The Battle of the Labyrinth

of the Gods.”
    Standing on the spiral staircase above us, with his weapon drawn, was our missing sword master Quintus.
    “You,” Annabeth said. “What have you done with Daedalus?”
    Quintus smiled faintly. “Trust me, my dear. You don’t want to meet him.”
    “Look, Mr. Traitor,” she growled, “I didn’t fight a dragon woman and a three-bodied man and a psychotic Sphinx to see you . Now where is DAEDALUS?”
    Quintus came down the stairs, holding his sword at his side. He was dressed in jeans and boots and his counselor’s T-shirt from Camp Half-Blood, which seemed like an insult now that we knew he was a spy. I didn’t know if I could beat him in a sword fight. He was pretty good. But I figured I would have to try.
    “You think I’m an agent of Kronos,” he said. “That I work for Luke.”
    “Well, duh,” said Annabeth.
    “You’re an intelligent girl,” he said. “But you’re wrong. I work only for myself.”
    “Luke mentioned you,” I said. “Geryon knew about you, too. You’ve been to his ranch.”
    “Of course,” he said. “I’ve been almost everywhere. Even here.”
    He walked past me like I was no threat at all and stood by the window. “The view changes from day to day,” he mused. “It’s always some place high up. Yesterday it was from a skyscraper overlooking Manhattan. The day before that, there was a beautiful view of Lake Michigan. But it keeps coming back to the Garden of the Gods. I think the Labyrinth likes it here. A fitting name, I suppose.”
    “You’ve been here before,” I said.
    “Oh, yes.”
    “That’s an illusion out there?” I asked. “A projection or something?”
    “No,” Rachel murmured. “It’s real. We’re really in Colorado.”
    Quintus regarded her. “You have clear vision, don’t you? You remind me of another mortal girl I once knew. Another princess who came to grief.”
    “Enough games,” I said. “What have you done with Daedalus?”
    Quintus stared at me. “My boy, you need lessons from your friend on seeing clearly. I am Daedalus.”
    There were a lot of answers I might’ve given, from “I knew that” to “LIAR!” to “Yeah right, and I’m Zeus.”
    The only thing I could think to say was, “But you’re not an inventor! You’re a swordsman!”
    “I am both,” Quintus said. “And an architect. And a scholar. I also play basketball pretty well for a guy who didn’t start until he was two thousand years old. A real artist must be good at many things.”
    “That’s true,” Rachel said. “Like I can paint with my feet as well as my hands.”
    “You see?” Quintus said. “A girl of many talents.”
    “But you don’t even look like Daedalus,” I protested. “I saw him in a dream, and . . .” Suddenly a horrible thought dawned on me.
    “Yes,” Quintus said. “You’ve finally guessed the truth.”
    “You’re an automaton. You made yourself a new body.”
    “Percy,” Annabeth said uneasily, “that’s not possible. That—that can’t be an automaton.”
    Quintus chuckled. “Do you know what Quintus means, my dear?”
    “The fifth, in Latin. But—”
    “This is my fifth body.” The swordsman held out his forearm. He pressed his elbow and part of his wrist popped open—a rectangular hatch in his skin. Underneath, bronze gears whirred. Wires glowed.
    “That’s amazing!” Rachel said.
    “That’s weird,” I said.
    “You found a way to transfer your animus into a machine?” Annabeth said. “That’s . . . not natural.”
    “Oh, I assure you, my dear, it’s still me. I’m still very much Daedalus. Our mother, Athena, makes sure I never forget that.” He tugged back the collar of his shirt. At the base of his neck was the mark I’d seen before—the dark shape of a bird grafted to his skin.
    “A murderer’s brand,” Annabeth said.
    “For your nephew, Perdix,” I guessed. “The boy you pushed off the tower.”
    Quintus’s face darkened. “I did not push him. I simply—”
    “Made him lose his balance,” I said. “Let him die.”
    Quintus gazed out the windows at the purple mountains. “I regret what I did, Percy. I was angry and bitter. But I cannot take it back, and Athena never lets me forget. As Perdix died, she turned him into a small bird—a partridge. She branded the bird’s shape on my neck as a reminder. No matter what body I take, the brand appears on my skin.”
    I looked into his eyes, and I realized he was the same man I’d seen in my dreams. His face might