The house of hades, p.72
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       The House of Hades, p.72

         Part #4 of The Heroes of Olympus series by Rick Riordan
Page 72


  Proserpine Roman queen of the Underworld. Greek form: Persephone

  Psyche a young mortal woman who fell in love with Eros and was forced by his mother, Aphrodite, to earn her way back to him

  quoits a game in which players toss hoops at a stake

  Riptide the name of Percy Jackson’s sword; Anaklusmos in Greek

  River Acheron the fifth river of the Underworld; the river of pain; the ultimate punishment for the souls of the damned

  River Lethe one of several rivers in the Underworld; drinking from it will make someone forget his identity

  Romulus and Remus the twin sons of Mars and the priestess Rhea Silvia. They were thrown into the River Tiber by their human father, Amulius, and were rescued and raised by a she-wolf. Upon reaching adulthood, they founded Rome.

  Saturn the Roman god of agriculture; the son of Uranus and Gaea, and the father of Jupiter. Greek form: Kronos

  satyr a Greek forest god, part goat and part man. Roman equivalent: faun

  Scipio Reyna’s pegasus

  Sciron an infamous robber who ambushed passersby and forced them to wash his feet as a toll. When they knelt, he kicked his victims into the sea, where they were eaten by a giant turtle.

  scorpion ballista a Roman missile siege weapon that launches a large projectile at a distant target

  Senatus Populusque Romanus (SPQR) meaning “The Senate and People of Rome,” it refers to the government of the Roman Republic and is used as an official emblem of Rome

  shadow-travel a form of transportation that allows creatures of the Underworld and children of Hades to travel to any desired place on earth or in the Underworld, although it makes the user extremely fatigued

  Sibylline Books a collection of prophecies in rhyme written in Greek. Tarquinius Superbus, a king of Rome, bought them from a prophetess named Sibyl and consulted them in times of great danger.

  spatha a heavy sword used by Roman cavalry

  Spes goddess of hope; the Feast of Spes, the Day of Hope, falls on August 1

  stela (stelae, pl. ) an inscribed stone used as a monument

  Stygian iron a magical metal, forged in the River Styx, capable of absorbing the very essence of monsters and injuring mortals, gods, Titans, and giants. It has a significant effect on ghosts and creatures from the Underworld.

  Tantalus In Greek mythology, this king was such a good friend of the gods that he was allowed to dine at their table—until he spilled their secrets on earth. He was sent to the Underworld, where his curse was to be stuck in a pool of water under a fruit tree, but never to be able to drink or eat.

  Tartarus husband of Gaea; spirit of the abyss; father of the giants

  telkhine a sea demon with flippers instead of hands, and a dog’s head

  Tempest Jason’s friend; a storm spirit in the form of a horse

  Terminus the Roman god of boundaries and landmarks

  Terra the Roman goddess of the Earth. Greek form: Gaea

  Thanatos the Greek god of death; servant of Hades. Roman form: Letus

  Theseus a king of Athens who was known for many exploits, including killing the Minotaur

  Three Fates In Greek mythology, even before there were gods, there were the Fates: Clotho, who spins the thread of life; Lachesis, the measurer, who determines how long a life will be; and Atropos, who cuts the thread of life with her shears.

  Tiber River the third-longest river in Italy. Rome was founded on its banks. In Ancient Rome, executed criminals were thrown into the river.

  Tiberius was emperor of Rome from 14–37 CE. He was one of Rome’s greatest generals, but he came to be remembered as a reclusive and somber ruler who never really wanted to be emperor.

  Titans a race of powerful Greek deities, descendants of Gaea and Uranus, who ruled during the Golden Age and were overthrown by a race of younger gods, the Olympians

  Triptolemus god of farming; he aided Demeter when she was searching for her daughter, Persephone, who was kidnapped by Hades

  trireme an Ancient Greek or Roman warship, having three tiers of oars on each side

  Trojan Horse a tale from the Trojan War about a huge wooden horse that the Greeks built and left near Troy with a select force of men inside. After the Trojans pulled the horse into their city as a victory trophy, the Greeks emerged at night, let the rest of their army into Troy, and destroyed it, decisively ending the war.

  Trojan War In Greek mythology, the Trojan War was waged against the city of Troy by the Achaeans (Greeks) after Paris of Troy took Helen from her husband, Menelaus, king of Sparta.

  venti air spirits

  Venus the Roman goddess of love and beauty. She was married to Vulcan, but she loved Mars, the god of war. Greek form: Aphrodite

  Vulcan the Roman god of fire and crafts and of blacksmiths; the son of Jupiter and Juno, and married to Venus. Greek form: Hephaestus

  Wolf House where Percy Jackson was trained as a Roman demigod by Lupa

  Zephyros Greek god of the West Wind. Roman form: Favonius

  Zeus Greek god of the sky and king of the gods. Roman form: Jupiter

  Coming Fall 2014

  The Heroes of Olympus, Book Five


  Dont miss Rick Riordans hit series, The Kane Chronicles! Keep reading for a preview of book one in the series, The Red Pyramid.

  We only have a few hours, so listen carefully.

  If you’re hearing this story, you’re already in danger. Sadie and I might be your only chance.

  Go to the school. Find the locker. I won’t tell you which school or which locker, because if you’re the right person, you’ll find it. The combination is 13/32/33. By the time you finish listening, you’ll know what those numbers mean. Just remember the story we’re about to tell you isn’t complete yet. How it ends will depend on you.

  The most important thing: when you open the package and find what’s inside, don’t keep it longer than a week. Sure, it’ll be tempting. I mean, it will grant you almost unlimited power. But if you possess it too long, it will consume you. Learn its secrets quickly and pass it on. Hide it for the next person, the way Sadie and I did for you. Then be prepared for your life to get very interesting.

  Okay, Sadie is telling me to stop stalling and get on with the story. Fine. I guess it started in London, the night our dad blew up the British Museum.

  My name is Carter Kane. I’m fourteen and my home is a suitcase.

  You think I’m kidding? Since I was eight years old, my dad and I have traveled the world. I was born in L. A. but my dad’s an archaeologist, so his work takes him all over. Mostly we go to Egypt, since that’s his specialty. Go into a bookstore, find a book about Egypt, there’s a pretty good chance it was written by Dr. Julius Kane. You want to know how Egyptians pulled the brains out of mummies, or built the pyramids, or cursed King Tut’s tomb? My dad is your man. Of course, there are other reasons my dad moved around so much, but I didn’t know his secret back then.

  I didn’t go to school. My dad homeschooled me, if you can call it “home” schooling when you don’t have a home. He sort of taught me whatever he thought was important, so I learned a lot about Egypt and basketball stats and my dad’s favorite musicians. I read a lot, too—pretty much anything I could get my hands on, from dad’s history books to fantasy novels—because I spent a lot of time sitting around in hotels and airports and dig sites in foreign countries where I didn’t know anybody. My dad was always telling me to put the book down and play some ball. You ever try to start a game of pick-up basketball in Aswan, Egypt? It’s not easy.

  Anyway, my dad trained me early to keep all my possessions in a single suitcase that fits in an airplane’s overhead compartment. My dad packed the same way, except he was allowed an extra workbag for his archaeology tools. Rule number one: I was not allowed to look in his workbag. That’s a rule I never broke until the day of the explosion.

  It happened on Christmas Eve. We were in London for visitatio
n day with my sister, Sadie.

  See, Dad’s only allowed two days a year with her—one in the winter, one in the summer—because our grandparents hate him. After our mom died, her parents (our grandparents) had this big court battle with Dad. After six lawyers, two fistfights, and a near fatal attack with a spatula (don’t ask), they won the right to keep Sadie with them in England. She was only six, two years younger than me, and they couldn’t keep us both—at least that was their excuse for not taking me. So Sadie was raised as a British schoolkid, and I traveled around with my dad. We only saw Sadie twice a year, which was fine with me.

  [Shut up, Sadie. Yes—I’m getting to that part. ]

  So anyway, my dad and I had just flown into Heathrow after a couple of delays. It was a drizzly, cold afternoon. The whole taxi ride into the city, my dad seemed kind of nervous.

  Now, my dad is a big guy. You wouldn’t think anything could make him nervous. He has dark brown skin like mine, piercing brown eyes, a bald head, and a goatee, so he looks like a buff evil scientist. That afternoon he wore his cashmere winter coat and his best brown suit, the one he used for public lectures. Usually he exudes so much confidence that he dominates any room he walks into, but sometimes—like that afternoon—I saw another side to him that I didn’t really understand. He kept looking over his shoulder like we were being hunted.

  “Dad?” I said as we were getting off the A-40. “What’s wrong?”

  “No sign of them,” he muttered. Then he must’ve realized he’d spoken aloud, because he looked at me kind of startled. “Nothing, Carter. Everything’s fine. ”

  Which bothered me because my dad’s a terrible liar. I always knew when he was hiding something, but I also knew no amount of pestering would get the truth out of him. He was probably trying to protect me, though from what I didn’t know. Sometimes I wondered if he had some dark secret in his past, some old enemy following him, maybe; but the idea seemed ridiculous. Dad was just an archaeologist.

  The other thing that troubled me: Dad was clutching his workbag. Usually when he does that, it means we’re in danger. Like the time gunmen stormed our hotel in Cairo. I heard shots coming from the lobby and ran downstairs to check on my dad. By the time I got there, he was just calmly zipping up his workbag while three unconscious gunmen hung by their feet from the chandelier, their robes falling over their heads so you could see their boxer shorts. Dad claimed not to have witnessed anything, and in the end the police blamed a freak chandelier malfunction.

  Another time, we got caught in a riot in Paris. My dad found the nearest parked car, pushed me into the backseat, and told me to stay down. I pressed myself against the floorboards and kept my eyes shut tight. I could hear Dad in the driver’s seat, rummaging in his bag, mumbling something to himself while the mob yelled and destroyed things outside. A few minutes later he told me it was safe to get up. Every other car on the block had been overturned and set on fire. Our car had been freshly washed and polished, and several twenty-euro notes had been tucked under the windshield wipers.

  Anyway, I’d come to respect the bag. It was our good luck charm. But when my dad kept it close, it meant we were going to need good luck.

  We drove through the city center, heading east toward my grandparents’ flat. We passed the golden gates of Buckingham Palace, the big stone column in Trafalgar Square. London is a pretty cool place, but after you’ve traveled for so long, all cities start to blend together. Other kids I meet sometimes say, “Wow, you’re so lucky you get to travel so much. ” But it’s not like we spend our time sightseeing or have a lot of money to travel in style. We’ve stayed in some pretty rough places, and we hardly ever stay anywhere longer than a few days. Most of the time it feels like we’re fugitives rather than tourists.

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