The senators shouted, “Senatus Populusque Romanus!”
Fire blazed on Frank’s arm. For a moment his eyes filled with terror, and Percy was afraid his friend might pass out. Then the smoke and flame died, and new marks were seared onto Frank’s skin: SPQR, an image of crossed spears, and a single stripe, representing the first year of service.
“You may sit down.” Octavian glanced at the audience as if to say: This wasn’t my idea, folks.“Now,” Reyna said, “we must discuss the quest.”
The senators shifted and muttered as Frank returned to his seat.
“Did it hurt?” Percy whispered.
Frank looked at his forearm, which was still steaming. “Yeah. A lot.” He seemed mystified by the badges in his hand—the centurion’s mark and the Mural Crown—like he wasn’t sure what to do with them.
“Here.” Hazel’s eyes shone with pride. “Let me.”
She pinned the medals to Frank’s shirt.
Percy smiled. He’d only known Frank for a day, but he felt proud of him too. “You deserve it, man,” he said. “What you did last night? Natural leadership.”
Frank scowled. “But centurion—”
“Centurion Zhang,” called Octavian. “Did you hear the question?”
Frank blinked. “Um…sorry. What?”
Octavian turned to the senate and smirked, like What did I tell you?
“I was asking,” Octavian said like he was talking to a three-year-old, “if you have a plan for the quest. Do you even know where you are going?”
“Um...”
Hazel put her hand on Frank’s shoulder and stood. “Weren’t you listening last night, Octavian? Mars was pretty clear. We’re going to the land beyond the gods—Alaska.”
The senators squirmed in their togas. Some of the ghosts shimmered and disappeared. Even Reyna’s metal dogs rolled over on their backs and whimpered.
Finally Senator Larry stood. “I know what Mars said, but that’s crazy. Alaska is cursed! They call it the land beyond the gods for a reason. It’s so far north, the Roman gods have no power there. The place is swarming with monsters. No demigod has come back from there alive since—”
“Since you lost your eagle,” Percy said.
Larry was so startled, he fell back on his podex.
“Look,” Percy continued, “I know I’m new here. I know you guys don’t like to mention that massacre in the nineteen-eighties—”
“He mentioned it!” one of the ghosts whimpered.
“—But don’t you get it?” Percy continued. “The Fifth Cohort led that expedition. We failed, and we have to be responsible for making things right. That’s why Mars is sending us. This giant, the son of Gaea—he’s the one who defeated your forces thirty years ago. I’m sure of it. Now he’s sitting up there in Alaska with a chained death god, and all your old equipment. He’s mustering his armies and sending them south to attack this camp.”
“Really?” Octavian said. “You seem to know a lot about our enemy’s plans, Percy Jackson.”
Most insults Percy could shrug off—being called weak or stupid or whatever. But it dawned on him that Octavian was calling him a spy—a traitor. That was such a foreign concept to Percy, so not who he was, he almost couldn’t process the slur. When he did, his shoulders tensed. He was tempted to smack Octavian on the head again, but he realized Octavian was baiting him, trying to make him look unstable.
Percy took a deep breath.
“We’re going to confront this son of Gaea,” he said, managing to keep his composure. “We’ll get back your eagle and unchain this god…” He glanced at Hazel. “Thanatos, right?”
She nodded. “Letus, in Roman. But his old Greek name is Thanatos. When it comes to Death…we’re happy to let him stay Greek.”
Octavian sighed in exasperation. “Well, whatever you call him…how do you expect to do all this and get back by the Feast of Fortuna? That’s the evening of the twenty-fourth. It’s the twentieth now. Do you even know where to look? Do you even know who this son of Gaea is?”
“Yes.” Hazel spoke with such certainty that even Percy was surprised. “I don’t know exactly where to look, but I have a pretty good idea. The giant’s name is Alcyoneus.”
That name seemed to lower the temperature in the room by fifty degrees. The senators shivered.
Reyna gripped her podium. “How do you know this, Hazel? Because you’re a child of Pluto?”
Nico di Angelo had been so quiet, Percy had almost forgotten he was there. Now he stood in his black toga.
“Praetor, if I may,” he said. “Hazel and I…we learned a little about the giants from our father. Each giant was bred specifically to oppose one of the twelve Olympian gods—tousurp that god’s domain. The king of giants was Porphyrion, the anti-Jupiter. But the eldest giant was Alcyoneus. He was born to oppose Pluto. That’s why we know of him in particular.”