by Rick Riordan
My stomach dropped out and took the nearest exit back towards Palm Springs. ‘Ah,’ I said.
‘Ah?’ Meg asked. ‘Ah, what?’
‘Ah, that makes sense,’ I said. ‘In ancient times, Caligula was notorious for his pleasure barges – huge floating palaces with bathhouses, theatres, rotating statues, racetracks, thousands of slaves …’
I remembered how disgusted Poseidon had been, watching Caligula tootle around the Bay of Baiae, though I think Poseidon was just jealous his palace didn’t have rotating statues.
‘Anyway,’ I said, ‘that explains why you’ve had trouble locating him. He can move from harbour to harbour at will.’
‘Yeah,’ Jason agreed. ‘When I scouted, he wasn’t there. I guess the Sibyl meant I’d find him at Stearns Wharf when I was supposed to find him. Which, I guess, is today.’ He shifted in his seat, leaning as far away as possible from Piper. ‘Speaking of the Sibyl … there’s another detail I didn’t share with you about the prophecy.’
He told Piper the truth about the three-letter word that began with D and was not dog.
She took the news surprisingly well. She did not hit him. She didn’t raise her voice. She merely listened, then remained silent for another mile or so.
At last, she shook her head. ‘That’s quite a detail.’
‘I should’ve told you,’ Jason said.
‘Um, yeah.’ She twisted the steering wheel exactly the way one would break the neck of a chicken. ‘Still … if I’m being honest? In your position, I might’ve done the same thing. I wouldn’t want you to die either.’
Jason blinked. ‘Does that mean you’re not mad?’
‘I’m furious.’
‘Oh.’
‘Furious, but also empathetic.’
‘Right.’
It struck me how easily they talked together, even about difficult things, and how well they seemed to understand each other. I remembered Piper saying how frantic she’d been when she got separated from Jason in the Burning Maze – how she couldn’t bear to lose another friend.
I wondered again what was behind their break-up.
People change, Piper had said.
Full points for vagueness, girl, but I wanted the dirt.
‘So,’ she said. ‘Any other surprises? Any more tiny details you forgot?’
Jason shook his head. ‘I think that’s it.’
‘Okay,’ Piper said. ‘Then we go to the wharf. We find this boat. We find Caligula’s magic booties, and we kill him if we get the chance. But we don’t let each other die.’
‘Or let me die,’ Meg added. ‘Or even Apollo.’
‘Thank you, Meg,’ I said. ‘My heart is as warm as a partially thawed burrito.’
‘No problem.’ She picked her nose, just in case she died and never got another chance. ‘How do we know which is the right boat?’
‘I have a feeling we’ll know,’ I said. ‘Caligula was never subtle.’
‘Assuming the boat is there this time,’ Jason said.
‘It’d better be,’ said Piper. ‘Otherwise I stole this van and got you out of your afternoon physics lecture for nothing.’
‘Darn,’ Jason said.
They shared a guarded smile, a sort of Yes, things are still weird between us, but I don’t intend on letting you die today look.
I hoped our expedition would go as smoothly as Piper had described. I suspected our odds were better of winning the Mount Olympus Mega-God Lottery. (The most I ever got was five drachmas on a scratch card once.)
We drove in silence along the seaside highway.
To our left, the Pacific glittered. Surfers plied the waves. Palm trees bent in the breeze. To our left, the hills were dry and brown, littered with the red flowers of heat-distressed azaleas. Try as I might, I could not help thinking of those crimson swathes as the spilled blood of dryads, fallen in battle. I remembered our cactus friends back at the Cistern, bravely and stubbornly clinging to life. I remembered Money Maker, broken and burned in the maze under Los Angeles. For their sake, I had to stop Caligula. Otherwise … No. There could be no otherwise.
Finally, we reached Santa Barbara, and I saw why Caligula might like the place.
If I squinted, I could imagine I was back in the Roman resort town of Baiae. The curve of the coastline was almost the same – as well as the golden beaches, the hills dotted with upscale stucco and red-tiled homes, the pleasure craft moored in the harbour. The locals even had the same sunbaked, pleasantly dazed expressions, as if they were biding their time between morning surf sessions and afternoon golf.
The biggest difference: Mount Vesuvius did not rise in the distance. But I had a feeling another presence loomed over this lovely little town – just as dangerous and volcanic.
‘He’ll be here,’ I said, as we parked the van on Cabrillo Boulevard.
Piper arched her eyebrows. ‘Are you sensing a disturbance in the Force?’
‘Please,’ I muttered. ‘I’m sensing my usual bad luck. In a place this harmless-looking, there’s no way we will not find trouble.’
We spent the afternoon canvassing the Santa Barbara waterfront, from the East Beach to the breakwater jetties. We disrupted a flock of pelicans in the saltwater marsh. We woke some napping sea lions on the fishing dock. We jostled through roving hordes of tourists on Stearns Wharf. In the harbour, we found a virtual forest of single-mast boats, along with some luxury yachts, but none seemed large or gaudy enough for a Roman emperor.
Jason even flew over the water for aerial reconnaissance. When he came back, he reported no suspicious vessels on the horizon.
‘Were you on your horse, Tempest, just then?’ Meg asked. ‘I couldn’t tell.’
Jason smiled. ‘Nah, I don’t call Tempest unless it’s an emergency. I was just flying around on my own, manipulating the wind.’
Meg pouted, considering the pockets of her gardening belt. ‘I can summon yams.’
At last we gave up searching and grabbed a table at a beachside café. The grilled fish tacos were worthy of an ode by the Muse Euterpe herself.
‘I don’t mind giving up,’ I admitted, spooning some spicy seviche into my mouth, ‘if it comes with dinner.’
‘This is just a break,’ Meg warned. ‘Don’t get comfortable.’
I wished she hadn’t phrased that as an order. It made it difficult for me to sit still for the rest of my meal.
We sat at the café, enjoying the breeze, the food and the iced tea until the sun dipped to the horizon, turning the sky Camp Half-Blood orange. I allowed myself to hope that I’d been mistaken about Caligula’s presence. We’d come here in vain. Hooray! I was about to suggest heading back to the van, perhaps finding a hotel so I wouldn’t have to crash in a sleeping bag at the bottom of a desert well again, when Jason rose from our picnic-table bench.
‘There.’ He pointed out to sea.
The ship seemed to materialize from the sun’s glare, the way my sun chariot used to whenever I pulled into the Stables of Sunset at the end of a long day’s ride. The yacht was a gleaming white monstrosity with five decks above the waterline, its tinted black windows like elongated insect eyes. As with all big ships, it was difficult to judge its size from a distance, but the fact that it had two onboard helicopters, one aft and one forward, plus a small submarine locked in a crane on the starboard side, told me this was not an average pleasure craft. Perhaps there were bigger yachts in the mortal world, but I guessed not many.
‘That has to be it,’ Piper said. ‘What now? You think it will dock?’
‘Hold on,’ Meg said. ‘Look.’
Another yacht, identical to the first, resolved out of the sunlight about a mile to the south.
‘That must be a mirage, right?’ Jason asked uneasily. ‘Or a decoy?’
Meg grunted in dismay, pointing out to sea yet again.
A third yacht shimmered into existence, halfway between the first two.
‘This is crazy,’ Piper said. ‘Each one of those boats has to cost millions.’
‘Half a billion,’ I corrected. ‘Or more. Caligula was never shy about spending money. He is part of the Triumvirate. They’ve been accumulating wealth for centuries.’
Another yacht popped onto the horizon as if coming out of sunshine warp, then another. Soon there were dozens – a loose armada strung across the mouth of the harbour like a string being fitted on a bow.
‘No way.’ Piper rubbed her eyes. ‘This has to be an illusion.’
‘It’s not.’ My heart sank. I’d seen this sort of display before.
As we watched, the line of super-yachts manoeuvred closer together, anchoring themselves stern to bow, forming a glittering, floating blockade from Sycamore Creek all the way to the marina – a mile long at least.
‘The Bridge of Boats,’ I said. ‘He’s done it again.’
‘Again?’ Meg asked.
‘Caligula – back in ancient times.’ I tried to control the quavering in my voice. ‘When he was a boy, he received a prophecy. A Roman astrologer told him he had as much chance of becoming emperor as he did of riding a horse across the Bay of Baiae. In other words, it was impossible. But Caligula did become emperor. So he ordered the construction of a fleet of super-yachts –’ I gestured feebly at the armada in front of us – ‘like this. He lined the boats up across the Bay of Baiae, forming a massive bridge. Then he rode across it on his horse. It was the biggest floating construction project ever attempted. Caligula couldn’t even swim. That didn’t faze him. He was determined to thumb his nose at fate.’
Piper steepled her hands over her mouth. ‘The mortals have to see this, right? He can’t just cut off all boat traffic in and out of the harbour.’
‘Oh, the mortals notice,’ I said. ‘Look.’
Smaller boats began to gather around the yachts, like flies drawn to a sumptuous feast. I spotted two Coast Guard vessels, several local police boats and dozens of inflatable dinghies with outboard motors, manned by dark-clad men with guns – the emperor’s private security, I guessed.
‘They’re helping,’ Meg murmured, a hard edge to her voice. ‘Even Nero never … He paid off the police, had lots of mercenaries, but he never showed off this much.’
Jason gripped the hilt of his gladius. ‘Where do we even start? How do we find Caligula in all of that?’
I didn’t want to find Caligula at all. I wanted to run. The idea of death, permanent death with five whole letters and a d at the beginning, suddenly seemed very close. But I could feel my friends’ confidence wavering. They needed a plan, not a screaming, panicking Lester.
I pointed towards the centre of the floating bridge. ‘We start in the middle – the weakest point of a chain.’
25
All in the same boat
Wait. Two of us disappeared.
Half in the same boat
Jason Grace ruined that perfectly good line.
As we marched towards the surf, he sidled up next to me and murmured, ‘It’s not true, you know. The middle of a chain has the same tensile strength as everywhere else, assuming force is applied equally along the links.’
I sighed. ‘Are you making up for missing your physics lecture? You know what I meant!’
‘I actually don’t,’ he said. ‘Why attack in the middle?’
‘Because … I don’t know!’ I said. ‘They won’t be expecting it?’
Meg stopped at the water’s edge. ‘Looks like they’re expecting anything.’
She was right. As the sunset faded to purple, the yachts lit up like giant Fabergé eggs. Spotlights swept the sky and sea as if advertising the biggest waterbed-mattress sale in history. Dozens of small patrol boats crisscrossed the harbour, just in case any Santa Barbara locals (Santa Barbarians?) had the nerve to try using their own coast.
I wondered if Caligula always had this much security, or if he was expecting us. By now he certainly knew we’d blown up Macro’s Military Madness. He’d also probably heard about our fight with Medea in the maze, assuming the sorceress had survived.
Caligula also had the Sibyl of Erythraea, which meant he had access to the same information Herophile had given Jason. The Sibyl might not want to help an evil emperor who kept her in molten shackles, but she couldn’t refuse any earnest petitioner posing direct questions. Such was the nature of oracular magic. I imagined the best she could do was give her answers in the form of really difficult crossword-puzzle clues.
Jason studied the sweep of the searchlights. ‘I could fly you guys over, one at a time. Maybe they won’t see us.’
‘I think we should avoid flying, if possible,’ I said. ‘And we should find a way over there before it gets much darker.’
Piper pushed her windblown hair from her face. ‘Why? Darkness gives us better cover.’
‘Strixes,’ I said. ‘They become active about an hour after sundown.’
‘Strixes?’ Piper asked.
I recounted our experience with the birds of doom in the Labyrinth. Meg offered helpful editorial comments like yuck, uh-huh and Apollo’s fault.
Piper shuddered. ‘In Cherokee stories, owls are bad news. They tend to be evil spirits or spying medicine men. If these strixes are like giant bloodsucking owls … yeah, let’s not meet them.’
‘Agreed,’ Jason said. ‘But how do we get to the ships?’
Piper stepped into the waves. ‘Maybe we ask for a lift.’
She raised her arms and waved at the nearest dinghy, about fifty yards out, as it swept its light across the beach.
‘Uh, Piper?’ Jason asked.
Meg summoned her swords. ‘It’s fine. When they get close, I’ll take them out.’
I stared at my young master. ‘Meg, those are mortals. First of all, your swords will not work on them. Second, they don’t understand whom they’re working for. We can’t –’
‘They’re working for the B– the bad man,’ she said. ‘Caligula.’
I noticed her slip of the tongue. I had a feeling she’d been about to say: working for the Beast.
She put away her blades, but her voice remained cold and determined. I had a sudden horrible image of McCaffrey the Avenger assaulting the boat with nothing but her fists and packets of gardening seeds.
Jason looked at me as if to ask, Do you need to tie her down, or should I?
The dinghy veered towards us. Aboard sat three men in dark fatigues, Kevlar vests, and riot helmets. One in the back operated the outboard motor. One in the front manned the searchlight. The one in the middle, no doubt the friendliest, had an assault rifle propped on his knee.
Piper waved and smiled at them. ‘Meg, don’t attack. I’ve got this. All of you, give me some space to work, please. I can charm these guys better if you’re not glowering behind me.’
This was not a difficult request. The three of us backed away, though Jason and I had to drag Meg.
‘Hello!’ Piper called as the boat came closer. ‘Don’t shoot! We’re friendly!’
The boat ran aground with such speed I thought it might keep driving right onto Cabrillo Boulevard. Mr Searchlight jumped out first, surprisingly agile for a guy in body armour. Mr Assault Rifle followed, providing cover while Mr Engine cut the outboard motor.
Searchlight sized us up, his hand on his sidearm. ‘Who are you?’
‘I’m Piper!’ said Piper. ‘You don’t need to call this in. And you definitely don’t need to train that rifle on us!’
Searchlight’s face contorted. He started to match Piper’s smile, then seemed to remember that his job required him to glower. Assault Rifle did not lower his gun. Engine reached for his walkie-talkie.
‘IDs,’ barked Searchlight. ‘All of you.’
Next to me, Meg tensed, ready to become McCaffrey the Avenger. Jason tried to look inconspicuous, but his shirt crackled with static electricity.
‘Sure!’ Piper agreed. ‘Although I have a much better idea. I’m just going to reach in my pocket, okay? Don’t get excited.’
She pulled out a wad of cash – maybe a hundred dollars total
. For all I knew, it represented the last of the McLean fortune.
‘My friends and I were talking,’ Piper continued, ‘about how hard you guys work, how difficult it must be patrolling the harbour! We were sitting over there at that café, eating these incredible fish tacos, and we thought, Hey, those guys deserve a break. We should buy them dinner!’
Searchlight’s eyes seemed to become unmoored from his brain. ‘Dinner break …?’
‘Absolutely!’ Piper said. ‘You can put down that heavy gun, toss that walkie-talkie away. Heck, you can just leave everything with us. We’ll watch it while you eat. Grilled snapper, homemade corn tortillas, seviche salsa.’ She glanced back at us. ‘Amazing food, right, guys?’
We mumbled our assent.
‘Yum,’ Meg said. She excelled at one-syllable answers.
Assault Rifle lowered his gun. ‘I could use some fish tacos.’
‘We’ve been working hard,’ Engine agreed. ‘We deserve a dinner break.’
‘Exactly!’ Piper pressed the money into Searchlight’s hand. ‘Our treat. Thank you for your service!’
Searchlight stared at the wad of cash. ‘But we’re really not supposed to –’
‘Eat with all that gear on?’ Piper suggested. ‘You’re absolutely right. Just throw it all in the boat – the Kevlar, the guns, your phones. That’s right. Get comfortable!’
It took several more minutes of cajoling and light-hearted banter, but finally the three mercenaries had stripped down to just their commando pyjamas. They thanked Piper, gave her a hug for good measure, then jogged off to assault the beachside café.
As soon as they were gone, Piper stumbled into Jason’s arms.
‘Whoa, you okay?’ he asked.
‘F-fine.’ She pushed away awkwardly. ‘Just harder charming a whole group. I’ll be okay.’
‘That was impressive,’ I said. ‘Aphrodite herself could not have done better.’
Piper didn’t look pleased by my comparison. ‘We should hurry. The charm won’t last.’
Meg grunted. ‘Still would’ve been easier to kill –’
‘Meg,’ I chided.
‘– to beat them unconscious,’ she amended.