The Tyrant's Tomb

“I have to assume,” I continued, “that if we succeed in this, and come out
alive, we will know more about how to proceed. Right now, all I can say
with certainty is that the next step will involve finding a soundless god,
whatever that means.”
Frank sat forward in his praetor’s chair. “But don’t you know all the
gods, Apollo? I mean, you are one. Or were one. Is there a god of silence?”
I sighed. “Frank, I can barely keep my own family of gods straight. There
are hundreds of minor gods. I don’t remember any silent gods. Of course, if
there is one, I doubt we would’ve hung out, me being the god of music.”
Frank looked crestfallen, which made me feel bad. I hadn’t meant to take
out my frustrations on one of the few people who still called me Apollo
unironically.
“Let’s tackle one thing at a time,” Reyna suggested. “First, the tomb of
Tarquin. We have a lead on its location, right, Ella?”
“Yep, yep.” The harpy closed her eyes and recited, “A wildcat near the
spinning lights. The tomb of Tarquin with horses bright. To open his door,
two-fifty-four.”
“That is a prophecy!” Tyson said. “I have it on my back!” The Cyclops
stood and ripped off his shirt so fast he must have been waiting for any
excuse. “See?”
The spectators all leaned forward, though it would’ve been impossible to
read the tattoos from any distance.
“I also have a fish pony by my kidney,” he announced proudly. “Isn’t it
cute?”
Hazel averted her eyes as if she might pass out from embarrassment.
“Tyson, could you…? I’m sure it’s a lovely fish pony, but…shirt back on,
please? I don’t suppose anyone knows what those lines mean?”
The Romans observed a moment of silence for the death of clarity that
all prophecies symbolized.
Lavinia snorted. “Seriously? Nobody gets it?”
“Lavinia,” Reyna said, her voice strained, “are you suggesting you—”
“Know where the tomb is?” Lavinia spread her hands. “Well, I mean, A
wildcat near the spinning lights. The tomb of Tarquin with horses bright.
There’s a Wildcat Drive in Tilden Park, right over the hills.” She pointed
north. “And horses bright, spinning lights? That would be the Tilden Park
carousel, wouldn’t it?”