𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑫𝑹𝑬𝑫 • 𝑃𝐸𝑅𝐶𝑌 𝐽𝐴𝐶𝐾𝑆𝑂𝑁 [2]

VI

In the middle of the room was a three-tiered fountain. It looked like it hadn't held water in a long time.

"What is this place?" Elaine muttered. "Why does it look so—"

"Roman," Annabeth said. "Those mosaics are about two thousand years old."

"But how can they be Roman?" Percy asked.

"The Labyrinth is a patchwork," Annabeth said. "I told you, it's always expanding, adding pieces. It's the only work of architecture that grows by itself."

"You make it sound like it's alive." He said.

"Let's not talk about it being alive," Grover whimpered. "Please?"

"All right," Annabeth said. "Forward. The architecture is getting older. That's a good sign. Daedalus's workshop would be in the oldest part."

That made sense. But soon the maze was playing with them again—they went fifty feet and the tunnel turned back to cement, with brass pipes running down the sides. The walls were spray-painted with graffiti. A neon tagger sign read MOZ RULZ.

"I'm thinking this is not Roman," Percy said.

Elaine gave him a look. "You think, Barnacle Boy?"

Annabeth took a deep breath, then forged ahead.

Every few feet the tunnels twisted and turned and branched off. The floor beneath them changed from cement to mud to bricks and back again. There was no sense to any of it. They stumbled into a wine cellar—a bunch of dusty bottles in wooden racks—like they were walking through somebody's basement, only there was no exit above them, just more tunnels leading on.

Later the ceiling turned to wooden planks, and Elaine could hear voices above her and the creaking of footsteps, as if they were walking under some kind of bar. It was nice to hear people, but also made her feel trapped as they couldn't get to them. They were stuck with no way out. Then they found their first skeleton.

He was dressed in white clothes, like some kind of uniform. A wooden crate of glass bottles sat next to him.

"A milkman," Elaine observed.

"What?" Percy asked.

"You know, they used to deliver milk and leave them on porches." She explained.

"Yeah, I know what they are, but ... that was when my mom was little, like a million years ago. What's he doing here?"

"Some people wander in by mistake," Annabeth said. "Some come exploring on purpose and never make it back. A long time ago, the Cretans sent people in here as human sacrifices."

Grover gulped. "He's been down here a long time." He pointed to the skeleton's bottles, which were coated with white dust. The skeleton's fingers were clawing at the brick wall, like he had died trying to get out.

"Only bones," Tyson said. "Don't worry, goat boy. The milkman is dead."

"The milkman doesn't bother me," Grover said. "It's the smell. Monsters. Can't you smell it?"

Tyson nodded. "Lots of monsters. But underground smells like that. Monsters and dead milk people."

"Oh, good," Grover whimpered. "I thought maybe I was wrong."

"We have to get deeper into the maze," Annabeth said. "There has to be a way to the center."

She led them to the right, then the left, through a corridor of stainless steel like some kind of air shaft, and they arrived back in the Roman tile room with the fountain.