by Rick Riordan
He looked across the room and faltered. The three American tourists were coming their way; no more circling or sneaking. They were making a straight line for Raphael’s tomb, and all three were glaring at Leo.
“Uh, Frank?” Leo asked. “Has it been ten minutes yet?”
Frank followed his gaze. The Americans’ faces were angry and confused, like they were sleepwalking through a very annoying nightmare.
“Leo Valdez,” called the guy in the ROMA shirt. His voice had changed. It was hollow and metallic. He spoke English as if it was a second language. “We meet again.”
All three tourists blinked, and their eyes turned solid gold.
Frank yelped. “Eidolons!”
The manatees clenched their beefy fists. Normally, Leo wouldn’t have worried about getting murdered by overweight guys in floppy hats, but he suspected the eidolons were dangerous even in those bodies, especially since the spirits wouldn’t care whether their hosts survived or not.
“They can’t fit down the hole,” Leo said.
“Right,” Frank said. “Underground is sounding really good.”
He turned into a snake and slithered over the edge. Leo jumped in after him while the spirits began to wail above, “Valdez! Kill Valdez!”
O NE PROBLEM SOLVED: the hatch above them closed automatically, cutting off their pursuers. It also cut off all light, but Leo and Frank could deal with that. Leo just hoped they didn’t need to get out the same way they came in. He wasn’t sure he could open the tile from underneath.
At least the possessed manatee dudes were on the other side. Over Leo’s head, the marble floor shuddered, like fat touristy feet were kicking it.
Frank must have turned back to human form. Leo could hear him wheezing in the dark.
“What now?” Frank asked.
“Okay, don’t freak,” Leo said. “I’m going to summon a little fire, just so we can see.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
Leo’s index finger blazed like a birthday candle. In front of them stretched a stone tunnel with a low ceiling. Just as Hazel had predicted, it slanted down, then leveled out and went south.
“Well,” Leo said. “It only goes in one direction.”
“Let’s find Hazel,” Frank said.
Leo had no argument with that suggestion. They made their way down the corridor, Leo going first with the fire. He was glad to have Frank at his back, big and strong and able to turn into scary animals in case those possessed tourists somehow broke through the hatch, squeezed inside, and followed them. He wondered if the eidolons might just leave those bodies behind, seep underground, and possess one of them instead.
Oh, there’s my happy thought for the day! Leo scolded himself.
After a hundred feet or so, they turned a corner and found Hazel. In the light of her golden cavalry sword, she was examining a door. She was so engrossed, she didn’t notice them until Leo said, “Hi.”
Hazel whirled, trying to swing her spatha. Fortunately for Leo’s face, the blade was too long to wield in the corridor.
“What are you doing here?” Hazel demanded.
Leo gulped. “Sorry. We ran into some angry tourists.” He told her what had happened.
She hissed in frustration. “I hate eidolons. I thought Piper made them promise to stay away.”
“Oh…” Frank said, like he’d just had his own daily happy thought. “Piper made them promise to stay off the ship and not possess any of us. But if they followed us, and used other bodies to attack us, then they’re not technically breaking their vow.…”
“Great,” Leo muttered. “Eidolons who are also lawyers. Now I really want to kill them.”
“Okay, forget them for now,” Hazel said. “This door is giving me fits. Leo, can you try your skill with the lock?”
Leo cracked his knuckles. “Stand aside for the master, please.”
The door was interesting, much more complicated than the Roman numeral combination lock above. The entire door was coated in Imperial gold. A mechanical sphere about the size of a bowling ball was embedded in the center. The sphere was constructed from five concentric rings, each inscribed with zodiac symbols—the bull, the scorpion, et cetera—and seemingly random numbers and letters.
“These letters are Greek,” Leo said in surprise.
“Well, lots of Romans spoke Greek,” Hazel said.
“I guess,” Leo said. “But this workmanship…no offense to you Camp Jupiter types, but this is too complicated to be Roman.”
Frank snorted. “Whereas you Greeks just love making things complicated.”
“Hey,” Leo protested. “All I’m saying is this machinery is delicate, sophisticated. It reminds me of…” Leo stared at the sphere, trying to recall where he’d read or heard about a similar ancient machine. “It’s a more advanced sort of lock,” he decided. “You line up the symbols on the different rings in the right order, and that opens the door.”
“But what’s the right order?” Hazel asked.
“Good question. Greek spheres…astronomy, geometry…” Leo got a warm feeling inside. “Oh, no way. I wonder…What’s the value of pi?”
Frank frowned. “What kind of pie?”
“He means the number,” Hazel guessed. “I learned that in math class once, but—”
“It’s used to measure circles,” Leo said. “This sphere, if it’s made by the guy I’m thinking of…”
Hazel and Frank both stared at him blankly.
“Never mind,” Leo said. “I’m pretty sure pi is, uh, 3.1415 blah blah blah. The number goes on forever, but the sphere has only five rings, so that should be enough, if I’m right.”
“And if you’re not?” Frank asked.
“Well, then, Leo fall down, go boom. Let’s find out!”
He turned the rings, starting on the outside and moving in. He ignored the zodiac signs and letters, lining up the correct numbers so they made the value of pi. Nothing happened.
“I’m stupid,” Leo mumbled. “Pi would expand outward, because it’s infinite.”
He reversed the order of the numbers, starting in the center and working toward the edge. When he aligned the last ring, something inside the sphere clicked. The door swung open.
Leo beamed at his friends. “That, good people, is how we do things in Leo World. Come on in!”
“I hate Leo World,” Frank muttered.
Hazel laughed.
Inside was enough cool stuff to keep Leo busy for years. The room was about the size of the forge back at Camp Half-Blood, with bronze-topped worktables along the walls, and baskets full of ancient metalworking tools. Dozens of bronze and gold spheres like steampunk basketballs sat around in various stages of disassembly. Loose gears and wiring littered the floor. Thick metal cables ran from each table toward the back of the room, where there was an enclosed loft like a theater’s sound booth. Stairs led up to the booth on either side. All the cables seemed to run into it. Next to the stairs on the left, a row of cubbyholes was filled with leather cylinders—probably ancient scroll cases.
Leo was about to head toward the tables when he glanced to his left and nearly jumped out of his shoes. Flanking the doorway were two armored manikins—like skeletal scarecrows made from bronze pipes, outfitted with full suits of Roman armor, shield and sword.
“Dude.” Leo walked up to one. “These would be awesome if they worked.”
Frank edged away from the manikins. “Those things are going to come alive and attack us, aren’t they?”
Leo laughed. “Not a chance. They aren’t complete.” He tapped the nearest manikin’s neck, where loose copper wires sprouted from underneath its breastplate. “Look, the head’s wiring has been disconnected. And here, at the elbow, the pulley system for this joint is out of alignment. My guess? The Romans were trying to duplicate a Greek design, but they didn’t have the skill.”
Hazel arched her eyebrows. “The Romans weren’t good enough at being complicated, I suppose.”
“Or delicat
e,” Frank added. “Or sophisticated.”
“Hey, I just call it like I see it.” Leo jiggled the manikin’s head, making it nod like it was agreeing with him. “Still…a pretty impressive try. I’ve heard legends that the Romans confiscated the writings of Archimedes, but—”
“Archimedes?” Hazel looked baffled. “Wasn’t he an ancient mathematician or something?”
Leo laughed. “He was a lot more than that. He was only the most famous son of Hephaestus who ever lived.”
Frank scratched his ear. “I’ve heard his name before, but how can you be sure this manikin is his design?”
“It has to be!” Leo said. “Look, I’ve read all about Archimedes. He’s a hero to Cabin Nine. The dude was Greek, right? He lived in one of the Greek colonies in southern Italy, back before Rome got all huge and took over. Finally the Romans moved in and destroyed his city. The Roman general wanted to spare Archimedes, because he was so valuable—sort of like the Einstein of the ancient world—but some stupid Roman soldier killed him.”
“There you go again,” Hazel muttered. “Stupid and Roman don’t always go together, Leo.”
Frank grunted agreement. “How do you know all this, anyway?” he demanded. “Is there a Spanish tour guide around here?”
“No, man,” Leo said. “You can’t be a demigod who’s into building stuff and not know about Archimedes. The guy was seriously elite. He calculated the value of pi. He did all this math stuff we still use for engineering. He invented a hydraulic screw that could move water through pipes.”
Hazel scowled. “A hydraulic screw. Excuse me for not knowing about that awesome achievement.”
“He also built a death ray made of mirrors that could burn enemy ships,” Leo said. “Is that awesome enough for you?”
“I saw something about that on TV,” Frank admitted. “They proved it didn’t work.”
“Ah, that’s just because modern mortals don’t know how to use Celestial bronze,” Leo said. “That’s the key. Archimedes also invented a massive claw that could swing on a crane and pluck enemy ships out of the water.”
“Okay, that’s cool,” Frank admitted. “I love grabber-arm games.”
“Well, there you go,” Leo said. “Anyway, all his inventions weren’t enough. The Romans destroyed his city. Archimedes was killed. According to legends, the Roman general was a big fan of his work, so he raided Archimedes’s workshop and carted a bunch of souvenirs back to Rome. They disappeared from history, except…” Leo waved his hands at the stuff on the tables. “Here they are.”
“Metal basketballs?” Hazel asked.
Leo couldn’t believe that they didn’t appreciate what they were looking at, but he tried to contain his irritation. “Guys, Archimedes constructed spheres. The Romans couldn’t figure them out. They thought they were just for telling time or following constellations, because they were covered with pictures of stars and planets. But that’s like finding a rifle and thinking it’s a walking stick.”
“Leo, the Romans were top-notch engineers,” Hazel reminded him. “They built aqueducts, roads—”
“Siege weapons,” Frank added. “Public sanitation.”
“Yeah, fine,” Leo said. “But Archimedes was in a class by himself. His spheres could do all sorts of things, only nobody is sure…”
Suddenly Leo got an idea so incredible that his nose burst into flames. He patted it out as quickly as possible. Man, it was embarrassing when that happened.
He ran to the row of cubbyholes and examined the markings on the scroll cases. “Oh, gods. This is it!”
He gingerly lifted out one of the scrolls. He wasn’t great at Ancient Greek, but he could tell the inscription on the case read On Building Spheres.
“Guys, this is the lost book!” His hands were shaking. “Archimedes wrote this, describing his construction methods, but all the copies were lost in ancient times. If I can translate this…”
The possibilities were endless. For Leo, the quest had now totally taken on a new dimension. Leo had to get the spheres and scrolls safely out of here. He had to protect this stuff until he could get it back to Bunker 9 and study it.
“The secrets of Archimedes,” he murmured. “Guys, this is bigger than Daedalus’s laptop. If there’s a Roman attack on Camp Half-Blood, these secrets could save the camp. They might even give us an edge over Gaea and the giants!”
Hazel and Frank glanced at each other skeptically.
“Okay,” Hazel said. “We didn’t come here for a scroll, but I guess we can take it with us.”
“Assuming,” Frank added, “that you don’t mind sharing its secrets with us stupid uncomplicated Romans.”
“What?” Leo stared at him blankly. “No. Look, I didn’t mean to insult— Ah, never mind. The point is this is good news!”
For the first time in days, Leo felt really hopeful.
Naturally, that’s when everything went wrong.
On the table next to Hazel and Frank, one of the orbs clicked and whirred. A row of spindly legs extended from its equator. The orb stood, and two bronze cables shot out of the top, hitting Hazel and Frank like Taser wires. Leo’s friends both crumpled to the floor.
Leo lunged to help them, but the two armored manikins that couldn’t possibly move did move. They drew their swords and stepped toward Leo.
The one on the left turned its crooked helmet, which was shaped like a wolf’s head. Despite the fact that it had no face or mouth, a familiar hollow voice spoke from behind its visor.
“You cannot escape us, Leo Valdez,” it said. “We do not like possessing machines, but they are better than tourists. You will not leave here alive.”
L EO AGREED WITH N EMESIS ABOUT ONE THING: good luck was a sham. At least when it came to Leo’s luck.
Last winter he had watched in horror while a family of Cyclopes prepared to roast Jason and Piper with hot sauce. He’d schemed his way out of that one and saved his friends all by himself, but at least he’d had time to think.
Now, not so much. Hazel and Frank had been knocked out by the tendrils of a possessed steampunk bowling ball. Two suits of armor with bad attitudes were about to kill him.
Leo couldn’t blast them with fire. Suits of armor wouldn’t be hurt by that. Besides, Hazel and Frank were too close. He didn’t want to burn them, or accidentally hit the piece of firewood that controlled Frank’s life.
On Leo’s right, the suit of armor with a lion’s head helmet creaked its wiry neck and regarded Hazel and Frank, who were still lying unconscious.
“A male and female demigod,” said Lion Head. “These will do, if the others die.” Its hollow face mask turned back to Leo. “We do not need you, Leo Valdez.”
“Oh, hey!” Leo tried for a winning smile. “You always need Leo Valdez!”
He spread his hands and hoped he looked confident and useful, not desperate and terrified. He wondered if it was too late to write TEAM LEO on his shirt.
Sadly, the suits of armor were not as easily swayed as the Narcissus Fan Club had been.
The one with the wolf-headed helmet snarled, “I have been in your mind, Leo. I helped you start the war.”
Leo’s smile crumbled. He took a step back. “That was you?”
Now he understood why those tourists had bothered him right away, and why this thing’s voice sounded so familiar. He’d heard it in his mind.
“You made me fire the ballista?” Leo demanded. “You call that helping?”
“I know how you think,” said Wolf Head. “I know your limits. You are small and alone. You need friends to protect you. Without them, you are unable to withstand me. I vowed not to possess you again, but I can still kill you.”
The armored dudes stepped forward. The points of their swords hovered a few inches from Leo’s face.
Leo’s fear suddenly made way for a whole lot of anger. This eidolon in the wolf helmet had shamed him, controlled him, and made him attack New Rome. It had endangered his friends and botched their quest.
Leo glanced at the dormant spheres on the worktables. He considered his tool belt. He thought about the loft behind him—the area that looked like a sound booth. Presto: Operation Junk Pile was born.
“First: you don’t know me,” he told Wolf Head. “And second: Bye.”
He lunged for the stairs and bounded to the top. The suits of armor were scary, but they were not fast. As Leo suspected, the loft had doors on either side—folding metal gates. The operators would’ve wanted protection in case their creations went haywire…like now. Leo slammed both gates shut and summoned fire to his hands, fusing the locks.
The suits of armor closed in on either side. They rattled the gates, hacking at them with their swords.
“This is foolish,” said Lion Head. “You only delay your death.”
“Delaying death is one of my favorite hobbies.” Leo scanned his new home. Overlooking the workshop was a single table like a control board. It was crowded with junk, but most of it Leo dismissed immediately: a diagram for a human catapult that would never work; a strange black sword (Leo was no good with swords); a large bronze mirror (Leo’s reflection looked terrible); and a set of tools that someone had broken, either in frustration or clumsiness.
He focused on the main project. In the center of the table, someone had disassembled an Archimedes sphere. Gears, springs, levers, and rods were littered around it. All the bronze cables to the room below were connected to a metal plate under the sphere. Leo could sense the Celestial bronze running through the workshop like arteries from a heart—ready to conduct magical energy from this spot.
“One basketball to rule them all,” Leo muttered.
This sphere was a master regulator. He was standing at Ancient Roman mission control.
“Leo Valdez!” the spirit howled. “Open this gate or I will kill you!”
“A fair and generous offer!” Leo said, his eyes still on the sphere. “Just let me finish this. A last request, all right?”
That must have confused the spirits, because they momentarily stopped hacking at the bars.
