Of Ambrosia and Stone: Pandora's Curse

29

Delighted to have finally been allowed in the library without any sneaking around required, I stride in through the front entrance.

Though part of me craves the excitement from ducking and dodging the guardian of the library.

Not having a shadowy guard tracing my every step felt delightful.

The space from the guards is a great relief. When I approached the tall arched doorway, I smiled already at the entire multi-story structure filled with books. My entire town could’ve fit in these rooms and then some. Birds fly through the domed glass and stone above our heads. Plants, mostly as dead as the others, coil around the columns of the magnificent room. Looking up, at least three floors high, then the dome on top. Squinting, up at the ceiling, it looks as though the marble sections of the dome contain yet more books. At the center of the doom hands long chandeliers dropping down to each flower. Convenient resting spots for the main birds soaring through the room. Stone steps are obscured behind shelves. This room may also be the most well-lit room in the palace of the Sun God. One can”t walk five steps without passing a torch, a sconce, a fireplace, an oil lamp or other means of keeping the light.

Following Athena’s directions, I came across the circulation desk. She recommended that he be the first person that I talk to here. “If there’s something to be known, Marsyas knows it,” according to Athena. High praise which isn’t something normally in her nature.

Turning to the Keeper of the Record, a middle-aged satyr looks down at me over his thick round spectacles. Frizzy black hair juts out of his head in unpredictable curls with a gray strip flowing across his right side.

Seeing the satyr, my stomach drops. The man who pursued me through half of the library. Oh boy. Please don’t recognize me. “Are you the Keeper of the Record?”

The satyr rolls his eyes, “Pray tell who else would be the keeper?” He gestures to his official looking desk. A placard lay on the desk.

Marsyas, Keeper of Records

Off to a great start, “Nice to meet you Marsyas, I’m--”

“Pandora, yes, I know. Also goes by Pandy or Pan, but don’t you go asking me to call you the later,” flares the satyr.

Hmm. I think he may recognize me. Otherwise, why would he have such a sour demeanor? I thought satyrs were supposed to be less doom and gloom. They’re told to be more trickster and the life of the party.

“O- okay, why?” Stammering, I watch the satyr, my consciousness full of concern.

“I”m a follower of Pan, the God of the Forests and the wilds,” he states sternly. “And I”ll not be comparing a lowly mortal such as yourself to him, a god with all of his glory.”

I fidget awkwardly. Shifting my weight from one side to the other.

“Pandora is fine then,” I replied. Gaia helped me. “Interesting you follow the God of the Wild but work in a library.”

Marsyas shoots me a look that screams that he’d harm me if he could get away with it. Thankfully, he knows that he won”t get away with it.

He narrows his eyes in my direction and growls, “How may I assist you.”

“I”m looking for a map. A friend of mine was brought to Mount Kazbek.” I request, “Can you point me in the direction of where I can find that.”

“No.”

“No?” Some keepers of the records, “Why not?”

“Mount Kazbek doesn’t exist,” he states simply.

Doesn’t exist? But I swear that’s where dad is.

Pressing my lips together, I nod solemnly. Not fully willing to believe the odd satyr. “Fine, do you’ve anything on Persephone or the plague?”

The elderly satyr”s eyes grow wide, looking almost murderous, “Do not speak of that name here!” His voice was not shouting but regardless, it was forceful.

“My mistake.” I take a step back from the circulation counter. “And the plague?”

“There are two shelves,” snapping his fingers, an owl dived from the ceiling. Resting on his finger, the satyr continues. “Olive here will take you to the shelves.”

Nodding suspicious, I watch Olive from a distance. “Are there any from the earliest days of the plague?”

Olive is tawny in color with flecks of silver. Two large golden eyes like orbs flash to me, as if knowing my discomfort and honing in. I recognized the bird instantly. The one who ratted me out to the satyr during my last adventure. She glares at me like she knows that I”m up to no good.

The owl rotates her neck to watch me and listen to her master. Now, she looks like one of those mud dolls that dad and I used to make after spring showers. Well, when I got distracted and put their heads on backwards. Dad would laugh before helping me fix our little golems.

Whispering to the unflinching owl, Marsyas finally remarks audibly, “Yes, but even less. Likely less than fifteen or so tomes. Now do not mess up my shelves or put anything back willy nilly. You want something sorted, please hold the book up and an owl will file it. Like this,” holding a hand up, ebony owl dives from the sky like he sees a mouse and whisks away the scrolls. “Now Olive, get going and help our lovely guest.”

Holding my hand out, Olive slips reluctantly on my fingers. Her talons dig into my skin.

Smiling, I reach out to brush her soft downy feathers. “Wait!” The Keeper shouts, “Don’t!”

Too late. The beak of the bird clamps down my pointer finger. Screeching louder than a crow, I pull my finger from its grip. My finger isn’t bleeding, but I feel a nasty bruise forming already. “Stupid angry bird,” I grumble. “If you didn’t want me to pet you, don’t be so soft and cute.”

Marsyas stands tall, returning to his normal unwavering and emotionless form.

“Okay, stupid bird, show me where the books on the plague are,” I whisper.

Olive snaps her beak at me. As if warning me to watch myself. Rolling my eyes, I stick my tongue out at the owl as I follow the briefest of directions that the satyr gave me.

Flying up softly, the bird beats her beautiful wings, flying up the stairs ahead of me. Running, I”m in hot pursuit of her as she bobs and weaves between the library books. Before I slow to a stop, Olive is flinging books into the air.

Holding out my hands, I try to catch the scrolls and tomes before they hit the ground. The tomes slow to a stop. Suspended above the ground for a couple of moments before jolting up into the air and stacking neatly on a nearby table.

“Olive?” The owl scours the shelves and does not flinch at the sound of its name. “While you”re pulling the volumes for me, where can I find maps?”

The bird releases a piercing hoot.

A small silver bird dives down from the sky. Soft small wings beat around me. This bird looks much more approachable and less… Well touchy. She looks like a lovely little moon.

Sena. I”m naming you Sena, “Can you take me to the maps?”

Soft hoots erupt from her chest. She flies more casually. Beating her wings in line with my steps, I follow along far away to a side room filled with maps. Scrolls stacked four shelves high. “Sena, I”m looking for Mount Kazbek. Can you bring me a map with that mountain on it?”

She hoots and zooms off to the shelves.

A map of the Courts lies pinned and covers one entire wall. The yellow woven tapestry shows the four courts. Hades’s land spans the north and is labeled as Erebus. Off to the east is Arva which is the land controlled by Demeter. Then off to the west is Poseidon’s court named Marium. Then finally is Caelum which is Apollo’s court. Standing, I stare at the quadrants, looking for Kazbek. Each section, other than the mostly blank Erebus, takes me approximately thirty minutes to fully pour through.

Moving close, I look at the boundary lines between the courts. There appears to be designated crossing areas to each of the neighboring courts. One off to Poseidon’s Court, one to Mount Olympus, and one path to Demeter’s Court. These paths look like a bridge over the Veil.

“I didn’t know that Veil divides the courts,” I whispered.

After what feels like eternity, I look up at Sena who’s looking frustrated. “Any luck with finding anything on the Kazbek Mountain?”

Sena shakes her head.

“Darn. Do you have any books on the whereabouts of Persephone? Specifically, what happened before, during, and after she went missing?” Pulling my fingers through my hair, I pour over the map.

Sena shakes her head once before taking flight.

Pursing my lips, I make a face. “Well, it was worth a shot. Thank you for all your assistance. Let”s go back out to Olive.”

We enter the main room. Sena rests on my shoulder. The library reminds me of trees. Taller than life when you see them in person, which has grown together. The library is the most rugged part of the castle. Some leaves seem to be alive here even. Flowers in vases on decorative vines.

Olive is long gone, leaving fifteen volumes on the table. Sighing, I brush Sena cautiously, she nuzzles her head into my finger. “Sena. I”m bringing this back to my room. Thank you so much. Next time I see you, I”ll have some biscuits as a gift for you.”

Her soft coos rumble in her chest before soaring off into the rafters of the library.

Piles of books rest on the abandoned table. Sighing, I make space, stacking the books off to one side. I pour through each page. For hours upon hours. Olive marked the relevant pages which helped tremendously but there’s scarce information about the plague. Mainly its effects.

One document that Olive dropped off for me, I found particularly interesting. The document appeared to have been sent from a ranking member of the patrol of the boundaries of Caelum to Apollo. She reports that they’re experiencing a higher number than the normal number of citizens of Caelum trying to escape the court. I read over the letter once more:

Phoebus Apollo,

I”m writing to you before our normal report date to inform you of a recent trend. At our guard post along the Veil crossing between our court and Poseidon’s Court, we’ve seen droves of citizens attempting to flee. Seeking refugee status from Poseidon. We, of course, have been turning back. Though this has done scarcely any good. Despite our patrols of the Veil at all hours of the day, we’ve witnessed several nymphs, centaurs, and satyrs fleeing through the paved pathways through the Veil. A small minority of those have made it across to the other side.

According to the reports from our contacts in our neighboring courts, they’ve learned that of those few who brave the monsters and face the Oneiroi. Our contacts have requested that any survivors be turned over to the guard, but they haven’t been agreeable to our requests. The mad old god Poseidon seems to be granting all the surviving citizens protection under the Laws of Xenia, spouting nonsense about asylum or something or another.

A frightening development has cropped up from the Veil. Shades have been lurking around the edge of the forest. Especially as the sun sets or into the evening. The umbra language and howls can be heard shrieking from the Veil. The shades of nymphs, centaurs and satyrs have further been walking the boundary. Many of which are recognizable to us. Ones that we turned back, refusing to allow them to cross over the border and seek Xenia with Poseidon.

We will be standing by and awaiting your orders of our next steps,

-Guard Aspasia

Hmm. Turning over the document, I found a date. This letter was sent only weeks before I was brought here. My heart feels heavy for the people trying to flee through the Veil. Given my experiences with the Veil, I know some of the terror that enters within its dangerous confines. I”m certain that the deeper you”re in, the more terrifying it gets.

Handing the letter back to Olive I whisper a thank you to the bird as she refiles its papers. Peeking up at the glass domed ceiling, I”m surprised to see how dark the night sky is already. I would have sworn that I had hours to go before darkness.

Looking at Olive, I utter softly, “Thank you for the materials. Can you gather these and put them on a cart? I”ll be back in the morning.”

If owls could groan, I swear that’s how she reacted.

“See you in the morning.” I smile before walking back to my room to get ready for bed.