Then Pandy remembered Zeus’s words to her as she had stood before him and all the other immortals weeks earlier in the great hall on Mount Olympus: “I would follow you, Daughter of Prometheus. I would follow you down to the depths of your dreams . . . I would hunt you into the flames of Tartarus and bring your body back for the punishment you deserve.”

  And she had known even then that Zeus, Supreme Ruler and King of all Gods, would keep his word. After the box had been opened, Pandy and her family were summoned to Mount Olympus, where she had been given a choice. She alone of the great house of Prometheus would recapture the evils or her family would suffer unspeakable torments for the rest of eternity. If she didn’t accept or if she failed in her quest, everyone related to her would be cleaning sewage pits in the underworld (and that would be the fun part) forever.

  “Okay,” Pandy thought. “So jumping overboard is out.”

  Perhaps the whole ordeal wouldn’t be so terrible. After all, they had already managed to capture one of the seven most deadly plagues. Just days earlier, in Delphi, they had trapped Jealousy. The girls had been attacked by Harpies and Iole had almost been roasted to death over the sacrificial fire, but in the end they had been successful, and now they were on their way to Egypt to capture Vanity. And they had just managed to weather what was probably the worst storm in the entire history of the planet. So, how bad could it be? Of course, neither she nor Alcie nor Iole spoke Egyptian and she had no idea where to look for Vanity if they ever actually got there . . . but how bad could it be?

  Really?

  “Sheesh,” she thought. They were all toast.

  There was only one good thing that had come from any of this: she had discovered her power over fire. Well . . . she’d discovered that she had a power over fire; she didn’t know exactly how extensive it was or all the things that she could do with it. But it went way beyond the little trick her father taught her of creating heat with her breath by blowing on embers or wood or coals and heating them until they glowed red hot.

  Turning forward, she saw a larger island coming into view. She stopped one of the sailors and asked what it was.

  “Crete,” he replied tersely, and went about his task of tying off the freshly patched mainsail. None of the sailors had been very nice to the girls during the voyage. They weren’t mean exactly, they were just busy, and Pandy and Iole tried to keep out of their way. Alcie, however, couldn’t have cared less about being underfoot and was fascinated by shipboard life.

  Hearing the name of the island, Pandy immediately went down below to the small cabin she shared with her friends. Dido was asleep on Pandy’s cot, but Alcie and Iole were nowhere to be found.

  She walked the short passageway to the oar room. Peeking her head in, she saw two hundred men—slaves, actually—sitting on long benches, twenty rows deep. An aisle that ran the length of the room (which almost ran the length of the ship) cut the rows in half: five men on one side, five on the other. Each group of five held fast to a large oar that stuck out of a little hole in the side of the ship and down into the water. The men were pulling these heavy oars back and forth. It was one sailor’s job to pound the drum at the far end of the room so the oars were moved in perfect unison and didn’t get smashed together. Another man, the leader of the rowers, walked up and down the aisle calling time with the drummer.

  “Stroke! Stroke! Stroke!” he called endlessly.

  Pandy saw Alcie where she usually found her friend these days: sitting by the drummer, mesmerized as he beat out the rhythm. She caught Alcie’s eye and motioned for her to come. Alcie skirted the caller, ignoring his dirty look as she walked straight as an arrow up the aisle.

  “This better be good,” Alcie griped. “I’m having fun and you had to interrupt. Oranges!”

  Alcie and Iole had also been standing close to the box when it had first been opened. Not as close as Helen and Hippia, so they were still fairly functional and had all their hair, but both of Pandy’s friends had been affected. Iole came down with a nasty case of wiggling, tickling bumps on her arms and legs, but her skin had been healed when she was suspended over the sacrificial flame of the Oracle at Delphi. Unfortunately, Alcie’s afflictions were still very much there.

  “Come on,” said Pandy. “We’ve got to find Iole.”

  “Why?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Pandy led Alcie down another passageway. They passed the crew quarters and the small, empty dining hall. They passed the sleeping quarters for the captain of the ship, which also served as the chart room and library. At last they came to the galley. This was where Iole could be found much of the time, in a small anteroom; petting the lamb, the goat, the three piglets, and the two chickens that were going to be used to feed the crew and the four passengers. To satisfy over two hundred people during a voyage lasting a week and a half, the cook was in the habit of creating giant cauldrons of stew and using lots of vegetables to extend such meager amounts of meat. But Iole had made it her mission to try to get the cook to go completely vegetarian. At first the cook paid no attention to her because she was small and fragile; not even a maiden yet, still just a girl. But when Iole continued to show up at the galley entrance, he threatened to roast her instead of the goat.

  “I’ve been roasted by the best,” she said. “Your little fire doesn’t scare me.”

  The cook, whose long nose gave him a somewhat rodentlike appearance, screwed up his face and chased her out into the passageway. But she kept coming back. Finally, partly out of respect for the fact that she was a paying passenger but mostly because she reminded him of his daughter back in Greece, he allowed her to sit in the corner and try to convince him exactly why he should spare the animals. She’d done a good job for the first three days, and together they created some wonderful things with chickpeas and lentils. But just this morning, Iole had awoken to the smell of . . . goat smoke. After racing down the passageway, she had stood teary eyed at the galley entrance. The cook looked up at her in the doorway. At first he tried to bluff and joke his way out from under her gaze, but then he became angry.

  “It’s my job, Iole!” he said.

  Iole said nothing in return. Finally, the cook just broke down and cried.

  “I’m sorry, honey. But I’m running out of ideas and after battling the storm yesterday, the crew wants meat!”

  When Pandy and Alcie came into the galley, they found Iole and the cook sitting at the table. He was staring off into space, twitching slightly, and she was writing her mother’s rice recipes on sheets of papyrus, every so often patting his trembling hand.

  “Iole, you need to see this,” Pandy said.

  “What?” asked Iole.

  “Come on. It’s a surprise,” said Pandy.

  “Figs! She won’t tell me either,” said Alcie.

  The three girls left the cook, and Pandy led the way toward the stairs.

  “I don’t want to go back up there!” Iole said. “In fact, after that storm, I intend to remain below deck for the rest of the voyage, thanks very much.”

  “Just trust me, okay?” said Pandy, forcing Iole ahead of her up the stairs and onto the deck.

  “Look!” said Pandy, pointing to the island, now coming clearly into view.

  “Oh! Oh!” exclaimed Iole, rushing to the railing she’d nearly slipped through the day before.

  “I was pretty sure you’d want to see it,” Pandy said.

  “What?” said Alcie. “It’s an island. The sea is full of ’em!”

  “Oh, Pandy . . . ,” Iole sighed.

  “Okay . . . yet another thing that I’m so totally left out of,” said Alcie.

  “I’m sorry, Alcie,” said Iole, turning to her. “But that’s Crete. That’s my home.”

  “It’s been over five years. How do you know?” asked Alcie.

  There was a long pause.

  “I’d know it in my sleep,” Iole said softly.

  She paused again, leaning forward into the railing, her eyes searching the distance.

  “There’s the small point where my dad used to take the family on day trips—picnics and things. Just beyond that is a little bay, and after that is the forest where my grandmother is buried.”

  “Where’s your grandfather?” asked Alcie.

  “He’s a rock.”

  Pandy and Alcie whipped their heads around in unison to look at Iole.

  “Hades turned him into a rock because he swore once and used Hades’ name. Apparently it was really, really terrible. Something like how he didn’t believe in the underworld, and even if he did, when he died he wasn’t going to pay Charon to ferry him across the river Styx. Mom says he yelled about having to pay so much in taxes when he was alive, that he wasn’t going to pay anything else when he was dead. So Hades said something like, ‘Fine, then you just won’t go.’ And turned him into a boulder. Mom and Dad kept him in the courtyard at first. But when Grandma died, they used him to mark her gravesite. So, in an obtuse way, they’re together.”

  Pandy and Alcie had absolutely nothing to say. But the two of them couldn’t help but think of every time they had mentioned the gods’ names in vain.

  The three girls remained at the railing, watching as the ship sped past the western tip of Crete. Suddenly, they heard a loud thud far across the deck, inside the passageway entrance. Turning around, they saw a large head covered in blond curls poke out into the sunlight.

  “Oh no,” said Pandy.

  “Oh my,” said Iole.

  “Oh yes-s-s!” said Alcie.

  “How does he always know where we are?” Pandy said, the three girls turning their faces back out to sea.

  “It’s not that big of a ship, Pandy. There aren’t that many places to hide,” Iole replied.

  “Who wants to hide anyway?” said Alcie, now sporting a wide grin . . . which on Alcie was slightly terrifying.

  “Tell me again why he has to be here?” said Iole.

  “I’ve told you a hundred million times. I told you right after it happened back in Crisa. The man who booked our passage to Egypt wouldn’t sell me the tickets unless his son came with us. As protection. The man didn’t think that three girls traveling alone was very wise,” Pandy said.

  “Smart man. So totally smart,” said Alcie, watching the blond head, now attached to a large, well-muscled body, searching for the three girls.

  “And you didn’t tell him that Dido was protection enough?” asked Iole.

  “I did. He thought that was very funny,” said Pandy. “He said he just wouldn’t feel right; that since he could only get us onto a cargo ship, if anything happened, he’d feel responsible. That’s why his son would be the perfect choice. He’s young, he’s strong . . .”

  “He’s completely cute,” said Alcie.

  “. . . and his dad wants him in the family export business so he needs to get used to being on a ship,” Pandy summed up. “He’s not that bad. And he’s stopped sleeping outside our cabin door, so at least we’re not tripping over him anymore.”

  The blond-headed body was now lumbering up to the three girls.

  “Here he comes,” said Iole, quietly, as a large shadow blocked the sun.

  Pandy and Iole slumped. Alcie straightened up.

  “Hi, Homer,” said Alcie brightly.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Homer

  7:58 a.m.

  “Uh . . . hi,” said a gruff voice as they stood at the railing, Crete now fading into the distance.

  They turned and craned their necks upward to stare at the blond-haired, blue-eyed, six-foot-two wall of muscle who was, for the duration of the voyage, their protector.

  Pandy’s thoughts flashed to the first time she’d seen Homer, only a few days earlier. Entering the shipping agency back in Crisa to inquire about cabin rates, she’d found the red-faced proprietor yelling at Homer, who was almost on the verge of tears.

  “You will go to Alexandria and you will deliver these parcels to your uncle and I will hear no more about it!” yelled the older man, his loose brown teeth knocking and clattering in his mouth as he spoke.

  “But Dad,” said Homer. “I just came back from Ethiopia!”

  “And why did you come back? Because you couldn’t hack it in gladiator school! So you dropped out. I scrimp and save for years but you ‘don’t like it’ in the arena. At sixteen you think you know what’s best, so you just quit!”

  “I didn’t want to go in the first place,” said Homer.

  “Oh, that’s right,” his father spat. “My son wants to be a poet! Well too bad. You’ll learn the family business and like it!”

  Pandy had almost coughed up a lung as she exclaimed loudly, “Ex-cuse me!”

  Both men had turned, seeing her for the first time.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said, “but I’d like to ask . . . um . . . inquire about going to Egypt. Alexandria, actually. How much would it cost to get there? Me and two other people? And my dog?”

  The older man’s eyebrows had stood almost on end, seeing a young maiden alone in his offices. Before he would book her passage, Pandy had to answer many questions about where she was from, why she was traveling without her parents, and who was traveling with her. She told only one or two teeny little fibs: traveling with her sisters, tragic death in the family, etc.

  “Fine,” the man had said at length. “I have a ship leaving tomorrow. It’s a cargo ship, so you’ll be cramped, but you’ll get there. And Homer is going, so he can look out for you.”

  “Homer is not going!” said the boy.

  “Homer is going,” said the man, turning to his son, “if I have to plant the toe of my sandal where Apollo doesn’t shine! You’re still not too big, my boy . . . Well, yes you are, but I don’t care. You’ll deliver the parcels, have a nice chat with your uncle about the import/export business, and watch over this lovely maiden and her sisters on the way. Period!”

  Pandy had felt herself blush at being called lovely. The man tallied up the charge and wrote out the tickets and a letter of introduction for the captain of the ship. Pandy paid for the passage. As she left, she’d wondered if she’d actually see Homer aboard the ship and whether or not he’d be manacled. The three girls had spent the night in a small inn, listening to Pandy’s experience in procuring the tickets and then creating a fake history for themselves as they were all “sisters” now.

  The next morning, Homer and his father were standing on the appointed dock. The older man had looked strangely at Alcie and Iole, noticing almost nothing but differences among the girls. Pandy smiled weakly, Iole kept her head down, and Alcie was supposed to do the same. But after one glance at Homer, Alcie had decided that the view was better if she looked up.

  Homer said nothing. He didn’t even acknowledge the girls and he pretended not to notice when Dido licked his hand.

  The first day out, as the captain carefully negotiated the straits between the Gulf of Corinth and the Ionian Sea, Iole caught Homer as he went up on deck for fresh air and tried to talk to him. But he didn’t even grunt at her and Iole decided he was plainly “simple.” Alcie found him at the railing as she marched from mast to mast, loving the way the sea made her walk straight.

  “Hi,” she said sweetly.

  “Whatever,” he said, moping his way back below deck.

  “I so totally agree!” she called after him. “You know it!”

  Now, on this fourth day, he stood blocking the sun.

  “So, Homer,” Alcie said, a softer quality to her voice that made Pandy and Iole turn and stare at her with wonder, “how’d you make out during the storm yesterday? Pretty wild, huh?”

  Pandy and Iole looked at Alcie like she’d suddenly grown a second head.

  “Um . . . I was asleep,” Homer replied.

  “Why does that not surprise me?” Iole said under her breath, turning back to look at Crete.

  Homer was almost always in his room. Except for the first night, when he’d camped outside the girls’ door on his father’s orders. The girls had spent most of the night talking about their quest, not realizing he was there, until he fell asleep and crashed his head into the cabin door as he hit the floor.

  They managed to convince him that, with a heavy bolt on their door, he was free to stay in his own cabin. The girls had been a bit concerned about what Homer might have overhead, but he’d given no indication that anything was going on inside his head, much less an interest in their quest.

  “Oooh, sleeping! Well, that’s fun too, I suppose.” Alcie giggled and choked on her tongue.

  “Pandy,” said Homer, totally ignoring Alcie, who now actually was turning purple from choking, “my father wanted me to, like, every once in a while, see if you guys were okay and . . . stuff. So . . . after that storm . . . like, are you guys okay?”

  “Um . . . we’re okay, Homer,” said Pandy, lightly patting Alcie’s back. “Thanks for . . . um . . . everything.”

  “Yes,” said Iole icily, “thanks for the timely concern.”

  “Cool. So . . . um . . . that time I was outside your cabin, I kinda heard why you guys—I mean, maidens— are really going to Alexandria and about the gods and stuff. And Pandy, I just wanted to say that those girls who opened the box are very uncool. So I won’t tell my dad you lied. Okay . . . like . . . good luck saving the world. And maybe I’ll see you guys—I mean, maidens— later, y’know, around Egypt.”

  As he walked away, Iole and Pandy turned to look at each other, horrified at having been overheard, but Alcie just stared at the spot where Homer had stood.

  “Great hulking pomegranates!” she yelled, finally clearing her throat. “When we get ashore, he’s just gonna leave us!”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Aeolus

  11:02 a.m.

  Compared to the magnificent palace up on Mount Olympus, the earthly home of Aeolus, King of the Winds, was puny and insignificant. It was a floating island with no name that drifted with the ocean currents, traveling all of earth’s waterways. Aeolus himself rarely knew where he would wake each day, swirling in amongst icebergs and frozen rocks or passing by islands full of date palms. Yet his island was still almost ten square miles in area and, as Aeolus allowed Notus, the South Wind, freedom to blow lightly at all times, the air was always fresh and the open rooms always swept clean. Small birds that could not scale the heights of Olympus fluttered and played on the warm breeze. Plants, flowers, and trees bent and swayed joyfully, creating ever-changing tapestries of light and shadow. Elaborate sets of wind chimes were placed around the gardens and throughout the house so the tinkling of glass beads, gold cylinders, or wooden pipes delighted the ear with music.