The Burning Maze

by Rick Riordan

  I knew all this, of course. I had seen and heard as much in my dreams. But hearing it from Jason, in the waking world, made it worse.

  Piper rested her head against the wall. She stared at a water stain on the ceiling. ‘What else did Herophile say?’

  Jason’s face tightened. ‘Pipes – Piper, look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It’s just –’

  ‘What else did she say?’ Piper repeated.

  Jason looked at Meg, then at me, maybe for moral support.

  ‘The Sibyl told me where I could find the emperor,’ he said. ‘Well, more or less. She said Apollo would need the information. He would need … a pair of shoes. I know that doesn’t make much sense.’

  ‘I’m afraid it does,’ I said.

  Meg ran her fingers along the plastic rooftops of the map. ‘Can we kill the emperor while we’re stealing his shoes? Did the Sibyl say anything about that?’

  Jason shook his head. ‘She just said that Piper and I … we couldn’t do anything more by ourselves. It had to be Apollo. If we tried … it would be too dangerous.’

  Piper laughed drily. She raised her hands as if making an offering to the water stain.

  ‘Jason, we’ve been through literally everything together. I can’t even count how many dangers we’ve faced, how many times we’ve almost died. Now you’re telling me you lied to me to, what, protect me? To keep me from going after Caligula?’

  ‘I knew you would have done it,’ he murmured. ‘No matter what the Sibyl said.’

  ‘Then that would’ve been my choice,’ Piper said. ‘Not yours.’

  He nodded miserably. ‘And I would’ve insisted on going with you, no matter the risk. But the way things have been between us …’ He shrugged. ‘Working as a team has been hard. I thought – I decided to wait until Apollo found me. I messed up, not telling you. I’m sorry.’

  He stared at his Temple Hill display, as if trying to figure out where to place a shrine to the god of feeling horrible about failed relationships. (Oh, wait. He already had one. It was for Aphrodite, Piper’s mom.)

  Piper took a deep breath. ‘This isn’t about you and me, Jason. Satyrs and dryads are dying. Caligula’s planning to turn himself into a new sun god. Tonight’s the new moon, and Camp Jupiter is facing some kind of huge threat. Meanwhile, Medea is in that maze, throwing around Titan fire –’

  ‘Medea?’ Jason sat up straight. The lightbulb in his desk lamp burst, raining glass across his diorama. ‘Back up. What’s Medea got to do with this? What do you mean about the new moon and Camp Jupiter?’

  I thought Piper might refuse to share the information, just for spite, but she didn’t. She gave Jason the lowdown about the Indiana prophecy that predicted bodies filling the Tiber. Then she explained Medea’s cooking project with her grandfather.

  Jason looked like our father had just hit him with a thunderbolt. ‘I had no idea.’

  Meg crossed her arms. ‘So, you going to help us or what?’

  Jason studied her, no doubt unsure what to make of this scary little girl in teal camouflage.

  ‘Of – of course,’ he said. ‘We’ll need a car. And I’ll need an excuse to leave campus.’ He looked hopefully at Piper.

  She got to her feet. ‘Fine. I’ll go talk to the office. Meg, come with me, just in case we run into that empousa. We’ll meet you boys at the front gate. And, Jason –?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘If you’re holding anything else back –’

  ‘Right. I – I get it.’

  Piper turned and marched out of the room. Meg gave me a look like You sure about this?

  ‘Go on,’ I told her. ‘I’ll help Jason get ready.’

  Once the girls had left, I turned to confront Jason Grace, one son of Zeus/Jupiter to another.

  ‘All right,’ I said. ‘What did the Sibyl really tell you?’

  23

  It’s a beautiful

  Day in the neighbourhood – Wait

  Actually, it’s not

  Jason took his time responding.

  He removed his jacket, hung it in the wardrobe. He undid his tie and folded it over the coat hook. I had a flashback to my old friend Fred Rogers, the children’s television host, who radiated the same calm centredness when hanging up his work clothes. Fred used to let me crash on his sofa whenever I’d had a hard day of poetry-godding. He’d offer me a plate of cookies and a glass of milk, then serenade me with his songs until I felt better. I was especially fond of ‘It’s You I Like’. Oh, I missed that mortal!

  Finally, Jason strapped on his gladius. With his glasses, shirt, trousers, loafers and sword, he looked less like Mister Rogers and more like a well-armed paralegal.

  ‘What makes you think I’m holding back?’ he asked.

  ‘Please,’ I said. ‘Don’t try to be evasively prophetic with the god of evasive prophecies.’

  Jason sighed. He rolled up his shirtsleeves, revealing the Roman tattoo on the inside of his forearm – the lightning bolt emblem of our father. ‘First of all, it wasn’t exactly a prophecy. It was more like a series of quiz-show questions.’

  ‘Yes. Herophile delivers information that way.’

  ‘And you know how prophecies are. Even when the Oracle is friendly, they can be hard to interpret.’

  ‘Jason …’

  ‘Fine,’ he relented. ‘The Sibyl said … She told me if Piper and I went after the emperor, one of us would die.’

  Die. The word landed between us with a thud, like a large, gutted fish.

  I waited for an explanation. Jason stared at his foam core Temple Hill as if trying to bring it to life by sheer force of will.

  ‘Die,’ I repeated.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Not disappear, not wouldn’t come back, not suffer defeat.’

  ‘Nope. Die. Or more accurately, three letters, starts with D.’

  ‘Not dad, then,’ I suggested. ‘Or dog.’

  One fine blond eyebrow crept above the rim of his glasses. ‘If you seek out the emperor, one of you will dog? No, Apollo, the word was die.’

  ‘Still, that could mean many things. It could mean a trip to the Underworld. It could mean a death such as Leo suffered, where you pop right back to life. It could mean –’

  ‘Now you’re being evasive,’ Jason said. ‘The Sibyl meant death. Final. Real. No replays. You had to be there. The way she said it. Unless you happen to have an extra vial of the physician’s cure in your pockets …’

  He knew very well I did not. The physician’s cure, which had brought Leo Valdez back to life, was only available from my son Asclepius, god of medicine. And, since Asclepius wanted to avoid an all-out war with Hades, he rarely gave out free samples. As in never. Leo had been the first lucky recipient in four thousand years. He would likely be the last.

  ‘Still …’ I fumbled for alternate theories and loopholes. I hated thinking of permanent death. As an immortal, I was a conscientious objector. As good as your afterlife experience might be (and most of them were not good), life was better. The warmth of the actual sun, the vibrant colours of the upper world, the cuisine … really, even Elysium had nothing to compare.

  Jason’s stare was unrelenting. I suspected that in the weeks since his talk with Herophile he had run every scenario. He was well past the bargaining stage in dealing with this prophecy. He had accepted that death meant death, the way Piper McLean had accepted that Oklahoma meant Oklahoma.

  I didn’t like that. Jason’s calmness again reminded me of Fred Rogers, but in an exasperating way. How could anyone be so accepting and level-headed all the time? Sometimes I just wanted him to get mad, to scream and throw his loafers across the room.

  ‘Let’s assume you’re correct,’ I said. ‘You didn’t tell Piper the truth because –?’

  ‘You know what happened to her dad.’ Jason studied the calluses on his hands, proof he had not let his sword skills atrophy. ‘Last year when we saved him from the fire giant on Mount Diablo … Mr McLean’s mind wasn’t in good shape. Now, w
ith all the stress of the bankruptcy and everything else, can you imagine what would happen if he lost his daughter too?’

  I recalled the dishevelled movie star wandering his driveway, searching for imaginary coins. ‘Yes, but you can’t know how the prophecy will unfold.’

  ‘I can’t let it unfold with Piper dying. She and her dad are scheduled to leave town at the end of the week. She’s actually … I don’t know if excited is the right word, but she’s relieved to get out of LA. Ever since I’ve known her, the thing she’s wanted most is more time with her dad. Now they have a chance to start over. She can help her dad find some peace. Maybe find some peace herself.’

  His voice caught – perhaps with guilt, or regret, or fear.

  ‘You wanted to get her safely out of town,’ I deduced. ‘Then you planned to find the emperor yourself.’

  Jason shrugged. ‘Well, with you and Meg. I knew you’d be coming to find me. Herophile said so. If you’d just waited another week –’

  ‘Then what?’ I demanded. ‘You would’ve let us lead you cheerily off to your death? How would that have affected Piper’s peace of mind, once she found out?’

  Jason’s ears reddened. It struck me just how young he was – no more than seventeen. Older than my mortal form, yes, but not by much. This young man had lost his mother. He had survived the harsh training of Lupa the wolf goddess. He’d grown up with the discipline of the Twelfth Legion at Camp Jupiter. He’d fought Titans and giants. He’d helped save the world at least twice. But by mortal standards he was barely an adult. He wasn’t old enough to vote or drink.

  Despite all his experiences, was it fair of me to expect him to think logically, and consider everyone else’s feelings with perfect clarity, while pondering his own death?

  I tried to soften my tone. ‘You don’t want Piper to die. I understand that. She wouldn’t want you to die. But avoiding prophecies never works. And keeping secrets from friends, especially deadly secrets … that really never works. It’ll be our job to face Caligula together, steal that homicidal maniac’s shoes and get away without any five-letter words that start with D.’

  The scar ticked at the corner of Jason’s mouth. ‘Drama?’

  ‘You’re horrible,’ I said, but some of the tension dissolved between my shoulder blades. ‘Are you ready?’

  He glanced at the photo of his sister Thalia, then at the model of Temple Hill. ‘If anything happens to me –’

  ‘Stop.’

  ‘If it does, if I can’t keep my promise to Kymopoleia, would you take my mock-up design to Camp Jupiter? The sketchbooks for new temples at both camps – they’re right there on the shelf.’

  ‘You’ll take them yourself,’ I insisted. ‘Your new shrines will honour the gods. It’s too worthy a project not to succeed.’

  He picked a shard of lightbulb glass off the roof of the Zeus hotel token. ‘Worthy doesn’t always matter. Like what happened to you. Have you talked to Dad since …?’

  He had the decency not to elaborate: Since you landed in the garbage as a flabby sixteen-year-old with no redeeming qualities.

  I swallowed back the taste of copper. From the depths of my small mortal mind, my father’s words rumbled: YOUR FAULT. YOUR PUNISHMENT.

  ‘Zeus hasn’t spoken to me since I became mortal,’ I said. ‘Before that, my memory is fuzzy. I remember the battle last summer at the Parthenon. I remember Zeus zapping me. After that, until the moment I woke up plummeting through the sky in January – it’s a blank.’

  ‘I know that feeling, having six months of your life taken away.’ He gave me a pained look. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.’

  ‘What could you have done?’

  ‘I mean at the Parthenon. I tried to talk sense into Zeus. I told him he was wrong to punish you. He wouldn’t listen.’

  I stared at him blankly, whatever remained of my natural eloquence clogged in my throat. Jason Grace had done what?

  Zeus had many children, which meant I had many half brothers and half sisters. Except for my twin, Artemis, I’d never felt close to any of them. Certainly, I’d never had a brother defend me in front of Father. My Olympian brethren were more likely to deflect Zeus’s fury by yelling, Apollo did it!

  This young demigod had stood up for me. He’d had no reason to do so. He barely knew me. Yet he’d risked his own life and faced the wrath of Zeus.

  My first thought was to scream, ARE YOU INSANE?

  Then more appropriate words came to me. ‘Thank you.’

  Jason took me by the shoulders – not out of anger, or in a clinging way, but as a brother. ‘Promise me one thing. Whatever happens, when you get back to Olympus, when you’re a god again, remember. Remember what it’s like to be human.’

  A few weeks ago, I would have scoffed. Why would I want to remember any of this?

  At best, if I were lucky enough to reclaim my divine throne, I would recall this wretched experience like a scary B-movie that had finally ended. I would walk out of the cinema into the sunlight, thinking, Phew! Glad that’s over.

  Now, however, I had some inkling of what Jason meant. I had learned a lot about human frailty and human strength. I felt … different towards mortals, having been one of them. If nothing else, it would provide me with some excellent inspiration for new song lyrics!

  I was reluctant to promise anything, though. I was already living under the curse of one broken oath. At Camp Half-Blood, I had rashly sworn on the River Styx not to use my archery or music skills until I was a god again. Then I had quickly reneged. Ever since, my skills had deteriorated.

  I was sure the vengeful spirit of the River Styx wasn’t done with me. I could almost feel her scowling at me from the Underworld: What right do you have to promise anything to anyone, oath-breaker?

  But how could I not try? It was the least I could do for this brave mortal who had stood up for me when no one else would.

  ‘I promise,’ I told Jason. ‘I will try my utmost to remember my human experience, as long as you promise to tell Piper the truth about the prophecy.’

  Jason patted my shoulders. ‘Deal. Speaking of which, the girls are probably waiting.’

  ‘One more thing,’ I blurted out. ‘About Piper. It’s just … you seem like such a good power couple. Did you really – did you break up with her to make it easier for her to leave LA?’

  Jason stared at me with those azure eyes. ‘Did she tell you that?’

  ‘No,’ I admitted. ‘But Mellie seemed, ah, upset with you.’

  Jason considered. ‘I’m okay with Mellie blaming me. It’s probably better.’

  ‘Do you mean it’s not true?’

  In Jason’s eyes, I saw just a hint of desolation – like wildfire smoke momentarily obliterating a blue sky. I remembered Medea’s words: The truth was enough to break Jason Grace.

  ‘Piper ended it,’ he said quietly. ‘That was months ago, way before the Burning Maze. Now, come on. Let’s go find Caligula.’

  24

  Ah, Santa Barbara!

  Famed for surfing! Fish tacos!

  And crazy Romans!

  Alas for us and Mr Bedrossian, there was no sign of the Cadillac Escalade on the street where we’d parked.

  ‘We’ve been towed,’ Piper announced casually, as if this was a regular occurrence for her.

  She returned to the school’s front office. A few minutes later, she emerged from the front gates driving Edgarton’s green-and-gold van.

  She rolled down the window. ‘Hey, kids. Want to go on a field trip?’

  As we pulled away, Jason glanced nervously in the passenger-side rear-view mirror, perhaps worried the security guard would give chase and demand we get signed permission slips before leaving campus to kill a Roman emperor. But no one followed us.

  ‘Where to?’ Piper asked when we reached the highway.

  ‘Santa Barbara,’ Jason said.

  Piper frowned, as if this answer was only slightly more surprising than Uzbekistan. ‘Okay.’

  She followed t
he signs for Highway 101 West.

  For once, I hoped traffic would be jammed. I was not in a hurry to see Caligula. Instead, the roads were nearly empty. It was like the Southern California freeway system had heard me complaining and was now out for revenge.

  Oh, go right ahead, Apollo! Highway 101 seemed to say. We estimate an easy commute to your humiliating death!

  Next to me in the back seat, Meg drummed her fingers on her knees. ‘How much further?’

  I was only vaguely familiar with Santa Barbara. I hoped Jason would tell us it was far away – just past the North Pole, maybe. Not that I wanted to be stuck in a van with Meg that long, but at least then we could stop by Camp Jupiter and pick up a squadron of heavily armed demigods.

  ‘About two hours,’ Jason said, dashing my hopes. ‘Northwest, along the coast. We’re going to Stearns Wharf.’

  Piper turned to him. ‘You’ve been there?’

  ‘I … Yeah. Just scouting the place with Tempest.’

  ‘Tempest?’ I asked.

  ‘His horse,’ Piper said, then to Jason: ‘You went scouting there alone?’

  ‘Well, Tempest is a ventus,’ Jason said, ignoring Piper’s question.

  Meg stopped drumming her knees. ‘Like those windy things Medea had?’

  ‘Except Tempest is friendly,’ Jason said. ‘I kind of … not tamed him, exactly, but we made friends. He’ll show up when I call, usually, and let me ride him.’

  ‘A wind horse.’ Meg pondered the idea, no doubt weighing its merits against her own demonic diaper-wearing peach baby. ‘I guess that’s cool.’

  ‘Back to the question,’ Piper said. ‘Why did you decide to scout Stearns Wharf?’

  Jason looked so uncomfortable I feared he might blow out the van’s electrical systems.

  ‘The Sibyl,’ he said at last. ‘She told me I would find Caligula there. It’s one of the places where he stops.’

  Piper tilted her head. ‘Where he stops?’

  ‘His palace isn’t a palace, exactly,’ Jason said. ‘We’re looking for a boat.’