus cradled you there and back."

  "What was that thing you were talking about with Hermes?"

  "What thing?" asked Prometheus.

  "The thing that he meant when he said 'I'll think about that thing'?"

  "Oh." And he paused. "Pandora, the whole family will suffer if Zeus finds out we helped you in any way. But that doesn't mean I'm not going to keep track of you. I need a way of knowing where and how you are at all times. Hermes is gonna see what he can come up with."

  "And another thing . . . Dad, how come you're a Titan and you never told me?"

  "Enough questions, Pandora! Eat and then we have to get you ready to . . . go."

  Prometheus strode to the doorway, standing for many moments just staring outside. At length, he turned to Sabina.

  "Sabina, will you clean the drainage counter and floor, please?"

  Sabina glanced up, midbite, with a chicken leg in her mouth. She looked like she was going to say something, but she finished chewing her chicken and got up to find the broom.

  "Pandy," said Iole, leaning across the table, "you've got to come see Alcie."

  Pandy's heart gave a small lurch. Alcie had actually been standing closer to the opened box than Iole had.

  "Why? Gods, what's wrong?"

  "She's got two left feet," said Iole.

  Pandy didn't get it at first. Okay Alcie was kinda clumsy, but. . . Then her eyes went wide.

  "You mean . . . seriously?"

  "Yep. She's been staying in bed a lot. And sitting down. Just basically trying not to ambulate."

  "What?"

  "Um . . . move," Iole said.

  "Why?" asked Pandy.

  "She keeps going in circles. If she tries to walk through her house she just veers off to the right and crashes into the wall. And something has happened to her mouth . . . kinda."

  "Huh?"

  "Every once in while, she says things she doesn't mean . . . or maybe she means them, but she's not thinking before she says them."

  "But she's always done that," said Pandy.

  "It's worse. And when she's really upset, she keeps mentioning . . . ," Iole said.

  "What?" said Pandy.

  "Fruit."

  "Fru . . . fruit? Gods," said Pandy, standing up. "Dad, I've got to go. I'll be back in a moment."

  "You're not leaving this house, young maiden!" he said.

  "Dad, Alcie's hurt. And it's my fault. I have to see her. I'll be right back."

  And she was already out the door and running. She paused only briefly to let Iole catch up and then the two girls sprinted over small hills, through woods and olive groves until they reached Alcie's home.

  "Go around the back way," said Iole.

  "But Alcie's room is in front on the second level."

  "She can't climb the stairs. They've put her in a room in the back."

  The two friends cautiously made their way around the side of the house and through the garden filled with Alcie's family statues. Pandy, keeping an eye on the windows, accidentally knocked the pinkie finger off Alcie's aunt Aurora, who'd been turned to stone by Medusa. "Oops!" whispered Pandy.

  "Oh, Pandy!" said Iole, picking up the finger and waggling it.

  Then they started to giggle.

  "It's so not funny," said Pandy, trying to stifle herself. "What do I do with it?"

  "Put it in her other hand. Maybe they can stick it back on with mortar," said Iole. And the two laughed so hard they had to brace themselves against the other petrified members of Alcie's family until they settled down.

  They stifled still more giggles as they rounded the back of the large house and passed quietly underneath two large windows. They came to a small window at the very end of the house and peeked in.

  Alcie was lying on a sleeping pallet, propped up with many colorful pillows, a glass of crushed grape juice on a small stand next to her. Her hair was loose around her shoulders and she held a papyrus sheet, trying to write something with a pheasant quill. She looked perfect, like a little goddess; then Pandy looked down the length of the pallet and saw two small feet poking out from under the blanket. Same size, same shape, pointing in exactly the same direction.

  "Alcie!" whispered Pandy.

  Alcie looked up and saw her two best friends at the window. She smiled for a second and then started to cry.

  "Alcie, don't cry, please!" said Pandy. "Can we come in?"

  "I. . . guess so. I hate your apple entrails, you know!" she said, getting up.

  Pandy had started to climb in the window, but Al­cie's words stopped her. It was more the tone than the actual words. She means it, Pandy thought. She looked at Iole, who looked back with a nod and a shrug.

  Alcie strayed to the right for a bit as she walked to the window, then corrected herself and helped the girls into the room. She sat back on the sleeping pallet with Pandy. Iole stood at the door, listening for anyone approaching.

  "When did it happen?" asked Pandy. "You were okay when we all ran away, right?"

  "I was fine until the next day I woke up with a gi
ant pain in my right leg; except it wasn't my right leg anymore. And then I started having major trouble walking, so Mom and Dad are keeping me home from school."

  "It's still open?" said Pandy.

  "Some of the teachers are there, but not many students," said Iole. "We were pretty close to the source, Pandy; a lot of people are a mess. Damon of Troy, the new kid, has fingernails that won't stop growing. He can't feed himself anymore. Hermia, Hippia's little sister, has two and a half heads. But her house was destroyed, so the family's thinking about going to Rome and putting her in the circus. And Tiresias the Younger is . . . is . . ."

  "What? What? What is he?" Pandy said, horrified at what might have befallen her heartthrob.

  "... a girl," said Iole, giggling for a second, then trying to be very serious again.

  "Gods, you wretched little . . . tangerine! I can't even wear my best ankle bracelets anymore 'cause they just scrape against each other! Pomegranates! I hope the Colossus of Rhodes falls on your face! May pillars crush you! May . . . " Alcie quickly slapped a hand over her mouth. "I'm . . . I'm sorry."

  Pandy was struck dumb again. She paused and knew this couldn't be her best friend talking. Alcie wouldn't be this way if not for her.

  "No, listen, Alcie," she said slowly, "it's gonna be okay. I was on Mount Olympus. I'm not kidding. And Zeus said that even though I was terrible and stupid and that he really wanted to do horrible things to my family, he was gonna give me a chance."

  As she related the whole story again, Alcie stared at her just the way Iole had.

  ". . . and Hermes said"—Pandy dropped her voice very low—"that some of them would be around, y'know, kinda watching out and stuff. So don't worry. When I get back... I don't know . . . but things will be better. I think. They have to be, right?"

  "If you get back, you mean, you prune!" Alcie fell back on the pillows with her hand over her mouth again. "I'm sorry, Pandy."

  "It's okay, Alcie. Yeah, you're right. If."

  Pandy walked to the window, then turned to face her friends: Iole standing guard at the door, her bumps wiggling ever so slightly, and Alcie, unable to walk straight, terrible things coming out of her mouth. This was all her fault, every last bit of it. Then she stood up.

  "I'm gonna make this right. I'll try . . . I'll do my best, guys. And I'm not gonna mess it up."

  Pandy started to climb back out the window.

  "You coming, Iole?" she said, looking over her shoulder.

  "I'm staying here for a bit."

  Pandy paused on the window ledge, realizing that this was probably it; this was good-bye.

  "Then I'll see you in . . . I'll see you . . . in six moons."

  She jumped back into the room and ran to give Alcie a hug. She motioned for Iole to join them. Iole shook her head and looked ashamedly at her bumps.

  "I don't care," whispered Pandy.

  Iole wrapped her arms around Pandy and Alcie and the three friends clung to one another for a long, long time.

  Then Pandy, certain she'd never see either of them again, climbed out the window and ran back over the hills.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Preparation

  When she arrived back home, there were only a few hours of daylight left. She walked in to find the table cleared of all the food conjured by Hermes.

  On it instead was a long fur-lined cloak, two hemp sacks, a leather carrying pouch, the map, and a few other items.

  "You might have helped us prepare for your departure," called Sabina, storing leftover food at the drainage counter.

  "I had to see my friend. She's hurt."

  "She's not the only one, my dear," Sabina said, sniffing at an old piece of lamb before tasting it. "Hmm . . . still good."

  "Sabina, where's my father? asked Pandy.

  "I'm right here, honey."

  Prometheus descended the stairway, the wooden box in one hand and something wrapped in cloth in the other. Pandy walked over and hugged his waist.

  "I'm sorry I left, Dad. But Alcie . . . Dad, Alcie and Iole . . ."

  "It's fine, sweetheart. Didn't take us long at all. You wouldn't have known where half this stuff was anyway. Come here."

  He led her back to the table.

  "This pouch should be big enough to hold everything. Now, here is an extra pair of sandals, a clean toga, a spare tooth-rake, and five sticks of Sabina's lavender-cinnamon chewing sap."

  "She never gives that away!"

  "She cares about you, daughter . . . and she wanted to give you a little comfort. Besides, it's starting to pull her teeth out. Now," he said, holding up the smaller pouch, which jingled a little, "this is extra money for food and supplies. Sabina is packing you some dried foods, which should last a long time, but you'll run out sooner or later. Save this money as long as you can, though."

  Pandy looked at Sabina, now inhaling the scent from a plate of moldy olives, and remembered her seconds earlier, sniffing at the lamb. She made a furious mental note to check all the provisions before she left the house.

  "Here's your food sack," her father continued, packing all of the items into the leather pouch. "Your water-skin, and the map, and finally, the box."

  "What's this?" said Pandy, holding up the cloak. "I mean, I know what it is, but whose is it?"

  Prometheus gazed at the cloak.

  "This was . . . is . your mother's. It's the first present I gave to her after we were married. I guess it's a little shabby for her now; she never wears it anymore. But the fur is still thick and it will keep you warm. Don't mind the length, you can tuck it into your girdle if it drags a little."

  "Dad," she said, looking down at her belt, "my training girdle will never be able to hold that cloak."

  "Right," he said, then he paused and held out the cloth bundle. "Right you are, daughter. And so I have also decided to give you this . . ."

  Pandora unwrapped her mother's silver girdle.

  Like a wave washing over her, she felt every emotion leave her but despair. She was flooded with it, then with anger at herself, and then terrible, terrible fear. She realized that the moment she put on her mother's girdle, the days of being an irresponsible girl were gone . . . forever. She clung to her father and sobbed for so long that it was only Sabina's voice, muttering something about how green cheese could still be good cheese, that brought her back.

  "Pandora, why don't you go play with your little brother," Prometheus said. "He won't be so little when . . . when you come home."

  She couldn't think of anything, at that moment, that she wanted to do more. She nodded and raced upstairs to Xander's room.

  "After evening meal you and I will examine the map," Prometheus called after her.

  "Okay!"

  She found Xander on the floor, trying to eat the glass-bead eye off of his stuffed Cyclops.

  "Hey, you . . . ," she said softly, settling down next to him and tickling his tail. "Whatcha doing, there? Huh?"

  Xander looked at her, suspiciously at first; he'd become used to his big sister ignoring him, and his little tail fanned out in hesitation. But after a moment, he handed her the doll, which she started to play with. Xander giggled madly at his big sister's antics with the one-eyed fur-ball. He ran around his room finding other toys and dolls, carefully and meticulously explaining each and every one of them to Pandy. They all enjoyed a pretend feast, which became a war, which became a dance, which became a race, which became a shopping spree, which finally became a slumber party when Xander passed out.

  Pandy lay down next to him. She looked at him sleeping peacefully next to his Hercules doll. When she came home, she vowed, she was gonna do this more often. She promised him. She promised herself.

  "Evening meal!" called Sabina.

  "Already?" said Pandy, coming downstairs.

  "Well, you didn't eat anything earlier," said Prometheus.

  She had completely forgotten, realizing she was famished.

  "Besides, I want you on your pallet early," he said. "You must get as much sleep as
you can."

  Pandy sat down to a huge meal of chicken, rice, hummus, flatbread, boiled vegetables, and honey cakes. She cleaned her plate and asked for another.

  When she'd finally had enough, her father brought out the yellowed sheepskin bag from the pouch. He started to untie the golden string when Pandy stopped him.

  "Dad, let me. Just in case no one is supposed to touch it but me."

  He smiled and handed the bag to her. Pandy loosed the string, broke the seal of Hera, and slowly unfolded the soft sheepskin.

  Inside was a small blue marble bowl. The outside was divided, top to bottom, in three concentric rings, each of varying dark blue shades in comparison to the light blue marble inside. Each ring had a series of seven groups of strange symbols circling the bowl. Pandy recognized only a few of the symbols as numbers and letters.

  "This is a map?" she said.

  "It must be."

  "How do I read it?" she asked.

  "It's a bowl . . . let's put something in it," said Prometheus.

  They filled the bowl with goat's milk and stared for a few minutes into the murky whiteness.

  "Nothing, Dad!" said Pandy.

  They filled the bowl with water, grape juice, honey, olive oil, wine, lemon juice, and cream. All in vain.

  "Maybe it's not a liquid," said Pandy.

  They tried grapes, figs, cheese, garlic cloves, basil leaves, lentils—everything in the food cupboards. Nothing yielded any result.

  "Pandora," said Prometheus. "Let's think about this. The map is supposed to be able to be used anywhere. What's one of the most common substances?"

  "Water? But we tried that, Dad."

  "I know. I know. But let's do it again."

  They rinsed the bowl and filled it again with fresh water. Then they stared at it. And stared at it.

  Pandora didn't know how long it would be till the sky darkened, but she knew they were wasting precious time with this stupid bowl. She was going to leave in the morning and never return, she was sure of it. But she was determined to be brave, so when her tears started to fall, she didn't shake or sniffle. She just let them roll down her cheeks and off her chin, splashing onto the table.

  All except one.

  One tear missed the wooden table where the others had landed and splashed into the water.