Pandora Gets Vain (Pandora (Hardback)) (22 page)

“How can they see?” Pandy asked Iole.

“I don’t know,” Iole replied, curtly. “I don’t know anything.”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

Pandy rolled her eyes, which caused some pain, and looked back toward the fight in time to see Dido disappear around a corner farther into the chamber.

“Dido,” she called feebly, but he was gone.

The last two guards, each missing a limb, were circling Homer, one on either side. In a flash they rushed in. Homer stepped neatly back and watched as they crashed into each other. As the guards stumbled backward, Homer stepped forward again and, arms out to either side, drove both blades home in one swift motion.

Finished, he threw down the swords. He turned toward the girls, but focused his eyes on Alcie and grinned sheepishly.

“It’s just what I learned in . . .”

“Gladiator school!” she said, hugging him.

Suddenly, coming from the direction Dido had gone, they heard a woman’s voice screaming, then a gurgle, then a snap, then silence.

Homer picked up the swords again and, with Pandy hobbling in the lead, the group made its way deeper into the white marble chamber.

Rounding the corner, they saw two square platforms in the middle of the room with steps on each side. There was an expanse between the two platforms with a large fountain in the center. On top of one of the platforms were two small desks; one held a brush and some small items Pandy couldn’t quite make out. The only thing on the other desk was a highly polished metal mirror in a gold frame, held firmly in the hands of a young girl seated on a gold stool. This girl appeared to be no more than ten years old and was covered head to toe in gold and jewels. Her fingers were almost invisible for the number of heavy rings she wore. One ring held a ruby the size of a black olive; another ring bore a light blue stone so big it could have been mistaken for a bird egg. Her toes looked exactly the same, only the stones were smaller and clinked together as she swung her feet. Her forearms were encased in two long gold bracelets in the shape of writhing serpents, and on her head she wore an oddly shaped, ornate headpiece— made entirely of gold. Only her face was obscured by the mirror. At her feet lay a servant, her head crooked at an unnatural angle, her eyes wide. A comb was still clutched in her hand.

Deeper into the chamber, several women, all blind, clung to each other in fear.

Looking past them, along the walls covered with symbols and stick figures, beyond the pillars shaped like giant palm trees, and into the very corners of the immense room, Pandy understood the reason why the caskets in the palace burial chambers were all empty, as she saw in the vision of the crystal panels.

Hundreds of mummies rested everywhere, leaning in on each other, all propped upright, some fresh, most in decay. They were all dressed as they had been in life: royal robes, gold headdresses and ankle cuffs, and strange symbols of power and authority—a whip of some kind with horsehair and beads, and a crooked staff. More horrifyingly, though, one of the platforms had mummies standing on every step of the side facing the queen; dozens and dozens, forming a human pyramid of the dead. Every mummy in the chamber was positioned so as to face the second platform and Cleopatra.

Without averting her gaze, the young queen turned her head slightly toward her servants and shrieked. Pandy saw the skeletal features; dark circles under eyes that were wild and crazed, high cheekbones plainly visible through her thin skin. One of the women moved up the steps; feeling for the hairbrush. She stood behind the girl and began to brush her long black hair, all the while speaking in soft tones and making delicate cooing sounds.

The girl ignored her, staring only at the mirror. Pandy noticed that, no matter which way the girl turned, some part of her was always touching the mirror; one or both of her hands, sometimes only the tip of her finger as she traced it slowly around the carved frame.

A flash of white brought Pandy’s attention to a far wall where Dido stood, surrounded by at least twenty of the most bizarre cats she could imagine. It wasn’t the gold and ruby collars they wore: it was the fur. Each cat was glistening and multicolored—she’d only seen that coloring before on a peacock. Dido couldn’t move without a cat either hissing or swatting at him.

And then Pandy saw a sightless woman off to one side walking back and forth, over and over between two huge pillars, speaking silently to herself.

“She’s counting the steps,” Pandy murmured.

On another side of the chamber, two women explored the walls with their fingertips, feeling every nick and bump, identifying each mummy they touched and exactly how it was placed, counting the number of stone blocks that ran the length of the wall, the number of steps required to move from one point to another.

“They need to memorize the entire room,” Iole said.

Then a low hum of voices caught everyone’s attention.

“Great Zeus! Look,” Alcie said in a choked whisper.

Before Cleopatra’s platform, four slaves were chained to the floor. They were kneeling on the hard marble, ankles and arms cuffed to short chains that had been anchored to the floor with iron rings. Their heads were placed into narrow rests that were attached to straight iron rods set into the floor; not allowing any movement from side to side and forcing them to look straight and only at Cleopatra.

“I’ll just bet
they’re
not blind,” whispered Alcie.

“Of course,” said Pandy. “It makes sense. She has to have somebody to look at her. To tell her how beautiful she is.”

“So she chains them up so they can’t see anything but her,” said Iole.

“That’s wrong in so many ways, I can’t even think about it,” said Alcie.

“Back up,” whispered Pandy, slowly retreating back around the corner.

“Pomegranates! What’s with all the wrapped bodies?” asked Alcie, when they had huddled out of Cleopatra’s line of sight.

“I think she’s unburied everyone who had a tomb in this palace,” said Pandy.

“It’s more of an audience,” said Iole. “And she doesn’t have to worry about them stealing the mirror.”

“Even the dead have to worship her,” said Homer.

“Okay,” Pandy said. “Cleopatra must know that Homer defeated her guards, right?”

“Probably,” said Homer.

“So why hasn’t she sent any more?” asked Iole.

“Because she’s crazy?” replied Alcie “She’s not. She’s under a spell,” said Pandy.

“Maybe she doesn’t have any more guards here,” said Alcie.

“Wait!” said Pandy. “Maybe she
doesn’t
know. Maybe she thinks we’re dead and she doesn’t need any more.”

“Exactly! We bypassed other guards by coming directly into her chamber, but she obviously hasn’t seen us,” said Iole.

“Right,” said Pandy, already withdrawing the adamantine net and the box. “So that means it’s her and those women and us. Somehow we have to distract her from the mirror so I can put it into the box. But I can’t do that alone . . .”

“Give me the box,” said Alcie.

“What?” said Pandy.

“We have to open it while you’re holding the mirror. You have to keep Vanity in the net. You don’t have four arms, Pandy. Great Hermes’ teeth, now you barely have two. So gimme.”

“Trust her,” said Iole to Pandy.

“Okay,” said Pandy, putting the precious, terrible box in Alcie’s hands.

“Homer, you get her attention and we’ll get the mirror. Think you can do it?” asked Pandy.

Homer thought a moment.

“Yes,” he said finally. Then, looking at Alcie, “Forgive me.”

“Huh? Why?” she said.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Homer stood and walked to the corner. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and strode back into the chamber reciting distinctly and with great emotion the poem he had composed for Alcie’s ears alone.

Instantly, there was commotion on the platform, but Homer’s voice rang out strong and clear as he paced his steps into the room. He paused only a few times to change certain words for greater effect.

And the effect was swift.

Cleopatra stood up at once, knocking her servant with the hairbrush down off the platform. She listened to his words of praise, but with no smile. Instead, she grew more proud, as if every word from the stranger was, after all, only the honest truth. Clutching the mirror, she stepped over the dead woman at her feet and began walking toward Homer. By this time, Homer had come to the end of the poem. In the silence, a look of rage came over the young queen. Homer began to improvise, pulling words and phrases seemingly out of the very air.

“You are lovelier still than Aphrodite, she of the snow white arms and golden hair,” he went on, now moving toward the far side of the room. Backing away from Cleopatra, he accidentally kicked a mummy resting on a pillar, sending it to the floor, the bones inside disintegrating and the wrappings deflating in a puff of dust. Cleopatra was unfazed, concentrating only on Homer.

“She’s got the mirror with her!” hissed Alcie.

“I know. I didn’t think of that,” said Pandy.

By now, Cleopatra had her back to the girls and was completely mesmerized by Homer’s every word.

“I’ll get it,” said Iole. Pandy put out a wrinkled hand, but Iole batted it away. “I’ll get it.”

Before Pandy or Alcie could protest further, she silently stole out into the chamber. Moving without a sound, she was almost upon Cleopatra when several of the cats surrounding Dido hissed and wailed violently in her direction.

Cleopatra jerked her head sharply, as if the cats had spoken directly to her. She whirled and picked Iole up by her arm, using only three fingers of her right hand. She gazed into Iole’s face, holding her aloft.

“Tell me,” she asked, in a high, delicate voice. “Do you think I’m beautiful?”

Iole was too surprised to speak.

Cleopatra shook Iole once and everyone heard the bone of her upper arm crack. Iole fainted.

“Too late.” Cleopatra smiled.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Battle

11:46 p.m.

Cleopatra dropped Iole as if she were a sack of grain and stared at Homer.

“More,” she said, her voice light and incredulous. Behind her, far away, her servants stood confused, unable to find their mistress.

Pandy and Alcie were circling from another angle.

“More!” Cleopatra screamed at Homer.

“You are the sun!” Pandy spoke up, drawing the queen’s attention to herself. “Even the sun can’t outshine you! You’re really . . . bright and . . . big.” She was moving slowly around the perimeter of the room, trying to lead Cleopatra away from Iole, who was unconscious on the floor. And she was trying to think fast, but she truly had no idea what she was doing; more important, she had no idea what her body was now capable of doing. “Birds come when you call. Animals will eat out of your hand. Your loveliness is beyond compare.” She tried to remember any love poems she’d ever heard. “You are . . . uh . . . heavenly—gold crowned. Perfection. All beauty is in you. Um, perfection . . .”

“You already said that,” interrupted Cleopatra.

“You’re flawless. You’re unique. You’re certainly not like me—”

“You? You’re old!”

Pandy was dumbfounded for a split second, then she remembered her appearance.

“Yes!” she said. “I’m very old, so . . . I’ve seen a lot. And you’re more beautiful than . . . anyone. Even . . . even Helen and Hippia. They were the most popular girls back in Athens, but you are much prettier—”

“No!” Cleopatra spat, waving the mirror, occasionally gazing at herself. “Not pretty. What is pretty? That’s common! Pretty is a sunset . . . or a cat . . . or an emerald. It doesn’t mean the same thing!”

“Beautiful!” Pandy said quickly, realizing the truth of what the queen said as Cleopatra moved toward her. “I meant beautiful. You’re right. It doesn’t mean the same thing at all. I . . . I . . . should have my tongue cut out!”

“I will see to it personally,” said Cleopatra, smiling.

Suddenly, Pandy remembered Sigma, the dolphin, and how fast and confusing his speech was at first. Pandy began speaking rapidly, making up words and gibberish sentences.

“Stunning-golden-bee-with-honey-and-beautiful- lovely-moon-no-words-for-your-untamed-gorgiosity-in-the-morning-appreciation-can’t-compare-with-flawless-exquisitude-above-excellent,” she said, now hopping on her wrinkled, knotted feet and waving her arms. She also tucked the adamantine net into her silver girdle as she pretended to fawn over the queen. Alcie joined in, her two left feet distracting Cleopatra for a second.

Homer used that moment to tackle the girl, trying to knock the mirror out of her hands. He only succeeded in pinning her to the ground for an instant. In a twisted fury, Cleopatra threw Homer off, but he wasn’t hurt and tried to seize her again. Again she hurled him away; so hard and fast that he crashed against a far wall, stunned but not unconscious. Still, Cleopatra held fast to the mirror.

Then the queen turned on Pandy.

“Speak of my beauty!” the high voice commanded. “If you do so well enough, Osiris may take pity on your ancient soul when I send it to him. Speak!”