Sea Green Eyes

The Chalice of the Gods - Part Eight

He and Cressida took turns running with the chalice as the Olympus-dwellers passed by, a couple waving hello to Cressida as she ran past but other than that, no one seemed to notice them.

At least the Olympian streets weren't busy. A couple of chariots were in line at the drive-through window of Sagittarius Coffee. A Hephaestus-made steampunk rhinoceros thing was trundling along the street, power-washing the cobblestones with blasts of steam from its snout. In the park gazebo, a sign read OPEN MIC HOT POETRY WITH ERATO! TONIGHT ONLY! But at the moment, the gardens were empty except for a few pigeons. (Because yes, even Mount Olympus has pigeons.)

Percy was blindly following Cressida as they raced up the mountain towards Zeus's palace but they weren't going for the main entrance. They seemed to be heading for the side which made sense since step 2 of Cressida's plan was to slip into the kitchens. Why the gods needed kitchens and people to cook for them was beyond them but still, they went along with it. Percy also felt that they were going in the right direction as the chalice pulled at him.

If it was anyone else, Percy might have been nervous about the fact that he was being led into an alley at the base of a tall cliff, but this was Cressida, so Percy wasn't that nervous as he was led to a wall layered with flowering jasmine. Except for a small door inlaid with fancy bronze designs.

Cressida did a special secret knock and the door creaked open.

The woman who poked her head out had a hairdo like a tornado funnel. Her eyes were gray and stormy, her face ageless, her scent like oncoming rain. She couldn't have been more clearly a cloud nymph if she'd had a name tag that said HELLO! MY NAME IS CLOUD NYMPH.

Her eyes widened at the sight of them. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

"Hi, Naomi. Has the brunch started yet?" Cressida asked.

"Obviously."

"We need to get into the kitchens, please."

"Did you bring donuts?" she asked and Cressida furrowed her brows.

"Uh, no. Why?"

"You smell like mochi donuts."

"Oh. I'll bring you donuts next time I visit. Please. This is urgent."

"Come in," she said as they followed her into the kitchens.

"Uh, how did you know about this place?" Percy asked.

"Another one of the tasks Pollux and I do for Papa, stealing from Zeus's kitchens."

"You steal from Zeus?! How did I not know about this?!"

"Because Zeus already doesn't like you and knowing about this wouldn't do you any good if you two clashed."

"Fair point."

All the nymphs rushed from oven to stovetop, pulling cloud stuff out of the air and mixing it into their soups and pies like strands of cotton candy, because of course the gods would want servants fussing around, making things for them, the same way they liked it when mortals burned offerings. It was all about being noticed, attended to, and catered to. Gods ate the spotlight more than they ate nectar and ambrosia. Of course, they would insist things be done the hard way.

About twenty nymphs were at work, all wearing white aprons, with black nets around their billowy hair. Their legs were just wisps of cloud, probably so they could move faster. Their nebulous dresses were stained with various soups, broths, and glazes, so they looked like colorful sunsets. The kitchen itself was bigger than a high school gym, and dryads kept popping in and out of the bronze double doors, carrying platters of food into the dining room beyond. As the doors opened, they heard voices they recognized: Zeus's booming baritone, Hera's laughter.