Pandora Gets Greedy Read Online Free PDF Page B

Athens on her shell …”
    â€œOh no!” Mercury said.
    â€œOh yes,” Hermes replied.
    â€œBut doesn’t Pandora know that they’ve all traveled …?”
    â€œNo, of course she doesn’t know. None of them know. Why would they? I haven’t told her what happened when I brought her here. My orders were to get her settled and am-scray. And I haven’t seen her since. And, these kids have never seen Rome before. And it hasn’t changed that much in …”
    â€œWell … not so’s you’d notice anyway,” Mercury assented.
    â€œAnd when she couldn’t talk to her father, she became so depressed. Then Homer was sent away and Pandora just had the wind slowly knocked out of her, day by day. Now, she’s basically ignoring the whole reason she’s here. Everyone has noticed. Ares said, offhandedly, that he thinks she’s given up. Athena got so mad at him, she turned his head into a boil and popped it with a meat spit.”
    â€œWhy don’t you at least tell her about her father and the …?” Mercury began.
    â€œBecause Zeus thinks it shouldn’t be that big a deal. Prometheus is one man and, as far as Zeus is concerned, Pandora is fighting to save all of mankind.”
    â€œYou know Pandora almost better than anyone,” Mercury said. “What do you think?”
    Hermes was silent for a moment.
    â€œI don’t think she’s given up, but she’s definitely lost focus. And she’s depressed; she’s almost too discouraged to even panic.”
    â€œShe’s tired,” Mercury said.
    â€œI know. But if she thought it was bad before, I cannot imagine how she’s fared at the Forum.”
    â€œOh, right … the entire household has gone to the Forum to see the …”
    â€œRight,” Hermes agreed.
    â€œIt’s probably gotten worse,” Mercury said.
    â€œMuch.”

Chapter Three
Iole
    In her tiny, windowless room—a closet hastily but unquestioningly converted into sleeping quarters when she appeared in the household—Iole sat in front of the small looking glass. In the light of the single candle, she carefully dipped the large, soft brush in the pot of colored powder and dabbed at her cheeks. Without warning, the brush slipped out of her grasp and left a reddish streak across her chin. As she fumbled for a cloth to wipe it away, she knocked over a pot of silver powder and watched it settle onto her ceremonial robe. She wiped the red streak off her face then stood and carefully shook out her garments. Sitting down again, she dipped a smaller brush in a pot of black kohl paste and tried to line her eyelids, but only succeeded in looking like the wrestlers back at the Apollo Youth Academy in Athens when they got punched in the eye. Again shetried wiping it away, but only smeared it all over her face along with the red powder already on the cloth. Iole wiped her hands, deciding to let the black paste dry a bit, and dipped her forefinger into a little tub of red goo. She smeared it on her mouth, then smacked her lips together. When she smiled, most of the goo slid off her lips and onto her teeth.
    â€œGods,” she said, wiping her teeth with the cloth and turning them black. “This is simply not the avocation for me.”
    â€œIole!” came a call from the corridor. “They’ll be here any moment. Are you ready to go?”
    Melania sailed into the cramped room and Iole caught the woman’s dim reflection in the glass. She was dressed in white from head to toe, her golden hair done up with combs, pins, and veils, and her face painted so heavily but so beautifully that she could have rivaled Aphrodite. And Melania had something even the great Aphrodite didn’t have: a sound to her movements. Whenever she walked, there was a slight tinkle, as if tiny bells were ringing off somewhere.
    Melania, the head Vestal Virgin assigned to the house of Lucius