* * *

 

I’d been to the Big House attic three times before, which was three times more

than I wanted to.

 

A ladder led up from the top of the staircase. I wondered how Chiron was going

to get up there, being half horse and all, but he didn't try.

 

"You know where it is," he told Annabeth. "Bring it down, please."

 

Annabeth nodded. "Come on, Percy."

 

The sun was setting outside, so the attic was even darker and creepier than

usual. Old hero trophies were slacked everywhere — dented shields, pickled heads

in jars from various monsters, a pair of fuzzy dice on a bronze plaque that

read: STOLEN FROM CHRYSAOR'S HONDA CIVIC, BY GUS, SON OF

 

HERMES, 1988.

 

I picked up a curved bronze sword so badly bent it looked like the letter M. I

could still see green stains on the metal from the magical poison that used to

cover it. The tag was dated last summer. It read:

 

Scimitar of Kampe, destroyed in the Battle of the Labyrinth.