Eleven

A Not-So-Fun Dinner Talk

"How many sisters did Medusa have?"

The question came paired with a wicked slash. I punched the blade away, and the pinging of metal on metal filled the air. "Two. Come on, I'm not that bad of a student."

"Hm." This time the sword came from the right, high and arcing down for my neck. "In his travels, who was the woman that kept Odysseus secluded on her island for seven full years?"

"Callypso," I grunted, muscles straining as I repelled his sword. Hoping to catch him off balance, I lunged in myself.

His blade was there immediately, knocking mine away at exactly the right angle for it to pass harmlessly by him. Not willing to call it quits I went with the momentum, spinning a hundred and eighty degrees to slash at his other side.

"Who is the goddess of Strife?"

"Huh?" At the key moment I hesitated. Before I could blink a sword was at my throat.

"Eris, Percy. Come now, we went over her just a month ago."

I sighed. I'd realized early on in the six years that I'd spent with him that Daedalus's sense of time had become warped over the thousands of years he'd been alive. Years had become like months to him, months like days, and days like minutes.

"Well," I said, "maybe if you didn't insist on quizzing me while we spar…"

Daedalus tossed his sword to the side and let it clatter haphazardly onto the ground- the closest he ever got to outright putting things away. My mom would've had a heart attack if she could've seen how messily he kept his space.

"If I didn't quiz you now, I'd never manage to pin you down for it. Are you saying you would prefer to sit and take a written test?"

"Well when you put it that way, bring on the violence."

I helped him get his leather chest piece off, then he helped with mine. As always, the sudden range of movement felt like heaven on my shoulders. I rolled them until they clicked.

"So," I said, "what else is on the menu for today? More lectures? Reflex training?"

"For me, tinkering." Daedalus had already made it back to his favorite table, the one where he kept his really special projects. "And for you?"

He pointed to the corner without looking up, toward a recently constructed three-layer fountain. Water was spewing from the mouths of four little cupid statues on it, down into a wide basin. Salt water, if you were to check.

"Can't it be something else?" I groaned.

"Would you prefer a reading assignment?"

I only had to think about it for a second. "Yes."

That was enough to drag Daedalus's eyes off of his inventions. Even his fingers stopped fiddling, the surest way to tell when he was really shocked. "It's gotten that bad?"

I shrugged. "I'm sure there're people out there that would love watching a fountain for a few months straight. It really isn't my thing, though."

"But for you to get no reaction, none at all… It doesn't make any sense."

"I'm trying," I said, reluctantly approaching my burbling nemesis once more. "But it's just- watch."

I threw my hands out, searching for the feeling of my stomach falling out that always came when I controlled water. For a second, this brief flash, I thought I felt it. Then it was gone, and the water was still trickling from those fat stone baby lips just as it had been before.

"See?"

"That doesn't make any sense," Daedalus repeated. He had his thinking face on, the one he wore whenever he was searching for a kink that was causing one of his designs to fail. I thought it made him look constipated, but I hadn't found the right time to tell him that yet.

"There's simply no reason for you to have regressed, not with five more years under your belt."

I held up my hands. "Yeah, well…"

Any further discussion was cut off by something on Daedalus's desk shrieking to life with a noise like an alarm clock inspired by dying birds. He spun, spitting curses in ancient Greek, and snapped up what looked like a bright red typewriter, beginning to mash its buttons.

"What is that?" I asked loudly, trying to be heard over the wailing. He didn't answer, mashing another ten buttons until the contraption shut up.

"Nothing to worry about," he finally said, once he was convinced the noise was done. He was staring at something else now, some sort of sheet the contraption had spit out. Whatever it said was making his forehead crease.

I came up behind him. "Did something happen?"

Frustratingly, he shifted the sheet to the other side, keeping me from getting a look at it.

"Just an update." He crumpled it into a ball and shoved it into his pocket.

"Come on," I complained. "Let me see it."

He covered his mouth with a hand. "You, asking me to let you read something? Are you feeling quite alright?"

"Yes," I deadpanned. "I've completely lost it. Call the doctor."

Daedalus pushed me away with a hand on my shoulder. "Something tells me what he would prescribe, is a shower."

"Are you saying that I stink?" I asked.

"Well, now that you've put it that way yourself…"

I rolled my eyes and tromped away. At the doorway I called, "You're just lucky you don't sweat any more, metal man. No need to rub it in."

It didn't even look like he heard me, already drawn back into that strange device and whatever it was churning out for his eyes only.

I knew something was up from the moment Daedalus brought a book to the dinner table.

Even his showing up there was unusual. His automaton body could go a lot longer without food than ordinary fleshy ones, and when a project caught his attention it might be weeks between him settling in for meals.

But tonight he was there, pushing aside an empty plate to make room for a book that looked almost as heavy as me. The leather-bound cover looked old and worn, and when he creaked it open and flicked through the pages dust rose into the air.

"What's that?" I asked, coughing on the grime.

"A book."

"You know, somehow I'd already gotten that."

Daedalus scanned a page, folded its corner, then returned to leafing through. "It is an Encyclopedia, Percy."

I nodded, putting on my best 'I know what that word means' face. "So it's like a tornado, right?"

"That would be a cyclone."

He paused his search just long enough to stare me in the eye, disappointed. I shrugged. If they really wanted people to know what the word meant they shouldn't have made it so long.

"So what's it about?"

"Myths and creatures," Daedalus said. "It's one of many such books I've made over the years. Of course most have been replaced by my laptop, but this is one of a few that remains unuploaded; it really is a dreadful pain to copy every bit out in digital form.

I took a big bite of reheated spaghetti. "Why'd you bust it out now? There must be something specific you're after."

"Don't talk with your mouth open, it's bad manners," he said. "But yes, there is one entry in particular that I'm- Aha! Here it is." He spun the book around to face me, pointing to tae bold title at the top of the page.

"Androktasiai," I sounded out, thankful the book had the decency to be written in Ancient Greek. If I'd had to read a word that long in English, I'd have been there all night.

"Indeed." Daedalus traced his finger down the page, pointing out parts as he spoke. "Daughters of the goddess Eris – see why she's important to know, Percy? – and spirits of Manslaughter. Immortal unless killed in battle, and obsessed from conception to demise with acts of violence."

I slurped down a pasta strand. "They sound cheerful."

"As a testament to their prowess, they are one of the beings to be represented on Hercules' shield. Originally there were many of them, but between their violent nature and their inability to reproduce they have slowly dwindled out of recent history." Daedalus slammed the book closed and looked up. "But they can still be found, if one knows where to look."

I studied his face, taking in the eager look of anticipation. He had an idea.

I didn't like when he had ideas. They usually went boom. Generally near me.

"What are you planning, old man?"

"What makes you think I've planned something?"

I groaned and thumped my forehead against the table, careful to miss my plate. "Planned. So it's already done. Yay."

"Your confidence in me speaks volumes."

"Well," I said, sullenly pulling my head back up, "your plans do tend to do bad things to me."

He leaned his chair back, letting the front two legs come up off the ground. "Please, when was the last time-"

"The blender."

He frowned. "Well, other than that-"

"The piñata, the deck of cards, the tweezers," I listed off. "Oh, and we can't forget the fridge magnets." I shivered. "Why would you need weaponized decorations on your fridge in the first place?"

"You never know when monsters might attack," Daedalus said. "And the magnets only exploded because I meant them to, just like half of that list."

"I know," I said. "That's what scares me."

He crossed his arms with a dramatized sigh. "So mean," he said. "And here I thought you wanted to learn the spear."

I froze. "Hold on. Spear?"

"Oh yes, didn't I mention that?" He smirked. "I suppose you didn't give me the chance to get that far."

I waved for him to go on, mouth shut tight. After years working with only my sword, I'd been waiting impatiently for the chance to bring out Anthea again. My only brief lessons with it had come from Thalia, and leaving it untouched seemed wrong, like I was wasting the start she'd given me.

"I won't be of any help to you," Daedalus said. "Not with that weapon. My experience begins and ends with the sword. But that does not mean that I can't find a proper teacher."

I remembered the start of our conversation. "You mean the andrik- No, the adioni-"

"Androktasiai," he corrected, "but yes. Few beings can match them for experience with the weapon, and they have been known to take students in the past. Provided the prospective pupils impress them, of course."

"Meaning?" I asked.

"Meaning show you are worth teaching and they will teach you. It is not the easiest of tasks, but I believe you can manage it."

I pushed away my now-cold pasta and stood up. "So we track down one of these things, toss me at it, and I'll do the rest?"

"That would be the gist of it, yes."

"Awesome." I grinned. "When do I leave?"

"The day after tomorrow, if you'd have it. One day to clear your head and prepare." When he saw me nod he began to shift, eyes going to the floor.

"You know," he started, "there is one other thing to address. Do you wish to do this?"

I opened my mouth to say of course, but he held up a hand to stop me.

"Think it over a moment, before you decide. I know the spear is important to you, that it reminds you of your friend. But, jokes aside, those that follow my plans have a history of meeting ugly fates."

"Come on," I said, not used to the look plastered across the old inventor's face, "you're still here, aren't you? It seems like they're working out just fine."

He met my eyes. "I am trapped in my own creation, hiding away from death for all of time to avoid the torture that would await me after it. And that is more than can be said for others. All I ask is that you do not trust my judgments automatically. For both of our sakes."

He looked so sad that, for a moment, he looked his full age. It wasn't like he grew wrinkles or anything, just something in his eyes. "I suppose," he said, "that I should not put it off any longer."

"Put off what any longer?"

"Yes," he said, ignoring my question entirely. "Yes, I suppose it is time."

He stood, tucked his hands behind his back, and slowly approached his favorite area of the workshop, the glass wall. Not sure what else to do, I followed. Outside the window was the most common view- massive spires of rocks, a sprawling city in the space behind them, and looming mountains past that. The Garden of the Gods, Colorado.

"Sometimes," Daedalus said, "I believe the Labyrinth is mocking me. That that's why it is only high places that I look out upon. Places with great drops…" He shook his head. "Where to even pick it up."

I gave him time. Eventually, after a moment, he asked:

"The Labyrinth. What do you remember of its conception?"

"Hmm," I thought for a second. "You built it for a king, right? He wanted somewhere for the minotaur to be kept and that was the best way to do it, a maze that he wouldn't be able to find his way out of."

"Correct," Daedalus said, "if a bit sparse. The king was named Minos, the ruler of the island kingdom of Crete, and the Minotaur itself was-"

"His wife's kid, right?" I said. "With a bull."

Daedalus smiled, though it was thinner than usual. "So you remember that."

"Believe me," I said, pulling a face, "that's not easy to forget."

"No, I suppose it wouldn't be." He laid his fingers on the glass, pressing down the tips. "The Labyrinth fulfilled its function, holding the minotaur in. And when Minos looked for revenge against Athens following the death of his son, the Labyrinth did that, as well."

"Every seven years fourteen young Athenians were taken- the fairest young women and the bravest young men. This continued until the third time when the heir to Athens, Theseus, volunteered himself."

He stopped, prompting me to take over.

"Theseus killed the Minotaur, right?" It was one myths I knew the best. "He stabbed it with its own horn, and found his way out with the string Ariadne gave him."

"And who gave her the idea for the string?"

"You, right?"

"Indeed. Me." Slowly, Daedalus's fingers slid down the glass and clenched into a fist. "When Minos discovered my actions shortly after the hero's departure, he did not take it kindly. Apollo warned me once, back when I was first constructing the Labyrinth, not to allow it a malevolent conscience. It was not until I was cast into my own creation that I wished I'd taken his advice."

I kept quiet, waiting. The labyrinth, Theseus and Ariadne… It wasn't that it was boring, but I'd heard it all before. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was different this time. Something was coming. I just wished he'd get to the point.

"I know, I know. You've heard all of this before."

I blushed. Caught.

"But what you haven't heard," he carried on, "is that my prison was not mine alone."

"But I thought Ariadne escaped with Theseus?"

"She did, at least from away from Crete. It was not her that was consigned with me, but my assistant and student. My son, Icarus."

I wasn't sure why the idea surprised me so much. Maybe it was trying to picture Daedalus as a person with a normal body and a real family. Or maybe it was just because he hadn't mentioned it once in the six years I'd been with him.

A barrage of burning questions sped through my head, but for some reason the only thing that would come out of my mouth was, "I've heard that name."

He ran his free hand, the one not resting on the glass, through his hair. "I'd expect so. His story has become… something of a fable, even in the modern world. A cautionary tale, often told to children."

That didn't sound good. "What happened to him?" I asked.

"An oversight. Minos had barred us deep in the Labyrinth's depths, but he still coveted my inventions. He had a forge installed, and with it came a path to freedom: the sky."

Daedalus spun and began to walk briskly across the room, weaving between the cluttered tables. I scrambled after him, following his path and trying not to bump anything off onto the floor.

"We had to fly," Daedalus declared as he walked. "And so we did."

He approached a door to a storeroom and pulled it open with no hesitation, flicking on a light on the other side. I paced after him, taking in a room I'd only seen once or twice before. It was one of a few areas of the workshop usually kept off-limits to me.

And now I saw why. Stretched across the walls, carefully hung, were sets of wings. There were five of them in total- two silver, two bronze, and one strikingly gold. Even from across the room I could see the details on them, each of the thousands of feathers meticulously fashioned and positioned.

"You made these," I said. "You made these in a cell."

"No," he corrected, "I made a prototype. If we'd had these…" For a moment his eyes unfocused. "Well, then things would have been different."

He set his jaw. "But we did not. The adhesive, the wax, it was not fit for the journey. Minos discovered the plan before it had properly set. I warned him of the danger, but escape excited Icarus. He flew too high. And when the sun's rays melted the wax, his feathers began to shed."

Daedalus was right in front of one of the wings now, and he reached out to caress its grooves. The hurt on his face was both intense and familiar. I'd seen it on my own face, whenever I thought too long or hard about my mom.

Not that that meant I had any idea what to say. So I stood aside and watched, waiting for him to give me some sort of queue.

"That's why," Daedalus said, his hand finally trailing all the way back down to his side as faced me. "That's why I must know. Do you want to follow my plan?"

"Come on," I said, "That was what? A thousand years ago? This will be fine."

"And yet I haven't learned my lesson." Daedalus smiled tiredly. "How close was I, five years ago, to repeating my mistake. Had Mrs. O'Leary not found you when she did, or the Furies been slightly quicker, we would not be having this conversation. Overconfidence, I find myself reminded, is not a foe I can seem to defeat, no matter how often it costs me."

I could see where he was coming from. He always tried to make things work out, and when the pieces didn't fall exactly how he expected them to, it made sense that he would blame himself. But at the same time, the idea pissed me off.

I said, "Who took Ariadne's String and headed into the Labyrinth?"

"You," he said. "But it was according to my plan. I orchestrated things-"

"Sure," I said, "you let me do it. But you never told me to. It was my decision to leave, and if it got me killed that would've been at least as much on me as it would've been on you."

Another small smile, the polite type you give someone that doesn't really understand what they're saying. "Thank you, Percy. I appreciate the sentiment. But it was because of me that you could act on that decision. If it had ended in disaster-"

"Then it would've been your fault?" I crossed my arms. "Nuh uh. No way. Even if the door was unlocked I still tried to open it. And," I took a deep breath, "and if someone flies too high after you warned them not to, that's not all your fault, either."

"No," he shook his head as if trying to shake my words back out of his ears. "No, stop. I came to terms with this a long time ago, and I am long past the point of burying my head in the sand."

"Really? Because it seems to me like that's exactly what you're doing." He opened his mouth to interrupt, but I didn't give him the chance. "I get it. I can't convince you by talking. So instead, I'm going to track down this Andikotasi, learn from her, and come back perfectly fine."

He watched me closely for a moment. Then he sighed. "It's Androktasiai."

That was all he said. He walked past me, waited till I'd followed him out of the room, flicked off the light, and shut the door. Even after that he didn't speak, just went to one of his tables and returned to work. I turned and headed for my room.

I had a day, but I was going to pack early and well. I had a job to do, and a stubborn old fart to prove wrong.

(-)

So, that was longer than I meant to be away. I got bogged down trying to figure out the best timeline for the plot, and then right as I got that together finals slammed my free time into nothingness. But that's passed, I have a good amount of words down and ready to edit for the next chapter and a half, and starting next week I should have a surplus of time and motivation to get back on schedule (or, hopefully, even accelerate it slightly).