The Tower of Nero (The Trials of Apollo #5) - Rick Riordan Page 0,69

muster even a little bit of Lu’s toughness.

“Nero should fear you,” I agreed. “Let’s assume the other thing is happening. Let’s also assume we can get out of here and take care of the…um, other other thing.”

Lu rolled her eyes. “You mean the emperor’s fasces.”

I winced. “Yes, fine. That. It would be helpful if I had more information about its protector. Jason called it a guardian of the stars, a creature of Mithras, but—”

“Wait. Who is Jason?”

I didn’t want to revisit that painful subject, but I gave her the basics, then explained what I had discussed with the son of Jupiter in my dream.

Lu tried to sit up. Her face turned the color of putty, making her tattoos darken to purple.

“Oof.” She reclined again. “Mithras, eh? Haven’t heard that name in a while. Lots of Roman officers worshipped him, back in the day, but I never took to those Persian gods. You had to join his cult to find out all the secret handshakes and whatnot. Elite, members-only society, blah, blah. The emperor was an automatic member, of course, which makes sense.…”

“Because?”

She chewed her cucumber sandwich. “Explains how Nero would have found this guardian. I—I don’t know what it is. I saw it only once, when Nero…installed it, I guess you’d say. Years ago.” She shuddered. “Never want to see it again. That lion’s face, those eyes…like it could see everything about me, like it was challenging me to…” She shook her head. “You’re right. We need more information if we’re going to beat it. And we need to know how Meg is doing.”

Why was she looking at me so expectantly?

“That would be great,” I agreed. “But since we’re stuck in a cell—”

“You just told me you had a dream vision. Do you have those often?”

“Well, yes. But I don’t control them. At least, not well.”

Lu snorted. “Typical Roman.”

“Greek.”

“Whatever. Dreams are a vehicle, like a chariot. You have to drive them. You can’t let them drive you.”

“You want me to, what…go back to sleep? Gather more information in my dreams?”

Her eyelids started to droop. Perhaps the word sleep had reminded her body that this was a great idea. In her condition, just being awake a few hours and eating a sandwich would have been equivalent to running a marathon.

“Sounds like a plan,” Lu agreed. “If it’s lunchtime now, that gives us what—seven, eight hours before sunset? Nero will have his party at sunset, I’m sure. Best time of day to watch a city burn. Wake me up when you know more.”

“But what if I can’t get to sleep? And if I do, who’s going to wake me up?”

Lu started to snore.

A tiny piece of cucumber was stuck to her chin, but I decided to leave it there. She might want it later.

I sat back on my sofa and stared at the chandelier twinkling cheerfully above.

A party tonight for the burning of Manhattan. Nero would torture us. Then, I imagined, he would sacrifice me in one way or another to appease Python and seal their alliance.

I had to think fast and move faster.

I needed my powers—strength to bend bars or break through walls, fire to melt Gunther’s face the next time he brought us crustless sandwiches.

I did not need a nap.

And yet…Lu wasn’t wrong. Dreams could be vehicles.

As the god of prophecy, I’d often sent visions to those who needed them—warnings, glimpses of the future, suggestions for what sort of temple incense I liked best. I’d driven dreams right into people’s heads. But since I’d been mortal, I’d lost that confidence. I had let my dreams drive me, rather than taking the reins like when I drove the sun chariot. My team of fiery horses could always feel when their driver was weak or uncertain. (Poor Phaethon had found that out the hard way.) Dreams were no less ornery.

I needed to see what was happening with Meg. I needed to see this guardian that watched the emperor’s fasces, so I could figure out how to destroy it. I needed to know whether Nico, Will, and Rachel were safe.

If I took the reins of my dreams and yelled, Giddyap!, what would happen? At the very least, I would have unsettling nightmares. At worst, I might drive my mind over the Cliffs of Insanity and never wake up.

But my friends were counting on me.

So I did the heroic thing. I closed my eyes and went to sleep.

DRIVING THE DREAM CHARIOT DID NOT go well. If the dream police had been on patrol, they