The Son of Neptune (13 page)

Octavian somehow managed to bow even lower. “Um, Lord Mars, just one tiny thing. A quest requires a prophecy, a mystical poem to guide us! We used to get them from the Sibylline books, but now it’s up to the augur to glean the will of gods. So if I could just run and get about seventy stuffed animals and possibly a knife—”

“You’re the augur?” the god interrupted.

“Y-yes, my lord.”

Mars pulled a scroll from his utility belt. “Anyone got a pen?”

The legionnaires stared at him.

Mars sighed. “Two hundred Romans, and
no one’s
got a pen? Never mind!”

He slung his M16 onto his back and pulled out a hand grenade. There were many screaming Romans. Then the grenade morphed into a ballpoint pen, and Mars began to write.

Frank looked at Percy with wide eyes. He mouthed:
Can your sword do grenade form?

Percy mouthed back,
No. Shut up.

“There!” Mars finished writing and threw the scroll at Octavian. “A prophecy. You can add it to your books, engrave it on your floor, whatever.”

Octavian read the scroll. “This says, ‘Go to Alaska. Find Thanatos and free him. Come back by sundown on June twenty-fourth or die.’”

“Yes,” Mars said. “Is that not clear?”

“Well, my lord…usually prophecies are
unclear.
They’re wrapped in riddles. They rhyme, and…”

Mars casually popped another grenade off his belt. “Yes?”

“The prophecy is clear!” Octavian announced. “A quest!”

“Good answer.” Mars tapped the grenade to his chin. “Now, what else? There was something else.…Oh, yes.”

He turned to Frank. “C’mere, kid.”

No, Frank thought. The burned stick in his coat pocket felt heavier. His legs turned wobbly. A sense of dread settled over him, worse than the day the military officer had come to the door.

He knew what was coming, but he couldn’t stop it. He stepped forward against his will.

Mars grinned. “Nice job taking the wall, kid. Who’s the ref for this game?”

Reyna raised her hand.

“You see that play, ref?” Mars demanded. “That was
my
kid. First over the wall, won the game for his team. Unless you’re blind, that was an MVP play. You’re not blind, are you?”

Reyna looked like she was trying to swallow a mouse. “No, Lord Mars.”

“Then make sure he gets the Mural Crown,” Mars demanded. “My kid, here!” he yelled at the legion, in case anyone hadn’t heard. Frank wanted to melt into the dirt.

“Emily Zhang’s son,” Mars continued. “She was a good soldier. Good woman. This kid Frank proved his stuff tonight. Happy late birthday, kid. Time you stepped up to a
real
man’s weapon.”

He tossed Frank his M16. For a split second Frank though the’d be crushed under the weight of the massive assault rifle, but the gun changed in midair, becoming smaller and thinner. When Frank caught it, the weapon was a spear. It had a shaft of Imperial gold and a strange point like a white bone, flickering with ghostly light.

“The tip is a dragon’s tooth,” Mars said. “You haven’t learned to use your mom’s talents yet, have you? Well—that spear will give you some breathing room until you do. You get three charges out of it, so use it wisely.”

Frank didn’t understand, but Mars acted like the matter was closed. “Now, my kid Frank Zhang is gonna lead the quest to free Thanatos, unless there are any objections?”

Of course, no one said a word. But many of the campers glared at Frank with envy, jealousy, anger, bitterness.

“You can take two companions,” Mars said. “Those are the rules. One of them needs to be this kid.”

He pointed at Percy. “He’s gonna learn some respect for Mars on this trip, or die trying. As for the second, I don’t care. Pick whomever you want. Have one of your senate debates. You all are good at those.”

The god’s image flickered. Lightning crackled across the sky.

“That’s my cue,” Mars said. “Until next time, Romans. Do not disappoint me!”

The god erupted in flames, and then he was gone.

Reyna turned toward Frank. Her expression was part amazement, part nausea, like she’d finally managed to swallow that mouse. She raised her arm in a Roman salute.
“Ave,
Frank Zhang, son of Mars.”

The whole legion followed her lead, but Frank didn’t want their attention anymore. His perfect night had been ruined.

Mars was his father. The god of war was sending him to Alaska. Frank had been handed more than a spear for his birthday. He’d been handed a death sentence.

P
ERCY SLEPT LIKE A
M
EDUSA VICTIM
—which is to say, like a rock.

He hadn’t crashed in a safe, comfortable bed since…well, he couldn’t even remember. Despite his insane day and the million thoughts running through his head, his body took over and said:
You will sleep now.

He had dreams, of course. He always had dreams, but they passed like blurred images from the window of a train. He saw a curly-haired faun in ragged clothes running to catch up with him.

“I don’t have any spare change,” Percy called.

“What?” the faun said. “No, Percy. It’s me, Grover! Stay put! We’re on our way to find you. Tyson is close—at least we
think
he’s the closest. We’re trying to get a lock on your position.”

“What?” Percy called, but the faun disappeared in the fog.

Then Annabeth was running along beside him, reaching out her hand. “Thank the gods!” she called. “For months and months we couldn’t see you! Are you all right?”

Percy remembered what Juno had said—
for months he has been slumbering, but now he is awake.
The goddess had intentionally kept him hidden, but why?

“Are you real?” he asked Annabeth.

He wanted so much to believe it he felt like Hannibal the elephant was standing on his chest. But her face began to dissolve. She cried, “Stay put! It’ll be easier for Tyson to find you! Stay where you are!”

Then she was gone. The images accelerated. He saw a huge ship in a dry dock, workers scrambling to finish the hull, a guy with a blowtorch welding a bronze dragon figurehead to the prow. He saw the war god stalking toward him in the surf, a sword in his hands.

The scene shifted. Percy stood on the Field of Mars, looking up at the Berkeley Hills. Golden grass rippled, and a face appeared in the landscape—a sleeping woman, her features formed from shadows and folds in the terrain. Her eyes remained closed, but her voice spoke in Percy’s mind:

So this is the demigod who destroyed my son Kronos. You don’t look like much, Percy Jackson, but you’re valuable to me. Come north. Meet Alcyoneus. Juno can play her little games with Greeks and Romans, but in the end, you will be my pawn. You will be the key to the gods’ defeat.

Percy’s vision turned dark. He stood in a theater-sized version of the camp’s headquarters—a
principia
with walls of ice and freezing mist hanging in the air. The floor was littered with skeletons in Roman armor and Imperial gold weapons encrusted with frost. In the back of the room sat an enormous shadowy figure. His skin glinted of gold and silver, as if he were an automaton like Reyna’s dogs. Behind him stood a collection of ruined emblems, tattered banners, and a large golden eagle on a staff of iron.

The giant’s voice boomed in the vast chamber. “This will be fun, son of Neptune. It’s been eons since I broke a demigod of your caliber. I await you atop the ice.”

Percy woke, shivering. For a moment he didn’t know where he was. Then he remembered: Camp Jupiter, the Fifth Cohort barracks. He lay in his bunk, staring at the ceiling and trying to control his racing heartbeat.

A golden giant was waiting to break him. Wonderful. But what unnerved him more was that sleeping woman’s face in the hills.
You will be my pawn.
Percy didn’t play chess, but he was pretty sure that being a pawn was bad. They died a lot.

Even the friendlier parts of his dream were disturbing. A faun named Grover was looking for him. Maybe that’s why Don had detected a—what had he called it?—an empathy link. Somebody named Tyson was searching for him, too, and Annabeth had warned Percy to stay where he was.

He sat up in his bunk. His roommates were rushing around, getting dressed and brushing their teeth. Dakota was wrapping himself in a long piece of red-speckled cloth—a toga. One of the Lares was giving him pointers on where to tuck and fold.

“Breakfast time?” Percy asked hopefully.

Frank’s head popped up from the bunk below. He had bags under his eyes like he hadn’t slept well. “A quick breakfast. Then we’ve got the senate meeting.”

Dakota’s head was stuck in his toga. He staggered around like a Kool-Aid-stained ghost.

“Um,” Percy said, “should I wear my bed sheets?”

Frank snorted. “That’s just for the senators. There’re ten of them, elected yearly. You’ve got to be at camp five years to qualify.”

“So how come we’re invited to the meeting?”

“Because…you know, the quest.” Frank sounded worried, like he was afraid Percy would back out. “We have to be in on the discussion. You, me, Hazel. I mean, if you’re willing…”

Frank probably didn’t mean to guilt him, but Percy’she art felt pulled like taffy. He had sympathy for Frank. Getting claimed by the war god in front of the whole camp—what a nightmare. Plus, how could Percy say no to that big pouty baby face? Frank had been given a huge task that would most likely get him killed. He was scared. He needed Percy’s help.

And the three of them
had
made a good team last night. Hazel and Frank were solid, dependable people. They’d accepted Percy like family. Still, he didn’t like the idea of this quest, especially since it came from Mars, and especially after his dreams.

“I, um…I’d better get ready.…” He climbed out of bed and got dressed. The whole time, he thought about Annabeth. Help was on the way. He could have his old life back. All he had to do was stay put.

At breakfast, Percy was conscious of everyone looking at him. They were whispering about the previous night:

“Two gods in one day…”

“Un-Roman fighting…”

“Water cannon up my nose…”

He was too hungry to care. He filled up on pancakes, eggs, bacon, waffles, apples, and several glasses of orange juice. He probably would have eaten more, but Reyna announced that the senate would now convene in the city, and all the folks in togas got up to leave.

“Here we go.” Hazel fidgeted with a stone that looked like a two-carat ruby.

The ghost Vitellius appeared next to them in a purple shimmer.
“Bona fortuna,
you three! Ah, senate meetings. I remember the one when Caesar was assassinated. Why, the amount of blood on his toga—”

“Thanks, Vitellius,” Frank interrupted. “We should get going.”

Reyna and Octavian led the procession of senators out of camp, with Reyna’s metal greyhounds dashing back and forth along the road. Hazel, Frank, and Percy trailed behind. Percynoticed Nico di Angelo in the group, wearing a black toga and talking with Gwen, who looked a little pale but surprisingly good considering she’d been dead the night before. Nico waved at Percy, then went back to his conversation, leaving Percy more sure than ever that Hazel’s brother was trying to avoid him.

Dakota stumbled along in his red-speckled robe. A lot of other senators seemed to be having trouble with their togas, too—hiking up their hems, trying to keep the cloth from slipping off their shoulders. Percy was glad he was wearing a regular purple T-shirt and jeans.

“How could Romans move, in those things?” he wondered.

“They were just for formal occasions,” Hazel said. “Like tuxedos. I bet the ancient Romans hated togas as much as we do. By the way, you didn’t bring any weapons, did you?”

Percy’s hand went to his pocket, where his pen always stayed. “Why? Are we not supposed to?”

“No weapons allowed inside the Pomerian Line,” she said.

“The
what
line?”

“Pomerian,” Frank said. “The city limits. Inside is a sacred ‘safe zone.’ Legions can’t march through. No weapons allowed. That’s so senate meetings don’t get bloody.”

“Like Julius Caesar getting assassinated?” Percy asked.

Frank nodded. “Don’t worry. Nothing like that has happened in months.”

Percy hoped he was kidding.

As they got closer to the city, Percy could appreciate how beautiful it was. The tiled roofs and gold domes gleamed in the sun. Gardens bloomed with honeysuckle and roses. The central plaza was paved in white and gray stone, decorated with statues, fountains, and gilded columns. In the surrounding neighborhoods, cobblestone streets were lined with freshly painted town houses, shops, cafés, and parks. In the distance rose the coliseum and the horse racing arena.

Percy didn’t notice they’d reached the city limits until the senators in front of him started slowing down.

On the side of the road stood a white marble statue—a life-size muscular man with curly hair, no arms, and an irritated expression. Maybe he looked mad because he’d been carved only from the waist up. Below that, he was just a big block of marble.

“Single file, please!” the statue said. “Have your IDs ready.”

Percy looked to his left and right. He hadn’t noticed before, but a line of identical statues ringed the city at intervals of about a hundred yards.

The senators passed through easily. The statue checked the tattoos on their forearms and called each senator by name. “Gwendolyn, senator, Fifth Cohort, yes. Nico di Angelo, ambassador of Pluto—very well. Reyna, praetor, of course. Hank, senator, Third Cohort—oh, nice shoes, Hank! Ah, who have we here?”

Hazel, Frank, and Percy were the last ones.

“Terminus,” Hazel said, “this is Percy Jackson. Percy, this is Terminus, the god of boundaries.”

“New, eh?” said the god. “Yes,
probatio
tablet. Fine. Ah, weapon in your pocket? Take it out! Take it out!”

Percy didn’t know how Terminus could tell, but he took out his pen.

“Quite dangerous,” Terminus said. “Leave it in the tray. Wait, where’s my assistant? Julia!”

A little girl about six years old peeked out from behind the base of the statue. She had pigtails, a pink dress, and an impish grin with two missing teeth.

“Julia?” Terminus glanced behind him, and Julia scurried in the other direction. “Where did that girl go?”

Terminus looked the other way and caught sight of Julia before she could hide. The little girl squealed with delight.

“Oh, there you are,” said the statue. “Front and center. Bring the tray.”

Julia scrambled out and brushed off her dress. She picked up a tray and presented it to Percy. On it were several paring knives, a corkscrew, an oversized container of sun lotion, and a water bottle.

“You can pick up your weapon on the way out,” Terminus said. “Julia will take good care of it. She’s a trained professional.”

The little girl nodded. “Pro-fess-ion-al.” She said each syllable carefully, like she’d been practicing.

Percy glanced at Hazel and Frank, who didn’t seem to find anything odd about this. Still, he wasn’t wild about handing over a deadly weapon to a kid.

“The thing is,” he said, “the pen returns to my pocket automatically, so even if I give it up—”

“Not to worry,” Terminus assured him. “We’ll make sure it doesn’t wander off. Won’t we, Juila?”

“Yes, Mr. Terminus.”

Reluctantly, Percy put his pen on the tray.

“Now, a few rules, since you’re new,” Terminus said. “You are entering the boundaries of the city proper. Keep the peace inside the line. Yield to chariot traffic while walking on public roads. When you get to the Senate House, sit on the left-hand side. And, down there—do you see where I’m pointing?”

“Um,” Percy said, “you don’t have any hands.”

Apparently this was a sore point for Terminus. His marble face turned a dark shade of gray. “A smart aleck, eh? Well, Mr. Rule Flouter, right down there in the forum—Julia, point for me, please—”

Julia dutifully set down the security tray and pointed toward the main plaza.

“The shop with the blue awning,” Terminus continued, “that’s the general store. They sell tape measures. Buy one! I want those pants exactly one inch above the ankles and that hair regulation cut. And tuck your shirt in.”

Hazel said, “Thank you, Terminus. We need to get going.”

“Fine, fine, you may pass,” the god said testily. “But stay on the right side of the road! And that rock right there—No, Hazel, look where I’m pointing. That rock is entirely too close to that tree. Move it two inches to the left.”

Hazel did what she was told, and they continued down the path, Terminus still shouting orders at them while Julia did cartwheels across the grass.

“Is he always like that?” Percy asked.

“No,” Hazel admitted. “Today he was laid back. Usually he’s more obsessive/compulsive.”

“He inhabits every boundary stone around the city,” Frank said. “Kind of our last line of defense if the city’s attacked.”

“Terminus isn’t so bad,” Hazel added. “Just don’t make him angry, or he’ll force you to measure every blade of grass in the valley.”

Percy filed that information. “And the kid? Julia?”

Hazel grinned. “Yeah, she’s a cutie. Her parents live in the city. Come on. We’d better catch up to the senators.”

As they approached the forum, Percy was struck by the sheer number of people. College-age kids were hanging out at the fountain. Several of them waved at the senators as they passed. One guy in his late twenties stood at a bakery counter, flirting with a young woman who was buying coffee. An older couple was watching a little boy in diapers and a miniature Camp Jupiter shirt toddle after seagulls. Merchants were opening their shops for the day, putting out signs in