by Holub, Joan
Artemis nodded back. “Whatever happens with Zeus, we’ll all be thankful you tried.” Her hopes were high as she exited the room, despite Hera’s cautionary words. But she knew she’d better keep those hopes to herself. She didn’t want to disappoint her friends and the other girls again. Hera was their last hope. If even she couldn’t get Zeus to reconsider, their idea was truly D-E-A-D dead.
12
Python
AS ARTEMIS STARTED DOWN THE HALL, SHE saw a giant heading out MOA’s front doors. Not sure if it was Ephialtes or Otus, she hurried after him. She had some explaining to do or there might be trouble.
Outside, she came to an abrupt stop. All over the courtyard below, groups of students were standing around, staring up at the sky. What were they looking at? Artemis didn’t know, but she couldn’t help looking up too.
High above them, Hermes’ winged delivery chariot was disappearing into the clouds. It looked like he’d just taken off from MOA. Spotting Pheme a few steps below, Artemis hurried down to her. The goddessgirl of gossip was sure to know what was up!
The minute Pheme saw her, words puffed from her orange-glossed lips. “Hermes just dropped off the Python! I heard that it used its devious trickery on him and almost succeeded in gobbling him up in mid-flight.” As cloud-words sailed above her head to form sentences, students nearby read them and gasped in alarm.
“Hmm,” said Artemis. The first part of what Pheme said was probably true—that Python had arrived. As for the second part, well, Artemis was skeptical. Still, a shiver of fear for her brother’s welfare skittered up her spine. Where was that boy anyway?
“The Python-o-thon is going to be so exciting!” Pheme exclaimed. “Too bad I’ll have to miss the Games.” She paused.
It took Artemis a minute to realize that Pheme was waiting for her to ask why she wouldn’t be attending. “So, why do you have to miss?” she asked finally.
“Oh, it’s nothing really,” said Pheme. She paused again.
“If it’s nothing really, then why don’t you just get out of it?” Artemis asked as a feather drifted down to land at her feet. She figured it had come from the wings on Hermes’ chariot.
“It’s just a little ceremony I have to attend,” Pheme hastened to say as Artemis picked up the feather. “The people of Athens have decided to honor me with a small temple.”
“Really?” Artemis stared at her in surprise. “What for?” She hoped her question didn’t sound rude, but honestly, it seemed like temples were being handed out all over the place these days.
“It’s in appreciation of all the work I did during Hero Week, arranging for girls to meet with Aphrodite,” Pheme said proudly.
Artemis twirled the feather between her fingers. She’d been in Egypt at the time, but later, Aphrodite had told her about the matchmaking contest she’d held with Pheme’s help in Athens.
Artemis was just about to congratulate Pheme when they heard someone ask, “Where’s Python being kept?” Pheme dashed off to be the first to answer, “In the gymnasium! I saw Hermes’ chariot take off from there just now.”
That was probably true, thought Artemis. Since tomorrow’s final event was to be held in the gym, housing Python there made sense. No one would want to move such a dangerous creature more often than necessary.
I’d really like to get a look at that serpent, she thought, tossing the feather away. Seeing it might give her some strategy ideas to pass on to Apollo! Of course, he’d made it crystal clear he didn’t want her help—that he resented it, as a matter of fact. But he was her brother, for godness’ sake. She cared about him. So Apollo could sue her in the Courts of Athens if he wanted—but she was going to try to help him anyway!
Before starting for the gym, she looked around for the giants. Spotting Otus and Ephialtes was easy. The two of them stuck out like enormous sore thumbs at the far side of the courtyard. From the tense looks on their faces, and all the excited gesturing going on, it appeared they were arguing. Uh-oh. Looked like she was too late to warn Otus about how she’d let slip that he’d signed the girls’ petition. She hoped Ephialtes wouldn’t be too hard on him about it!
She headed for the gym. As she reached the edge of the sports field closest to it, the ground began to shake. Turning, she saw Otus jogging downhill toward her and the fields.
Artemis intercepted him. “Was your brother mad about the petition?” she asked.
Otus sighed. “Yeah, he wasn’t too happy I signed it.”
“Sorry—I didn’t mean to tell him. It just slipped out.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Otus said with a shrug. “Someone would’ve told him eventually. He’ll get over it.” He paused. “Ephialtes has a fierce temper, and we don’t always think alike, but even so there’s this bond between us that can’t be broken.” He peered into Artemis’s eyes. “Know what I mean?”
She nodded, understanding completely. “It’s like that between me and my brother too.” At least, it used to be, she thought grimly. She still felt the bond—a combination of love and loyalty. But did Apollo?
A cheer went up as some runners zipped around the track nearby. “You’re really nice, Artemis,” said Otus. “A lot of students at MOA won’t even talk to me. It’s good to know I have at least one friend here.”
“Hey, Otus!” Heracles called from the edge of the track. “Come over here, big guy!”
Artemis smiled. “Make that two friends.”
Otus grinned at her, then waved to Heracles. “Be there in a sec!” He turned back to Artemis. “See you later?”
“Hope so,” said Artemis. And she meant it. Especially now that she knew he only thought of her as the same kind of friend as Heracles. Phew! Good thing.
After he left, she continued past the track to the gym, trying to act casual. No one was around, so she tried the front door. Locked. A big sign on it read, DANGER: ENTRANCE PROHIBITED. A shiver ran down her spine. She knew she should leave, really she did!
But then she just happened to wander around the side of the gym by the loading and unloading entrances. Might as well try the doors here, she thought. Just to see. She reached out and tested them, each in turn. Clunk! One of them had been left unlocked! This was a dangerous situation. She’d better check it out. For the safety of everyone in the school!
At least that would be her story, if she got caught.
Creak! Artemis pushed open the door and slipped inside. She shivered as she found herself in a dark passage-way. Pulling a silver arrow from her quiver, she blew along its length to make a torch to light her way. Slowly, the arrow began to glow. Her hands trembled slightly as she held the arrow-torch out in front of her and began walking. Without any kids around, this place was creepy.
One hall led to another, and soon the passage began to lighten. All too quickly, she came to an archway that led directly to the main gym, where the contest would take place tomorrow. Tiers of bleachers towered all around her, encircling the stage set in the center of the gym. Standing below it, she could see the monster. It was coiled up on the stage, like an enormous, scaly, pea-green cinnamon roll with yellow eyes.
Eyes? Artemis froze in her tracks, terror filling her. The Python was staring straight at her!
She began to back away. The serpent didn’t budge. Why wasn’t it reacting? Then she noticed it was making a weird sound—half hiss and half rumble. It was asleep! Of course—snakes didn’t have eyelids and slept with their eyes wide open. She knew that from being around Medusa.
Edging closer again, Artemis fitted the notched end of her lighted arrow into her bow. She pulled the bowstring taut, resting the arrow tip on her non-shooting hand. With her bow at the ready, she felt safer as she slowly and carefully crept up the steps. Though it was scary to be doing this, it was also thrilling. She wasn’t sure what she was here to learn. Something, though. Whatever might help Apollo when he came up against this beast!
The Python was leashed to a column at one side of the stage, which had been covered with a bed of sawdust
to make it comfy. The Esteemed Association of Beasts only accepted members who had fearsome talents of one kind or another. Even when invited to perform in an event such as the Olympics, these beasts had to agree to be tethered, lest they wreak havoc.
Still, Artemis had always had a soft spot for animals and knew they liked to roam free. Besides, all curled up, the Python didn’t really look that dangerous. She couldn’t help wondering if, had circumstances been different, she might’ve made it a pet. Like Medusa had made pets of the snakes that made up her snaky hair!
The serpent shifted in its sleep, sending a puff of sawdust in the air with a lazy swish of its tail. Suddenly, Artemis’s nose twitched. She pressed the back of her wrist against it, trying to stop the sneeze she felt coming on. Uh-oh. Aaaa-choooo!
Her sneeze echoed throughout the gym. Immediately, the rumble-hiss sounds stopped. That big head whipped up. Python uncoiled in a flash. The tip of its tail lashed out, snatching Artemis up in the air in the blink of a cruel yellow eye.
“No! Put me down!” she yelled. Obviously this beast wasn’t pet material after all!
“Or what? You’ll ssshoot me?” Python hissed. It sounded amused. With a flick of its long, forked tongue it snatched the arrow-torch from her hands and hurled it away. “No, that would ruin tomorrow’s contessst! And we don’t want that, do we, my pretty?” It smiled, its sharp, fanged teeth gleaming in the dimness.
“Pretty? You must be mistaking me for my friend Aphrodite. If you let me go, I’ll fetch her for you,” Artemis lied, hoping to trick her way into release. She pushed at the coil around her waist, but it didn’t budge. What had she been thinking, coming here? Python was way scarier up close than she’d expected. Its mouth was so wide it could swallow her down in one big gulp!
“Certainly, I’ll let you go,” Python soothed wickedly, in a way that was not at all reassuring. “After you answer two quick quessstions.”
“Questions?” Artemis stared into Python’s crafty eyes. They were so mesmerizing . . . so hypnotizing. When they locked onto hers, she found herself unable to look away. Unable to struggle. Or resist.
“Quessstion number one,” Python began, restlessly flicking its tail. “For what reassson are you here?”
Artemis panicked. She thought about making something up, but no sooner did the thought occur than Python warned, “I’ll know if you lie.”
“How?” asked Artemis, frightened, but also fascinated by this awesome serpent.
“You’re right. I am rather awesssome, aren’t I?” Python preened, its hard yellow eyes glittering and its monstrous mouth opening even wider in an eerie, threatening sort of smile.
Artemis gasped. “Are you . . . reading my mind?” Her voice rose in a squeak on her last word.
“Yesss, clever girl. As long as I hold your gazzze, I can indeed read your mind.”
Artemis tried hard to close her eyes. She even tried to pinch her eyelids together with her fingers, but they wouldn’t budge. She tried to turn her head, but it was no use. Her head was frozen in place, her eyes glued to Python’s. “You’ve hypnotized me, haven’t you?” she accused.
“Ah-ha-ha-ha-haaaa!” The serpent made a dry, rattling sound deep in its throat, and Artemis realized it was laughing. Or gloating. Whatever.
“I’ll ask the quessstions. And you’d better anssswer. Or elssse,” it hissed. “Now, last chance to redeem yourself: For what reassson are you here?”
Against her will, Artemis heard herself speak. “I’m here to find out whatever I can about you so I can help my brother, Apollo, beat you in tomorrow’s contest.” Why had she said that? It was like this serpent was squeezing the truth out of her!
“Exxxcellent,” Python hissed, writhing excitedly. “Now we are getting sssomewhere.” Its forked tongue flicked in and out of its mouth like a whip. Artemis cringed away from it. Was she to be lashed to smithereens?
But Python only spoke again. “Time for quessstion number two: What isss your brother’s greatessst weaknesss?”
Artemis clamped her hands over her mouth, trying to avoid answering, but it didn’t matter. The answer slipped into her mind anyway: He cannot tell a lie.
“Is that ssso? How very interesssting.” The serpent stared hard at her, its body coiling and uncoiling restlessly, and Artemis knew it was searching her mind. What had she just done? Put poor Apollo in even more danger, that’s what!
Evidently satisfied that she was telling the truth, Python laughed its dry, rattling laugh again. “Many thanksss,” it said. Then the sly beast lowered her with surprising gentleness to the stage, unwound its tail from around her waist, and released her gaze. “You may go now! And let thisss visssit be our little sssecret, hmm?”
Shame washed over Artemis as she scrambled down the stage steps. Heart pounding, she grabbed her arrow-torch from where Python had tossed it as she ran through the arched entrance out into the passageway. The serpent’s raspy laugh followed her down the hall, echoing off the gym walls behind her. “Sssee you at the contessst!” it called.
Coming here had been a stupid mistake, she thought as she threw open the side door and raced outside. Whatever chances Apollo might have had at winning the contest, she was certain she’d just spoiled them. Arghhh!
13
Greek Philosophy
APOLLO WAS GOING TO BE MEGA-ANGRY when he found out what she’d done. Still, Artemis knew she had to tell him. It would be dangerous for him to tangle with Python without knowing it was aware of his weakness. But where was he? She tried to find him using their twin sense, but he was still blocking her out, the blockhead!
So she had to search the hard way instead. She ran around looking high and low for him at the various Olympic practice trials that were underway. When she couldn’t find him on the sports fields, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried one more time to get a fix on where he was. Finally, it worked! Which probably meant he was once again concentrating so hard on something that his attention had strayed and he’d forgotten to block her. A vision of a stone bench surrounded by olive trees floated into her mind. The olive grove! It was just beyond the school courtyard, and she made a beeline for it.
Sure enough, she found Apollo there, sitting on the bench, his nose so deep in a textscroll that he didn’t even notice her at first. The title on the outside of his scroll read Paradoxes of the Greek Philosopher Eubilides. “So here you are,” she said.
Startled, Apollo let go of the scroll and it rolled itself shut with a loud snap! The momentum sent it shooting off his lap to land on the ground a few feet away. “Whoa! Give me a heart attack, why don’t you?” he said. But then he grinned at her as if everything was cool between them—as if he hadn’t cut Revenge-ology to avoid her, though he most definitely had. She was glad he was in a better mood, but it wouldn’t last. Not once she told him how she’d just destroyed any teeny chance he might have had at besting the serpent in the Python-o-thon.
Stalling for time, she motioned toward his textscroll as he went to pick it up. “What’s a paradox?” She might’ve already known if she’d taken Philosoph-ology, but she hadn’t had room for that in her schedule yet.
“It’s kind of like a verbal puzzle. A statement that seems true, yet when you try to actually reason it out, it no longer makes sense.” Retrieving the scroll, Apollo tossed it to the bench he’d just left and stuck his hands in the pockets of his tunic. “I guess you’re wondering why I’m reading about them, huh?”
Artemis shrugged. “For class?”
He hesitated, as if he wanted to say “yes,” but couldn’t quite make himself. Which meant it wasn’t for class. Not being able to tell even little white lies must get old, thought Artemis.
“If you must know,” he said at last, sounding defensive, “I’m trying to further prepare myself to match wits with Python tomorrow.”
“Oh. Yeah, about that,” Artemis said, gulping. “There’s something I need to tell you. And you’re not going to like it.”
He glowered at her. “If you’re goi
ng to try to talk me out of entering the Python-o-thon again, then save your breath.”
Artemis rolled her eyes. “Just listen, okay? And when I tell you, try to remember I’m your friend, not your enemy.”
“Hey! You’re scaring me now,” Apollo said, sounding like he was only half-joking. “Out with it. I can take it.”
She leaned against the trunk of an olive tree, one of many Athena had planted here to create this grove. Taking a deep breath, she let everything spill out. How she went to visit the serpent and was yanked off her feet. How Python’s eyes had locked onto hers so that she couldn’t look away.
“Godsamighty!” said Apollo, sounding worried for her. “That wily beast didn’t hurt you, did it?”
“No.”
“Good thing. You took a terrible risk going near it by yourself. I can’t believe you did that.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Well, at least you’re okay.”
“Mm-hmm,” she said, pushing off the tree. “But there’s one more thing. You see, when Python had me all hypnotized and at its mercy and everything, it asked me what your greatest weakness was.”
“Don’t tell me you told it?” demanded Apollo, spreading his arms in disbelief.
“No! Are you kidding? I wouldn’t do that. But it found out anyway by reading my mind!”
Apollo frowned. “Ye gods! A mind-reading serpent! So what were you thinking my greatest weakness is?”
Artemis scuffed at the ground with the toe of her sandal, hoping that when she told him he wouldn’t feel insulted. “That you cannot tell a lie.” Hunching her shoulders, she braced for her brother’s fury.
Instead of getting mad, though, Apollo only began pacing, looking like he was thinking hard. Finally, he stopped and turned to her. “Do you think Python believed you?”
Artemis nodded. “I told you. It read my mind. It knew I was telling the truth.”
Then Apollo did the weirdest thing ever. He came over and gave her a hug! “Thanks, sis! You’ve just given me more help than you can possibly know.”
