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The Argo II was designed like an ancient trireme, only twice as big. The first deck had one central corridor with crew cabins on either side. On a normal trireme, most of the space would've been taken up with three rows of benches for a few hundred sweaty guys to do the manual labor, but Leo's oars were automated and retractable, so they took up very little room inside the hull. The ship's power came from the engine room on the second and lowest deck, which also housed sickbay, storage, and the stables.

Leo'd built the ship with eight cabins—seven for the demigods of the prophecy, and a room for Coach Hedge (Seriously—Chiron considered him a responsible adult chaperone?). At the stern was a large mess hall/lounge.

Leo had made the lounge as nice as possible, since he figured they'd be spending a lot of time there. The cupboard was lined with magic cups and plates from Camp Half-Blood, which would fill up with whatever food or drink you wanted on command. There was also a magical ice chest with canned drinks, perfect for picnics ashore. The chairs were cushy recliners with thousand-finger massage, built-in headphones, and sword and drink holders for all your demigod kicking-back needs. There were no windows, but the walls were enchanted to show real-time footage from Camp Half-Blood—the beach, the forest, the strawberry fields—although now Leo was wondering if this made people homesick rather than happy.

Percy was staring longingly at a sunset view of Half-Blood Hill, where the Golden Fleece glittered in the branches of the tall pine tree.

"So we've landed," Percy said. "What now?"

Frank plucked on his bowstring. "Figure out the prophecy? I mean... that was a prophecy Ella spoke, right? From the Sibylline Books?"

"The what?" Leo asked.

Frank explained how their harpy friend was freakishly good at memorizing books. At some point in the past, she'd inhaled a collection of ancient prophecies that had supposedly been destroyed around the fall of Rome.

"That's why you didn't tell the Romans," Hadrian guessed. "You didn't want them to get hold of her."

Percy kept staring at the image of Half-Blood Hill. "Ella's sensitive. She was a captive when we found her. I just didn't want..." He made a fist. "It doesn't matter now. I sent Tyson an Iris-message, told him to take Ella to Camp Half-Blood. They'll be safe there."

Hadrian doubted that any of them would be safe, now that he had stirred up a camp of angry Romans on top of the problems they already had with Gaea and the giants; but he kept quiet.

Annabeth laced her fingers. "Let me think about the prophecy—but right now we have more immediate problems. We have to get this ship fixed. Leo, what do we need?"

"The easiest thing is tar." Leo was glad to change the subject. "We can get that in the city, at a roofing-supply store or someplace like that. Also, Celestial bronze and lime. According to Festus, we can find both of those on an island in the lake, just west of here."

"We'll have to hurry," Hazel warned. "If I know Octavian, he's searching for us with his auguries. The Romans will send a strike force after us. It's a matter of honor."

Leo glanced around guiltily "Guys... I don't know what happened. Honestly, I—"

Annabeth raised her hand. "We've been talking. We agree it couldn't have been you, Leo. That cold feeling you mentioned... I felt it too. It must have been some sort of magic, either Octavian or Gaea or one of her minions. But until we understand what happened—"

Frank grunted. "How can we be sure it won't happen again?"

"I'm fine now," he insisted, "Maybe we should use the buddy system. Nobody goes anywhere alone. We can leave Coach Hedge on board with Jason. Send one team into town to get tar. Another team can go after the bronze and the lime."

𝐂œ𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐬é𝐬  [Percy Jackson]Where stories live. Discover now