He passed his hand over the table and a tiny black teapot instantly appeared along with two of the smallest cups she’d ever seen.

  “Thank you.”

  “And, if I can truly help you as you wish, then there is no hurry, is there? You could be wherever you’d like in an instant, yes?”

  She saw the hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth.

  “The panels,” she began, “they’re crystal?”

  “Ancient crystal, yes.”

  “Can you help me get to Alexandria through the crystals?”

  “Of course. But that is not the question.”

  Pandy paused.

  “Will you help me?”

  “Of course. Your quest is righteous and your heart is brave. It would be my honor to assist in whatever small way I can. But that is not the question.”

  Pandy stared down at her tea.

  “The question is not one you must ask of me, little fish, but of yourself. It is simply this: will I be willing to pay the price?”

  “Price?”

  “Of course. The use of the crystals for transportation forms a break with both time and space. It is against every known law and is, therefore, extremely powerful magic. The gods would not bestow this magic to anyone wishing to use it, even for a good cause, without expecting tribute.”

  “What is the tribute?” she asked.

  Wang Chun Lo quieted his mind for a moment.

  “Your youth,” he said finally, the smile still hanging at the corners of his mouth.

  “My what?”

  “Lower your mind’s voice, Pandora, I am right here.”

  Wang Chun Lo took a deep breath.

  “Let me be more specific. It is the luster and glow of your skin, the proper functioning of your organs, the strength of your bones. The gods demand your most vital years. Look at me, Pandora. Look closely at my face, my hands, and my neck. In actual age I am not that old, and my mind is still that of a young man, yet my skin tells a different story. Each passage through the crystals takes fifteen cycles of twelve moons each off my entire being. Now my body is so old that any passage creates almost no visible difference.”

  Pandy wondered what kept Wang Chun Lo alive.

  “Very good question, little fish,” he replied. “And although you didn’t actually inquire, I shall tell you. Tea.”

  “Tea?”

  “This tea. A special restorative blend made by sorcerers in the deepest heart of China. But now you see why there must always be time . . . for tea.”

  Pandy drank her tea thoughtfully.

  “Now, for myself, I have accepted this price willingly to satisfy my desire to see the world. And, of course, the crystals are a source of amazement to our audiences and a rather lucrative stream of income. But will you pay the price? And, more important, will your friends?”

  Pandy was thunderstruck. What would she look like fifteen years older? She would still be thirteen, but she’d have the body and face of a twenty-eight-year-old woman. She had wanted to be older; she’d thought about no longer looking pudgy or getting small blemishes. But she always thought it would happen in the normal way. Gods, she thought, if the girls back at school thought she was weird before . . .

  “Of course you may travel with us to Alexandria. The caravan moves slowly, but we will be there in slightly less than two weeks. Perhaps you could wait?”

  “No,” Pandy said, not knowing what else Hera might have in store in the coming two weeks. “I’ll do it . . . alone.”

  “You will not need your friends, then?”

  Of course she needed them. She wouldn’t know what to do or where to go without them. She needed Iole’s brain and Alcie’s courage and loyalty. She even needed Homer. But she couldn’t ask them to give up fifteen years of their lives.

  Wang Chun Lo touched the fingers of his hands together delicately.

  “I may be able to make you an offer on behalf of the gods.”

  Pandy looked at him.

  “If you would be willing to accept all of their years onto yourself, I may be able to keep them as they are now. But you would all have to pass through at once.”

  Pandy’s jaw dropped. Four times fifteen! She’d take on sixty years—plus her thirteen.

  She was going to be seventy-three years old.

  Her mind was reeling. Only an hour before, she had first felt comfortable and feminine in her own skin as she danced with Mahfouza. Now, in order to get where she needed to be, she would have to bypass that potentially beautiful part of herself and become an old woman.

  She tilted her head back. What about Dido? She turned to look at Wang Chun Lo.

  “The gods are not interested in your dog, little fish. Dido will remain as he is.”

  “That’s one small consolation,” she thought. Her mind wandered for several minutes more. She had once thought the biggest decision she would ever have to make was to try to save the world. Wrong. This one was right up there.

  “Oh well,” she finally thought, resigned. “I’ll probably end up dead before the quest is done anyway.”

  “Now, now—where is that indomitable spirit?”

  “I won’t tell my friends what’s going to happen,” she replied, dodging his question.

  “As you wish, Pandora,” he said. “Now, exactly where in Alexandria do you want to go?”

  “I . . . I . . . don’t know.”

  “Well then,” Wang Chun Lo thought. “Your use of the crystals might be futile, don’t you think? If you don’t know the precise location, you may waste all the precious time you’ll be saving. I shall assume that you have never been there before and therefore you know no one.”

  “That’s not true,” said Pandy, out loud. “Well, it’s true but . . . but I know of someone there. I’ll be right back.”

  She wound her way back through the maze of furniture, past her startled friends, and dashed out of the tent, throwing the tent flap back on itself, causing the opening to remain visible.

  “Pandy!” cried Iole.

  “No time. Be right back. Keep the flap open!”

  Sprinting through the camp, she burst into the garlic-shaped tent in seconds, startling Usumacinta, who was putting a foul-smelling ointment on a huge purple bruise just above her knee.

  “Hello,” said Pandy. “Excuse me.”

  Rifling through her leather carrying pouch, she found the note given to her by Ankhele, the acolyte at the Temple of Apollo in Delphi, which directed Pandy to seek any assistance in Alexandria from Ankhele’s father, the city tax collector. Clutching it tightly, she thrust her pouch back under the pallet, then thought better of it and hauled out all the girls’ belongings. Checking to be sure that she had everything, she loaded herself down and clucked at Dido.

  “Thank you very much for the use of your tent,” she said to Usumacinta, who had been watching in silent surprise. “Your act is really beautiful. Good luck in Athens when you arrive there, it’s a wonderful city. Thanks again. Bye!”

  She and Dido rushed out and crossed the camp, stumbling a little from the weight and swing of the pouches.

  Ahead she saw the light from the open flap of the invisible tent surrounded by the black desert beyond.

  Inside, she quickly dropped the bags and skins on the ground. “Check and see if I got everything. If I didn’t, then go back and get it, but you’ve got to be fast. Really fast. I’ll be right back.”

  Disappearing into the furniture maze before anyone had a chance to speak, she reached Wang Chun Lo, still seated at the low table. She held out Ankhele’s note.

  “This is the only person I kinda don’t really know in Alexandria.”

  Wang Chun Lo studied the note carefully. Then he closed his eyes and seemed to drift off to sleep. He was so still for so long that Pandy thought the sun would come up again before she would be able to cross into the crystal.

  “Come,” he said, all at once opening his eyes. He stood and walked back toward the crystal panels. Alcie and Iole had just finished checking their belongings.

  “Where’s Homer?” asked Pandy.

  “He left a few things by the side of Usumacinta’s tent,” said Iole. “He’ll be right back.” As she finished, Homer stepped inside. Pandy put her finger to her lips.

  Wang Chun Lo stepped to the center panel and waved his hand across the surface. Instantly the crystal grew cloudy, then a city scene, at a great height, slowly appeared. Unlike the scenes in the main tent, however, this picture moved, as if it all were being seen through the eyes of a great bird soaring over Alexandria, the lighthouse flashing in the far distance. Wang Chun Lo waved his hand over Ankhele’s note, said something low under his breath and tossed it into the crystal. The note floated on the wind on the other side, bouncing on the air currents, but all the while descending. Lower and lower it fell, over rooftops and darkened streets, until it landed on the doorstep of a large home in the center of the city. A gust of wind scuttled the note through the open door and into the main room, where it finally came to rest at the feet of a distinguished-looking man. The man picked the note off the floor, read it, and began to look rapidly about the room, a look of utter confusion on his face. At this point, Wang Chun Lo himself stepped through the crystal. The startled man had no weapons about him, not expecting an ancient Chinese man to suddenly appear in his home, so he quickly gathered his wife and two small sons behind him and puffed out his chest defiantly.

  Wang Chun Lo began to speak, too softly for Pandy to hear, and after some time and with a little hesitation the man relaxed his stance, truly listening to Wang Chun Lo. Every so often the man would look at Pandy through the crystal. She could tell when Wang Chun Lo hit a delicate point or told of something especially incredible, by the man’s expressions of shock or relief. She was alternately wondering what exactly Wang Chun Lo was saying and being grateful that she didn’t have to explain it herself. Finally, the man walked carefully to the panel gateway. Peering into it, he looked back once over his shoulder, nodding in agreement to something. Wang Chun Lo walked past the man and stepped back into his tent.

  “This is the man you seek, little fish,” he said to Pandy. “This is Ankhele’s father, Asaad. He can hear you through the crystal and he is willing to answer any questions.”

  Alcie, Iole, and Homer, not knowing that any of this had been brewing in Pandy’s brain, were simply struck mute.

  “Good evening, sir,” said Pandy, putting her best effort into a formal tone of voice and speech.

  “Good evening . . . Pandora,” Asaad said, staring at her through the crystal. “You bring greetings from my daughter?”

  “Yes, sir, I do. Your daughter is well. She is one of the . . . best . . . acolytes in the Temple of Apollo at Delphi. She sends her love to your whole family and she misses you a lot. I mean, a great deal.”

  “I thank you for that. When we last heard from Ankhele, there was much trouble at the oracle. Something to do with the high priestess.”

  “I tell you, this is why she should have never left home!” Ankhele’s mother spoke up. “Our gods are not exciting enough! Our daughter wants to ‘see the world’ . . .”

  “Kesi! Hush!” cried Asaad.

  “That trouble is all over now, sir,” said Pandy.

  “So I am told,” Asaad said. “I am also told that you are responsible for resolving the difficulties.”

  “Thank you, but we all did it,” she said, gesturing to her friends. “Sir, Ankhele said that you might . . . that you would be able to help me.”

  “I have just been informed of your quest. You seek Vanity in its purest form, is this correct?”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied. “The map I carry says that Vanity is somewhere here—I mean there—in Alexandria. Do you have any idea where?”

  “This is what I know, Pandora,” Asaad said, his voice growing grave. “Several weeks ago, reports began to leak out from the royal palace here. As I am in a position of some responsibility, I have access to much information unknown to the average citizen. A strange illness had overcome our young queen, Cleopatra. She would not eat. Physicians were summoned and sacrifices made, but nothing has helped. She has continued to starve herself.”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” said Pandy, interrupting, “but that sounds like she wants to die. I don’t know how that can help—”

  “You must let me finish,” Asaad said. “She has also refused to sleep, or study, or walk among the people she rules. Instead, she does one thing and one thing only: gazes all day and all night, at herself, in her mirror.”

  “Gods,” said Iole, coming up to stand alongside Pandy.

  “Only her handmaidens and servants are allowed to approach. They brush her hair constantly; they apply rouge to her cheeks and the blackest kohl around her eyes. They adorn her with the costliest jewels and fabrics. According to some, she has become nothing more than a walking skeleton . . .”

  Pandy’s mind flashed on the living corpse of Habib.

  “. . . but she has the strength of twenty men. If anyone dares to paint her lips incorrectly or pin her cloak at the wrong angle, or worse, if they forget to tell her she is the most beautiful creature on the earth, she herself kills them instantly. But these tasks are almost impossible to accomplish.”

  “Why?” asked Alcie, quietly.

  “One of her handmaidens made the mistake weeks ago of trying to gaze into the mirror herself. Cleopatra broke her neck instantly. From that moment, she has allowed no one near it, and to ensure that no one else views their own face, she has had all her servants blinded.”

  Standing next to Pandy, Iole slumped.

  “Where is she now?” asked Pandy, the remains of the feast rising in her throat.

  “If what I am told is correct,” Asaad said, “she has not ever left her royal apartments. Is this information of assistance to you?”

  Pandy looked at Wang Chun Lo, who returned her gaze with a small smile.

  “Yes. Thank you, sir,” said Pandy.

  “It has been my privilege,” Asaad replied. “Knowing that you have spoken with our beloved Ankhele only recently has made us feel her absence slightly less. For that, I must thank you.”

  Wang Chun Lo approached the crystal panel.

  “We shall trouble you no further. May the remainder of your evening be pleasant.”

  Asaad nodded his head as, with a wave of Wang Chun Lo’s hand, the panel cleared.

  “That was brilliant,” said Alcie. “Using these . . . things, whatever they are, to find Ankhele’s father. Now we won’t have to waste time looking for him.”

  “Or Vanity,” said Iole. “It’s her mirror.”

  “Has to be,” Alcie agreed.

  Wang Chun Lo and Pandy were staring hard at each other.

  “Are you ready?” he asked quietly.

  “Yes,” she replied.

  “Truly?”

  Knowing full well what he meant, she faltered for a moment. Then she nodded. “Yes.”

  With that, he bowed very low.

  “I honor you, little fish.”

  She returned the bow respectfully. Then she turned to her friends.

  “Do you have everything?”

  “It’s all here,” said Alcie. “Why?”

  “What do we do?” Pandy asked Wang Chun Lo.

  “Each of you will take a panel. When I give the signal, you will all step through.”

  “What?” said Iole.

  “Cool,” said Homer.

  “No,” said Alcie.

  “Alcie, it’s the quickest way there. Period,” said Pandy.

  “Just because he can do it”—she gestured wildly to Wang Chun Lo, her voice squeaking—“doesn’t mean we can. It’s magic. It’s a trick of some kind. I’ll end up with a cow in a field somewhere.”

  She began to back away.

  “No you won’t,” Pandy said, taking her friend’s hand and feeling it tremble. “I promise you, by the wisdom of the Great Athena and the honor of Zeus himself, that nothing will happen to you, except that one moment you’ll be here and the next you’ll be in Alexandria. Wang Chun Lo has promised and I believe him, Alcie. Plus, we have no time to lose. Alcie, if you have ever trusted me before, please trust me now.”

  “Unhhh,” groaned Alcie, as Pandy led her to a crystal panel.

  Homer and Iole slowly took their places as Pandy, grabbing Dido’s scruff, stood in front of the center crystal.

  “Dido,” she said, looking into his face, “you come with me, ghost dog. Understand?”

  He barked once.

  “Ready,” Pandy said to Wang Chun Lo.

  Wang Chun Lo waved his hands and the crystals grew cloudy. As the ensuing colors and shapes became more distinct, again each had a bird’s-eye view of Alexandria. As the city rose up, the view passed over homes, temples, and odd buildings the likes of which they had not seen in the great metropolis of Athens. Suddenly, an enormous structure emerged before them. The view took them into a dark passageway and down a torch-lit tunnel. Pandy, fleetingly, saw the same drawings she’d seen high in the air in the Chamber of Despair. Then the view took them up and down flights of stairs, down hallways, and through large rooms with many treasures and dozens of strange-looking caskets, only the caskets were empty, their lids thrown off and scattered about the room. Then they were out onto a terrace, down another hallway, into an antechamber, through a set of heavy privacy curtains, and into the royal apartments of Queen Cleopatra.

  “Now!” said Wang Chun Lo.

  They each stepped through their crystals.

  Instantly, they were surrounded by opulence; marble and silk, fountains and gold. Alcie gave a whoop before Iole shushed her. Homer went to Alcie’s side. Dido sniffed the air. But Pandy had turned back to look at Wang Chun Lo immediately after crossing over.

  He gazed at her from his tent.

  “Did it . . . ? Do I . . . ?”

  Wang Chun Lo nodded. Then, with a smile and one more low bow, he waved his hand and the panels disappeared.

  “That was very interesting,” said Iole.

  “Apricots, it was nothing!” said Alcie. “Pandy, that was—”

  Alcie stopped. Pandy had turned to face them.

  “Great Apollo! Pandy!” Alcie screamed.

  She looked at her friends now from under cracked and wrinkled lids. Pandy, quite simply, had become an old, old woman.