Pandora Gets Angry by Carolyn Hennesy Read Free Book Online Page B

rushed across her tent.
    â€œThank you, Douban,” she began.
    â€œNot now, my dear,” he said quietly, patting her arm as he passed her. “Come, my son.”
    The youth, with only a glance at Pandy, followed his father. They knelt over Iole and studied her face, flushed and beaded with sweat.
    â€œWhat do you see?” Douban asked the youth.
    â€œThere is no visible trauma,” the youth replied. “Her fever is high. Her lips are cracked, so she has lost much fluid. It is either an infection or digestive.”
    â€œGood … for a start. And I concur,” said the elder man, and then he looked up. “Who can tell me of this girl?”
    â€œI can,” Pandy spoke up. Then she looked at Homer. “We can.”
    â€œDo so,” said Douban.
    â€œWe’ve been, uh, days in the desert,” Pandy started.
    â€œEleven,” said Homer.
    â€œEleven. And she was fine up until two days ago. Then she couldn’t keep her food down, she can’t drink.…”
    â€œFrom where have you traveled?” asked Douban.
    â€œFrom Greece,” said Pandy. “I mean, originally. But we were most recently in Aphrodisias.”
    Douban looked up at Pandy.
    â€œHow are you called?”
    â€œHuh?” asked Pandy. “Oh, you mean my name. I am Pandora of Athens.”
    The youth’s eyes widened and, suddenly, Douban’s entire face became a mixture of pure astonishment, disbelief, concern, and joy; yet only the corner of his mouth moved, rising upward slightly.
    â€œCan you believe it?” Mahfouza said suddenly. “And I was speaking of her only the other night!”
    â€œYes, my dear,” said Douban, speaking to Mahfouza but staring intently at Pandy. “But her fame preceded her long before you recounted the dancing lesson. This may explain much.”
    He turned his attention back to Iole.
    â€œWhat has been your diet?”
    â€œHuh?” Pandy replied.
    â€œFood.”
    â€œOh! Well, we started out with fresh supplies, but we ran out of those about a week ago. So we’ve been eating flatbread and dried fruit.”
    â€œShow me your stores,” said the Physician.
    â€œWell, we don’t really have stores,” Pandy said, reaching for her leather pouch. “It’s all in here.”
    â€œYou cannot possibly keep enough food in that small space.”
    Inadvertently, Pandy looked to Homer.
    â€œHe’s gotta know,” Homer said.
    â€œRight,” Pandy said, turning back. “Athena, the goddess … she’s Greek.”
    â€œI’m acquainted with your pantheon,” Douban said.
    â€œOh, yeah, well, when we first started out, she enchanted my carrying pouch so that it would always give us dried fruit and flatbread. So that we wouldn’t starve if we ever got into trouble.”
    â€œLet me see what it can produce.”
    Pandy reached in her pouch and brought out a handful of dried dates, apricots, and figs and several small pieces of flatbread, then handed everything to Douban. Carefully, the Physician turned the bits over in his hands, sniffing them in short bursts that wrinkled his nose like a squirrel’s, examining each and every morsel in the filtered purple and crimson light of the tent. Then he handed them to his son, whose reaction, while slower, was the same.
    â€œThese are tainted,” Douban said at length. “In fact, they are spoiled to the point of being poisonous. I have no doubt that your friend succumbed before you because she is relatively small and seems rather frail, but the two of you would soon follow had you continued to consume this.”
    â€œWhat? But Athena … ,” exclaimed Pandy.
    â€œAll will be explained,” Douban said. “Now, I require hot water, a small dish, and a little space. And quiet.”
    Quickly, Mahfouza poured a cup of hot water from an urn nestled in a glowing pile of coals. Pandy watched as Douban pulled