Pandora Gets Angry

by Carolyn Hennesy

  “I just will,” she said at last.

  “Very well, since you will not listen to my advice and turn away, hear this: when the door is opened, you must summon all your courage to find your way into the first room, which will then be lit as bright as day. Pass through the room as quickly as you can and pay no attention to anything you may hear. Anything. And above all, touch nothing. I shall repeat, although it never does any good: do not listen and do not touch. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” Pandy replied. If it was just voices, how bad could that be, she mused.

  “Then come,” said the man, unbending his legs and rising. Pandy noticed that, while the old man had been talking, all the snakes had simply disappeared. Moving swiftly to the golden door, the man gave the gentlest push and it swung silently inward, revealing nothing but blackness beyond.

  Pandy looked to Iole, Homer, and Douban, her smile weak but her fists clenched firmly. Then she walked into the darkness. Remembering that she had forgotten to ask anything about the garden itself, its size, shape, or where exactly to find Alcie, Pandy turned back, but the golden door was swinging shut and, suddenly, she was in pitch—pitch—black.

  It was then Pandy recalled the words spoken by the head of Douban’s father: “the deadly corridor.” And she flashed back to the first words of advice the old man had just given her: “You must summon all your courage to find your way into the first room.”

  Pandy had just assumed that she would be in some sort of rocky passageway, much like the one she and the others had passed through as they descended the stairway into the earth from above. Why would she need any courage? Couldn’t she just walk?

  Then, as her eyes were trying to adjust, trying to find even a pinpoint of light to lead her, she heard the sound. So very soft. All around her, a rustling, but not harsh—whisper soft. It was the sound of things gently rubbing together, oh so slowly.

  Tentatively, she put out her hand, trying to find a wall with her fingers. Nothing. She edged forward, slowly. Finally, her middle finger brushed against something soft and dry. Pandy pulled her hand back, then stretched it out again cautiously, feeling again the papery softness.

  Then she felt it move.

  In the blink of an eye, just before she jerked her hand away, she felt the tiny but strong muscles contract. She knew exactly what it was. And she flashed on all the small heads turning toward Douban, fangs bared.

  All the snakes that had disappeared from the alcove were now surrounding her; her skin rose up in prickles along the back of her neck and down her arms and legs. She remained frozen for—she couldn’t say how long. She hadn’t known this particular type of fear before: to be completely unable to see the enemy, to see what was coming at you. Then she remembered that her feet hadn’t come into contact with anything so, perhaps, shuffling along the floor wouldn’t be dangerous. Her legs felt like they were made of bronze. She forced herself to go onward until her shoulder grazed a wall and she felt a mass of long shapes on her upper arm.

  “Okay. Okay,” she mouthed to herself. “This is not the way. I could be in here forever, bumping into walls. Think!”

  Without knowing why exactly, only that she was, naturally, curious, she gradually raised her right arm into the air over her head. Her elbow was still bent when she brushed against a ceiling writhing with long, slender bodies—so close to her head.

  She gritted her teeth and hesitantly put out her hand one more time.

  “If I can just move along a wall,” she mumbled.

  She closed her eyes; there was no point in keeping them open, she knew she could only rely on her fingers and her sense of touch. She lightly traced over a mass of snakes slithering on a wall. Moving forward, she delicately swept her forefinger along one particular snake or another, always avoiding the head. This worked until she headed into a corner and her nose rammed between two snakes clinging to the wall. Instantly, she flung her head back but not before her cheek felt a tiny fang, bared and ready to strike.

  Around and around she went. She lost any sense of time. Into dead ends, oddly angled corners, and wide, sweeping curves. At one point, the ceiling sloped downward and a hanging tail lightly struck the top of her head. She was beyond tired. She got on her knees, still keeping her arms stretched out, mashing her knees into the hard ground as she willed herself onward.

  “Alcie’s alive and, by Zeus and all the gods, I’m going to find her,” she said aloud, not caring if the snakes were at all disturbed.

  Then she felt it.

  The air became ever-so-slightly cooler and less stale.

  Pandy had an urge to speed up, but resisted with all her might. She kept her pace even, but felt over her head and realized she could stand again. Then, all at once, she felt a bare spot on the wall to her right and her fingers touched only stone. Then more stone as the gaps between snakes grew wider, then she placed her palm on the wall and felt only smoothness. Impulsively, she raised her left arm and felt the ceiling, devoid of snakes.

  Suddenly the wall and ceiling ended and she was standing alone in the blackness. She opened her eyes. There was nothing to cling to, no focus point. She began to lose any sense of direction, becoming uncertain of which way was up and which way was down. Just as she began to stumble forward, a light was lit in a room, the opening to which was directly in front of her. Immediately, she stepped into the archway and, steadying herself against a wall, turned to look behind her.

  There was nothing. She had seen this kind of blackness only once before, when she’d been sucked into the void of the heavens. She’d seen the great masses that formed the constellations up close, but beyond them, a darkness that went beyond an ordinary moonless night. This corridor or chamber … or whatever she’d just passed through had been exactly the same.

  Pandy turned back into the long room to find that it was now awash in light. There wasn’t a soul in sight, but many oil lamps hanging from the ceiling were now blazing, turning the room red. Pandy realized that the walls and ceiling were covered entirely in copper. Beyond this room another archway led into darkness, but Pandy knew that Alcie was close by. She headed quickly, in a straight line, for the archway, only glancing at the huge jars, close to the walls on either side, full to bursting with red copper coins. She wasn’t ten steps into the room when the first voice whispered in her ear.

  “Take one—who will know?”

  Then another voice in her other ear.

  “Aren’t they pretty? And you could use them, no?”

  Suddenly the voices were all around her. Some were light and airy, others sweet, but all were playful.

  “Just a handful.” “We won’t tell.” “Come, over here!” “This way!”

  Then, a voice crept in that was anything but sweet.

  “Stop her. Stop her before she goes any farther!”

  Both Pandy’s courage and footsteps faltered for a moment.

  “There! You see? She’s listening. Tell her! Tell her what we will do to her if she takes another step.” “Do not let her pass!” “Take a coin, just one.”

  Pandy remembered the words of the old man and walked straight across the long room. The tempting words and the threats died out quickly as she reached the entryway to the second room, which was magically lit before her.

  “Okay,” she murmured to herself, glancing back into the copper room, now completely dark. “Not bad. Not great, but not bad.”

  She peered into the new room. It was blinding white, covered from top to bottom in silver. Large jars piled high with shiny silver coins lined the walls, and there were many more black stones on the floor around them. She squared her shoulders and walked ahead. Only five steps into the room, however, and the voices were back.

  “Where does she think she’s going?” “What does she want here?” “Such beautiful coins—take some.”

  The voices grew in ferocity and temptation.

  “Catch her!” “Kill her!” “The coins are enchanted, such powers they would give you!” “The death of a thous
and cuts!” “Your eyes will be torn away!” “All of this silver is yours, take it!”

  With a start Pandy realized that she had stopped in the middle of the room and was staring at the gleaming piles of coins.

  “That’s it!” “Take one, ten—take them all!”

  She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen so much silver. Even the silver merchant in the marketplace had not such a quantity.

  “Figs,” she said absentmindedly. And that word brought her right back to Alcie. Alcie, only one room and a few measly trees away! She turned her steps toward the entrance to the third room and, reaching it, didn’t even bother to look behind her; she knew the silver room was now dark, and if it wasn’t, she didn’t care. The third and final room lay before her, made entirely of gleaming gold and now ablaze with the light of dozens of oil lamps. So many jars of beautiful golden coins lined the walls, three or four deep in places, that she lost count. She had never in her life seen so much money. She’d seen splendor, to be certain, but never simple, pure golden money. There was so much it was even piled in heaps on the floor. And so many black rocks. There were more rounded rocks in this room than in the first two combined.

  She took a quick glance around; the only physical difference to this room that she could see was the absence of a far wall. Instead, the room opened onto an expanse of blackness. Then Pandy narrowed her eyes and stared hard. There was a twinkle to the left, then a sparkle to the right, and then a flash, and then another and another, all accompanied by a delicate clinking sound. Finally, her eyes made out the large trees with low-hanging fruit that tinkled and glinted in the lamplight. And far beyond the trees, a single candle or lamp or flame of some sort sputtered in the blackness.

  “The garden!” she gasped.

  “Hey! I see a light!” came a voice from somewhere deep in the grove of trees.

  “Alcie!” yelled Pandy.

  “Pandy?” yelled Alcie in return.

  Without another word, Pandy broke into a run, but she was only two steps into the room when the voices began screaming in her ears; shouting and shrieking, cursing her and threatening her so violently that her hands flew up to cover her ears and she stopped, petrified.

  “Assassin!” “Thief!” “I shall tear your arms from their sockets!” “I shall feed you your tongue!” “One more step and my knife shall plunge into your heart!”

  Pandy was immobilized, shaking and unable to focus. Then soothing voices took over and calmed her.

  “Pay no attention to those brutes!” “No one can harm you now.” “Do you see what lies here? All this is yours.” “We have been waiting for one such as you!” “So courageous!” “This is your gift!”

  Then, from out of nowhere, but close enough that Pandy whipped around, came a voice that sounded exactly like that of …

  … her mother.

  “How wonderful to see you at last.”

  It felt as if a knife were, indeed, going straight into her heart.

  “Take a coin, dear one. It is more precious than you know. Only one will buy you the world. Come.”

  Pandy turned to the nearest cluster of jars. She wanted to see her mother more than anything else in the world. And there were so many pretty coins. She missed her family. She stared at the gleaming piles.

  “Come.”

  As she took one tiny step, she heard Alcie’s voice, far in the distance; so far that Pandy couldn’t make out the words. Something about—help.

  “Come. With these, you’ll be able to do anything. Come.”

  She’d be able to help. Help Alcie. Help them all. They would be able to travel safely and in style. She would be able to buy information regarding the remaining Evils. With so much money, she might even be able to buy back the Evils themselves. What would it hurt if she just took one or two? She could buy anything—everything. And they were all so shiny.

  “Come.”

  “One more step and I’ll sever your head!”

  “Hush! Ignore him. Come.”

  She reached out toward the closest jar, mesmerized, and felt her fingers curling around a small golden disc.

  Instantly, within a heartbeat, the world was being sucked into a vortex somewhere on the floor at her feet. The next moment, the long room was silent and empty, as if no one had been there in ages. No sound and no movement.

  Except …

  Against the base of the jar of golden coins, there was one more black stone rolling to a slow, lazy stop.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The Garden of the Jinn

  “Your friend is dead,” said the old man. “Now go away.”

  Iole, even with her brilliant brain, was certain she hadn’t heard correctly, so she had no reason to be alarmed, only surprised.

  “I’m sorry?” she said, almost sweetly.

  “Leave this place,” the old man said. “The girl is dead.”

  Douban’s entire body went rigid. Iole sprung away from Homer, on whom she’d been leaning for the past hour because the walls were pocketed with snake holes.

  “What!” she screamed, not getting too close, but trying to appear that she was bearing down forcefully. “What do you mean? Who do you mean? Which girl?”

  “The one with whom you arrived,” he said, a smile playing across his lips. “No one listens. No one ever listens. Now go.”

  “Okay,” Homer said, turning out of the alcove.

  “Homer! Stop right there!” Iole commanded.

  “Okay.”

  “Please explain, sir,” Douban said, fighting to keep his voice even.

  “Only your father listened. Only your father could move through untempted,” said the old man to Douban. “His was a will of iron.”

  “Pandy is dead?” Iole yelled. “How? How did she die?”

  “You bore me,” said the man, uncrossing his legs as if to stand and go.

  “I don’t care if I put you to sleep!” Iole said, totally surprised by her own vehemence and authority. “You’re not going anywhere! Let me in there!”

  She marched over to the golden door and stood squarely in front of it, waiting.

  “I’m going in,” she announced.

  “No,” Douban said, “let me go. I can do—”

  “Anything you can do,” Iole cawed at him, “I can do—with greater skill, efficiency, and nerve! All the tales we’ve told you over the last few days? Well, it wasn’t half of what we’ve been through. And that ‘we’ includes me. So I am very capable, thank you very much, to discover what happened to one friend and save another!”

  She turned to the old man.

  “Now open it!”

  With another slight smile, he rose, walked to the golden door, and pushed it open. As the door swung back, Iole marched through without another word and immediately found herself in inky blackness. In the alcove, Douban turned to the old man and Homer.

  “I only meant that if I am truly my father’s son, I might have had a better chance at avoiding whatever traps lie beyond.”

  “Naturally,” said the old man.

  “Okay,” agreed Homer.

  Alone and unable to see, Iole followed the first idea that came to her. She crouched low to the ground and wrapped her arms around her knees. Like Pandy, she looked for any glimmer of light, the faintest twinkle, and when she saw nothing, her ears pricked up. She even stopped breathing through her nose, choosing to inhale and exhale slowly and silently. There was nothing.

  At first.

  And then she heard the rustling. Like two layers of silk barely glancing off each other. Iole held her breath and strained her ears. With a start, she realized it was coming from every direction. And then, like Pandy, she realized that the snakes had disappeared from the alcove and, while they probably could have gone many places, there was only one place they did go and they were now completely surrounding her.

  She dug her fingernails into her knees and tried not to cry out.

  The one thing Iole had never mentioned to anyone was her intense, paralyzing f
ear of snakes. Before her family had moved from Crete to Athens, she had made the mistake, when she was only a little girl, of telling some other children that she didn’t particularly like the slithering creatures. The next day, two young boys held her to the ground while another girl teased and tormented Iole by holding a snake only millimeters from her face as Iole screamed. Finally, the girl tossed the snake onto Iole’s shoulders as she and the boys ran away. Iole fainted on the spot, only to be found later by her father.

  When she arrived in Athens, before Pandy and Alcie became like sisters to her, she vowed never to reveal this terror to anyone. Then, because there were so many other things to talk about, it became somewhat of a non-issue. She could laugh about Alcie’s aunt Medusa, with snakes for hair, because Medusa had been killed long ago. And she rarely left well-traveled roads and pathways. If they had come across any snakes in the months since they had begun the quest, Iole had simply clenched her fists and had walked around them, remaining silent. Trying to laugh and be brave. Even in the alcove, when she had essentially climbed onto Homer, she hadn’t screamed; she’d just acted rather “girly,” never letting on that her insides had become liquid.

  But this.

  This was her worst nightmare coming true.

  She began to cry, imagining the bites, the stinging, the attacks that were sure to happen. And she waited, trying to cover the bare parts of her legs and arms. Then, when nothing happened, Iole gingerly felt the ground in front of her. Nothing. No snakes. She felt off to each side. Again, nothing. Then, as she reached to feel the ground behind her, her hand brushed against her girdle and the decorative ties around her waist.

  One of which was coarse and thick.

  Puzzled and distracted from the serpents all around her, she felt the tie encircling her tiny body. It couldn’t be …

  … but it was!

  The magic rope!

  She had never taken it off and Pandy hadn’t asked for it. Pandy had recounted the story of how she and Homer had tied the four of them (Dido included) together during the monstrous sandstorm that had hit them in the desert. She also told of how the rope had begun behaving oddly and had ultimately snapped in two but for some inexplicable reason Pandy hadn’t taken Iole’s length of it back. Perhaps she thought she already had and had just forgotten. Iole had been focusing on other things and had just put it back on after bathing or sleeping.