THE BATTLE OF THE LABYRINTH Percy Jackson ... - No one's invited.

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“You,” Annabeth said. “What have you done with Daedalus?”
Quintus smiled faintly. “Trust me, my dear. You don’t want to meet him.”
“Look, Mr. Traitor,” she growled, “I didn’t fight a dragon woman and a three-bodied man and a
psychotic Sphinx to seeyou . Now where is DAEDALUS?”
Quintus came down the stairs, holding his sword at his side. He was dressed in jeans and boots and his
counselor’s T-shirt from Camp Half-Blood, which seemed like an insult now that we knew he was a spy.
I didn’t know if I could beat him in a sword fight. He was pretty good. But I figured I would have to try.
“You think I’m an agent of Kronos,” he said. “That I work for Luke.”
“Well, duh,” said Annabeth.
“You’re an intelligent girl,” he said. “But you’re wrong. I work only for myself.”
“Luke mentioned you,” I said. “Geryon knew about you, too. You’ve been to his ranch.”
“Of course,” he said. “I’ve been almost everywhere. Even here.”
He walked past me like I was no threat at all and stood by the window. “The view changes from day to
day,” he mused. “It’s always some place high up. Yesterday it was from a skyscraper overlooking
Manhattan. The day before that, there was a beautiful view of Lake Michigan. But it keeps coming back
to the Garden of the Gods. I think the Labyrinth likes it here. A fitting name, I suppose.”
“You’ve been here before,” I said.
“Oh, yes.”
“That’s an illusion out there?” I asked.“A projection or something?”
“No,” Rachel murmured. “It’s real. We’re really in Colorado.”
Quintus regarded her. “You have clear vision, don’t you?you remind me of another mortal girl I once
knew.Another princess who came to grief.”
“Enough games,” I said. “What have you done with Daedalus?”
Quintus stared at me. “My boy, you need lessons from your friend on seeing clearly. Iam Daedalus.”
There were a lot of answers I might’ve given, from “I knew that” to “LIAR!” to “Yeah right, and I’m
Zeus.”
The only thing I could think to say was, “But you’re not an inventor! You’re a swordsman!”
“I am both,” Quintus said.“And an architect.And a scholar. I also play basketball pretty well for a guy
who didn’t start until he was two thousand years old. A real artist must be good at many things.”
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