The Battle of the Labyrinth

be totally different, but the same soul was in there—the same intelligence and all the sadness.
    “You really are Daedalus,” I decided. “But why did you come to the camp? Why spy on us?”
    “To see if your camp was worth saving. Luke had given me one story. I preferred to come to my own conclusions.”
    “So you have talked to Luke.”
    “Oh, yes. Several times. He is quite persuasive.”
    “But now you’ve seen the camp!” Annabeth persisted. “So you know we need your help. You can’t let Luke through the maze!”
    Daedalus set his sword on the workbench. “The maze is no longer mine to control, Annabeth. I created it, yes. In fact, it is tied to my life force. But I have allowed it to live and grow on its own. That is the price I paid for privacy.”
    “Privacy from what?”
    “The gods,” he said. “And death. I have been alive for two millennia, my dear, hiding from death.”
    “But how can you hide from Hades?” I asked. “I mean . . . Hades has the Furies.”
    “They do not know everything,” he said. “Or see everything. You have encountered them, Percy. You know this is true. A clever man can hide quite a long time, and I have buried myself very deep. Only my greatest enemy has kept after me, and even him I have thwarted.”
    “You mean Minos,” I said.
    Daedalus nodded. “He hunts for me relentlessly. Now that he is a judge of the dead, he would like nothing better than for me to come before him so he can punish me for my crimes. After the daughters of Cocalus killed him, Minos’s ghost began torturing me in my dreams. He promised that he would hunt me down. I did the only thing I could. I retreated from the world completely. I descended into my Labyrinth. I decided this would be my ultimate accomplishment: I would cheat death.”
    “And you did,” Annabeth marveled, “for two thousand years.” She sounded kind of impressed, despite the horrible things Daedalus had done.
    Just then a loud bark echoed from the corridor. I heard the ba-BUMP , ba-BUMP , ba-BUMP of huge paws, and Mrs. O’Leary bounded into the workshop. She licked my face once, then almost knocked Daedalus over with an enthusiastic leap.
    “There is my old friend!” Daedalus said, scratching Mrs. O’Leary behind the ears. “My only companion all these long lonely years.”
    “You let her save me,” I said. “That whistle actually worked.”
    Daedalus nodded. “Of course it did, Percy. You have a good heart. And I knew Mrs. O’Leary liked you. I wanted to help you. Perhaps I—I felt guilty, as well.”
    “Guilty about what?”
    “That your quest would be in vain.”
    “What?” Annabeth said. “But you can still help us. You have to! Give us Ariadne’s string so Luke can’t get it.”
    “Yes . . . the string. I told Luke that the eyes of a clear-sighted mortal are the best guide, but he did not trust me. He was so focused on the idea of a magic item. And the string works. It’s not as accurate as your mortal friend here, perhaps. But good enough. Good enough.”
    “Where is it?” Annabeth said.
    “With Luke,” Daedalus said sadly. “I’m sorry, my dear. But you are several hours too late.”
    With a chill I realized why Luke had been in such a good mood in the arena. He’d already gotten the string from Daedalus. His only obstacle had been the arena master, and I’d taken care of that for him by killing Antaeus.
    “Kronos promised me freedom,” Quintus said. “Once Hades is overthrown, he will set me over the Underworld. I will reclaim my son Icarus. I will make things right with poor young Perdix. I will see Minos’s soul cast into Tartarus, where it cannot bother me again. And I will no longer have to run from death.”
    “That’s your brilliant idea?” Annabeth yelled. “You’re going to let Luke destroy our camp, kill hundreds of demigods, and then attack Olympus? You’re going to bring down the entire world so you can get what you want?”
    “Your cause is doomed, my dear. I saw that as soon as I began to work at your camp. There is no way you can hold back the might of Kronos.”
    “That’s not true!” she cried.
    “I am doing what I must, my dear. The offer was too sweet to refuse. I’m sorry.”
    Annabeth pushed over an easel. Architectural drawings scattered across the floor. “I used to respect you. You were my hero! You—you built amazing things. You solved problems. Now . . . I don’t know what you are. Children of Athena are supposed to be wise , not