Rick Riordan
Percy Jackson and the Olympians
13
13
I watched Thalia pacing in the snow at the edge of camp, walking among the wolves without
fear. She stopped and looked back at Westover Hall, which was now completely dark, looming on
the hillside beyond the woods. I wondered what she was thinking.
Seven years ago, Thalia had been turned into a pine tree by her father, to prevent her from
dying. She'd stood her ground against an army of monsters on top of Half-Blood Hill in order to give
her friends Luke and Annabeth time to escape. She'd only been back as a human for a few months
now, and once in a while she would stand so motionless you'd think she was still a tree.
Finally, one of the Hunters brought me my backpack. Grover and Nico came back from their
walk, and Grover helped me fix up my wounded arm.
"It's green!" Nico said with delight.
"Hold still," Grover told me. "Here, eat some ambrosia while I clean that out."
I winced as he dressed the wound, but the ambrosia square helped. It tasted like homemade
brownie, dissolving in my mouth and sending a warm feeling through my whole body. Between that
and the magic salve Grover used, my shoulder felt better within a couple of minutes.
Nico rummaged through his own bag, which the Hunters had apparently packed for him,
though how they'd snuck into Westover Hall unseen, I didn't know. Nico laid out a bunch of figurines
in the snow—little battle replicas of Greek gods and heroes. I recognized Zeus with a lightning bolt,
Ares with a spear, Apollo with his sun chariot.
"Big collection," I said.
Nico grinned. "I've got almost all of them, plus their holographic cards! Well, except for a few
really rare ones."
"You've been playing this game a long time?"
"Just this year. Before that…" He knit his eyebrows.
"What?" I asked.
"I forget. That's weird."
He looked unsettled, but it didn't last long. "Hey, can I see that sword you were using?"
I showed him Riptide, and explained how it turned from a pen into a sword just by uncapping
it.
"Cool! Does it ever run out of ink?"
"Um, well, I don't actually write with it."
"Are you really the son of Poseidon?"
"Well, yeah."
"Can you surf really well, then?"
I looked at Grover, who was trying hard not to laugh.
"Jeez, Nico," I said. "I've never really tried."
He went on asking questions. Did I fight a lot with Thalia, since she was a daughter of Zeus?
(I didn't answer that one.) If Annabeth's mother was Athena, the goddess of wisdom, then why didn't
Annabeth know better than to fall off a cliff? (I tried not to strangle Nico for asking that one.) Was
Annabeth my girlfriend? (At this point, I was ready to stick the kid in a meat-flavored sack and throw
him to the wolves.)
I figured any second he was going to ask me how many hit points I had, and I'd lose my cool
completely, but then Zoe Nightshade came up to us.
"Percy Jackson."
She had dark brown eyes and a slightly upturned nose. With her silver circlet and her proud
expression, she looked so much like royalty that I had to resist the urge to sit up straight and say
"Yes, ma'am." She studied me distastefully, like I was a bag of dirty laundry she'd been sent to
fetch.
"Come with me," she said. "Lady Artemis wishes to speak with thee."
Zoe led me to the last tent, which looked no different from the others, and waved me inside.
Bianca di Angelo was seated next to the auburn-haired girl, who I still had trouble thinking of as
Artemis.
The inside of the tent was warm and comfortable. Silk rugs and pillows covered the floor. In
the center, a golden brazier of fire seemed to burn without fuel or smoke. Behind the goddess, on a
polished oak display stand, was her huge silver bow, carved to resemble gazelle horns. The walls