Rick Riordan
The Battle of the Labyrinth - 04
are you?”
She smiled coyly. “Why would you think that?”
“Well, I met Circe once, and she had a pretty nice island, too. Except she liked to turn men
into guinea pigs.”
Calypso gave me that laugh again. “I promise I will not turn you into a guinea pig.”
“Or anything else?”
“I am no evil sorceress,” Calypso said. “And I am not your enemy, brave one. Now rest. Your
eyes are already closing.”
She was right. My knees buckled, and I would’ve landed face-first in the gravel if Calypso
hadn’t caught me. Her hair smelled like cinnamon. She was very strong, or maybe I was just really
weak and thin. She walked me back to a cushioned bench by the fountain and helped me lie down.
“Rest,” she ordered. And I fell asleep to the sound of the fountains and the smell of cinnamon
and juniper.
***
The next time I woke it was night, but I wasn’t sure if it was the same night or many nights
later. I was in the bed in the cave, but I rose and wrapped a robe around myself and padded
outside. The stars were brilliant—thousands of them, like you only see way out in the country. I
could make out all the constellations Annabeth had taught me: Capricorn, Pegasus, Sagittarius. And
there, near the southern horizon, was a new constellation: the Huntress, a tribute to a friend of ours
who had died last winter.
“Percy, what do you see?”
I brought my eyes back to earth. However amazing the stars were, Calypso was twice as
brilliant. I mean, I’ve seen the goddess of love herself, Aphrodite, and I would never say this out
loud or she’d blast me to ashes, but for my money, Calypso was a lot more beautiful, because she
just seemed so natural, like she wasn’t trying to be beautiful and didn’t even care about that. She
just was. With her braided hair and white dress, she seemed to glow in the moonlight. She was
holding a tiny plant in her hands. Its flowers were silver and delicate.
“I was just looking at…” I found myself staring at her face. “Uh…I forgot.”
She laughed gently. “Well, as long as you’re up, you can help me plant these.”
She handed me a plant, which had a clump of dirt and roots at the base. The flowers glowed
as I held them. Calypso picked up her gardening spade and directed me to the edge of the garden,
where she began to dig.
“That’s moonlace,” Calypso explained. “It can only be planted at night.”
I watched the silvery light flicker around the petals. “What does it do?”
“Do?” Calypso mused. “It doesn’t really do anything, I suppose. It lives, it gives light, it
provides beauty. Does it have to do anything else?”
“I suppose not,” I said.
She took the plant, and our hands met. Her fingers were warm. She planted the moonlace
and stepped back, surveying her work. “I love my garden.”
“It’s awesome,” I agreed. I mean, I wasn’t exactly a gardening type, but Calypso had arbors
covered with six different colors of roses, lattices filled with honeysuckle, rows of grapevines
bursting with red and purple grapes that would’ve made Dionysus sit up and beg.
“Back home,” I said, “my mom always wanted a garden.”
“Why did she not plant one?”
“Well, we live in Manhattan. In an apartment.”
“Manhattan? Apartment?”
I stared at her. “You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”
“I fear not. I haven’t left Ogygia in…a long time.”
“Well, Manhattan’s a big city, with not much gardening space.”
Calypso frowned. “That is sad. Hermes visits from time to time. He tells me the world outside
has changed greatly. I did not realize it had changed so much you cannot have gardens.”
“Why haven’t you left your island?”
She looked down. “It is my punishment.”
“Why? What did you do?”
“I? Nothing. But I’m afraid my father did a great deal. His name is Atlas.”
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