by Joan Holub
Athena gasped when in the very next moment, down below, Theseus rushed in to confront the ferocious mechanical beast. Although the pink yarn stretched out behind him, he wasn’t wearing the scarf anymore. It must have gotten too short to tie around his waist. What was left of it he seemed to have stuffed into the pocket of his tunic.
But where were Heracles and the other students? she wondered. They wouldn’t have sent Theseus there on his own if they’d met up with him in the maze. Especially the guys, who all loved a good fight. Had the trapped students already been searching for a way out before Theseus arrived? Had they found his yarn trail on their own? Were they now following it back out of the labyrinth? She hoped so!
Athena banged on the glass floor, trying to let Theseus know that she was above him in the control room, but he didn’t seem to hear. She remembered Daedalus saying that this glass was one-way. So although she could see Theseus, he wouldn’t be able to see her even if he did hear the banging and look up. When he yelled something a few seconds later, she couldn’t hear him, either. The Minotaur roared again. That she could hear. The monster was incredibly loud! Lowering its head, the beast lunged toward Theseus.
If the others had already found their way out, why had he continued to the maze’s center instead of following the yarn back to safety too? she wondered. Was it possible he was trying to keep the monster at bay while they made their escape? That would be pretty brave of him, actually. Daedalus had told her that the mechanical monster couldn’t take more than a few steps in any one direction, but Theseus didn’t know that. For all he knew, the monster really might charge him at any moment. And then go after his friends. And thrash them all to smithereens!
Just then something silver flashed in Theseus’s hand. Ye gods. Athena groaned aloud when she realized what it was. His daggerlike sword. It must have been hidden under his tunic! She’d known since the ride to Crete that he’d brought it with him, of course. Still, after Heracles had scolded him for trying to show it off in the banquet hall and warned him that he could get in trouble for bringing it, she’d figured Theseus would have had the good sense to leave it in his room. Apparently not.
Clang! Theseus struck out at the monster with his puny sword. Athena gasped. Horrified, she saw that the foolish boy really did intend to fight the Minotaur. Alone. With a weapon that was so short, he had to move in dangerously close to the beast to strike it. As metal connected with metal, sparks flew.
ROAAAR! bellowed the Minotaur. Big puffs of smoke blasted from its nostrils. Its eyes glowed red and fierce. Theseus took a step back as the monster lowered its head and lunged at him. Clang! Theseus struck again.
Jolted into action, Athena leaped to her feet. Frantically she studied the machine that stood in the middle of the floor, which she knew must control the Minotaur. But which lever, knob, or other doohickey on this control panel was the on-off switch?
Clang! Clang! ROAAAR! Choosing a lever at random, Athena slid it from left to right. ROAAAR! She winced, her hands automatically flying to cover her ears. Oops! She’d accidentally chosen the switch that controlled the volume of the monster’s bellows. When she slid it left again, the roars died away till she could barely hear them. Phew! That was a relief to her ears.
Choosing another lever, Athena yanked it upward. Instantly the snorts of smoke quit shooting from the Minotaur’s nostrils. She tried other levers, knobs, buttons, and handles, one after the other. One lever made the beast’s tail swish. Yet another made its fierce red eyes start spinning around like a windmill.
Down below, Theseus and the Minotaur battled on. She had to get that crazy boy and his weapon out of there! She didn’t want him to get hurt, for sure. But she also didn’t want him to harm the Minotaur. It was the labyrinth’s star attraction, and if it was destroyed, Daedalus’s maze would be ruined.
Clang! Clang! Roar.
The Minotaur turned in a circle. Godsamighty. Wrong lever again!
Then out of the corner of her eye Athena saw a button she hadn’t noticed before. A small one that was painted red. Hmm. None of the other controls were painted a color. So there had to be something special about that one, right? And what could be more special than an on-off switch?
Clang! ROAR. Clang! Clang! Clang! Theseus’s attack on the Minotaur was growing more and more frenzied.
“Fingers crossed,” Athena whispered to herself.
Hoping that she’d guessed right about the red button, she reached out . . . and pushed it.
And just like that, the Minotaur went still. No more roars, no more smoke-snorts, no more spinning fiery red eyes. No movement at all. Thank godness!
“Yes! Take that, you monster!” Now that the Minotaur was turned off and no longer making noise she could hear Theseus’s victorious shout even from twenty feet above. He was wildly, loudly excited. She watched through the glass floor as he thrust his sword high. “Woo-hoo! I did it!” He did a silly little victory dance, hopping from one foot to the other, then took a victory lap around the room. He was convinced he’d defeated the monster all by himself!
“Athena?”
She’d been concentrating so hard that she jumped in surprise when Daedalus practically popped out of nowhere and spoke her name. “Oh! You scared me,” she told him.
He frowned at her, seeming a little annoyed to find her here. “How did you—” He stopped short, his eyes roving the controls. Then he glanced down through the glass floor, and his face relaxed. “You found the on-off button. Well, thank goodness for that. Medusa and Apollo told me there was trouble in the labyrinth, but I don’t know how it—”
“I do,” Athena interrupted him. “And it’s all my fault.”
“Huh?” Daedalus’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “I don’t really see how that could be possible.”
She looked down through the glass floor and saw that the Minotaur was alone again. Theseus was gone. With an inward sigh, she headed for the door. “C’mon. We’d better get back to the labyrinth entrance and see what’s up. Theseus is okay, but I want to check on the others.” She knew she had to explain things and tell Daedalus what she had done, but she sure wasn’t looking forward to it.
As she started out of the room, Daedalus said, “Wait. There’s a quicker way to get to the maze’s center.” He led her to the small door in the corner of the workshop where she’d seen the flash of gold earlier.
When he opened the door, Athena peered into a winding chute that went downward. Uh-oh. In spite of what he’d said before, had he actually figured out that she’d changed the maze? Was he planning to push her down this chute to some palace dungeon as punishment? Even though the idea was ridiculous—no mortal would dare punish an immortal, no matter what mischief they’d made—she took a cautious step backward.
“It’s for emergencies,” he explained. “We can slide down it, and it’ll put us at the center of the labyrinth near the Minotaur room. If there are any students left inside, we can help them find the way out.”
“Okay,” Athena agreed in relief. “That sounds pretty cool, actually. You first, though,” she said, just in case.
After they’d both whooshed down the chute, they exited through a door in the wall. Daedalus looked around. “That’s odd,” he said. “The walls here seem closer together than I remember.” Then he noticed a freestanding section of wall almost directly in front of them. He frowned, and his eyebrows knit together. “Where did that come from?”
Athena gulped. She wouldn’t blame him if, when she explained what she’d done, he lost all the respect and admiration he’d once had for her. Arghh!
10
Humble Pie
LAST NIGHT AFTER DINNER I disconnected some of the walls and moved them around,” Athena confessed in a rush as they stood deep inside the maze.
Daedalus turned to stare at her, a look of astonishment on his face. “What? But why?”
Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. “Um, I wanted to make the labyrinth more difficult. I thought it might add to the, uh, fun.�
�
She followed Daedalus as he circled the out-of-place wall. “So you thought it was too easy?” he asked.
“Maybe a little,” Athena fudged, circling it behind him. “But I think my changes made the maze too hard. That’s why my friends got trapped.” She took a deep breath as they entered the blood-red hexagonal room at the center of the maze. As hard as it was to admit everything, she knew it was the right thing to do. “So you see, all that’s gone wrong here really is my fault, and I’m truly sorry for the trouble I’ve caused.”
Spying the Minotaur, which was frozen in place with its head thrown back midroar, Daedalus hurried over to it and began checking it for damage. He patted his mechanical beast on the back in concern, frowning at the dents that Theseus’s sword had made on its arms and legs. “For Zeus’s sake! What happened to you, fella?”
Athena opened her mouth to explain about Theseus’s fight with the Minotaur, but then she closed it again. Daedalus might get mad at him, which wouldn’t be fair. And if Daedalus told Professor Ladon and the king, they’d blame Theseus too. Even if Theseus had fought the monster with the best of intentions, he’d get in trouble for bringing his sword on the trip. No. This whole disaster was her responsibility.
“Well, when the Minotaur wouldn’t stop roaring, I think some of the students might’ve gotten scared and lashed out at it,” she explained. “It kind of went berserk, puffing smoke from its nostrils and lashing out with its claws. And roaring.” She shuddered. “Scary.”
“It has a voice sensor that’s triggered whenever visitors come within a few feet of it. If even one person goes near it, it’ll keep on bellowing,” said Daedalus as he continued examining his Minotaur. “So it’s meant to be frightening, yes. But it’s actually pretty harmless. Still, I don’t understand why it went so out of control. I didn’t set the levers to do all those things—the continuous roars and the smoke and all that.”
Athena shrugged. It was nice that he was taking all this so calmly. “I can fix those dents in your Minotaur,” she offered. “And I can un-spell the walls and return them to their original positions too. But first let’s make sure everyone else is out of the maze. Wouldn’t want to crush anyone.”
“They’re out,” said Daedalus, perking up at her offer. “I saw them all in the room where you enter the labyrinth before I came up here, and Theseus must have found his way back out by now too. So, go ahead. I’ve always wanted to see real magic performed.”
Athena grinned, then waved a hand toward the Minotaur and chanted:
“Dents undo.
Be as good as new.”
Pop! Pop! Pop! The Minotaur’s dents began magically pushing themselves out, until not a trace of its injuries remained.
“Amazing!” Daedalus said, laughing in delight. “I should put you to work on the bumper chariots. Professor Ladon and King Minos went a little crazy on that ride, like two big kids.”
“I’d be happy to fix—” she started to offer, but he shook his head, anticipating what she was going to say.
“No worries. I’ve already got some guys working on them,” he told her. “The ride’ll be as good as new by tomorrow when we reopen the park for mortals and everyone else to visit.”
“Okay. Now the walls,” said Athena, glancing around. “Let’s start moving toward the exit, and I’ll change things behind us as we go.” As they began walking, she did a chant to un-spell the walls:
“Let former moving spells erase,
So all these walls shift back in place.”
Crack! Rumble. Snap! As the two inventors walked through the maze, the walls behind them moved, splitting or merging until they returned to their original positions. It was like the spell was following them and fixing things up.
“Wait. I have an idea,” said Daedalus. When they paused, the walls behind them stopped moving too. “You made the labyrinth more complicated for a reason, right? Because it was boring.”
“Oh—well,” she started to protest. “I didn’t say that exactly.”
“It’s okay. I can take it,” said Daedalus. “We inventors have to be open to suggestions. And I was a little worried about the level of difficulty myself. So I vote that we leave some of the changes you made but put some walls back the way I originally had them.”
Athena’s eyes brightened with delight. “So that your maze is more complicated but not too complicated? Yeah! I love it!” She paused, thinking. “Maybe the most complicated part should be near the center? And the outer walls closer to the entrance could go back to the simpler way you had them?”
“Perfect,” said Daedalus. They discussed the wall changes as they went, and Athena cast more spells so that the maze became a real blend of their ideas, with some easy pathways and some more difficult ones.
Noticing a red-and-blue-striped stalactite above his head, Daedalus pointed up at it. “An addition of yours?”
“Um, yeah,” she said. “I also added a few gargoyles. Want me to take them out?” She raised a hand toward them, ready to say a “remove” chant.
“No!” he said. “I like them.”
Athena grinned and lowered her arm. “Okay. They stay.”
“Thanks,” he said. He was turning in a circle now, gazing happily at the new, improved maze. “This is so much better than how I had it.”
“Better than how I had it too, right?” Athena said, laughing.
He laughed with her. “Everyone who visits is going to go crazy over it. Let’s hear it for mortal-immortal teamwork.”
“High five,” said Athena, and they slapped hands. Then she added, “After messing things up, putting them right again was the least I could do.”
“Don’t beat yourself up about this,” Daedalus urged as they walked on. “Nobody got hurt really. Besides, I’ve made worse mistakes.” His eyes twinkled as he added, “It’s actually kind of a relief to know that the goddess I admire above all others can occasionally make a mistake too.”
“More than occasionally,” Athena corrected him. “When I first got to MOA, I invented a shampoo that accidentally turned Medusa’s hair to snakes. And that’s only one example.” Daedalus grinned.
She couldn’t believe that the most famous mortal inventor and architect on Earth had called her “the goddess I admire above all others.” How cool was that! Still, as pleasing as the praise was, she hoped he now saw that she was just as imperfect as anyone else. Because perfection was pretty much an impossible standard to live up to.
“So what’s been your worst mistake ever?” she asked him curiously as they neared the exit.
Daedalus laughed. “That’s easy. A dance floor I designed for Princess Ariadne. The floor was beautiful, if I do say so myself. Problem was, I put a thick layer of wax on top of it and polished it to make it shine.” He shot her a sheepish glance. “Which made the floor so slippery that the dancers who tried it out the very first time slipped and slid into each other.”
Athena couldn’t help giggling, imagining what a crazy scene that must have been. “It was pretty funny!” he said, joining in her laughter. “They wound up with bumps and bruises galore, but luckily no broken bones.” He shook his head at the memory. “If I’d simply done a small test of that wax on the floor and tried it out right away, I would’ve realized my mistake and been able to avoid the slippery problem.”
She thought about that. What if she’d suggested her maze wall changes to Daedalus the first time he’d shown her the labyrinth? If only she’d guessed he’d be strong enough to take constructive criticism. They could’ve tried the changes out before the grand opening and avoided the mistakes she’d made in changing everything on her own.
When they reached the room at the entrance to the labyrinth, they found King Minos and Professor Ladon. Athena was relieved to see all the other students there too, appearing unhurt. Those who’d been caught in the maze were eagerly describing their adventure while the other students and the two men sat on the stairs to listen.
“The Minotaur kept lunging at us,�
� Actaeon was saying, imitating the movements of the beast as Athena and Daedalus quietly stood at the back of the group.
“Yeah, that thing can roar. It was terrifying,” said Artemis. “I’ve never been so scared—or lost—in my life!”
Athena and Daedalus looked at each other, worry in their eyes. Would the king decide the Minotaur maze was too scary and close down the labyrinth forever? Maybe even close the whole park?
No one had noticed the two of them yet. Athena leaned over and whispered to Daedalus. “Was King Minos mad about that dance floor fiasco?”
Daedalus shook his head. “Believe it or not, he laughed like you did.”
“That’s good. Let’s just hope he finds this labyrinth incident as hilarious,” she whispered back. She held up her crossed fingers to show him, and he did the same back. The two of them lingered near the arched entrances to the maze, listening in as the students went on describing their time inside the labyrinth.
“It was wild. Freaky,” said Heracles.
“Out of control!” Ares crowed.
“Wicked,” added Actaeon.
“It was sooo . . . fun!” Aphrodite finished, a smile breaking across her pretty face. “It was mega-tastic!”
“Yeah,” said Artemis. “The best!”
Dionysus’s violet eyes lit up. “And every time we tried to find our way out we wound up right back in the middle with the monster!” He laughed, remembering.
Daedalus and Athena looked at each other again, this time in total surprise.
“So you liked it?” Persephone asked the group of students who’d just come out of the maze. They all nodded.
“I guess I would have too,” Hades told her. “If I hadn’t tripped. That was kind of embarrassing, not to mention painful.”
“But the maze was sort of hard,” Artemis admitted. “So we weren’t too sorry when we spied Theseus’s pink yarn trail and were able to find our way back out.”
