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!”

  With that, Cleopatra took off at a run after Pandora.

  Pandy arced to the right as she retreated, bumping hard into Alcie; so hard that Alcie stumbled backward and flailed her arms, sending the box flying into the nearby wall.

  Immediately, Pandy stopped to see what, if anything, had happened to it, but Alcie screamed at her, “Go!”

  Alcie threw her body over the box and began to feel underneath her stomach: the box was intact, the clasp was fastened tight, the hairpin was still in place, and the leather strap was secure.

  Pandy was hobbling before Cleopatra; the queen was stronger, but Pandy had a good head start and, even at seventy-three, Pandy’s legs were much longer so she was outstriding the ten-year-old girl. She used all of her strength to topple several mummies in the queen’s path, slowing Cleopatra and giving Pandy time to think. She grabbed the crooked staff from one mummy and used it as a walking stick to quicken her pace. She saw Homer getting to his feet.

  She heard a thud and cry. Turning back, she saw Cleopatra’s handmaidens rushing around the chamber to find her. One had just stumbled into Cleopatra’s path, tripping her and sending her sprawling. Pandy turned just as another servant accidentally dislodged a mummy to Pandy’s left, sending it crashing to the floor. Though most of the mummy missed her entirely, her foot was caught for a second. Already out of breath from running, Pandy used precious reserves of strength to free her foot, poking the mummy with the staff and sending up clouds of dust. Turning around, she headed for Homer.

  Behind her, she heard Cleopatra alternately pushing the servants away, then commanding them to help her off the floor.

  Up ahead, Homer was carrying Iole, still unconscious, to the far side of the room.

  Freeing herself from her handmaids, Cleopatra took off again, but two disoriented servants caused her to fall into the large, shallow fountain in the middle of the room where she cracked her head on the tiles. Hard.

  Still hobbling, Pandy looked back and saw Cleopatra floating facedown.

  “How’s Iole?” she asked, reaching Homer.

  “She’s breathing,” Homer replied.

  “What are we doing?” called Alcie from across the room.

  “Stay there for a sec,” Pandy answered. “Do you think she’s . . . ?” Pandy asked, indicating Cleopatra.

  “Dead? No,” said Homer. “She’s only ten, but she’s stronger than anyone I’ve battled.”

  Pandy looked up at the nearby pyramid of mummies, hit with a sudden idea.

  “Homer,” she said, “get on top of that platform and when I tell you, push all of those bodies off the steps into the center. I’m gonna try to get her—”

  “Uh-oh,” said Homer.

  Pandy turned and saw Cleopatra sitting up and shaking her head. In a flash she was out of the fountain, still grasping the mirror and searching for Pandy.

  “Okay . . . okay,” Pandy whispered, taking off again. “Just listen for me.”

  She hobbled farther down the length of the room. She passed the circle of multicolored cats; Dido was nowhere to be seen. Pandy allowed herself a second of relief that Dido had somehow escaped and then kept hobbling. Cleopatra spotted her and ran after her, although the heaviness of her water-soaked robes slowed her somewhat.

  Homer slumped to the ground and pretended he was still unconscious. After Cleopatra sped by him, he raced onto the platform.

  By this time, Pandy had gone around behind the platform and was back where she’d started with Alcie.

  “Stay here and when she comes around, tell her where I am,” she whispered to Alcie, hobbling into the space between the fountain and the mummy pyramid.

  With tremendous effort, Pandy crossed to the other side, where seconds before she’d been talking to Homer.

  “Uh . . . here she is!” she heard Alcie shout. Alcie was waving to Cleopatra and pointing at Pandy.

  The queen sped around the corner and, spying Pandy across the room, leaped for her.

  “Homer, now!” she called, her strength almost gone.

  Bruised as he was, Homer pushed powerfully against the top few rows of bodies. It was harder than he’d anticipated; though the bodies were mostly dust, he hadn’t counted on the tremendous weight of the gold, heavy cloth, and precious jewels.

  This, however, was exactly what Pandy had expected. The entire mummy pyramid came tumbling down like a house made entirely out of dried leaves.

  The last image Pandy had of Cleopatra was the young queen throwing up her hands, utter shock on her face as sixty mummies, some in full battle dress, some in heavy royal robes, cascaded down upon her head, completely burying her.

  But not before an odd-shaped crown caught, as it fell, the corner of her mirror, knocking it loose from her grip and sending it skittering across the floor.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Vanity

  Midnight

  “Stay back!” Pandy yelled in Egyptian, hurrying as best she could toward the mirror. “Don’t touch it!”

  On the smooth marble floor, the mirror had slid easily almost the entire length of the room. It had caromed off a pillar, but was still visible far in the distance. A servant had heard something whoosh toward her feet, then stop. Now she was feeling for whatever it was.

  “It’s her mirror,” called Alcie, on the run.

  The servant wailed and cringed in horror, moving quickly off in the opposite direction.

  As she moved, Pandy saw the gleaming metal surface of the mirror begin to glow. The nearer she got, the brighter it became. Now translucent bubbles the size of apricots were beginning to form on the surface.

  “It’s got nowhere to go,” she said softly.

  “What?” said Alcie, reaching her friend and slipping her arm around Pandy’s thin waist to help her run.

  “It’s got nowhere to go. Vanity has nobody to . . . to . . . infect. And . . . we’re going to the right!”

  “Sorry,” said Alcie, trying to correct their course.

  “Hurry! They’re gonna fly off!” said Pandy, still a good distance away, watching the beautiful iridescent bubbles grow larger. There was almost nothing keeping them attached to the mirror at this point.

  “Oranges!”

  Alcie thrust the box into Pandy’s hands and quickly lifted Pandy into her arms, fighting to stay straight. Pandy didn’t say word; she kept her eyes on the mirror. They were only a few steps away when the first bubble broke loose and floated into the air.

  “Gods, no! Put me down!” Pandy said. Alcie set her lightly on the ground.

  Pandy took the net from her girdle and threw it high into the air, trying to catch the rogue bubble. Her strength gone, she missed it and the bubble of Vanity ascended higher. But the net came down squarely on top of the mirror, trapping everything, including those bubbles that had just broken free. However, as more and more bubbles formed on the mirror, the force of Vanity now began lifting the net into the air. The rogue bubble was darting and dancing overhead as the others tried to join it.

  “Great Athena,” said Alcie.

  “No,” said Pandy, “this is good.”

  “Huh?”

  “Watch,” Pandy said, and she started to gather together the bottom of the net as it floated up.

  “Don’t touch it with your bare hands!” cried Alcie, keeping an eye on the rogue bubble.

  “It’s just the net.”

  “Jealousy? It poked through, remember?”

  “Right,” Pandy said.

  She grabbed a fistful of wrapping from the nearest mummy and was binding her hands when Alcie yelled, “It’s getting too high!”

  The net was being carried aloft; in seconds it would be too high for her to reach. Ever.

  “On my shoulders,” said Homer, behind them.

  Without hesitation, Pandy handed the box back to Alcie and clambered (with a slight shove from Alcie) onto Homer’s back, then tried to hobble her way up onto his shoulders. But she was so weak that Homer reached back and, holding her legs steady, simply lifted her into the air.

  “Try to stay straight as iron,” he said.

  “Okay.”

  Homer maneuvered Pandy directly under the adamantine net and she grabbed the bottom edges only an instant before it would have sailed away. Pinching the edges of the net together tightly, Homer lowered her to the ground.

  That was the moment Alcie saw the rogue bubble of Vanity fly into Pandy’s wrinkled ear. “Apricots!”

  Pandy still held onto the net, but now she twirled it in front of her and began to giggle.

  “Look at the lights!” she said brightly. “They’re so beautiful. Like me.”

  “Whoa,” said Homer.

  Alcie tried to process that her best friend, looking even older than her grandmother, was now infected with a smidgen of Vanity and thought she was stunning.

  “Let’s let them go!” Pandy said, loosening her grasp on the net.

  “No!” said Homer.

  “I have a better idea!” said Alcie, tapping the box. “Let’s put them all in here so you’ll always know where they are, in case you ever need one again. Not that you will, because—plums—you’re . . . you’re . . . amazing!”

  “Oh, I like that,” Pandy said in a girlish voice. “What do we do?”

  “Okay,” said Alcie firmly. She undid the leather strap, took the hairpin out of the lock, and unfastened the clasp. “Just lower the net to the floor and open the ends a bit. Good. Now I’ll slide the box inside . . . close the net up again, good. Now, when I open the box you just push the little bubbles inside.”

  “Gently, right?”

  “Yeah, gently, whatever.”

  But when Alcie opened the box, Pandy fussed and clucked, sort of “urging” the bubbles inside. Alcie saw a trail of dark smoke begin to poke its way out from under the lid of the box—Jealousy trying to escape!

  “Beat ’em!” Alcie cried. “Push them in!”

  Pandy was so startled she instantly began slapping the inflated net with her wrapped hands. As each of the little bubbles was forced into the box (which forced Jealousy back as well), it exploded with a little sigh. Homer grabbed his cloak and began pushing at Vanity as well. Within moments, every last bubble had burst inside and Alcie snapped the lid shut.

  She lifted the net off the box (closing the clasp, putting the pin in place, and tightening the strap) and started to put them both in her pouch.

  “I’ll take the box now,” said Pandy.

  “I’m gonna hold it for a bit,” said Alcie.

  “Give me that box!”

  Alcie wondered what the tiny bubble of Vanity running around Pandy’s brain could do to her. She’d seen the full effect of pure Vanity; Cleopatra had killed, tortured, and maimed so people would revere her. Pandy couldn’t be that bad—after all, Vanity wasn’t full strength, and Pandy wasn’t full strength. But a look suddenly crossed Pandy’s face that said Pandy would do whatever she needed to, even to her very best friend, to get the box.

  Alcie spied the mirror, now an ordinary piece of shining metal, and quickly picked it up.

  “Here,” she cried, shoving it into Pandy’s hands. “Who’s that? Huh? Who’s that beautiful girl . . . woman . . . thing? That’s you! Look at that!”

  “It’s me!” Pandy cried, in voice that broke Alcie’s heart in two. “Look at me! I’ve never seen anything so glorious!”

  Pandy wandered away, staring at herself.

  “Oh, this is not good,” Alcie said to Homer, beginning to cry. “This is not good at all.”

  “No,” said a high, cracked voice from behind. “You’ve got quite the problem, don’t you?”

  Alcie and Homer spun around to see the orange robes and sharp, pointed smile of Wang Chun Lo.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Wang Chun Lo?

  12:11 a.m.

  “My, my,” Wang Chun Lo said. “What shall we do about this?”

  “You saw the whole thing, didn’t you?” Alcie said, furious at him for some reason she couldn’t place. “You knew this would happen!”

  “No, Alcestis,” he said. “I did not know. And yes, I was watching.”

  He paused, a kindness in his face.

  “I have not seen four people more brave in quite a long time, and I have seen battles that would make you shudder.”

  “How could you know anything?” Alcie cried. “You’re an old man who runs a caravan. You walk through crystals and . . . and you take people’s money . . . and you let a girl turn into an old woman! You’re worse than my aunt Medusa!”

  “Alcie . . . ,” said Homer.

  Wang Chun Lo merely smiled and thought for a moment.

  “Let us attend to the others first, before we decide what is what.”

  And he moved off into the room toward the towering pile of mummies, disappearing behind a pillar.

  “Apples! I’d like to decide a few things, like how to roast an old man,” muttered Alcie as she and Homer turned to follow.

  They had not taken more than a step when they saw Wang Chun Lo’s orange robes lying in a heap on the floor just ahead.

  “Well, that’s just wonderful,” Alcie said. “Now he’s naked!”

  But as they stared, the robes began to glow white-hot; forming themselves into a ball, lifting into the air, and rushing out the large opening at the end of the room, disappearing into the night.

  They saw the ribbon of coins, also lying on the ground, become a large centipede and his long black, braided queue, cut from his head, become a writhing black snake.

  Alcie saw Iole first, standing against the wall, cradling her broken arm, her mouth open, staring at something in the middle of the room. Pandy was just beyond her, gazing into the mirror, oblivious to anything else.

  Passing the few remaining pillars, Alcie and Homer came to a sudden halt.

  Standing close to the pile of mummies was a large man dressed in a simple white robe with a beaded collar, a pointed blue headdress, and light green skin.

  With a tiny smile, he waved his hand and at once all of the mummies, including those burying Cleopatra, lifted into the air and began swirling in a huge circle. With a flick of his hand, the man sent the mummies, dust, wrappings, dressings, and jewelry out of the chamber through an entryway at the end of the room.

  Watching them go, a question formed in Alcie’s mind.

  “They will sort themselves out and return each to their own sarcophagus,” he answered her. This had to be Wang Chun Lo, she thought, but the voice was now deep and smooth.

  “Now,” he said, “come to me.”

  Alcie, Iole, and Homer suddenly found themselves standing before him.

  “There is not much time; I shall be brief . . .”

  On the floor behind him, Cleopatra, freed from both the curse and her tomb of mummies, began to stir. At once, all attention focused on the queen, now merely a sleepy little girl. She opened her eyes and the first people she spied were Homer, Alcie, and Iole. There was absolutely no sign of recognition and she felt herself grow slightly angry that there were visitors in her private chambers and no one had bothered to help her up. And . . . and . . . why was she on the floor?

  Then she looked at the green man and her eyes went wide.

  “By all my fathers,” she whispered, terrified. “Osiris . . . my lord! I greet you.”

  As Cleopatra scrambled to kneel, Alcie, Iole, and Homer turned and stared at Osiris, great God of the Egyptian Underworld.

  Even Alcie had been paying attention in class back in Athens when Osiris had been discussed as being one of the most powerful gods known to man. He was the Egyptian equivalent of Hades, but the reverence and respect for death and the dead in Egypt gave Osiris almost as much power as Zeus in the minds of his own people. He was, Alcie knew, the only deity that the Egyptians would simply refer to as “God.” She thought about the way she’d last spoken to him and waited for the moment he was going to strike her dead.

  Osiris threw back his head and laughed.

  “I shall not kill you. Indeed that is the farthest thing from my mind. My realms are only for those who have fulfilled their time upon earth and have lived a good and honorable life. Your time is incomplete and you have many honorable deeds yet to accomplish.”

  He turned to Cleopatra.

  “Go to your bedchamber and sleep.”

  Without a word, Cleopatra stood and walked toward a small entryway at the rear of the room.

  “And eat something when you awaken.”

  Osiris turned back.

  “She will, indeed, be the most beautiful of queens. But that will happen naturally. And I know Egypt will be that which she loves most, not her own visage in a piece of metal. What happened here is no fault of her making. She must not be punished. Neither must those whom she has hurt continue to suffer.”

  He passed his hand around the room, over all of the servants and the slaves shackled to the floor in front of the platform. Instantly, there was a great collective gasp as sight returned to each woman and the chains and iron rings disappeared. There was so much astonished joy, laughter, and confusion that Osiris had to bellow to be heard. At once, all the women and the sighted slaves looked toward the center of the room then dropped to their knees, their faces to the floor.

  “We’ll just leave them like that for the time being,” Osiris said. Then he turned to Iole as if listening to her thoughts.

  “My skin is green, inquisitive one, because I rule over the dead. Death is associated with green, rotting flesh.” He paused for a second, then smiled.

  “I’m sorry you asked too.”

  “Come, come!” he laughed. “Enough silence! Where are the chatterers I had in my tent only hours ago? Speak your minds!”

  “Why did you pretend to be Wang Chun Lo?” asked Iole.

  “I could tell you that it was because I knew you all were coming, and that I needed to be secretive until the curse upon the queen had been lifted.”