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and Homer, then back into the caravan. At last she saw the captain nod and wave her off as if Mahfouza’s words were insignificant and a bother.
    â€œCome,” Mahfouza said, racing back to Pandy. “You will all stay in my tent. Tell the youth. I will have them bring Iole.”
    As Pandy and Homer collected their things off the camels, she told him of their coincidental, unimagined link to the caravan in the form of the beautiful dancing girl.
    â€œPandora, this way!”
    They saw a guard carrying Iole in his arms, following Mahfouza.
    â€œThis way!” Mahfouza called back to Pandy and Homer as they hurried to keep up. Dido wove his way after them, his pure whiteness causing whispers and stares.
    Passing many tents, Pandy could not help but notice the wild color combinations: black and olive and cloud gray, lemon and blue and silver, bloodred and lime and brown. They came to a large tent, striped in colors of plum and cherry, and found Mahfouza inside, commanding the guard to be careful as he placed Iole on a pile of floor cushions. Pandy motioned Dido to a spot on the floor out of the way, indicating he should lie down and stay.
    â€œI know a little medicine,” Mahfouza said, bending over Iole as the guard left. “We shall see.”
    Several minutes later, after much gazing and gentle poking, Mahfouza looked up, stricken.
    â€œIt is beyond me. Any potions or elixirs I know would be useless. I am sorry.”
    â€œDo you know what she has?” Homer asked. “Why she’s so—”
    â€œWait just one tick on the sundial!” Pandy interrupted. “There’s someone here called ‘the Physician,’ right? Some big shot, ooby-dooby guy, right?”
    Mahfouza gasped slightly.
    â€œRight?” Pandy went on insistently. “Well, let’s go get him, for Apollo’s sake!”
    â€œThe captain would never allow it,” Mahfouza whispered.
    â€œWe don’t know that until we ask!” Pandy said.
    â€œThe Physician is under constant guard.”
    â€œI don’t care!” Pandy said through gritted teeth. She stormed out of the tent with Mahfouza on her heels.
    â€œDido, stay ! Homer, please look after Iole,” Pandy said over her shoulder. “Which way?”
    â€œCome,” said Mahfouza, heading toward the front of the caravan. When they reached the two guards at the entrance to the gold and white tent, Mahfouza began to speak, but Pandy put a hand on her arm, silencing her.
    â€œLet me,” she said. “It might mean more if everyone thinks that a stranger, even a maiden, has respect enough to learn their language.”
    â€œSave that for the captain,” Mahfouza said. “I will get us past the guards.”
    Mahfouza expertly negotiated their entrance into the captain’s tent by explaining that Pandora, as leader of her group (an extremely rare position for a woman in Arabia), wished to pay her respects and express her gratitude to the captain for allowing them into the caravan. Once inside, she did this with several other groups of guards until at last she and Pandy stood in front of the captain, who remained silent and motionless.
    â€œExalted is He,” Mahfouza said, making a gesture of greeting and respect.
    â€œExalted is He,” Pandora quickly echoed, attempting the same movements.
    The captain of the guard looked surprised at hearing a young girl, dressed in strange garments, obviously from far away, speaking his language.
    â€œYour Persian is flawless,” he said. “How is this so?”
    Pandy began to lie on the spot. She didn’t consider it a large lie, but rather a necessary bit of cunning: part of that set of powers that included a growing intellect fueled by a bad situation, which her father alluded to the night before she left her home.
    â€œThe power to think things through, to see the big picture, not just the small scene. To use your wonderful mind to its absolute