Pandora Gets Lazy (10 page)

Pandy had woken to spears under her throat and the captains of two different raiding parties fighting over who was going to take the trio to Jbel Toubkal, the peak of the Atlas Mountains. Finally, it was agreed that the party heading toward the mountain peak would take them, provided that credit for the capture was given to the other. The manacles were slapped on, the chains were tightened, and the three new prisoners joined the back of the line.

The kidnappers hurriedly went through all of the trio's possessions, taking whatever interested them. They took a small ring out of Ismailil's ear and a cuff off Amri's wrist, which one soldier used to hold his hair. But when they examined Pandy's leather carrying pouch, they found it completely empty. Nothing. And it was now extremely tattered and stained. Not wanting to be bothered with such shabbiness, they hung it roughly back around her neck.

Her face betrayed nothing; where once she would have rolled her eyes or smirked, now she stared straight ahead and her mouth was a thin line of neutrality. But her brain was hurtling a kilometer a second, at once thanking the gods again for keeping the box, the shells, and the map safe and memorizing the face of the soldier who was starting to handle Ismailil harshly, swearing by the Great Bow of Artemis that if he hurt the little boy in any way, she would turn him to ashes right there on the spot. And she didn't care who noticed.

“Move when I say move! Understand? Say something, you little brat!”

“He doesn't speak,” Pandy said, stepping as close to Ismailil as she could, her voice calm. “Neither of them does. I think it's shock.”

The soldier spit on the ground in front of Ismailil and, giving the small boy a shove, walked to the front of the line. On a signal, the entire line began to move slowly up the road and deeper into the mountains. Fortunately, the guards had put Pandy in between the brothers, with Amri last in line, so when he stumbled for the third time, Pandy was able to carry him without tensing anyone else's chains. They walked until they could walk no more, then they walked farther.

The rest of the day seemed three times longer than any other Pandy had ever known.

There were no rest periods.

Finally, the prisoners were herded onto a sloping hillside and told to sit. Water-skins and flatbread were flung randomly into the crowd, where the prisoners scrabbled among each other for a bite or a drop, while the kidnappers below roasted meats over a blinding fire. At length, from exhaustion (and because they were warned that if they spoke to each other, their tongues would be removed), one by one they dropped off to sleep.

All except Pandy.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
Misery

Coming back up on deck, Alcie and Iole discovered the fog hanging just overhead with a few wisps beginning to curl around the mast poles and guard towers. Hiding themselves behind the closest tower, preparing to creep back across the deck, Alcie and Iole suddenly heard a commotion where the cook was serving evening meal.

Alcie poked her head out from behind the tower. At least fifty pirates, swords and knives at the ready, surrounded the cook.

“We wanted
meat
in the soup!” yelled Gaius, his sword closest to the cook's throat.

“Meat!” shouted a chorus of voices.

“Five gold coins he jumps in before we can throw him in!” muttered one pirate.

“You have a wager!” said another.

“I
put
meat in the soup!” pleaded the terrified cook.

“Then what's this?” another pirate snarled as he stepped forward, forcing the cook to swallow a huge mouthful out of a bowl.

“Toss him in!”

“Oh, merciful Venus,” said the cook, “that's for the little girl! The maiden who won't eat meat. I must have given you the wrong batch! But there's more—down below. Just let me—”

The cook began backing up toward the rail.

“Oh, we'll let you, Lucius,” said Gaius gently, lowering his sword and tossing his arm cheerfully around the cook. “Certainly we'll let you.”

With lightning speed, Gaius lifted the cook over his shoulders and tossed him into the sea.

“We'll let you swim back to Africa!” Gaius shouted as Lucius landed with a splash. “Now, men, to the real soup!”

With a roar, the pirates began moving toward the middle of the ship.

“Go!” Alcie said to Iole.

The two girls scuttled like mice, praying the fog would hide them. Skirting the railing, they raced against the approaching voices, slipping down the stairs, through the passageway, and into their cabin, only steps ahead of being seen by anyone.

Alcie threw the adamant-shackled box into her carrying pouch and flung herself on her pallet.

“Lemon rinds! I'm glad that's over.”

“Uh . . . hello?” said Iole.

“What?”

“We're not done!”

“As if!”

“The book!” Iole all but shouted.

“Oh!” Alcie jumped off her pallet. “Right! The book! What are you doing just standing there? Let's go. Hey, bring your dad's sword, we might use it.”

“I know how I'd
like
to use it,” Iole mumbled, grabbing the sword and following Alcie.

Out of the cabin, Iole saw that Alcie's momentary eagerness had suddenly eased. She was softly knocking on Homer's door.

“Homer? It's Alcie. Please . . .”

“Go away.”

“Hom—”

“I'm all right, just . . . leave me alone.”

“Come on, Alcie,” Iole said beside her. “I don't think he's going anywhere. Let's go get this thing while the captain is away. Okay?”

As Alcie nodded and started down the passageway, Iole saw on her friend's face everything that Alcie had tried so hard to keep from telling her: she truly cared for the oversized youth, and if Iole had read all the signs right, Homer cared for Alcie as well. For reasons she couldn't explain (even with her mighty brain), this thought made Iole smile, and she resolved not to pester Alcie further about her feelings for Homer.

Approaching the captain's cabin once more, they expected to hear a cacophony of shrieks and moans as arrows flew out of the room. But instead, when they poked their heads around the door, they saw Eros simply sitting on the open cover of the book, laughing and squealing, his bow off to one side.

Seeing them, Eros flew up and buzzed very close to Alcie's ear, then ran, laughing, straight across her forehead. Without thinking Iole raised her sword to hit him and came very close to chopping off Alcie's nose.

“Iole . . . stop!” said Alcie. “Let him go! Alpha, he's a god, and beta, I'll wager my ruby and pearl hairclip that he's not part of what goes in the box.”

“Gods,” said Iole, “I should have thought of that.”

Eros flew by and tickled Iole's ear as he bolted out the doorway and up the passage.

“Now . . . the book. How do we capture . . . ?” said Alcie, as both turned their attention to the rows of teeth.

But the teeth were gone.

At least it looked that way from across the room. Iole scanned the inside rim of the book. It was smooth and even.

“That's weird,” she said.

“Yes, and we're living such normal lives,” said Alcie dryly.

They stared at what appeared to be a plain leather book cover with a few sheaves of papyrus still loosely bound inside. Finally Alcie reached out her hand and held the soft brown calfskin between her fingers.

“I think whatever enchantment the book had fallen under must have been lifted when we captured Misery,” she said, pulling the book toward her.

“And the
Syracusa
is not rolling or shuddering anymore,” affirmed Iole.

“Excellent!” said Alcie.

Slowly, she loosened the red cords binding the letters to the cover. Alcie and Iole spread several of the letters—there were about thirty or so that had not been turned into Eros's arrows—out in front of them. Taking one apiece, they unfolded the yellowed parchment.

“Oh!” Iole gasped slightly as a long strand of beautiful chestnut-colored hair fell out of the letter in her hand.

“Totally gross or kinda beautiful . . . I can't decide,” said Alcie, holding up the hair. “Are these all from the same woman?”

“They've got to be,” said Iole, lighting a nearby oil lamp.

“These have a lot of gray in them, though,” Alcie said, examining other letters. “Look, this hair isn't stringy and ashy, and the words on this letter aren't fading away like before.”

“That was probably because of the spell cast by the lesser evil of Misery . . . like the teeth on the book,” said Iole.

“Look at the signature,” said Alcie, glancing from letter to letter. “It's never the same way twice.”

They both looked down toward the bottom of their pages.

“Yours for eternity, Latona.”

“Your beloved, Latona.”

“Yours in loneliness, Latona.”

“Your wretched Latona.”

“Figs, listen to this,” said Alcie, and she read aloud from the letter in her hand.

Honored Husband,

These past weeks have been as a lifetime to me, and I pray each day for your safe return. The new moon which brings you home again cannot wax soon enough. Why do you not write? You must know how lonely your absence has made me. You must pass other ships which could deliver a letter, a note to me, do you not? Spare me my loneliness.

                                In eros, Latona

“What about this?” said Iole. “Um . . . ‘
My love'
. . .
‘missing you'
. . . okay, listen to this . . .”

. . . this unease which has gripped my heart will not cease. Today I passed the harbor and thought my eyes beheld your sails. My heart leapt high, but I was deceived. Poseidon is taunting me. My grief at your absence is killing me surely. How I wish you would write.

                                Awaiting, Latona

With each letter they unfolded, the girls read of the woman's struggle with her crushing loneliness and despair. She had been the wife of the captain of the ship, left alone for months (sometimes years, they read) at a time. She'd had a child, a boy, who'd grown to manhood without a father's love.

. . . how he favors you, dearest . . . would that you were here to see it . . .

She'd managed a house and servants, raised her child, and lived out her entire life absolutely alone; forever waiting for her husband's return. The letters began to become more desperate and pleading, until finally they dissolved into incoherent ramblings.

“Oh . . . no . . . ,” said Alcie, reading one of the few remaining letters, strands of pure gray in her hands.

“What? What is it?”

Alcie lifted her head up and looked at her friend. Iole's eyes widened slightly and her heart
thuh-rump
ed a little in her chest. Alcie had a tear coursing down her cheek.

“Listen,” she said, the words sticking in her throat.

Sir,

With regret we must inform you that your wife has crossed the river Styx. We believe her death, by no other hand than her own, was swift and painless. Your son, now a youth of 14, is well and is being cared for by the graciousness of the city. All rites and ceremonies for your wife have been prepared and her passage to the Elysian Fields has been assured.

                                City High Council

“Hounds of Hades,” said Iole, “she killed herself.”

“Because she was so lonely. Because of Misery. I'm sure of it.”

Suddenly, something directly over Iole's shoulder caught Alcie's attention: a small stuffed bear made of green and bright blue fabric was lying at the end of the captain's sleeping cot. Next to it was a stuffed rabbit skin with glass eyes and a pink nose. On the floor was a smooth, round piece of wood with bells and strange black symbols all over it. She glanced to her right and spotted a tiny drum of some exotic kind and a small white toy horse with wings on its back, barely visible behind a decorative fabric draping. And the crates that had been covered by the cloth Alcie had used to capture Misery were each full to the brim with more toys.

“Hey, why are there toys—?” she started, but she had no time to finish her sentence.

There was a sudden, loud noise in the outer passageway. Someone was coming, with heavy footsteps.

Madly, Alcie tried to gather the letters together and place them back between the covers of the book, while Iole ran about pulling letter-arrows out of the walls. But in her rush she and Iole collided coming around the corner of the table, succeeding only in scattering everything further around the room. They heard the footsteps stop and knew that someone, someone big, was standing in the doorway. Alcie and Iole both turned around sheepishly and, looking up, locked eyes with the captain.

He stared hard at the girls for a moment and then he looked at the mess strewn all over his cabin floor. At his sides, his hands were balled in tight fists.

The captain cleared his throat, and Alcie's eyes instantly met his once again. She suddenly knew what it was like to watch a volcano about to explode. The captain was trying to hold himself back, but she felt sure that he wanted them dead on the spot.

“If I could,” he began slowly, “I would tie both of you to the top of the mainsail and let the seabirds feast on your eyes.”

“But—,” Alcie began, but Iole pinched her hard on the arm.

“Again with the pinching,” Alcie muttered.

“How do you
dare!
” the captain said, his voice building in intensity. “I warned you—I ordered you. Prying into my personal property, desecrating my possessions, is something I will not
tolerate
!”

“Sir . . . Captain . . . sir,” said Alcie, “we didn't have a choice. Really, we didn't. I'm
so
not kidding. This book was already on the floor underneath the table. Your wife's letters were being turned into arrows by Eros, and he was shooting them at us! Look!”