Pandora Gets Angry by Carolyn Hennesy Page B

tear rolling down her cheek and a sad little smile playing upon her lips. Without a word, she reached out and took Pandy’s hand, giving it a squeeze. Pandy turned and walked forward again but let her arm stretch out behind her, holding on to Mahfouza’s hand for a long time.

    The main reception room in the palace of Prince Camaralzaman of Baghdad was not the largest room that Pandy had ever seen. That honor, she firmly believed, would always belong to the great hall in Zeus’s palace on Olympus, and not far behind was the hall of the palace of King Peleus on Mount Pelion where his very dramatic wedding was celebrated.
    Although immense to be sure, the feature that set this room apart from any other Pandy had experienced was …
    â€¦ the jewels.
    There was not one square centimeter that was not covered with or carved out of jewels, including, Pandy realized with awe, the windows, which were huge, flat, finely faceted diamonds. Emeralds, amethysts, and pearls were opulent ornamentation around the windows and doorways. Floor rugs and wall murals were mosaics constructed of the teensiest semiprecious stones, and the “plaster” on other walls was a thin sheet of deep amber. The mortar holding together the sapphire bricks at the edges of the room and in between the “rugs” was crushed topaz. The curtains were of jade, sculpted to actually appear as if they were rippling in a breeze. The only decorative piece of fabric in the entire room was the brilliant red cushion atop the prince’s large throne, which was cut from a single mammoth ruby.
    When Pandy, Iole, Homer, and Mahfouza entered, following closely on the heels of Douban and his son, it seemed that every citizen of Baghdad must have been present. The perimeter of the room was teeming with people, peering to get a good view of the execution. Even the center of the hall was crowded, but the Captain of the Guard brusquely shoved onlookers out of his way as he cleared a space for Douban the Physician.
    Pandy couldn’t get a decent view of the prince and his attendants, in their official places at the far end of the room, until the captain and the rest of his guards fell to one knee. Douban did the same and then his son and Mahfouza, and suddenly Pandy found herself staring across a vast space into the dark eyes of Camaralzaman … who was staring back at her.
    Slowly she, Homer, and Iole got onto one knee and bowed their heads.
    Silence filled the chamber.
    Long moments passed.
    Someone, somewhere, coughed.
    And still there was silence.
    Just as Pandy’s curiosity was beginning to boil, Camaralzaman’s voice carried across the room. And Pandy, without thinking, grabbed Iole’s hand to keep from laughing.
    While the prince was clothed in dark, elegant robes with a white and gold turban on his head, the very picture of masculine authority, the voice of the Prince of Baghdad, absolute ruler and arbiter of life and death, was high and squeaky. It sounded to Pandy as if he had a terrible cold and his nose was stuffed up. He also sounded as if he were about five years old.
    â€œYou brought … guests, Physician?”
    â€œPrince,” replied Douban, “my son attends me as I said he would. When I realized that, after my death, my son would be alone and friendless in your city, I decided to bring a few … cousins to help him in his grief.”
    A large man, dressed almost as royally as Camaralzaman, leaned forward and whispered something into the prince’s ear.
    â€œYou do not fool me,” said Camaralzaman, when the man finished. “You have brought a host of friends to speak in your favor, hoping that their voices combined will sway me. You are mistaken. You introduced yourself into this court on the pretense of curing me of leprosy and yet I know now it was merely a veiled attempt to assassinate me. You will die.”
    â€œI ask you again for proof of my treason, Prince,” said