“But he is a camper,” Thalia said. “And he’s got a satyr’s senses and woodland magic. Can you play a tracker’s song yet, Grover?”

“Absolutely!”

Zoë wavered. I didn’t know what a tracker’s song was, but apparently Zoë thought it was a good thing.

“Very well,” Zoë said. “And the second camper?”

“I’ll go.” Thalia stood and looked around, daring anyone to question her.

Now, okay, maybe my math skills weren’t the best, but it suddenly occurred to me that we’d reached the number five, and I wasn’t in the group. “Whoa, wait a sec,” I said. “I want to go too.”

Thalia said nothing. Chiron was still studying me, his eyes sad.

“Oh,” Grover said, suddenly aware of the problem. “Whoa, yeah, I forgot! Percy has to go. I didn’t mean . . . I’ll stay. Percy should go in my place.”

“He cannot,” Zoë said. “He is a boy. I won’t have Hunters traveling with a boy.”

“You traveled here with me,” I reminded her.

“That was a short-term emergency, and it was ordered by the goddess. I will not go across country and fight many dangers in the company of a boy.”

“What about Grover?” I demanded.

Zoë shook her head. “He does not count. He’s a satyr. He is not technically a boy.”

“Hey!” Grover protested.

“I have to go,” I said. “I need to be on this quest.”

“Why?” Zoë asked. “Because of thy friend Annabeth?”

I felt myself blushing. I hated that everyone was looking at me. “No! I mean, partly. I just feel like I’m supposed to go!”

Nobody rose to my defense. Mr. D looked bored, still reading his magazine. Silena, the Stoll brothers, and Beckendorf were staring at the table. Bianca gave me a look of pity.

“No,” Zoë said flatly. “I insist upon this. I will take a satyr if I must, but not a male hero.”

Chiron sighed. “The quest is for Artemis. The Hunters should be allowed to approve their companions.”

My ears were ringing as I sat down. I knew Grover and some of the others were looking at me sympathetically, but I couldn’t meet their eyes. I just sat there as Chiron concluded the council.

“So be it,” he said. “Thalia and Grover will accompany Zoë, Bianca, and Phoebe. You shall leave at first light. And may the gods”—he glanced at Dionysus—“present company included, we hope—be with you.”

I didn’t show up for dinner that night, which was a mistake, because Chiron and Grover came looking for me.

“Percy, I’m so sorry!” Grover said, sitting next to me on the bunk. “I didn’t know they’d—that you’d—Honest!”

He started to sniffle, and I figured if I didn’t cheer him up he’d either start bawling or chewing up my mattress. He tends to eat household objects whenever he gets upset.

“It’s okay,” I lied. “Really. It’s fine.”

Grover’s lower lip trembled. “I wasn’t even thinking . . . I was so focused on helping Artemis. But I promise, I’ll look everywhere for Annabeth. If I can find her, I will.”

I nodded and tried to ignore the big crater that was opening in my chest.

“Grover,” Chiron said, “perhaps you’d let me have a word with Percy?”

“Sure,” he sniffled.

Chiron waited.

“Oh,” Grover said. “You mean alone. Sure, Chiron.” He looked at me miserably. “See? Nobody needs a goat.”

He trotted out the door, blowing his nose on his sleeve.

Chiron sighed and knelt on his horse legs. “Percy, I don’t pretend to understand prophecies.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Well, maybe that’s because they don’t make any sense.”

Chiron gazed at the saltwater spring gurgling in the corner of the room. “Thalia would not have been my first choice to go on this quest. She’s too impetuous. She acts without thinking. She is too sure of herself.”

“Would you have chosen me?”

“Frankly, no,” he said. “You and Thalia are much alike.”

“Thanks a lot.”

He smiled. “The difference is that you are less sure of yourself than Thalia. That could be good or bad. But one thing I can say: both of you together would be a dangerous thing.”

“We could handle it.”

“The way you handled it at the creek tonight?”

I didn’t answer. He’d nailed me.

“Perhaps it is for the best,” Chiron mused. “You can go home to your mother for the holidays. If we need you, we can call.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Maybe.”

I pulled Riptide out of my pocket and set it on my nightstand. It didn’t seem that I’d be using it for anything but writing Christmas cards.

When he saw the pen, Chiron grimaced. “It’s no wonder Zoë doesn’t want you along, I suppose. Not while you’re carrying that particular weapon.”

I didn’t understand what he meant. Then I remembered something he’d told me a long time ago, when he first gave me the magic sword: It has a long and tragic history, which we need not go into.

I wanted to ask him about that, but then he pulled a golden drachma from his saddlebag and tossed it to me. “Call your mother, Percy. Let her know you’re coming home in the morning. And, ah, for what it’s worth . . . I almost volunteered for this quest myself. I would have gone, if not for the last line.”

“One shall perish by a parent’s hand. Yeah.”

I didn’t need to ask. I knew Chiron’s dad was Kronos, the evil Titan Lord himself. The line would make perfect sense if Chiron went on the quest. Kronos didn’t care for anyone, including his own children.

“Chiron,” I said. “You know what this Titan’s curse is, don’t you?”

His face darkened. He made a claw over his heart and pushed outward—an ancient gesture for warding off evil. “Let us hope the prophecy does not mean what I think. Now, good night, Percy. And your time will come. I’m convinced of that. There’s no need to rush.”

He said your time the way people did when they meant your death. I didn’t know if Chiron meant it that way, but the look in his eyes made me scared to ask.

I stood at the saltwater spring, rubbing Chiron’s coin in my hand and trying to figure out what to say to my mom. I really wasn’t in the mood to have one more adult tell me that doing nothing was the greatest thing I could do, but I figured my mom deserved an update.

Finally, I took a deep breath and threw in the coin. “O goddess, accept my offering.”

The mist shimmered. The light from the bathroom was just enough to make a faint rainbow.

“Show me Sally Jackson,” I said. “Upper East Side, Manhattan.”

And there in the mist was a scene I did not expect. My mom was sitting at our kitchen table with some . . . guy. They were laughing hysterically. There was a big stack of textbooks between them. The man was, I don’t know, thirtysomething, with longish salt-and-pepper hair and a brown jacket over a black T-shirt. He looked like an actor—like a guy who might play an undercover cop on television.

I was too stunned to say anything, and fortunately, my mom and the guy were too busy laughing to notice my Iris-message.

The guy said, “Sally, you’re a riot. You want some more wine?”

“Ah, I shouldn’t. You go ahead if you want.”

“Actually, I’d better use your bathroom. May I?”

“Down the hall,” she said, trying not to laugh.

The actor dude smiled and got up and left.

“Mom!” I said.

She jumped so hard she almost knocked her textbooks off the table. Finally she focused on me. “Percy! Oh, honey! Is everything okay?”

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

She blinked. “Homework.” Then she seemed to understand the look on my face. “Oh, honey, that’s just Paul— um, Mr. Blofis. He’s in my writing seminar.”

“Mr. Blowfish?”

“Blofis. He’ll be back in a minute, Percy. Tell me what’s wrong.”

She always knew when something was wrong. I told her about Annabeth. The other stuff too, but mostly it boiled down to Annabeth.

My mother’s eyes teared up. I could tell she was trying hard to keep it together for my sake. “Oh, Percy . . .”

“Yeah. So they tell me there’s nothing I can do. I guess I’ll be coming home.”