This Cold Year ― Percy Jackson & Annabeth Chase²

―xii. a trireme full of demigods vs. a cruiseship full of tourists

THE NEXT MORNING, NAOMI WOKE TO A DIFFERENT SHIP'S HORN—a blast so loud it shook her out of a very strange dream of her picnicking in her mother's garden with Clarisse la Rue and Marilyn Monroe.

For a moment, Naomi wondered if this was Leo's idea of a wake-up call. Then the horn boomed again. It sounded like it was coming from several hundred yards away—from another vessel.

Naomi practically leaped out of bed, forgoing any sort of morning routine in favor of sprinting out of her cabin and up to the deck, swords at the ready. "What are we fighting?"

Hazel, who looked like she'd also leapt out of bed and run up to the deck, pointed at a passing cruise ship. "Tourists."

Naomi lowered her swords. "Oh. Never mind, then."

Percy bounded up the stairs and onto the deck, similarly primed for battle with a bronze breastplate and pajama pants, Riptide held aloft. "Who are we fighting?"

"No fighting," Naomi said, putting Hemlock and Asphodel away as the others swiftly joined the rest of the crew.

Tourists waved at them from fifteen or sixteen rows of balconies. Some smiled and took pictures. None of them looked surprised to see an Ancient Greek trireme. Maybe the Mist made it look like a fishing boat, or perhaps the cruisers thought the Argo II was a tourist attraction.

The cruise ship blew its horn again, and the Argo II had a shaking fit.

Coach Hedge plugged his ears. "Do they have to be so loud?"

"They're just saying hi," Frank speculated.

"They could say hi without deafening us," Naomi complained.

"WHAT?" Hedge yelled.

The ship edged past them, heading out to sea. The tourists kept waving. If they found it strange that the Argo II was populated by half-asleep teenagers in armor and pajamas and a man with goat legs, they didn't let on. Maybe they were just being polite.

"Bye!" Leo called, raising his smoking hand.

"Can I man the ballistae?" Hedge asked.

"No," Leo said through a forced smile.

Hazel rubbed her eyes and looked across the glittering green water. "Where are—oh... Wow."

Naomi followed her gaze and gaped. Without the cruise ship blocking their view, she saw a mountain jutting from the sea less than half a mile to the north, like a fist of blinding white rock reaching toward the sky. On one side, the limestone cliffs were almost completely sheer, dropping into the sea over a thousand feet below, as near as Naomi could figure. On the other side, the mountain sloped in tiers, covered in green forest, so that the whole thing reminded Naomi of a colossal sphinx, worn down over the millennia, with a massive white head and chest, and a green cloak over its back.

"The Rock of Gibraltar," Annabeth said in awe. "At the tip of Spain. And over there—" She pointed south, to a more distant stretch of red and ochre hills. "That must be Africa. We're at the mouth of the Mediterranean."

The morning was warm, but a shiver still wracked through Naomi's body. Despite the wide stretch of sea in front of them, she felt like she was standing at an impassable barrier. Once in the Mediterranean—the Mare Nostrum—they would be in the ancient lands. If the legends were true, their quest would become ten times more dangerous.

"What now?" Piper asked. "Do we just sail in?"

"Why not?" Leo said. "It's a big shipping channel. Boats go in and out all the time."