Daughter of Wine

Piper

When I recount my dream for Percy, the ship's toilets explode. 

"No way are you three going down there alone." Percy says. 

Leo runs down the hall waving a wrench. "Man, did you have to destroy the plumbing?"

Percy ignores him. Water runs down the gangway. The hull rumbles as more pipes burst and sinks overflow. I guess that Percy didn't mean to cause that much damage, but his glowering expression makes me want to leave the ship as soon as possible. 

Even Calli seems uneasy, and she adores Percy. She glances warily at him and shifts to the side, backing away slowly. 

"We'll be alright." Annabeth tells him. "Piper foresaw the three of us going down there, so that's what needs to happen." 

Percy glares at me like it's all my fault. "And this Mimas dude? I'm guessing he's a giant?"

"Probably." I say. "Porphyrion called him our brother."

"And a bronze statue surrounded by fire." Percy says. "And those...other things you mentioned? Mackies?"

"Makhai," Piper says. "I think the word means battles in Greek, but I don't know how that applies, exactly."

"That's my point!" Percy says. "We don't know what's down there. I'm going with you."

"No." Annabeth puts her hand on his arm. "If the giants want our blood, the last thing we need is a boy and a girl going down there together. Remember? They want one of each for their big sacrifice."

"Then I'll get Jason and Leo, or Frank." Percy says. "And the three of us-"

"Seaweed brain, are you implying that three boys can handle this better than three girls?"

"No. I mean...no. But-"

Annabeth kisses him. "We'll be back before you know it." 

"Besides." Calli adds cheerily. "I slay giants for breakfast. We'll be fine."

An hour later the three of us stand on a hill overlooking the ruins of Ancient Sparta. We've already scouted thee modern city which, strangely, reminded me of Albuquerque- a bunch of low, boxy, whitewashed buildings sprawled across a plain at the foot of some purplish mountains. Annabeth insisted on checking the archaeology museum, then the giant metal statue of the Spartan warrior in the public square, then the National Museum of Olives and Olive Oil (yes, that's a real thing). I learned more about olive oil than I ever wanted to know, but no giants attacked us. We found no statues of chained gods. 

Calli and Annabeth seemed reluctant to check the ruins on the edge of town, but finally we run out of other places to look. 

There isn't much to see. According to Annabeth, the hill we stand on was once Sparta's acropolis, its highest point and main fortress, but it's nothing like the massive Athenian acropolis I saw in my dream. 

The weathered slope is covered with dead grass, rocks, and stunted olive trees. Below, ruins stretch out for maybe a quarter mile: limestone blocks, a few broken walls, and some tiled holes in the ground like wells. 

I think about my dad's most famous movie, King of Sparta, and how the Spartans were portrayed as invincible supermen. I find it sad that their legacy has been reduced to a field of rubble and a small modern town with an olive oil museum. 

Calli wipes the sweat from her forehead. "You'd think if there was a thirty-foot-tall giant around, we'd see him."

Annabeth stares at the distant shape of the Argo II floating above downtown Sparta. She fingers the red coral pendant on her necklace, a gift from Percy when they started dating.