Pandora Gets Heart (6 page)

Pandy and Alcie entered a small service room being used as a final food staging area. Several warming ovens had been installed with small fires glowing to keep the silver trays warm. Large open chests of ice kept the trays of cold food from souring and spoiling.

Echidna was waiting, standing on a box and shouting to be heard as the room overflowed with servants. She immediately formed all of the temporary servants into groups and delegated responsibility for each group to one of the official palace staff. Pandy and Alcie were fussed with and primped, told to stand straight, smile brightly, and say nothing. Then they were sent with their trays through a series of corridors and into the vast main hall.

“I can’t even think of anything to say,” Alcie said, stopping for a moment, completely taken aback. Her voice resonated throughout the room. “Zeus’s home on Mount Olympus could not have been bigger than this!”

“It was,” Pandy replied. “But not by much.”

Actually, neither could tell just how big the hall was, because there were flowers everywhere, with the biggest blooms the girls could have imagined. Enormous vases with hundreds of oversized roses and irises were at the four corners of the hall. Special oil lamps had been brought in and filled with garlands of hydrangeas. Gigantic hyacinths, narcissi, and lilies were intertwined into massive wreaths that hung over every window. Whole cedar trees had been transplanted into pots and placed at various points on the floor, which was not the standard palace white but had been newly retiled in an ocean blue. And there were other flowers blended in that Pandy had never seen before. They looked like they were from another world entirely.

Suddenly, Pandy’s left foot collided with something hard, and she nearly went tumbling into Alcie.

“Easy!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Pandy said. Then she turned to see what she’d hit and instantly realized it was one leg of Zeus’s throne. The very same one she’d seen on Olympus only a few months earlier. Now it was placed at the back of the hall next to Hera’s smaller throne so that both would have an unobstructed view of the proceedings. Pandy was about to tell all of this to Alcie when she noticed something else.

“Oh, Gods . . . oh Alcie, look!”

Pandy nodded her head toward the eastern wall.

“No! Grape seeds, you’ve got to be kidding me!” Alcie said, following Pandy’s gaze.

Set on a tiered platform underneath a great bank of open windows were three rows of chairs for the musicians, perhaps twenty in all. The musicians themselves were nowhere to be seen, but their instruments were lying close at hand. There were many lyres of varying sizes, two sets of panpipes, a three-cornered trigonon harp, four bone flutes, a trumpet, and a host of other strange and beautiful musical devices.

But what caught the girls’ attention was the oversized chelys lyre with gold accents lying close to the first chair, and a small sign on the floor in front of the platform.

“And we’re gonna hear him siiiiiiing! Oh, Alce . . . he is so cute! My dad got two tickets once to hear him in a special concert in front of the Parthenon, but Xander had just been born and Mom didn’t want to leave him, so Dad took me! Oh, I almost died!”

“Wait!” Alcie said, confused for a moment. “Pandy . . .
this
is, like, thirteen hundred years before that.”

“Yeah, but his mother is Calliope and his father was some sort of Thracian river god. Immortal plus immortal equals immortal. And my father always said that Orpheus was greatest as a rising star, that his early stuff was the best . . . and now we get to hear it
live
!”

Suddenly all of the musicians filed back in from a side terrace. As each began tuning his own instrument, Pandy noted that they all looked bored and rather tired.

“Dad said that musicians are not a happy group,” Pandy whispered.

“Hi, Homie!” Alcie called out, seeing Homer behind the wine bar; then she slapped her hand over her mouth. She waved a tiny wave, and Homer waved back.

“You two maidens, quiet . . . now!” said a palace servant in a raised whisper. Then a soft whistle was heard just outside the huge doors at the far end of the hall. One by one, the palace servants answered the whistle. The combined sounds echoed throughout the hall, making the room sound, for just a moment, like an enormous birdcage.

“All right,” said the palace servant. “Honored guests are arriving even now. Speak only when spoken to, don’t dare to look anyone in the eye, cater to everyone’s desires, and appear cheerful at all times or you will be flogged.”

The palace servants then placed all of the temporary servants in prime locations around the room. Alcie was told to stand at the back of the hall, close to a terrace exit, and Pandy was placed at the very foot of the grand stairs leading from the hall floor up to the main doors.

Echidna entered from a side hall in heated conversation with a tall, dashing brown-haired man clothed in rich purple and gold and wearing a laurel wreath: “King Peleus,” Pandy mused, “the happy groom.” Yet, to Pandy, King Peleus seemed agitated, shaking his hands slightly and wiping them on the hem of his golden robe. Echidna began gesturing as if to calm him down, then she finally threw up her hands and said, too sweetly and too loud, “Well, it’s a little too late to change the floral color scheme now, Your Highness! And yes, the ‘bunches of flowers’ as you call them are supposed to be that big . . . they’re ‘statement displays’! You’ll forgive me, Your Highness, but you really should remember: this is
her
day. You’re just sort of a delightful . . . ornament, if you will. Excuse me.” Then she walked away brusquely, leaving Peleus looking around the hall nervous ly, reminding Pandy of a little boy lost in a room full of adults. He gazed at the massive floral arrangements, potted trees, garlands, and hanging wreaths, each one more stunning than the last. Finally he plastered a huge smile on his face, then walked over to the center of the room and stood to receive his guests.

A moment after everyone was in place, Echidna, standing at the back of the hall and checking each last detail, gave a nod; two large youths drew back the heavy bolt and opened the doors.

At once, the musicians struck up a delightful background melody and the guests began to enter.

Nymphs, dryads, and naiads began to fill the hall by the dozens. Next came the remaining seven of the nine muses—gorgeous goddesses of the arts, each an inspiration for a different type of dance, poetry, or song. They were followed by Aeolus, Iris, and Eos. There was a moment’s pause, then the three Graces came, almost tumbling, down the stairs: Aglaia (Splendor), Euphrosyne (Mirth), and Thalia (Good Cheer) were literally beside themselves with laughter. Then Pandy saw Hebe, the Goddess of Youth, on the arm of Triton, the Trumpeter of the Sea. She was smiling brightly, although she kept wringing out the sleeve of her robe where it touched the soggy Triton. Persephone came next, followed by Nereus, the Old Man of the Sea, and his wife, Doris. Then Pandy saw Ocean, Lord of the River Ocean, which encircled the earth.

Seeing Ocean, Pandy gasped. She recognized him as a Titan and, therefore, family, although she didn’t know exactly where to place him in the family tree.

“But,” Pandy thought, “if
he’s
here, that means at least some of the Titans were invited. I wonder . . .”

She only had to wonder a split second.

Prometheus came striding through the door, surrounded by the Oceanids, nymphs of the great river . . . all of whom were giggling and flirting madly.

He passed Pandy without a glance.

Her heart dropped out of her chest, until she suddenly remembered she hadn’t been born yet. At that moment, she wasn’t his daughter; she was just another servant with a plate of wild boar meatballs.

After Prometheus, there was a pause, then a single-file line of stunning young goddesses, dressed exactly alike, slowly entered the hall in perfect step. Each wore an amethyst circlet about her head and a royal purple sash at the waist and each carried an enormous clamshell that contained something dark, dried, and leafy. As they walked they gracefully scattered small handfuls of leaves from side to side. Pandy racked her brain trying to figure out who these women could be. Then she was hit by the acrid, pungent smell wafting from the shells.

Seaweed.

At once, Pandy knew, but just to be certain, she started counting.

“Forty-seven, forty-eight . . . forty-nine . . . and one missing,” she thought.

They were Thetis’s sisters, the Nereids. Pandy looked at their parents, Nereus and Doris, marveling that Doris had, it was said, bore all fifty of the beautiful sea-nymphs at once.

Suddenly, the strange flowers made sense. And the blue-tiled floor. Thetis, the sea-nymph, and Peleus, the mortal man . . . the whole theme of the wedding was clear: two worlds colliding, a union of earth and sea. The cedar trees meeting the ocean. And Pandy was certain that if she looked closely at the “statement displays,” she’d see that the roses, hydrangeas, and hyacinths were mixed with exotic blossoms plucked directly from Poseidon’s underwater gardens.

“Wow,” she murmured.

In only a matter of minutes, the great hall of the palace of King Peleus was filled with lesser immortals of every shape and size.

Then, after several moments, the music took on a more royal tone and in came the Olympians.

Artemis, Athena, Apollo, Hephaestus, Aphrodite, Poseidon (in a traveling tank, hoisted by several lesser sea-gods), Ares, and a goddess Pandy had not seen when she was on Olympus—Hestia, Goddess of the Hearth—all came strolling in one at a time, to the cheers of those assembled. They were followed shortly afterward by Hermes, helping Dionysus to walk. Pandy marked that the God of Wine had started celebrating way early.

“Like, maybe, last week,” she thought. Again, she noticed that Hades was conspicuously absent.

Suddenly, the hall went quiet and every eye turned toward the doors. In a blinding flash of light, Zeus and Hera stepped through the entryway to tremendous applause. Hera, perfect in every way, was smiling like a cat that’d just eaten a lizard, but Zeus’s face was a little more somber. With Hera literally clutching his arm, he made his way directly to King Peleus. The king bowed deeply. Zeus looked at Peleus, and Peleus stared back at Zeus.

“Wow. Zeus has to watch the king marry somebody he really cared for,” Pandy thought. “Awkward.”

“Sky-Lord. Uh,” Peleus said.

“Yes,” Zeus replied. “Yes. Well, I . . . we . . . wish you every happiness.”

“You already said that to Peleus.” Hera smiled at her husband.

“I did?” Zeus looked quizzically at Peleus.

“Earlier, Mighty Zeus, at the formal feast,” Peleus answered. “But I thank you, again.”

“Ah, yes,” Zeus said distractedly.

“And how is the bride holding up?” Hera asked, a conspiratorial tone in her voice. “I know when my hubby here and I were married, I was just a shambles! All over the place! I was so scattered, you could have diced me up for gorgon food!”

“Now you tell me,” Zeus said. Then he laughed, Peleus laughed, and Hera smiled tightly.

“I assume Thetis is doing well, Queen of Heaven,” Peleus replied. “I haven’t heard any screaming for a bit, so I think everything is fine. I don’t really know. I’m not allowed to see her now until the unveiling.”

“Oh, right, right. Quaint mortal custom,” Hera said. “Well, I’m off to the wine bar.”

Hera turned to walk away.

“Coming, dearest?”

“I shall attend in a moment, light of my life,” Zeus said to her without taking his eyes off Peleus. Then softly he said to the king, “She is yours because I trust you, my friend.”

“Thank you,” Peleus said. “I’ll make her a fine husband.”

“And she will be a wonderful wife . . . once she calms down.”

“ZEEEEEUUUUUSSSS!”

Zeus closed his eyes and sighed.

“My throne arrived?”

“It’s waiting for you, Mighty Zeus,” Peleus replied.

“Good, because I need to sit.”

Then he turned toward Hera.

“Right there, my dove of love.”

He walked away, following his wife dejectedly.

CHAPTER SEVEN
The Ceremony

Twenty minutes later, Pandy stepped into the small staging room and found Alcie holding out her tray while a young cook loaded it with more tiny cups of soup.

Alcie tilted her head, indicating that Pandy should meet her outside. After piling more grape leaves and meatballs on her tray, Pandy met Alcie on an adjoining terrace.

“What?” Pandy asked. “Did you see something? A clue? Lust? Did you find it?”

“Apples, no. I just wanted to say,
wow
! These immortals can
eat
!” Alcie said.

“I know! I didn’t think the gods ate anything other than ambrosia and nectar,” Pandy said. “And you know who eats the most? Aphrodite! She’s got the most amazing voice when she talks to you, makes you feel really good, but basically, she’s cleaned off my entire tray, like, three times. This is my sixth refill!”

“It’s not like she has to exercise,” Alcie said. “But how about those tips, huh? I am raking in some serious coinage just for walking around! Who knew? I may have found a new career path.”

“And some of it’s gold, Alce. I had to wipe yogurt and boar sauce off of my coins, but I’m certain that some of them are pure gold,” Pandy said. “Alcie, if this party lasts all night, we could be set for a while, no matter where we go.”

“That is, if Echidna doesn’t try to take it.”

“Oh, I’d like to see her try. Where are you putting yours?”

“Everywhere. Girdle, between my toes, behind my ears,” Alcie said.

“Me too, but that’s not gonna work after a while,” Pandy mused. Thinking fast, she handed Alcie her tray and crept back into the staging room. Taking the covering cloths off two trays of zucchini blossoms stuffed with cracked wheat, she gave one cloth to Alcie and they quickly wrapped their coins in small bundles and hid them behind a stone bench.

“If you find a better hiding place, let me know,” Pandy said as the two girls walked back into the storage room.

“
There
are my slackers,” Echidna sighed as they entered. She cupped her face in both hands. “You two should have signs over your heads that say ‘Just flog me, flog me please . . . I am begging you to flog me.’ You have been hired to
serve,
not stand about and chat. The ceremony is about to start. Now get back out there for anyone who wants a last nibble. Then, once Thetis enters the room, I want you both to stand at the top of the stairs just in case any centaurs try to break in and carry off the bride.

“You’re so tangerine kidding,
right
?” Alcie choked.

“Excuse me, but how are
we
going to stop centaurs?” Pandy asked. “That’s like using a feather to stop a sword.”

“You’re not supposed to fight them,” Echidna said. “You’re supposed to distract them. Let them take you instead.”

“Like Hades!” Alcie yelled.

“As if!” Pandy yelled at the same time.

“Well, it was all in the contract you signed with the Midas company,” Echidna said, pushing them out into the main hall. “So, if you want to be paid and don’t want to be flogged . . .”

“I am adding her to the list of things I hate,” Alcie whispered as she and Pandy moved into the crowd. “And what’s with all the flogging?”

“Look, it’s . . . it’s not gonna happen,” Pandy reassured her, a few notes from Orpheus’s lyre catching her ear. “Zeus is here. No centaurs are going to break in. I’ll see you in a few.”

Alcie headed toward the staircase while Pandy wove her way across the hall to get an up-close glimpse of Orpheus at work. Pandy recognized the melody he was playing as one her father hummed all the time around the house: “Gimme Goat!” (Also known as “Two Lentils and a String Bean Don’t Make a Meal.”) Involuntarily, she felt her head bobbing up and down and she put a little dance step into her walk. She caught sight of Alcie, now at the top of the stairs, swaying back and forth with the music. Suddenly, the crowd parted in front of her and Pandy found herself face-to-face with Orpheus (or, as she would call him from then on, the dreamiest man alive in any century). He smiled down at her as he snatched a grape leaf off her tray without missing a beat, and she gurgled. She didn’t even care what he was playing. Pandy, although she was very sorry that he’d been turned into a girl, couldn’t for the life of her remember what she’d ever seen in Tiresias the Younger.

Without warning, a voice called out from a distance.

“You there! Maiden with the meatballs!”

Pandy had heard Athena speak, and Hephaestus, Apollo, Hermes, and, of course, Zeus. Each had a voice like no other human, or immortal for that matter. Each was its own astonishing combination of characteristics: low, high, soft, harsh, and each was imbued with something Pandy couldn’t put her finger on . . . the quality of simply . . . being a god.

But nothing compared with the voice of Aphrodite. She remembered the few notes she’d heard Apollo pluck on his lyre when she’d stood at the great teardrop table on Mount Olympus. She’d thought then that it was the most beautiful music she’d ever heard. Now, with every call of Aphrodite for more meatballs, all that was changed. Not even the music of Orpheus could compare. This was wind, sun, laughter, pure love, and a sweet cream apricot cake all rolled into one. For no reason at all, Pandy was instantly happy. Pandy felt a subtle ripple in the crowd around her and knew that Aphrodite was headed her way. But the initial tingle of her voice was wearing off and Pandy, now slightly disoriented, retreated a few steps in confusion.

“Meatball maiden!”

There was the tingle again, and Pandy tried to turn toward Aphrodite’s voice, but her foot, again, caught on something hard. This time, she went down like a toppled tree; her last glimpse as she hit the floor was of an ornately carved gold throne.

Fortunately, she managed to catch herself before her head smacked the blue tiles, but only because she let the silver tray fly out of her hands. Immediately, the crowd around her parted. Pandy could see meatballs rolling off in every direction. Then she lifted her eyes and, without thinking, looked directly into the scowling face of the Supreme Ruler himself . . . Zeus.

Who was covered with meatballs and boar sauce.

Even the musicians went silent.

With a flick of his finger, Zeus had Pandy on her feet immediately, her tray back in her hand. She was too terrified to say anything. Echidna raced up. Looking at the mess, she heaved for a moment, then turned to Zeus and bowed low.

“I cannot begin to express—,” Echidna began, but she was silenced by another flick of Zeus’s finger.

“I require music,” Zeus said, and Echidna bowed low again and scurried over to Orpheus.

Zeus stared straight at Pandy. Then he picked up a meatball from the arm of his throne and popped it into his mouth.

“Five-second rule,” he said.

Pandy almost let her jaw drop but felt it would be decidedly inappropriate, so she hid her lips in a straight line across her face.

As he chewed, Zeus closed his eyes and all the meatballs, on the floor and in his lap, flew out a nearby window, and his robes were gleaming white once again.

Sitting on a smaller throne next to her husband, Hera sneered.

“Mortal.”

Zeus gazed at Pandy, but one corner of his mouth turned upward slightly.

“Indeed.”

And in that instant, Pandy knew that the chasm of the centuries didn’t matter at all. He knew who she was and why she was there. And she knew it. And he knew that she knew that he knew.

“Approach,” he said, and Pandy took two steps closer.

Out of thin air Zeus produced a gold coin, larger and shinier than any other Pandy had seen, and dropped it onto her tray.

“For your service,” he said.

Almost at once, the coin was snatched up by two fat fingers.

“I’ll just hold on to this for you, my dear, until the evening is through,” Echidna said. “All right?”

“It is not,” said Zeus evenly.

“But Sky-Lord,” Echidna said, forgetting her greed and suddenly terrified, “she has no place to carry such a token. I hold on to all the—”

“She can place it in the pouch at her waist.”

The gold coin disappeared out of Echidna’s palm, and Pandy felt it secure inside a small red leather pouch now dangling from a cord around her girdle.

“Why . . . uh . . . well, of
course
she can. Silly me,” Echidna said.

“Indeed,” Zeus replied. Then he paused, and Pandy watched his eyes glaze over for a second, taking him far away.

“Very well,” he said with a sigh. “Let’s get this over with. Begin.”

“I’m not certain that the bride is quite ready, Cloud Gatherer,” Echidna said.

“She’s ready,” Zeus said flatly.

“Absolutely,” Echidna replied, and scuttled away toward a purple curtain at the back wall, gesturing frantically at the orchestra. Instantly, a beautiful melody filled the air as a large, round cedar dais was rolled in from a side terrace and set in the middle of the hall. Pandy raced to the staging room and deposited her tray, noticing new red leather pouches on all the servants. She was about to rush back into the main hall when she remembered her and Alcie’s tips hidden on the adjoining terrace. Trying to be discreet amidst the servants hurrying about, she snuck outside, swiftly grabbed the bundles from behind the stone bench, and stuffed them into her new pouch. Then she heard a soft sniffle from across the marble flagstones. It was so soft, she wasn’t sure at first she’d actually heard anything. But looking down the length of the terrace into the growing darkness, she saw someone standing alone at the far end, hunched over against the railing. Even in the dim light, she knew instantly who it was.

Her father.

But not her father . . .
yet,
she reminded herself.

Without thinking of the consequences to the future, she approached him cautiously.

“Excuse me, sir,” she said softly. “Are you all right? May I get you anything?”

“Oh . . . uh . . . no. Thank you, I’m fine. Thank you.”

There was the faintest hint of a tremor (which he was attempting to hide) as Prometheus spoke, and even though Pandy could tell that there was something obviously wrong, the sound of her father’s voice still made her instantly comfortable.

“Is there anything the matter, sir?”

To him she was only a serving girl, she knew, and still he wouldn’t look at her. He stared far off into the darkness.

“Anything the matter?” he echoed. “No. Not really.”

Inadvertently, he wiped something from his eye.

Pandy reached into the pouch at her waist and awkwardly dumped the coins from one of the bundles into the pouch, and then she handed the cloth to Prometheus. Finally, he turned, seeing her for the first time. He smiled.

“It’s just,” he said, dabbing his eyes with the cloth, “that I have always wanted one of these for myself.”

“What, sir?” Pandy said.

Prometheus puffed his cheeks and blew the air out slowly.

“Keep a secret?” he said, after a pause.

“Absolutely,” Pandy replied.

“A wedding,” Prometheus said, straightening up. “A wife, family . . . someone to come home to after a long day of . . . heroic deeds.”

Pandy felt closer to her father in that instant than at any other moment of her life. And he was confiding in her, something she knew he didn’t do lightly, without knowing who she was . . . or would be.

“Foolish of me, probably.”

“I’m sure you’ll have that, sir.”

“You think so?” he said, smiling.

“I know so,” she answered, then realized she may have gone too far.

“Oh, you
know
so, eh?” he said, looking at her, amused.

“Well,” Pandy said, choosing her words carefully, “I think there must certainly be someone out there who will be just right for you, sir. And she’ll be beautiful. Really beautiful. Like, scary beautiful. And then you’ll have the family you want.”

“Scary beautiful? All right then. I’ll be on the lookout,” he said, leaning his back against the railing. “And thank you for that vote of confidence; I will take it to heart. Now, if you wouldn’t mind keeping the fact that I was crying like an old woman to yourself, I’d be grateful.”

“It will be our secret, sir.”

From inside the palace, there was a loud call of a trumpet.

“I guess they’re starting,” Prometheus said.

“Yes,” Pandy replied. “I need to take my place.”

“See you later,” he said.

“Yes, you will. I mean, uh, I hope so, sir.”

Prometheus looked at her as if she were both odd and amusing, then walked into the staging area and disappeared into the hall.

“You don’t how right you are,” Pandy thought. “I will most definitely see you later!”

She rushed back into the throng of guests and headed toward the staircase, where Alcie was already waiting. Reaching the top, she motioned Alcie over to the back wall near the doors.

“Have something for you,” Pandy whispered.

She pulled out the remaining bundle of coins and handed it to Alcie.

“Here.”

“Where’d you get that?” Alcie asked softly, looking at the pouch.

“You have one, too. All the servants do now. They were a gift from Zeus when Echidna tried to take his tip from me.”

Alcie looked at her waist: sure enough, there was a red pouch dangling from a chord. She untied the bundle and looked at the coins.

“Wrong cloth,” Alcie said, handing it back to Pandy. “I had some funky-looking coins that had words like ‘Cyprus’ and ‘Kythira’ engraved on them and they’re not here.”

“Oh, Ares’ beard,” Pandy muttered. “Like it really matters.”

“I’m just sayin’.”

Pandy emptied her pouch into her hand and handed all the coins to Alcie.

“Okay. Satisfied?”

“Yes,” Alcie said calmly. “Except this one is yours. Because I’m honest.”

Alcie handed Zeus’s oversized gold coin back to Pandy, who was about to put it back into her pouch when she looked at it closely. The words MOUNT IDA were engraved on one side, and LOSE TWO WEEKS on the other.

“What does that mean?” asked Alcie.

Suddenly there was another loud blast of the trumpet and the crowd quieted, waiting. Pandy and Alcie moved into a better position and tried to look ceremonial. From their vantage point, they could see everything and watched King Peleus and Thetis’s father, Nereus, step onto the dais with great formality. Peleus acknowledged all assembled with a nod of his head. Then the music stopped and all eyes turned toward the purple curtain, now being slowly drawn aside.