They made it a hundred feet before they were hopelessly lost.
The tunnel looked nothing like the one Annabeth and Noelle had stumbled into before. Now it was round like a sewer, constructed of red brick with iron-barred portholes every ten feet. Percy shined a light through one of the portholes out of curiosity, but he couldn't see anything. It opened into infinite darkness. He thought he heard voices on the other side, but it may have been just the cold wind.
Annabeth tried her best to guide them. She had this idea that they should stick to the left wall.
"If we keep one hand on the left wall and follow it," she said, "we should be able to find our way out again by reversing course."
Unfortunately, as soon as she said that, 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.
They each turned toward a different tunnel. It was ridiculous. None of them could decide which way led back to camp.
"Left walls are mean," Tyson said. "Which way now?"
Noelle swept her flashlight beam over the archways of the eight tunnels. As far as she could tell, they were identical.
"That way," Annabeth said, pointing to a tunnel.
"How do you know?" Percy asked.
"Deductive reasoning."
"So . . . you're guessing," Noelle said.
"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 hunching over. Tyson was forced to crawl.
Grover's hyperventilating was the loudest noise in the maze. "I can't stand it anymore," he whispered. "Are we there yet?"
"We've been down here maybe five minutes," Annabeth told him.
"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 Percy was sure the tunnel would get so narrow it would squish them, it opened into a huge room. He shined his light around the walls and said, "Whoa."
The whole room was covered in mosaic tiles. The pictures were grimy and faded, but they 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. The pictures were beautiful, but they weren't very accurate. They'd seen the gods. Dionysus was not that handsome, and Hermes's nose wasn't that big.
In the middle of the room was a three-tiered fountain. It looked like it hadn't held water in a long time.
Noelle couldn't deny, it was beautiful despite its dust and cobwebs. She wondered if everything in the ancient times was this beautiful. There were probably thousands of constellations then that no one even knew of now. The thought made her sad and she chose to instead go back to being afraid of what could possibly be lurking in the labyrinth.
"What is this place?" she muttered. "It looks—"
"Roman," Annabeth said. "Those mosaics are about two thousand years old."
"But how can they be Roman?" Percy wasn't that great on ancient history, but he was pretty sure the Roman Empire never made it as far as Long Island.
"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," Noelle said, eyes still wandering around the room.
A groaning noise echoed from the tunnel in front of 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. Even he looked nervous.
"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. But soon the maze was toying 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 tagger sign read MOZ RULZ.
"I'm thinking this is not Roman," Percy said helpfully.
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. (Noelle joked that they should take some alcohol for the road. No one found it funny).
Later the ceiling turned to wooden planks, and they 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 people, but then again, they couldn't get to them. They were stuck down here 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," Noelle said.
"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 Cretan seven 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.
This time, they weren't alone.
What Noelle noticed first were his faces. Both of them. They jutted out from either side of his head, staring over his shoulders, so his head was much wider than it should've been, kind of like a hammerhead shark's. Looking straight at him, all she saw were two overlapping ears and mirror-image sideburns.
He was dressed like a New York City doorman: a long black overcoat, shiny shoes, and a black top-hat that somehow managed to stay on his doublewide head.
"Well, Annabeth?" said his 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. And suddenly Noelle realized that's 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 the first time they came through the room. The two-faced doorman held a silver key, which he kept passing from his left hand to his right hand. Noelle wondered if this was a different room completely, but the frieze of the gods looked exactly the same.
Behind them, the doorway they'd come through had disappeared, reminding them how easily the maze could change and just how that could possibly lead them to death.
"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."
Noelle didn't know what they were talking about, but it sounded like it was about more than a choice between doors. By the way color drained out of Annabeth's face, it seemed like she knew exactly what they were talking about.
"No . . . I don't—"
"Ignore them, Annabeth," Noelle said.
"Who are you, anyway?" Percy asked.
"I'm your best friend," the right face said.
"I'm your worst enemy," the left face said.
"I'm Janus," both faces said in harmony. "God of Doorways. Beginnings. Endings. Choices."
"You'll all have your turns, some sooner than others," said the right face, his eyes lingering on Noelle a little too long. "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 your friends. But no pressure, Annabeth. Choose!"
With a sudden chill, Noelle remembered the words of the prophecy: the child of Athena's final stand.
"Don't do it," she 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 woman turned toward the group, and fear closed around Percy's heart. Her eyes shined with power. Leave these heroes to me. That didn't sound good. For a second, he almost wished they could've taken their chances with Janus. But then the woman 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."
Percy had seen Hera once before at a Council of the Gods, but he hadn't paid much attention to her. At the time he'd been surrounded by a bunch of other gods who were debating whether or not to kill him and his girlfriend.
He didn't remember her looking so normal. Of course, gods are usually twenty feet tall when they're on Olympus, so that makes them look a lot less normal. But now, Hera looked like a regular 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."
"Noelle, you're looking rather parched. Care for some more lemonade?"
Noelle gave the goddess a shy smile. "That'd be nice, thank you."
"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.
Grover and Percy exchanged nervous looks. Usually when gods come looking for you, it's not out of the goodness of their hearts. It's because they want something.
Still, that didn't keep him from chowing down on turkey-and-Swiss sandwiches and chips and lemonade. Percy hadn't realized how hungry he was. Tyson was inhaling one peanut butter sandwich after another, and Noelle was gulping down lemonade like it was the last she'd ever get, Grover was crunching his Styrofoam cup like an ice-cream cone.
"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 got 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, but immediately wished he hadn't. As soon as he said the name of their friend, the half-blood daughter of Zeus, Hera's eyes turned toward him frostily.
"Percy Jackson, isn't it? One of Poseidon's . . . children." He got the feeling she was thinking of another word besides children. "As I recall, I voted to let you and your girlfriend live at the winter solstice. I hope I voted correctly."
She turned back to Annabeth with a sunny smile. "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."
"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 said. "Oh. Right."
Percy had forgotten that Kronos was Hera's dad, too, along with being father to Zeus, Poseidon, and all the eldest Olympians. He guessed that made Kronos his grandfather, but that thought was so weird he put it out of his mind.
"We must watch the minor gods," Hera said. "Janus. Hecate. Morpheus. They give lip service to Olympus, and yet—"
"That's where Dionysus went," Noelle remembered. "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, petty 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.
She 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 a this 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 away 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 me. "Percy knows the answer."
"I do?"
"But that's not fair," Annabeth said. "You're not telling us what it is!"
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. The room was no longer any place you'd want to have a picnic.
Noelle frowned. "Does that mean we weren't ever actually eating anything?"
Annabeth ignored her friend's rhetorical question, getting up and angrily stomping her foot. "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 Percy.
"But I don't," he said. "I don't know what she was talking about."
Noelle put a hand on his arm and gave him a smile. "It's okay, Perce. We'll figure it out."
Annabeth sighed to herself, looking away from the display of affection. "All right. Then we'll just keep going."
"Which way?" Noelle asked. She really wanted to ask what Hera had meant—about the choice Annabeth needed to make. But then 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.