Rick Riordan: The Son of Neptune

Campers, Amazons and Lares crowded the mess hall for a lavish dinner. Even the fauns were invited, since they’d helped out by bandaging the wounded after the battle. Wind nymphs zipped around the room, delivering orders of pizza, burgers, steaks, salads, Chinese food and burritos, all flying at terminal velocity.

Despite the exhausting battle, everyone was in good spirits. Casualties had been light, and the few campers who’d previously died and come back to life, like Gwen, hadn’t been taken to the Underworld. Maybe Thanatos had turned a blind eye. Or maybe Pluto had given those folks a pass, like he had for Hazel. Whatever the case, nobody complained.

Colourful Amazon and Roman banners hung side by side from the rafters. The restored golden eagle stood proudly behind the praetor’s table, and the walls were decorated with cornucopias – magical horns of plenty that spilled out recycling waterfalls of fruit, chocolate and fresh-baked cookies.

The cohorts mingled freely with the Amazons, jumping from couch to couch as they pleased, and for once the soldiers of the Fifth were welcome everywhere. Percy changed seats so many times he lost track of his dinner.

There was a lot of flirting and arm-wrestling – which seemed to be the same thing for the Amazons. At one point Percy was cornered by Kinzie, the Amazon who’d disarmed him in Seattle. He had to explain that he already had a girlfriend. Fortunately Kinzie took it well. She told him what had happened after they’d left Seattle – how Hylla had defeated her challenger Otrera in two consecutive duels to the death, so that the Amazons were now calling their queen Hylla Twice-Kill.

‘Otrera stayed dead the second time,’ Kinzie said, batting her eyes. ‘We have you to thank for that. If you ever need a new girlfriend … well, I think you’d look great in an iron collar and an orange jumpsuit.’

Percy couldn’t tell if she was kidding or not. He politely thanked her and changed seats.

Once everyone had eaten and the plates stopped flying, Reyna made a short speech. She formally welcomed the Amazons, thanking them for their help. Then she hugged her sister and everybody applauded.

Reyna raised her hands for quiet. ‘My sister and I haven’t always seen eye to eye -’

Hylla laughed. ‘That’s an understatement.’

‘She joined the Amazons,’ Reyna continued. ‘I joined Camp Jupiter. But, looking around this room, I think we both made good choices. Strangely, our destinies were made possible by the hero you all just raised to praetor on the battlefield – Percy Jackson.’

More cheering. The sisters raised their glasses to Percy and beckoned him forward.

Everybody asked for a speech, but Percy didn’t know what to say. He protested that he really wasn’t the best person for praetor, but the campers drowned him out with applause. Reyna took away his probatio neck plate. Octavian shot him a dirty look, then turned to the crowd and smiled like this was all his idea. He ripped open a teddy bear and pronounced good omens for the coming year – Fortuna would bless them! He passed his hand over Percy’s arm and shouted: ‘Percy Jackson, son of Neptune, first year of service!’

The Roman symbols burned onto Percy’s arm: a trident, SPQR and a single stripe. It felt like someone was pressing a hot iron into his skin, but Percy managed not to scream.

Octavian embraced him and whispered, ‘I hope it hurt.’

Then Reyna gave him an eagle medal and purple cloak, symbols of the praetor. ‘You earned these, Percy.’

Queen Hylla pounded him on the back. ‘And I’ve decided not to kill you.’

‘Um, thanks,’ Percy said.

He made his way around the mess hall one more time, because all the campers wanted him at their table. Vitellius the Lar followed, stumbling over his shimmering purple toga and readjusting his sword, telling everyone how he’d predicted Percy’s rise to greatness.

‘I demanded he join the Fifth Cohort!’ the ghost said proudly. ‘Spotted his talent right away!’

Don the faun popped up in a nurse’s hat, a stack of cookies in each hand. ‘Man, congrats and stuff! Awesome! Hey, do you have any spare change?’

All the attention embarrassed Percy, but he was happy to see how well Hazel and Frank were being treated. Everyone called them the saviours of Rome, and they deserved it. There was even talk about reinstating Frank’s great-grandfather, Shen Lun, to the legion’s roll of honour. Apparently he hadn’t caused the 1906 earthquake after all.

Percy sat for a while with Tyson and Ella, who were honoured guests at Dakota’s table. Tyson kept calling for peanut-butter sandwiches, eating them as fast as the nymphs could deliver. Ella perched at his shoulder on top of the couch and nibbled furiously on cinnamon rolls.

‘Cinnamon rolls are good for harpies,’ she said. ‘June twenty-fourth is a good day. Roy Disney’s birthday, and Fortuna’s Feast, and Independence Day for Zanzibar. And Tyson.’

She glanced at Tyson, then blushed and looked away.

After dinner, the entire legion got the night off. Percy and his friends drifted down to the city, which wasn’t quite recovered from the battle, but the fires were out, most of the debris had been swept up, and the citizens were determined to celebrate.

At the Pomerian Line, the statue of Terminus wore a paper party hat.

‘Welcome, praetor!’ he said. ‘You need any giants’ faces smashed while you’re in town, just let me know.’

‘Thanks, Terminus,’ Percy said. ‘I’ll keep that in mind.’

‘Yes, good. Your praetor’s cape is an inch too low on the left. There – that’s better. Where is my assistant? Julia!’

The little girl ran out from behind the pedestal. She was wearing a green dress tonight, and her hair was still in pigtails. When she smiled, Percy saw that her front teeth were starting to come in. She held up a box full of party hats.

Percy tried to decline, but Julia gave him the big adoring eyes.

‘Ah, sure,’ he said. ‘I’ll take the blue crown.’

She offered Hazel a gold pirate hat. ‘I’m gonna be Percy Jackson when I grow up,’ she told Hazel solemnly.

Hazel smiled and ruffled her hair. ‘That’s a good thing to be, Julia.’

‘Although,’ Frank said, picking out a hat shaped like a polar bear’s head, ‘Frank Zhang would be good, too.’

‘Frank!’ Hazel said.

They put on their hats and continued to the forum, which was lit up with multicoloured lanterns. The fountains glowed purple. The coffee shops were doing a brisk business, and street musicians filled the air with the sounds of guitar, lyre, panpipes and armpit noises. (Percy didn’t get that last one. Maybe it was an old Roman musical tradition.)

The goddess Iris must’ve been in a party mood too. As Percy and his friends strolled past the damaged Senate House, a dazzling rainbow appeared in the night sky. Unfortunately the goddess sent another blessing, too – a gentle rain of gluten-free R.O.F.L. cupcake simulations, which Percy figured would either make cleaning up harder, or rebuilding easier. The cupcakes would make great bricks.

For a while, Percy wandered the streets with Hazel and Frank, who kept brushing shoulders.

Finally he said, ‘I’m a little tired, guys. You go ahead.’

Hazel and Frank protested, but Percy could tell they wanted some time alone.

As he headed back to camp, he saw Mrs O’Leary playing with Hannibal in the Field of Mars. Finally, she’d found a playmate she could roughhouse with. They frolicked around, slamming into each other, breaking fortifications and generally having an excellent time.

At the fort gates, Percy stopped and gazed across the valley. It seemed like so long ago that he’d stood here with Hazel, getting his first good view of camp. Now he was more interested in watching the eastern horizon.