Prytaneum
Melt
As it happens, giant dogs had the right of way in Daedalus Street. They were allowed to go where they wanted, sit where they wanted, do what they wanted, and nobody seemed to argue. The three of us made our way through the twisted streets with surprising ease, running to and fro as Mrs. O'Leary searched. No one got in our way or even said a word, but I felt eyes watching us from the surrounding buildings, people staying quite to avoid drawing attention, as though they were certain that a wrong word could lead to Mrs. O'Leary tearing her way inside and devouring them all.
I couldn't blame them for that, seeing her for the first time—but I was still surprised. They chose to keep quiet and not say a word, instead of trying to escape or search for help. At first, I thought that it might be because they were afraid of being lost in Daedalus Street, but the symbols written on the walls made me pretty sure that wasn't an issue for anyone who lived her long enough. My second thought was more worrying; that they just didn't think that anyone would do anything about something in Daedalus Street, apparently one of the poorer parts of the city. My third thought, however, was the most uncomforting of all; that perhaps they were simply used to monsters stalking these streets.
That was just paranoia, in all likelihood—or pattern recognition, depending on how you looked at it. I didn't sense any monsters, didn't smell them, didn't feel the chill of their hungry gazes run up my spine. It was just a thought, like 'this sure would be a good place for an ambush;' I just couldn't help but think that if there were monsters in the city, this poor, labyrinthine street might be the best place for them to hide. Odds were, most Familia didn't come this way very often and if any did, a smart monster could simply hide. A cry for help would result in nothing of note, people would be even less likely to respond the next time, and things would continue as they were.
It was a cheery thought, but that's what you get when you walk around a place Daedalus built. The guy was a master architect and all, but his most famous work was used as a form of execution.
"Do you smell something, girl?" I asked, shifting my shoulders as I looked around cautiously in the increasingly darkening streets, peering through the stretching shadows as I kept an eye out. The question might have seemed needless, given how hard Mrs. O'Leary was sniffing around—but Mrs. O'Leary's nose was no joke; if she'd found something for sure, she wouldn't have needed to both. The upside of having an industrial size and strength nose, I guess.
Mrs. O'Leary didn't answer, continuing to pace randomly through the streets. It seemed like we were going in circles to me, but she really did know him best—if there was anyone who could figure out the method to Daedalus' madness, it was her, even assuming she didn't have some other, more magical way of tracking him down. After a while, we came to something that stood out to me, like a freakish mishmash of three or four buildings that looked like the bizarre love-child of jenga and a rubix cube, and…walked right by it, into an unmarked alley way nearby.
Whining, Mrs. O'Leary pawed at the ground slightly, claws peeling up stone from the street, and then sat down. She was just far enough away from the entrance that Ryuu and I managed to carefully squeeze around her and look inside.
"A dead-end," Ryuu said after a moment. "Has the trail gone cold or is there something hidden here?"
Mrs. O'Leary barked, the sound loud enough that Ryuu rocked slightly on her feet, elf-ears twitching violently again.
"She says something's here," I translated for Ryuu when my ears stopped ringing, holding my nose for a moment to pop them before continuing. "And if she says there's something here, then there's something here. Help me look around the alley."
Ryuu nodded once, seeming to accept that easily enough—or else, whatever she thought I said after being deafened by proximity to Mrs. O'Leary's weapons-grade voice box. Whatever the case, she followed me into the alleyway and looked around the darkened street. While a lot of Daedalus Street seemed poorly lit, this part in particular was shadowed, hidden as it was between two buildings that looked like they'd been designed by two madmen that deeply loathed one another. I mean, parts of them protruded such that they looked like they were trying to kill each other. Even with my eye sight, it was a pain in the ass, simply because the walls hear seemed covered in odd markings, with everything from hieroglyphics to a Greek frieze. I blamed Annabeth for the fact that I even knew what a frieze was, but it wasn't really helpful to me right now.
Besides, I had a pretty good idea what I was looking for. I had a feeling I was meant to, in fact; that the simplest defense here was a simple lack of knowledge. If anyone who didn't know came here, there was nothing to point them in the right direction, even if they found their way here—hard to find an answer when you didn't even know the question. But if Daedalus wanted to be found, wanted someone to find their way here, he'd leave a sign that the right people would recognize. Something familiar.
"Found it," I said after several long minutes, kneeling besides something I found in the darkness, one design of the many carved into the walls. It looked something like an oddly shaded triangle—the Greek symbol for Delta and for Daedalus. He'd used it to mark the entrances to the Labyrinth and as a type of signature on his work. I pressed the shape, feeling it compress ever so slightly. The symbol began to glow a bright blue, because Daedalus had good choice in colors, and then something began to appear. The light spread out through what seemed like crevices, flowing like water through a trough, and slowly spelt out words.
Words I could read, I realized, a moment before realizing that they must have been in Ancient Greek—and my heart began pounding in my chest all over again at the seeming confirmation, at the knowledge that I was right, that I wasn't alone, might not be alone, might find others. This was something I'd wanted since the moment I'd woken up, something I'd been waiting for, but not daring to hope I might find. And here it was, right in front of me, with perhaps only a few glowing letter between it and I.
It was a riddle, I guessed before the words even finished spelling themselves out. An extra layer of security, a password, a way to keep out those who didn't know the answer, dressed up in a language that only a few would know to begin with. To some, this might have been the Sacred Text, but even then, that was just the first step. This was a test.
I sucked at tests, as a rule—unless they involved killing things, I guess. But I'd give it a shot. I couldn't do anything else, now that I was here, so I waited for the words to finish spelling themselves out and—
'What am I?'
…Um.
"What does it mean, Mr. Jackson?" Ryuu asked after a moment, eyes focused on the words. Could she read the Sacred Text? I wasn't sure.
"It's asking 'What am I?'" I said. "But I'm not sure what it means."
Ryuu considered that for a long moment before speaking.
"Presumable, 'I' is referring to Daedalus," She mused. "Or else, one of these symbols, but there are too many to narrow down easily. A craftsman, perhaps? A builder? A blacksmith? A genius? I do not know. You knew him best, Mr. Jackson; what do you think he would have considered himself."
Considered himself?
I pursed my lips, looking up at the wall. Now that I looked at it carefully, instead of just searching for what I wanted, I could see a pattern in the varied designs, if I tried to think of it the way Rachel would. An abstract swirl, the hieroglyphs of a man with wings, a cage. A King here, another maze there, a bird, a snake, and other, seemingly random designs—but I shook my head, not seeing an answer in any of them. Instead, I looked at the blue words, written beneath the Delta symbol, and then looked up, as if it were an arrow. Above the script were the man with wings and a bird in flight.
No, not just a bird. A partridge. And above even the designs, the two buildings.
I felt my shoulders sag slightly and looked up at them, feeling a weight settle on them and my spirits drop. Tests and riddles weren't really my thing, but this was one I already knew the answer to.
"A murderer," I answered in Ancient Greece, closing my eyes as the wall split, opening to reveal a room that couldn't possible have fit behind it. Somehow, with that answer, I already knew what I'd see, and I didn't want it to. A workshop full of wonders, maybe, perhaps even a message—but more than that, an empty room.
Daedalus could live forever, I knew.
That didn't mean he wanted to.