by Rick Riordan
Annabeth frowned. She looked like she might object, but Jason spoke up.
‘If Leo has an idea,’ he said, ‘we need to trust him.’
Leo felt guilty about that, especially considering what his idea was, but he mustered a smile. ‘Thanks, man.’
Percy shrugged. ‘Okay. But a word of advice: when you see Apollo, don’t mention haiku.’
Hazel knitted her eyebrows. ‘Why not? Isn’t he the god of poetry?’
‘Just trust me.’
‘Got it.’ Leo rose to his feet. ‘And, guys, if they have a souvenir shop on Delos, I’m totally bringing you back some Apollo and Artemis bobbleheads!’
Apollo didn’t seem to be in the mood for haiku. He wasn’t selling bobbleheads, either.
Frank had turned into a giant eagle to fly to Delos, but Leo hitched a ride with Hazel on Arion’s back. No offence to Frank, but after the fiasco at Fort Sumter Leo had become a conscientious objector to riding giant eagles. He had a one hundred percent failure rate.
They found the island deserted, maybe because the seas were too choppy for the tourist boats. The windswept hills were barren except for rocks, grass and wildflowers – and, of course, a bunch of crumbling temples. The rubble was probably very impressive, but, ever since Olympia, Leo had been on ancient ruins overload. He was so done with white marble columns. He wanted to get back to the U.S., where the oldest buildings were the public schools and Ye Olde McDonald’s.
They walked down an avenue lined with white stone lions, the faces weathered almost featureless.
‘It’s eerie,’ Hazel said.
‘You sense any ghosts?’ Frank asked.
She shook her head. ‘The lack of ghosts is eerie. Back in ancient times, Delos was sacred ground. No mortal was allowed to be born here or die here. There are literally no mortal spirits on this whole island.’
‘Cool with me,’ Leo said. ‘Does that mean nobody’s allowed to kill us here?’
‘I didn’t say that.’ Hazel stopped at the summit of a low hill. ‘Look. Down there.’
Below them, the hillside had been carved into an amphitheatre. Scrubby plants sprouted between the rows of stone benches, so it looked like a concert for thorn bushes. Down at the bottom, sitting on a block of stone in the middle of the stage, the god Apollo hunched over a ukulele, plucking out a mournful tune.
At least, Leo assumed it was Apollo. The dude looked about seventeen, with curly blond hair and a perfect tan. He wore tattered jeans, a black T-shirt and a white linen jacket with glittering rhinestone lapels, like he was trying for an Elvis/Ramones/Beach Boys hybrid look.
Leo didn’t usually think of the ukulele as a sad instrument. (Pathetic, sure. But not sad.) Yet the tune Apollo strummed was so melancholy it broke Leo’s feels.
Sitting in the front row was a young girl of about thirteen, wearing black leggings and a silver tunic, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. She was whittling on a long piece of wood – making a bow.
‘Those are the gods?’ Frank asked. ‘They don’t look like twins.’
‘Well, think about it,’ Hazel said. ‘If you’re a god, you can look like whatever you want. If you had a twin –’
‘I’d choose to look like anything but my sibling,’ Frank agreed. ‘So what’s the plan?’
‘Don’t shoot!’ yelled Leo. It seemed like a good opening line, facing two archery gods. He raised his arms and headed down to the stage.
Neither god looked surprised to see them.
Apollo sighed and went back to playing his ukulele.
When they got to the front row, Artemis muttered, ‘There you are. We were beginning to wonder.’
That took the pressure out of Leo’s pistons. He’d been ready to introduce himself, explain how they’d come in peace, maybe tell a few jokes and offer breath mints.
‘So you were expecting us, then,’ Leo said. ‘I can tell, because you’re both so excited.’
Apollo plucked a tune that sounded like the funeral version of ‘Camptown Races’. ‘We were expecting to be found, bothered and tormented. We didn’t know by whom. Can you not leave us to our misery?’
‘You know they can’t, brother,’ Artemis chided. ‘They require our help with their quest, even if the odds are hopeless.’
‘You two are full of good cheer,’ Leo said. ‘Why are you hiding out here anyway? Shouldn’t you be … I dunno, fighting giants or something?’
Artemis’s pale eyes made Leo feel like he was a deer carcass about to be gutted.
‘Delos is our birthplace,’ said the goddess. ‘Here, we are unaffected by the Greek–Roman schism. Believe me, Leo Valdez, if I could, I would be with my Hunters, facing our old enemy Orion. Unfortunately, if I stepped off this island, I would become incapacitated with pain. All I can do is watch helplessly while Orion slaughters my followers. Many gave their lives to protect your friends and that accursed Athena statue.’
Hazel made a strangled sound. ‘You mean Nico? Is he all right?’
‘All right?’ Apollo sobbed over his ukulele. ‘None of us are all right, girl! Gaia is rising!’
Artemis glared at Apollo. ‘Hazel Levesque, your brother is still alive. He is a brave fighter, like you. I wish I could say the same for my brother.’
‘You wrong me!’ Apollo wailed. ‘I was misled by Gaia and that horrible Roman child!’
Frank cleared his throat. ‘Uh, Lord Apollo, you mean Octavian?’
‘Do not speak his name!’ Apollo strummed a minor chord. ‘Oh, Frank Zhang, if only you were my child. I heard your prayers, you know, all those weeks you wanted to be claimed. But alas! Mars gets all the good ones. I get … that creature as my descendant. He filled my head with compliments. He told me of the great temples he would build in my honour.’
Artemis snorted. ‘You are easily flattered, brother.’
‘Because I have so many amazing qualities to praise! Octavian said he wanted to make the Romans strong again. I said fine! I gave him my blessing.’
‘As I recall,’ said Artemis, ‘he also promised to make you the most important god of the legion, above even Zeus.’
‘Well, who was I to argue with an offer like that? Does Zeus have a perfect tan? Can he play the ukulele? I think not! But I never thought Octavian would start a war! Gaia must have been clouding my thoughts, whispering in my ear.’
Leo remembered the crazy wind dude Aeolus, who’d gone homicidal after hearing Gaia’s voice.
‘So fix it,’ he said. ‘Tell Octavian to stand down. Or, you know, shoot him with one of your arrows. That would be fine, too.’
‘I cannot!’ Apollo wailed. ‘Look!’
His ukulele turned into a bow. He aimed at the sky and shot. The golden arrow sailed about two hundred feet, then disintegrated into smoke.
‘To shoot my bow, I would have to step off Delos,’ Apollo cried. ‘Then I would be incapacitated, or Zeus would strike me down. Father never liked me. He hasn’t trusted me for millennia!’
‘Well,’ Artemis said, ‘to be fair, there was that time you conspired with Hera to overthrow him.’
‘That was a misunderstanding!’
‘And you killed some of Zeus’s Cyclopes.’
‘I had a good reason for that! At any rate, now Zeus blames me for everything – Octavian’s schemes, the fall of Delphi –’
‘Wait.’ Hazel made a time-out sign. ‘The fall of Delphi?’
Apollo’s bow turned back into a ukulele. He plucked a dramatic chord. ‘When the schism began between Greek and Roman, while I struggled with confusion, Gaia took advantage! She raised my old enemy Python, the great serpent, to repossess the Delphic Oracle. That horrible creature is now coiled in the ancient caverns, blocking the magic of prophecy. I am stuck here, so I can’t even fight him.’
‘Bummer,’ Leo said, though secretly he thought that no more prophecies might be a good thing. His to-do list was already pretty full.
‘Bummer indeed!’ Apollo sighed. ‘Zeus was already angry with me for appointing that
new girl, Rachel Dare, as my Oracle. Zeus seems to think I hastened the war with Gaia by doing so, since Rachel issued the Prophecy of Seven as soon as I blessed her. But prophecy doesn’t work that way! Father just needed someone to blame. So of course he picked the handsomest, most talented, hopelessly awesome god.’
Artemis made a gagging gesture.
‘Oh, stop it, sister!’ Apollo said. ‘You’re in trouble, too!’
‘Only because I stayed in touch with my Hunters against Zeus’s wishes,’ Artemis said. ‘But I can always charm Father into forgiving me. He’s never been able to stay mad at me. It’s you I’m worried about.’
‘I’m worried about me, too!’ Apollo agreed. ‘We have to do something. We can’t kill Octavian. Hmm. Perhaps we should kill these demigods.’
‘Whoa there, Music Man.’ Leo resisted the urge to hide behind Frank and yell, Take the big Canadian dude! ‘We’re on your side, remember? Why would you kill us?’
‘It might make me feel better!’ Apollo said. ‘I have to do something!’
‘Or,’ Leo said quickly, ‘you could help us. See, we’ve got this plan …’
He told them how Hera had directed them to Delos, and how Nike had described the ingredients for the physician’s cure.
‘The physician’s cure?’ Apollo stood and smashed his ukulele on the stones. ‘That’s your plan?’
Leo raised his hands. ‘Hey, um, usually I’m all for smashing ukuleles, but –’
‘I cannot help you!’ Apollo cried. ‘If I told you the secret of the physician’s cure, Zeus would never forgive me!’
‘You’re already in trouble,’ Leo pointed out. ‘How could it get worse?’
Apollo glared at him. ‘If you knew what my father is capable of, mortal, you would not ask. It would be simpler if I just smote you all. That might please Zeus –’
‘Brother …’ Artemis said.
The twins locked eyes and had a silent argument. Apparently Artemis won. Apollo heaved a sigh and kicked his broken ukulele across the stage.
Artemis rose. ‘Hazel Levesque, Frank Zhang, come with me. There are things you should know about the Twelfth Legion. As for you, Leo Valdez –’ The goddess turned those cold silver eyes on him. ‘Apollo will hear you out. See if you can strike a deal. My brother always likes a good bargain.’
Frank and Hazel both glanced at him, like Please don’t die. Then they followed Artemis up the steps of the amphitheatre and over the crest of the hill.
‘Well, Leo Valdez?’ Apollo folded his arms. His eyes glowed with golden light. ‘Let us bargain, then. What can you offer that would convince me to help you rather than kill you?’
XXXIV
Leo
‘A bargain.’ Leo’s fingers twitched. ‘Yeah. Absolutely.’
His hands went to work before his mind knew what he was doing. He started pulling things out of the pockets of his magic tool belt – copper wire, some bolts, a brass funnel. For months he’d been stashing away bits and pieces of machinery, because he never knew what he might need. And the longer he used the belt, the more intuitive it became. He’d reach in and the right items would simply appear.
‘So the thing is,’ Leo said as his hands twisted wire, ‘Zeus is already P.O.’ed at you, right? If you help us defeat Gaia, you could make it up to him.’
Apollo wrinkled his nose. ‘I suppose that’s possible. But it would be easier to smite you.’
‘What kind of ballad would that make?’ Leo’s hands worked furiously, attaching levers, fastening the metal funnel to an old gear shaft. ‘You’re the god of music, right? Would you listen to a song called “Apollo Smites a Runty Little Demigod”? I wouldn’t. But “Apollo Defeats the Earth Mother and Saves the Freaking Universe” … that sounds like a Billboard chart-topper!’
Apollo gazed into the air, as if envisioning his name on a marquee. ‘What do you want exactly? And what do I get out of it?’
‘First thing I need: advice.’ Leo strung some wires across the mouth of the funnel. ‘I want to know if a plan of mine will work.’
Leo explained what he had in mind. He’d been chewing on the idea for days, ever since Jason came back from the bottom of the sea and Leo started talking with Nike.
A primordial god has been defeated once before, Kymopoleia had told Jason. You know of whom I speak.
Leo’s conversations with Nike had helped him fine-tune the plan, but he still wanted a second opinion from another god. Because, once Leo committed himself, there would be no going back.
He half hoped Apollo would laugh and tell him to forget it.
Instead, the god nodded thoughtfully. ‘I will give you this advice for free. You might be able to defeat Gaia in the way you describe, similar to the way Ouranos was defeated aeons ago. However, any mortal close by would be utterly …’ Apollo’s voice faltered. ‘What is that you have made?’
Leo looked down at the contraption in his hands. Layers of copper wires, like multiple sets of guitar strings, crisscrossed inside the funnel. Rows of striking pins were controlled by levers on the outside of the cone, which was fixed to a square metal base with a bunch of crank handles.
‘Oh, this … ?’ Leo’s mind raced furiously. The thing looked like a music box fused with an old-fashioned phonograph, but what was it?
A bargaining chip.
Artemis had told him to make a deal with Apollo.
Leo remembered a story the kids in Cabin Eleven used to brag about: how their father, Hermes, had avoided punishment for stealing Apollo’s sacred cows. When Hermes got caught, he made a musical instrument – the first lyre – and traded it to Apollo, who immediately forgave him.
A few days ago, Piper mentioned seeing the cave on Pylos where Hermes hid those cows. That must’ve triggered Leo’s subconscious. Without even meaning to, he’d built a musical instrument, which kind of surprised him, since he knew nothing about music.
‘Um, well,’ Leo said, ‘this is quite simply the most amazing instrument ever!’
‘How does it work?’ asked the god.
Good question, Leo thought.
He turned the crank handles, hoping the thing wouldn’t explode in his face. A few clear tones rang out – metallic yet warm. Leo manipulated the levers and gears. He recognized the song that sprang forth – the same wistful melody Calypso sang for him on Ogygia about homesickness and longing. But, through the strings of the brass cone, the tune sounded even sadder, like a machine with a broken heart – the way Festus might sound if he could sing.
Leo forgot Apollo was there. He played the song all the way through. When he was done, his eyes stung. He could almost smell the fresh-baked bread from Calypso’s kitchen. He could taste the only kiss she’d ever given him.
Apollo stared in awe at the instrument. ‘I must have it. What is it called? What do you want for it?’
Leo had a sudden instinct to hide the instrument and keep it for himself. But he swallowed his melancholy. He had a task to complete.
Calypso … Calypso needed him to succeed.
‘This is the Valdezinator, of course!’ He puffed out his chest. ‘It works by, um, translating your feelings into music as you manipulate the gears. It’s really meant for me, a child of Hephaestus, to use, though. I don’t know if you could –’
‘I am the god of music!’ Apollo cried. ‘I can certainly master the Valdezinator. I must! It is my duty!’
‘So let’s wheel and deal, Music Man,’ Leo said. ‘I give you this; you give me the physician’s cure.’
‘Oh …’ Apollo bit his godly lip. ‘Well, I don’t actually have the physician’s cure.’
‘I thought you were the god of medicine.’
‘Yes, but I’m the god of many things! Poetry, music, the Delphic Oracle –’ He broke into a sob and covered his mouth with his fist. ‘Sorry. I’m fine, I’m fine. As I was saying, I have many spheres of influence. Then, of course, I have the whole “sun god” gig, which I inherited from Helios. The point is, I’m rather like a general practition
er. For the physician’s cure, you would need to see a specialist – the only one who has ever successfully cured death: my son Asclepius, the god of healers.’
Leo’s heart sank into his socks. The last thing they needed was another quest to find another god who would probably demand his own commemorative T-shirt or Valdezinator.
‘That’s a shame, Apollo. I was hoping we could make a deal.’ Leo turned the levers on his Valdezinator, coaxing out an even sadder tune.
‘Stop!’ Apollo wailed. ‘It’s too beautiful! I’ll give you directions to Asclepius. He’s really very close!’
‘How do we know he’ll help us? We’ve only got two days until Gaia wakes.’
‘He’ll help!’ Apollo promised. ‘My son is very helpful. Just plead with him in my name. You’ll find him at his old temple in Epidaurus.’
‘What’s the catch?’
‘Ah … well, nothing. Except, of course, he’s guarded.’
‘Guarded by what?’
‘I don’t know!’ Apollo spread his hands helplessly. ‘I only know Zeus is keeping Asclepius under guard so he doesn’t go running around the world resurrecting people. The first time Asclepius raised the dead … well, he caused quite an uproar. It’s a long story. But I’m sure you can convince him to help.’
‘This isn’t sounding like much of a deal,’ Leo said. ‘What about the last ingredient – the curse of Delos. What is it?’
Apollo eyed the Valdezinator greedily. Leo worried the god might just take it, and how could Leo stop him? Blasting the sun god with fire probably wouldn’t do much good.
‘I can give the last ingredient to you,’ Apollo said. ‘Then you’ll have everything you need for Asclepius to brew the potion.’
Leo played another verse. ‘I dunno. Trading this beautiful Valdezinator for some Delos curse –’
‘It’s not actually a curse! Look …’ Apollo sprinted to the nearest patch of wildflowers and picked a yellow one from a crack between the stones. ‘This is the curse of Delos.’
Leo stared at it. ‘A cursed daisy?’
