Rick Riordan
The Sea Monsters - 02
"So we're prisoners?" Annabeth asked.
"Guests. For now." Clarisse propped her feet up on the white linen tablecloth and opened
another Dr Pepper. "Captain, take them below. Assign them hammocks on the berth deck. If they
don't mind their manners, show them how we deal with enemy spies."
The dream came as soon as I fell asleep.
Grover was sitting at his loom, desperately unraveling his wedding train, when the boulder
door rolled aside and the Cyclops bellowed, "Aha!"
Grover yelped. "Dear! I didn't—you were so quiet!"
"Unraveling!" Polyphemus roared. "So that's the problem!"
"Oh, no. I—I wasn't—"
"Come!" Polyphemus grabbed Grover around the waist and half carried, half dragged him
through the tunnels of the cave. Grover struggled to keep his high heels on his hooves. His veil kept
tilting on his head, threatening to come off.
The Cyclops pulled him into a warehouse-size cavern decorated with sheep junk. There was
a wool-covered La-Z-Boy recliner and a wool-covered television set, crude bookshelves loaded with
sheep collectibles—coffee mugs shaped like sheep faces, plaster figurines of sheep, sheep board
games, and picture books and action figures. The floor was littered with piles of sheep bones, and
other bones that didn't look exactly like sheep—the bones of satyrs who'd come to the island looking
for Pan.
Polyphemus set Grover down only long enough to move another huge boulder. Daylight
streamed into the cave, and Grover whimpered with longing. Fresh air!
The Cyclops dragged him outside to a hilltop overlooking the most beautiful island I'd ever
seen.
It was shaped kind of like a saddle cut in half by an ax. There were lush green hills on either
side and a wide valley in the middle, split by a deep chasm that was spanned by a rope bridg e.
Beautiful streams rolled to the edge of the canyon and dropped off in rainbow-colored waterfalls.
Parrots fluttered in the trees. Pink and purple flowers bloomed on the bushes. Hundreds of sheep
grazed in the meadows, their wool glinting strangely like copper and silver coins.
And at the center of the island, right next to the rope bridge, was an enormous twisted oak
tree with something glittering in its lowest bough.
The Golden Fleece.
Even in a dream, I could feel its power radiating across the island, making the grass greener,
the flowers more beautiful. I could almost smell the nature magic at work. I could only imagine how
powerful the scent would be for a satyr.
Grover whimpered.
"Yes," Polyphemus said proudly. "See over there? Fleece is the prize of my collection! Stole
it from heroes long ago, and ever since—free food! Satyrs come from all over the world, like moths
to flame. Satyrs good eating! And now—"
Polyphemus scooped up a wicked set of bronze shears.
Grover yelped, but Polyphemus just picked up the nearest sheep like it was a stuffed animal
and shaved off its wool. He handed a fluffy mass of it to Grover.
"Put that on the spinning wheel!" he said proudly. "Magic. Cannot be unraveled."
"Oh ... well ..."
"Poor Honeypie!" Polyphemus grinned. "Bad weaver. Ha-ha! Not to worry. That thread will
solve problem. Finish wedding train by tomorrow!"
"Isn't that ... thoughtful of you!"
"Hehe."
"But—but, dear," Grover gulped, "what if someone were to rescue—I mean attack this
island?" Grover looked straight at me, and I knew he was asking for my benefit. "What would keep
them from marching right up here to your cave?"
"Wifey scared! So cute! Not to worry. Polyphemus has state-of-the-art security system. Have
to get through my pets."
"Pets?"
Grover looked across the island, but there was nothing to see except sheep grazing
54