THEY MADE IT A HUNDRED FEET before they were hopelessly lost—which, all things considered, was probably an accomplishment.
The tunnel looked nothing like the one Naomi, Annabeth, and Percy had stumbled into before. Now it was round like a sewer, constructed of red brick with iron-barred portholes every ten feet.
Annabeth did her best to guide them. She had this idea that they could stick to the left wall.
"If we keep one hand on the left wall and follow it," she explained, "we should be able to find our way out again by reversing course."
The only problem with that: as soon as she said it, the left wall disappeared. They found themselves in the middle of a circular chamber with eight tunnels leading out, and no idea how they'd gotten there.
"Um, which way did we come in?" Grover said nervously.
"Just turn around," Annabeth said.
Everyone turned toward a different tunnel. It would have been funny if it wasn't terrifying.
"Left walls are mean," Tyson said. "Which way now?"
Annabeth swept her flashlight beam over the archways of the eight tunnels. As far as Naomi could tell, they were exactly the same. "That way," she said.
"How do you know?" Percy asked.
"Deductive reasoning."
"So... you're guessing."
"Just come on," she said.
The tunnel she'd chosen narrowed quickly. The walls turned to gray cement, and the ceiling got so low that pretty soon they were hunched over. Poor Tyson was forced to crawl.
They'd been walking (and crawling) for maybe a minute when Naomi heard it.
Komori.
It was a male's voice, clear as day. It sounded like the speaker was right next to her, but it didn't sound like anyone Naomi knew, and when she looked, there was only the shadow-covered wall beside her.
"What was that?" she asked.
"What was what?" Annabeth asked.
"That... that voice," Naomi said.
"All I hear is Grover's hyperventilating," Percy said.
"It was clear as day!" Naomi said. "Komori."
"Pretty," Tyson commented.
Naomi frowned. "No one else heard it?"
Naomi could practically feel Annabeth's anxiety from the front of the pack. "It's like the prophecy said—the flower hears the shadow's calls."
"But what's a komori?" Percy asked. "Is it a person? A warning?"
"Did the voice say anything else?" Annabeth asked.
Naomi shook her head. "Just komori."
"Maybe it's a warning," Grover said. "I think it's a warning. We should go."
"Grover, we've been down here maybe five minutes," Annabeth said.
"It's been longer than that," Grover insisted. "And why would Pan be down here? This is the opposite of the wild!"
They kept shuffling forward. Just when Naomi was sure the tunnel would get so narrow it would squish them, it opened into a huge room. Percy shone his light around the walls. "Whoa."
The whole room was covered in mosaic tiles. The pictures were covered with grime and faded with age, but she could still make out the colors—red, blue, green, gold. The frieze showed the Olympian gods at a feast. There was Poseidon with his trident, holding out grapes for Dionysus to turn into wine. Zeus was partying with satyrs, and Hermes was flying through the air on his winged sandals.
In the middle of the room was a three-tiered fountain that looked like it had been dry for centuries.
"What is this place?" Naomi asked. "It looks—"
"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 explained. "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."
A groaning noise echoed from the tunnel before them.
"Let's not talk about it being alive," Grover whimpered. "Please?"
"All right," Annabeth said. "Forward."
"Down the hall with the bad sounds?" Tyson said.
"Yeah," Annabeth said. "The architecture is getting older. That's a good sign. Daedalus's workshop would be in the oldest part."
That made sense. Soon, though, the maze began to toy with them—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 tag sign read: moz rulz.
"Not Roman," Naomi guessed.
Annabeth took a deep breath, then forged ahead.
Every few feet the tunnels twisted and branched off. The floor beneath them changed from cement to mud to bricks and back again. There was no sense to anything. They stumbled into a wine cellar like they were walking through someone's basement, but there was no exit ahead, only more tunnels.
Later, the ceiling turned to wooden planks and I could hear voices above them and the creaking of footsteps, as if they were walking under some kind of bar. It was reassuring to hear actual people talk, but it wasn't like they could get to them. They were stuck underground 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," Annabeth said.
"What?" Percy asked.
"They used to deliver milk."
"Yeah, I know what they are, but... that was when my mom was little, like a million years ago," Percy said. "What's he doing here?"
Naomi looked at the skeleton. "He died of starvation," she said, not quite sure how she knew, but confident anyway. She supposed it was a Persephone-kid thing. "So... bright side: at least he wasn't attacked by anything."
"He was probably mortal," Annabeth said. "Monsters usually don't bother with them."
"But what's he doing here?" Percy asked again. "In the Labyrinth?"
"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."
Naomi tried not to think about which category they fit into.
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.
But this time, they weren't alone.
The first thing Naomi noticed about the strange figure was his faces—or, rather, the fact that he had two. They jutted out from either side of his head, staring over his shoulders, so his head was much wider than looked natural. Looking straight at him, all Naomi saw were two overlapping ears and mirror-image sideburns.
He was dressed like a doorman: a long black overcoat, shiny shoes, and a black top hat that somehow managed to stay on his double-wide head.
"Well, Annabeth?" said the left face. "Hurry up!"
"Don't mind him," said the right face. "He's terribly rude. Right this way, miss."
Annabeth's jaw dropped. "Uh... I don't..."
Tyson frowned. "That funny man has two faces."
"The funny man has ears, you know!" the left face scolded. "Now come along, miss."
"No, no," the right face said. "This way, miss. Talk to me, please."
The two-faced man regarded Annabeth as best he could out of the corners of his eyes. It was impossible to look at him straight on without focusing on one side or the other.
Suddenly Naomi realized what he was asking—he wanted Annabeth to choose.
Behind him were two exits, blocked by wooden doors with huge iron locks. They hadn't been there on the group's first pass through the room. The two-faced doorman held a silver key, which he kept passing from his left hand to his right hand. Naomi wondered if this was even the same room, but the frieze of the gods looked exactly the same.
Behind them, the doorway they'd come through had disappeared, replaced by more mosaics.
The only way out was forward.
"The exits are closed," Annabeth said.
"Duh!" the man's left face said.
"Where do they lead?" she asked.
"One probably leads the way you wish to go," the right face said encouragingly. "The other leads to certain death."
"I—I know who you are," Annabeth said.
"Oh, you're a smart one!" The left face sneered. "But do you know which way to choose? I don't have all day."
"Why are you trying to confuse me?" Annabeth asked.
The right face smiled. "You're in charge now, my dear. All the decisions are on your shoulders. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"
"I—"
"We know you, Annabeth," the left face said. "We know what you wrestle with every day. We know your indecision. You will have to make your choice sooner or later. And the choice may kill you."
Naomi didn't know what they were talking about, but it sounded like it was about more than a choice between doors.
The color drained out of Annabeth's face. "No... I don't—"
"Leave her alone," Percy said. "Who are you, anyway?"
"I'm your best friend," the right face said.
"I'm your worst enemy," the left face said.
"That's helpful," Naomi deadpanned.
"I'm Janus," both faces said in harmony. "God of Doorways. Beginnings. Endings. Choices."
"I'll see you soon enough, Perseus Jackson," said the right face. "And you, Naomi Sakura. But for now it's Annabeth's turn." He laughed giddily. "Such fun!"
"Shut up!" his left face said. "This is serious. One bad choice can ruin your whole life. It can kill you and all of your friends. But no pressure, Annabeth. Choose!"
With a sudden chill, Naomi remembered the words of the prophecy: the child of Athena's final stand.
"Don't do it," Naomi said.
"I'm afraid she has to," the right face said cheerfully.
Annabeth moistened her lips. "I—I choose—"
Before she could point to a door, a brilliant light flooded the room.
Janus raised his hands to either side of his head to cover his eyes. When the light died, a woman was standing at the fountain.
She was tall and graceful with long hair the color of chocolate, braided in plaits with gold ribbons. She wore a simple white dress, but when she moved, the fabric shimmered with colors like oil on water.
"Janus," she said, "are we causing trouble again?"
"N-no, milady!" Janus's right face stammered.
"Yes!" the left face said.
"Shut up!" the right face said.
"Excuse me?" the woman asked.
"Not you, milady! I was talking to myself."
"I see," the lady said. "You know very well your visit is premature. The girl's time has not yet come. So I give you a choice: leave these heroes to me, or I shall turn you into a door and break you down."
"What kind of door?" the left face asked.
"Shut up!" the right face said.
"Because French doors are nice," the left face mused. "Lots of natural light."
"Shut up!" the right face wailed. "Not you, milady! Of course I'll leave. I Was just having a bit of fun. Doing my job. Offering choices."
"Causing indecision," the woman corrected. "Now be gone!"
The left face muttered, "Party pooper," then he raised his silver key, inserted it into the air, and disappeared.
The women turned toward Naomi and her companions, and suddenly Naomi was afraid. The woman's eyes shone with power. Leave these heroes to me. It sounded almost ominous.
But the woman only smiled.
"You must be hungry," she said. "Sit with me and talk."
She waved her hand, and the old Roman fountain began to flow. Jets of clear water sprayed into the air. A marble table appeared, laden with platters of sandwiches and pitchers of lemonade.
"Who... who are you?" Percy asked.
"I am Hera." The woman smiled. "Queen of Heaven."
❊
Naomi had seen Hera once before, at a council of the gods this past winter, but she hadn't paid much attention to her then.
She didn't remember Hera looking so... normal. Of course, gods were usually twenty feet tall when they were on Olympus, so that made them look a lot less normal. But, now, Hera looked like a regular PTA mom.
She served them sandwiches and poured lemonade.
"Grover, dear," she said. "Use your napkin. Don't eat it."
"Yes, ma'am," Grover said.
"Tyson, you're wasting away. Would you like another peanut-butter sandwich?"
Tyson stifled a belch. "Yes, nice lady."
"Queen Hera," Annabeth said. "I can't believe it. What are you doing in the Labyrinth?"
Hera smiled. She flicked one finger and Annabeth's hair combed itself. All the dirt and grime disappeared from her face.
"I came to see you, naturally," the goddess said.
Naomi tried not to grimace. Usually when gods came looking for you, it was because they wanted something.
"I didn't think—" Annabeth faltered. "Well, I didn't think you liked heroes."
Hera smiled indulgently. "Because of that little spat I had with Hercules? Honestly I get so much bad press because of one disagreement."
"Didn't you try to kill him, like, a lot of times?" Annabeth asked.
Hera waved her hand dismissively. "Water under the bridge, my dear. Besides, he was one of my loving husband's children by another woman. My patience wore thin, I'll admit it. But Zeus and I have had some excellent marriage counseling sessions since then. We've aired our feelings and come to an understanding—especially after that last little incident."
"You mean when he sired Thalia?" Percy guessed.
This time, Naomi couldn't hide her grimace.
Hera's eyes turned toward him frostily.
"Percy Jackson, isn't it? One of Poseidon's... children," Hera said. "As I recall, I voted to let you and your friend here live at the winter solstice. I hope I voted correctly."
She turned her uncomfortably cold eyes on Naomi. "I'm glad to see you've survived this long, Naomi," she said, her voice kind but her eyes still cold.
Naomi shifted nervously. "You say that like you're... surprised."
"Yes," Hera agreed. "Most of us are."
Before Naomi could ask what she meant by that, the queen of the gods returned her attention to Annabeth, her smile turning friendly once more. "At any rate, I certainly bear you no ill will, my girl. I appreciate the difficulty of your quest. Especially when you have troublemakers like Janus to deal with."
Annabeth lowered her gaze. "Why was he here? He was driving me crazy."
"He was trying to," Hera agreed. "You must understand, the minor gods like Janus have always been frustrated by the small parts they play in the universe. Some, I fear, have little love for Olympus, and could easily be swayed to support the rise of my father."
"Your father?" Percy asked. Then he seemed to realize what she meant. "Oh. Right."
"We must watch the minor gods," Hera said, and Naomi knew it wasn't her imagination when Hera's eyes settled on her for a moment longer than would seem natural. "Janus. Hecate. Morpheus. They give lip service to Olympus, and yet—"
"That's where Dionysus went," Percy realized. "He was checking on the minor gods."
"Indeed." Hera stared at the fading mosaics of the Olympians. "You see, in times of trouble, even gods can lose faith. They start putting their trust in the wrong things. They stop looking at the big picture and start being selfish. But I'm the goddess of marriage, you see. I'm used to perseverance. You have to rise above the squabbling and chaos, and keep believing. You have to always keep your goals in mind."
"What are your goals?" Annabeth asked.
Hera smiled. "To keep my family, the Olympians, together, of course. At the moment, the best way I can do that is by helping you. Zeus does not allow me to interfere much, I am afraid. But once every century or so, for a quest I care deeply about, he allows me to grant a wish."
"A wish?"
"Before you ask it, let me give you some advice, which I can do for free. I know you seek Daedalus. His Labyrinth is as much a mystery to me as it is to you. But if you want to know his fate, I would visit my son Hephaestus at his forge. Daedalus was a great inventor, a mortal after Hephaestus's heart. There has never been a mortal Hephaestus admired more. If anyone would have kept up with Daedalus and could tell you his fate, it is Hephaestus."
"But how do we get there?" Annabeth asked. "That's my wish. I want a way to navigate the Labyrinth."
Hera looked disappointed. "So be it. You wish for something, however, that you have already been given."
"I don't understand."
"The means is already within your grasp." She looked at Percy. "Percy knows the answer."
"I do?" Percy asked.
Hera shook her head. "Getting something and having the wits to use it... those are two different things. I'm sure your mother Athena would agree."
The room rumbled like distant thunder. Hera stood. "That would be my cue. Zeus grows impatient. Think on what I have said, Annabeth. Seek out Hephaestus. You will have to pass through the ranch, I imagine. But keep going. And use all the means at your disposal, however common they may seem."
She pointed toward the two doors and they melted away, revealing twin corridors, open and dark. "One last thing, Annabeth. I have postponed your day of choice, I have not prevented it. Soon, as Janus said, you will have to make a decision. Farewell!"
She waved a hand and turned into white smoke. So did the food, just as Tyson chomped down on a sandwich that turned to mist in his mouth. The fountain trickled to a stop. The mosaic walls dimmed and turned grungy and faded again.
Annabeth stamped her foot in frustration. "What sort of help was that? 'Here, have a sandwich. Make a wish. Oops, I can't help you!' Poof!"
"Poof," Tyson agreed sadly, looking at his empty plate.
"Well," Grover sighed, "she said Percy knows the answer. That's something."
They all looked at the boy in question.
"But I don't," Percy protested. "I don't know what she was talking about."
Annabeth sighed. "All right. Then we'll just keep going."
"Which way?" Naomi asked.
Grover and Tyson both tensed. They stood up together, like they'd rehearsed it. "Left," they both said.
Annabeth frowned. "How can you be sure?"
"Because something is coming from the right," Grover said.
"Something big," Tyson agreed. "In a hurry."
"Left is sounding pretty good," Percy decided.
Together, they plunged into the dark corridor.
❊