Percy sighed. He turned to Hazel and Frank and tried to think of something upbeat to say.
A familiar voice said, “IDs, please. ”
A statue of Terminus appeared at the summit of the hill. The god’s marble face frowned irritably. “Well? Come along!”
“You again?” Percy asked. “I thought you just guarded the city. ”
Terminus huffed. “Glad to see you, too, Mr. Rule Flouter. Normally, yes, I guard the city, but for international departures, I like to provide extra security at the camp borders. You really should’ve allowed two hours before your planned departure time, you know. But we’ll have to make do. Now, come over here so I can pat you down. ”
“But you don’t have—” Percy stopped himself. “Uh, sure. ”
He stood next to the armless statue. Terminus conducted a rigorous mental pat down.
“You seem to be clean,” Terminus decided. “Do you have anything to declare?”
“Yes,” Percy said. “I declare this is stupid. ”
“Hmph! Probatio tablet: Percy Jackson, Fifth Cohort, son of Neptune. Fine, go. Hazel Levesque, daughter of Pluto. Fine. Any foreign currency or, ahem, precious metals to declare?”
“No,” she muttered.
“Are you sure?” Terminus asked. “Because last time—”
“No!”
“Well, this is a grumpy bunch,” said the god. “Quest travelers! Always in a rush. Now, let’s see—Frank Zhang. Ah! Centurion? Well done, Frank. And that haircut is regulation perfect. I approve! Off you go, then, Centurion Zhang. Do you need any directions today?”
“No. No, I guess not. ”
“Just down to the BART station,” Terminus said anyway. “Change trains at Twelfth Street in Oakland. You want Fruitvale Station. From there, you can walk or take the bus to Alameda. ”
“You guys don’t have a magical BART train or some thing?” Percy asked.
“Magic trains!” Terminus
scoffed. “You’ll be wanting your own security lane and a pass to the executive lounge next. Just travel safely, and watch out for Polybotes. Talk about scofflaws—bah! I wish I could throttle him with my bare hands. ”
“Wait—who?” Percy asked.
Terminus made a straining expression, like he was flexing his nonexistent biceps. “Ah, well. Just be careful of him. I imagine he can smell a son of Neptune a mile away. Out you go, now. Good luck!”
An invisible force kicked them across the boundary. When Percy looked back, Terminus was gone. In fact, the entire valley was gone. The Berkeley Hills seemed to be free of any Roman camp.
Percy looked at his friends. “Any idea what Terminus was talking about? Watch out for…Political something or other?”
“Poh-LIB-uh-tease?” Hazel sounded out the name carefully. “Never heard of him. ”
“Sounds Greek,” Frank said.
“That narrows it down. ” Percy sighed. “Well, we probably just appeared on the smell radar for every monster within five miles. We’d better get moving. ”
It took them two hours to reach the docks in Alameda. Compared to Percy’s last few months, the trip was easy. No monsters attacked. Nobody looked at Percy like he was a homeless wild child.
Frank had stored his spear, bow, and quiver in a long bag made for skis. Hazel’s cavalry sword was wrapped in a bedroll slung on her back. Together the three of them looked like normal high schoolers on their way to an overnight trip. They walked to Rockridge Station, bought their tickets with mortal money, and hopped on the BART train.
They got off in Oakland. They had to walk through some rough neighborhoods, but nobody bothered them. When ever the local gang members came close enough to look in Percy’s eyes, they quickly veered away. He’d perfected his wolf stare over the last few months—a look that said: However bad you think you are, I’m worse. After strangling sea monsters and running over gorgons in a police car, Percy wasn’t scared of gangs. Pretty much nothing in the mortal world scared him anymore.
In the late afternoon, they made it to the Alameda docks. Percy looked out over San Francisco Bay and breathed in the salty sea air. Immediately he felt better. This was his father’s domain. Whatever they faced, he’d have the upper hand as long as they were at sea.
Dozens of boats were moored at the docks—everything from fifty-foot yachts to ten-foot fishing boats. He scanned the slips for some sort of magic vessel—a trireme, maybe, or a dragon-headed warship like he’d seen in his dreams.
“Um…you guys know what we’re looking for?”
Hazel and Frank shook their heads.
“I didn’t even know we had a navy. ” Hazel sounded as if she wished there wasn’t one.
“Oh…” Frank pointed. “You don’t think…?”
At the end of the dock was a tiny boat, like a dinghy, covered in a purple tarp. Embroidered in faded gold along the canvas was S. P. Q. R.
Percy’s confidence wavered. “No way. ”