The Battle of the Labyrinth

about, do you?”
    “I fear not. I haven’t left Ogygia in . . . a long time.”
    “Well, Manhattan’s a big city, with not much gardening space.”
    Calypso frowned. “That is sad. Hermes visits from time to time. He tells me the world outside has changed greatly.
    I did not realize it had changed so much you cannot have gardens.”
    “Why haven’t you left your island?”
    She looked down. “It is my punishment.”
    “Why? What did you do?”
    “I? Nothing. But I’m afraid my father did a great deal. His name is Atlas.”
    The name sent a shiver down my back. I’d met the Titan Atlas last winter, and it had not been a happy time. He’d tried to kill pretty much everyone I cared about.
    “Still,” I said hesitantly, “it’s not fair to punish you for what your father’s done. I knew another daughter of Atlas. Her name was Zoë. She was one of the bravest people I’ve ever met.”
    Calypso studied me for a long time. Her eyes were sad.
    “What is it?” I asked.
    “Are—are you healed yet, my brave one? Do you think you’ll be ready to leave soon?”
    “What?” I asked. “I don’t know.” I moved my legs. They were still stiff. I was already getting dizzy from standing up so long. “You want me to go?”
    “I . . .” Her voice broke. “I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep well.”
    She ran off toward the beach. I was too confused to do anything but watch until she disappeared in the dark.
    I don’t know exactly how much time passed. Like Calypso said, it was hard to keep track on the island. I knew I should be leaving. At the very least, my friends would be worried.
    At worst, they could be in serious danger. I didn’t even know if Annabeth had made it out of the volcano. I tried to use my empathy link with Grover several times, but I couldn’t make contact. I hated not knowing if they were all right.
    On the other hand, I really was weak. I couldn’t stay on my feet more than a few hours. Whatever I’d done in Mount St. Helens had drained me like nothing else I’d ever experienced.
    I didn’t feel like a prisoner or anything. I remembered the Lotus Hotel and Casino in Vegas, where I’d been lured into this amazing game world until I almost forgot everything I cared about. But the island of Ogygia wasn’t like that at all. I thought about Annabeth, Grover, and Tyson constantly. I remembered exactly why I needed to leave. I just . . . couldn’t. And then there was Calypso herself.
    She never talked much about herself, but that just made me want to know more. I would sit in the meadow, sipping nectar, and I would try to concentrate on the flowers or the clouds or the reflections on the lake, but I was really staring at Calypso as she worked, the way she brushed her hair over her shoulder, and the little strand that fell in her face whenever she knelt to dig in the garden. Sometimes she would hold out her hand and birds would fly out of the woods to settle on her arm—lorikeets, parrots, doves. She would tell them good morning, ask how it was going back at the nest, and they would chirp for a while, then fly off cheerfully. Calypso’s eyes gleamed. She would look at me and we’d share a smile, but almost immediately she’d get that sad expression again and turn away. I didn’t understand what was bothering her.
    One night we were eating dinner together at the beach. Invisible servants had set up a table with beef stew and apple cider, which may not sound all that exciting, but that’s because you haven’t tasted it. I hadn’t even noticed the invisible servants when I first got to the island, but after a while I became aware of the beds making themselves, meals cooking on their own, clothes being washed and folded by unseen hands.
    Anyway, Calypso and I were sitting at dinner, and she looked beautiful in the candlelight. I was telling her about New York and Camp Half-Blood, and then I starting telling her about the time Grover had eaten an apple while we were playing Hacky Sack with it. She laughed, showing off her amazing smile, and our eyes met. Then she dropped her gaze.
    “There it is again,” I said.
    “What?”
    “You keep pulling away, like you’re trying not to enjoy yourself.”
    She kept her eyes on her glass of cider. “As I told you, Percy, I have been punished. Cursed, you might say.”
    “How? Tell me. I want to help.”
    “Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.”
    “Tell me what the punishment is.”
    She covered her half-finished stew with a