Percy’s hand went to his pocket, where his pen always stayed. “Why? Are we not supposed to?”
“No weapons allowed inside the Pomerian Line,” she said.
“The what line?”
“Pomerian,” Frank said. “The city limits. Inside is a sacred ‘safe zone. ’ Legions can’t march through. No weapons allowed. That’s so senate meetings don’t get bloody. ”
“Like Julius Caesar getting assassinated?” Percy asked.
Frank nodded. “Don’t worry. Nothing like that has happened in months. ”
Percy hoped he was kidding.
As they got closer to the city, Percy could appreciate how beautiful it was. The tiled roofs and gold domes gleamed in the sun. Gardens bloomed with honeysuckle and roses. The central plaza was paved in white and gray stone, decorated with statues, fountains, and gilded columns. In the surrounding neighborhoods, cobblestone streets were lined with freshly painted town houses, shops, cafés, and parks. In the distance rose the coliseum and the horse racing arena.
Percy didn’t notice they’d reached the city limits until the senators in front of him started slowing down.
On the side of the road stood a white marble statue—a life-size muscular man with curly hair, no arms, and an irritated expression. Maybe he looked mad because he’d been carved only from the waist up. Below that, he was just a big block of marble.
“Single file, please!” the statue said. “Have your IDs ready. ”
Percy looked to his left and right. He hadn’t
noticed before, but a line of identical statues ringed the city at intervals of about a hundred yards.
The senators passed through easily. The statue checked the tattoos on their forearms and called each senator by name. “Gwendolyn, senator, Fifth Cohort, yes. Nico di Angelo, ambassador of Pluto—very well. Reyna, praetor, of course. Hank, senator, Third Cohort—oh, nice shoes, Hank! Ah, who have we here?”
Hazel, Frank, and Percy were the last ones.
“Terminus,” Hazel said, “this is Percy Jackson. Percy, this is Terminus, the god of boundaries. ”
“New, eh?” said the god. “Yes, probatio tablet. Fine. Ah, weapon in your pocket? Take it out! Take it out!”
Percy didn’t know how Terminus could tell, but he took out his pen.
“Quite dangerous,” Terminus said. “Leave it in the tray. Wait, where’s my assistant? Julia!”
A little girl about six years old peeked out from behind the base of the statue. She had pigtails, a pink dress, and an impish grin with two missing teeth.
“Julia?” Terminus glanced behind him, and Julia scurried in the other direction. “Where did that girl go?”
Terminus looked the other way and caught sight of Julia before she could hide. The little girl squealed with delight.
“Oh, there you are,” said the statue. “Front and center. Bring the tray. ”
Julia scrambled out and brushed off her dress. She picked up a tray and presented it to Percy. On it were several paring knives, a corkscrew, an oversized container of sun lotion, and a water bottle.
“You can pick up your weapon on the way out,” Terminus said. “Julia will take good care of it. She’s a trained professional. ”
The little girl nodded. “Pro-fess-ion-al. ” She said each syllable carefully, like she’d been practicing.
Percy glanced at Hazel and Frank, who didn’t seem to find anything odd about this. Still, he wasn’t wild about handing over a deadly weapon to a kid.
“The thing is,” he said, “the pen returns to my pocket automatically, so even if I give it up—”
“Not to worry,” Terminus assured him. “We’ll make sure it doesn’t wander off. Won’t we, Juila?”
“Yes, Mr. Terminus. ”
Reluctantly, Percy put his pen on the tray.
“Now, a few rules, since you’re new,” Terminus said. “You are entering the boundaries of the city proper. Keep the peace inside the line. Yield to chariot traffic while walking on public roads. When you get to the Senate House, sit on the left-hand side. And, down there—do you see where I’m pointing?”
“Um,” Percy said, “you don’t have any hands. ”
Apparently this was a sore point for Terminus. His marble face turned a dark shade of gray. “A smart aleck, eh? Well, Mr. Rule Flouter, right down there in the forum—Julia, point for me, please—”
Julia dutifully set down the security tray and pointed toward the main plaza.
“The shop with the blue awning,” Terminus continued, “that’s the general store. They sell tape measures. Buy one! I want those pants exactly one inch above the ankles and that hair regulation cut. And tuck your shirt in. ”