The Mark of Athena (The Heroes of Olympus #3)(143)

“Well…so we can introduce your work to the world!”

“Hmm. Very well.”

Arachne began to weave. It was slow work, turning silk strands into long strips of cloth. The chamber rumbled. The cracks at Annabeth’s feet became wider.

If Arachne noticed, she didn’t seem to care. Annabeth considered trying to push the spider into the pit somehow, but she dismissed the idea. There wasn’t a big enough hole, and besides, if the floor gave way, Arachne could probably hang from her silk and escape, while Annabeth and the ancient statue would tumble into Tartarus.

Slowly, Arachne finished the long strips of silk and braided them together. Her skill was flawless. Annabeth couldn’t help being impressed. She felt another flicker of doubt about her own mother. What if Arachne was a better weaver than Athena?

But Arachne’s skill wasn’t the point. She had been punished for being prideful and rude. No matter how amazing you were, you couldn’t go around insulting the gods. The Olympians were a reminder that there was always someone better than you, so you shouldn’t get a big head. Still…being turned into a monstrous immortal spider seemed like a pretty harsh punishment for bragging.

Arachne worked more quickly, bringing the strands together. Soon, the structure was done. At the feet of the statue lay a braided cylinder of silk strips, five feet in diameter and ten feet long. The surface glistened like abalone shell, but it didn’t seem beautiful to Annabeth. It was just functional: a trap. It would only be beautiful if it worked.

Arachne turned to her with a hungry smile. “Done! Now, my reward! Prove to me that you can deliver on your promises.”

Annabeth studied the trap. She frowned and walked around it, inspecting the weaving from every angle. Then, careful of her bad ankle, she got down on hands and knees and crawled inside. She’d done the measurements in her head. If she’d gotten them wrong, her plan was doomed. But she slipped through the silken tunnel without touching the sides. The webbing was sticky, but not impossibly so. She crawled out the other end and shook her head.

“There’s a flaw,” she said.

“What?!” Arachne cried. “Impossible! I followed your instructions—”

“Inside,” Annabeth said. “Crawl in and see for yourself. It’s right in the middle—a flaw in the weaving.”

Arachne foamed at the mouth. Annabeth was afraid she’d pushed too hard, and the spider would snap her up. She’d be just another set of bones in the cobwebs.

Instead, Arachne stamped her eight legs petulantly. “I do not make mistakes.”

“Oh, it’s small,” Annabeth said. “You can probably fix it. But I don’t want to show the gods anything but your best work. Look, go inside and check. If you can fix it, then we’ll show it to the Olympians. You’ll be the most famous artist of all time. They’ll probably fire the Nine Muses and hire you to oversee all the arts. The goddess Arachne…yes, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“The goddess…” Arachne’s breathing turned shallow. “Yes, yes. I will fix this flaw.”

She poked her head into the tunnel. “Where is it?”

“Right in the middle,” Annabeth urged. “Go ahead. It might be a bit snug for you.”

“I’m fine!” she snapped, and wriggled in.

As Annabeth had hoped, the spider’s abdomen fit, but only barely. As she pushed her way in, the braided strips of silk expanded to accommodate her. Arachne got all the way up to her spinnerets.

“I see no flaw!” she announced.

“Really?” Annabeth asked. “Well, that’s odd. Come out and I’ll take another look.”

Moment of truth. Arachne wriggled, trying to back up. The woven tunnel contracted around her and held her fast. She tried to wriggle forward, but the trap was already stuck to her abdomen. She couldn’t get through that way either. Annabeth had been afraid the spider’s barbed legs might puncture the silk, but Arachne’s legs were pressed so tightly against her body she could barely move them.

“What—what is this?” she called. “I am stuck!”

“Ah,” Annabeth said. “I forgot to tell you. This piece of art is called Chinese Handcuffs. At least, it’s a larger variation on that idea. I call it Chinese Spidercuffs.”

“Treachery!” Arachne thrashed and rolled and squirmed, but the trap held her tight.

“It was a matter of survival,” Annabeth corrected. “You were going to kill me either way, whether I helped you or not, yes?”

“Well, of course! You’re a child of Athena.” The trap went still. “I mean…no, of course not! I respect my promises.”

“Uh-huh.” Annabeth stepped back as the braided cylinder began to thrash again. “Normally these traps are made from woven bamboo, but spider silk is even better. It will hold you fast, and it’s much too strong to break—even for you.”

“Gahhhh!” Arachne rolled and wriggled, but Annabeth moved out of the way. Even with her broken ankle, she could manage to avoid a giant silk finger trap.

“I will destroy you!” Arachne promised. “I mean…no, I’ll be very nice to you if you let me out.”

“I’d save my energy if I were you.” Annabeth took a deep breath, relaxing for the first time in hours. “I’m going to call my friends.”