[1] something new | pjo

xxxvi. thirty six

"THAT'S PERCY,"

Daphne stated. "was what real creepy looks like, not my assistant"

Percy snickered, "Yeah, sure, as if it's normal to summon a walking dead,"

None of them were anxious to travel that night, so they decided to wait until morning. Daphne slept on the carpet floor near the leather couches in Geryon's living room.

She prayed to her father to at least give her a dreamless sleep for one night after being slaughtered so many times in her dream when she's inside the labyrinth. But of course, she knew that her father rarely grant her wished unless it was necessary.

Daphne stood at the top of a stone tower, overlooking rocky cliffs and the ocean below. The old man, Daedalus was hunched over a worktable, wrestling with some kind of navigational instrument, like a huge compass. He looked years older than when I'd last seen him. He was stooped and his hands were gnarled. He cursed in Ancient Greek and squinted as if he couldn't see his work, even though it was a sunny day.

"Uncle!" a voice called.

A smiling boy about Nico's age came bounding up the steps, carrying a wooden box.

"Hello, Perdix," the old man said, though his tone sounded cold. "Done with your projects already?"

"Yes, Uncle. They were easy!"

Daedalus scowled. "Easy? The problem of moving water uphill without a pump was easy?"

"Oh, yes! Look!"

The boy dumped his box and rummaged through the junk. He came up with a strip of papyrus and showed the old inventor some diagrams and notes. They didn't make any sense to me, but Daedalus nodded grudgingly.

"I see. Not bad."

"The king loved it!" Perdix said. "He said I might be even smarter thank you!"

"Did he now?"

"But I don't believe that. I'm so glad Mother sent me to study with you! Iwant to know everything you do."

"Yes," Daedalus muttered. "So when I die, you can take my place, eh?"

The boys' eyes widened. "Oh no, Uncle! But I've been thinking...why does a man have to die, anyway?"

The inventor scowled. "It is the way of things, lad. Everything dies but the gods."

"But why?" the boy insisted. "If you could capture the animus, the soul in another form...well, you've told me about your automatons, Uncle. Bulls, eagles, dragons, horses of bronze. Why not a bronze form for a man?"

"No, my boy," Daedalus said sharply. "You are naïve. Such a thing is impossible."

"I don't think so," Perdix insisted. "With the use of a little magic—"

"Magic? Bah!"

"Yes, Uncle! Magic and mechanics together—with a little work, one could make a body that would look exactly human, only better. I've made some notes."

He handed the old man a thick scroll. Daedalus unfurled it. He read for a long time. His eyes narrowed. He glanced at the boy, then closed the scroll and cleared his throat. "It would never work, my boy. When you're older, you'll see."

"Can I fix that astrolabe, then, Uncle? Are your joints swelling up again?"

The old man's jaw clenched. "No. Thank you. Now why don't you run along?"

Perdix didn't seem to notice the old man's anger. He snatched a bronze beetle from his mound of stuff and ran to the edge of the tower. A low sill ringed the rim, coming just up to the boy's knees. The wind was strong. Move back, I wanted to tell him. But my voice didn't work.