Pandora Gets Angry by Carolyn Hennesy

Author:Carolyn Hennesy
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Bloomsbury USA Childrens
Published: 2011-08-31T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Three Rooms

In almost no time, Pandy spotted the two palms and even though her breath was catching hot in her throat, she ran across the cracked tiles of the courtyard toward the dry fountain. The sun had just begun to dip below the horizon. Douban was the first to reach her as she paced back and forth by the fountain, trying to find the ring in the slab. Homer helped Iole to sit on a large stone, patting her back as she struggled for breath.

“With all the running we do,” Iole panted, “you would think I’d have just a little more stamina.”

“It was only a few days ago,” Pandy said, still searching the ground and heaving a little herself, “that you were so sick you couldn’t move. I think you’re doing great.”

She kicked at a spot and sent up a cloud of dust. All of a sudden, the faint jingle of a tambourine caught her ear. She looked up quickly.

“I heard it too,” said Douban.

Almost imperceptible shimmers of heat and color were starting to flicker off in the desert. Pandy would focus on one color or a movement, and the next instant it would disappear. Then the flickers would hold steady for just a little longer and everyone knew, as Douban’s father had foretold, the spirits of the palace were moving in for the evening.

“Here they come,” said Iole, watching several young boys, nearly transparent, dash onto the courtyard, tossing about a small black ball.

“Don’t pay any attention,” cautioned Pandy. “Don’t even look at them.”

But the sounds and color of the musicians, the filmy beauty of the women and young girls dancing passionately, the troop of horses and the flash of scimitars clanking about in mock duels was so enticing. The courtyard even smelled wonderful as some cooking stoves appeared with spits of meat and pots of many different kinds of food bubbled away.

“Mmmm,” Homer said, inhaling the spicy scents. “I’m hungry.”

“No, you’re not,” Pandy said.

“Right, I’m not,” he agreed completely.

Within moments, however, as the sun dipped lower, the spirits of the ruined palace were approaching the four friends, encircling them, and beckoning them to join in the dancing and fun. There was no language, exactly, only laughter and strange sounds that emanated from open mouths. As if the spirit’s speech had been reduced to rounded, lopped-off words. Douban forced himself to turn away from the marvelous spectacle. He closed his eyes and sat on the ground next to Iole. Iole followed his lead and closed her eyes as well. Pandy was still busy glancing between the setting sun and the ground between the palms, hunting for the ring and waving away the outstretched arms of the tittering girls who tried to get her attention.

Without warning, Iole thought of Homer. Her eyelids flew open just in time to see Homer only one tick away from taking the hand of a lovely dancer whose black hair was so long that the very tips trailed on the ground.

“Homer!” she screamed, startling him, his hand dropping to his side.

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