A 1

into a bird. Jason could simply control the wind and float down. Even Piper with her
charmspeak…she could have convinced Tiberinus and Rhea Silvia to be a little more helpful.
What did Annabeth have? A bronze dagger that did nothing special, and a cursed silver coin. She
had her backpack with Daedalus’s laptop, a water bottle, a few pieces of ambrosia for emergencies, and
a box of matches—probably useless, but her dad had drilled into her head that she should always have
a way to make fire.
She had no amazing powers. Even her one true magic item, her New York Yankees cap of
invisibility, had stopped working, and was still back in her cabin on the Argo II.
You’ve got your intelligence, a voice said. Annabeth wondered if Athena was speaking to her, but
that was probably just wishful thinking.
Intelligence…like Athena’s favorite hero, Odysseus. He’d won the Trojan War with cleverness,
not strength. He had overcome all sorts of monsters and hardships with his quick wits. That’s what
Athena valued.
Wisdom’s daughter walks alone.
That didn’t mean just without other people, Annabeth realized. It meant without any special
powers.
Okay…so how to get down there safely and make sure she had a way to get out again if necessary?
She climbed back to the basement and stared at the open crates. Kite string and plastic swords.
The idea that came to her was so ridiculous, she almost had to laugh; but it was better than nothing.
She set to work. Her hands seemed to know exactly what to do. Sometimes that happened, like
when she was helping Leo with the ship’s machinery or drawing architectural plans on the computer.
She’d never made anything out of kite string and plastic swords, but it seemed easy, natural. Within
minutes she’d used a dozen balls of string and a crateful of swords to create a makeshift rope ladder—a
braided line, woven for strength yet not too thick, with swords tied at two-foot intervals to serve as
hand- and footholds.