Daughter of the Sea

by Mira Zamin

  * * *

  When Pyp awoke, he saw a strange man standing in the room, golden arms akimbo. Pyp thought he looked like a duffer and giggled sleepily at his marvelous joke.

  The man smiled as if he had sensed Pyp’s thought.

  “Who are you? What are you doing here?” he asked the tall man.

  The firelight crackled behind the man, stronger than ever, and cast a golden aureole around his bright hair. “I am here to answer your questions. Although why, I am unsure. I certainly owe your ‘sister’s’ father no favors.”

  Pyp did not quite understand. “Erm. What are you talking about?” He wiped his eyes sleepily, and for a second, the man’s form blurred.

  “You wish to know the meaning of your dream and I am here to divine it. But our kind do not do favors pro bono. You must give me something in return for this knowledge.”

  “What do you mean your kind?” Pyp asked, bemused. He wondered what sort of illness afflicted the man’s mind.

  “The gods,” replied the man exasperatedly. “I am a god.”

  To Pyp’s bleary mind, things began to come into focus. The man’s shocking gold hair, flickering in the firelight, should have been a tip off and the gold, sun-shaped medallion embroidered into his tunic. It was Apollo. Well, it could very well have been someone masquerading as Apollo, but who would dare? He remembered Calista’s long-ago joke about Apollo pulling the chariot, and he hoped the god wasn’t here to punish him. “But who has sent you?”

  Apollo snorted. “Your family has become a cause célèbre among the gods: Neptune, Juno. I wanted to join the fun.”

  Pyp frowned. “What would you have me do? I’ve nothing to give you.”

  “Should I ever need your aid you will come to me right away, give me whatever I demand.” He smiled, his teeth bright and white against his bronzed skin.

  Pyp thought for a moment and to him the deal seemed reasonable. “Alright.”

  Apollo whipped his scarlet cloak back, and sat down upon the pedestal. “Your sister is very much alive.”

  Pyp’s mouth dropped open. “What...can it be? But how? Where is she now?”

  “She resides in Atlantis, one of Neptune’s many domains beneath the sea. The man, Claudius, is also with her.”

  “Are they married?” Oh, Pyp hoped this was not a mad dream brought about by a strange place and too much foreign food. He hoped it were true. He hoped Caly was still alive, somewhere, even if it was beneath the ocean. It was like a piece of his heart had returned to him.

  Apollo looked as if he would have very much liked to snort. “If you wish answers to such foolish questions, call upon Venus. I am here for more sensible matters. Calista is being trained to take up the position of the Waveguide of Atlantis, but she still desires to return to Portus Tarrus.”

  Pyp did not know what “Waveguide” meant, but he understand the last part of the sentence well enough. “And will she?” Pyp asked eagerly. The thought of seeing his sister filled him with sweet, silver peace. She had brought their family out of Portus Tarrus once and he had little doubt his older sister couldn’t do it again.

  Apollo paused. “I think it would be best if I did not tell you. But a word of advice: stay true to the course you have stepped onto and all will work out as it is intended to.”

  Pyp said nothing aloud, deciding it would do no good to irritate a god, but thought, That is unhelpful and cryptic to boot. Those fortune-tellers aren’t the only charlatans parading about with false airs of sight. “Well, um, sir, could you please, give my sister a message?”

  Apollo raised an eyebrow. “That is possibly the most intelligent thing you have uttered during the duration of this whole exchange,” he replied. The god relented, remembering that the boy was only seven years old and shouldering a load that most adults would break under. “Certainly. I would be more than willing to pass a message to her.”

  Pyp carefully considered what he should say. “Tell her…that we love her, and things are horrific here, and we need help. Tell her…tell her I don’t know what to do without her. Tell her I’m so happy she’s alive.” He choked. To his horror, tears started appearing again on his cheeks.

  The god looked at the boy sympathetically. “Should you like to see your sister?”

  His head popped up in surprise. “Yes,” he sniffled.

  “Then come.”

  Apollo grabbed Pyp’s hand and the god’s palm was sun-hot to touch. Pyp resisted the urge to draw back. He felt his stomach swoosh inside him like a storm-rocked boat. He clenched his eyes shut. When he opened them again, he was standing in a blue-green world...surrounded by water. It was in front of him, to his left, to his right, and arched above. What in the name of…?

  Pyp looked around. Apollo was nowhere to be seen. He did not know where to go, but he kept to the path Apollo had placed him on and walked straight. And then, and then Calista came into view sitting beside the golden-eyed woman from Pyp’s dream and a group of strange men with light hair and eyes.

  “Calista!” he called out. His legs pumped hard and he raised little clouds of sand as he ran towards his sister.

  Calista’s head whipped up. “Pyp! Pyp!” she shrieked as she saw him. Her companions seemed to notice nothing. She ran to him, her arms wrapped around him so fiercely that he couldn’t breathe. She kissed his hair, his forehead, his cheeks.

  Pyp hugged her back, and he could feel the warm tears dribble down his cheeks. He was becoming a bloody aqueduct with all this crying.

  “Oh, my little brother, my little love.” She watched him with amazement glittering in her eye. “What in the name of all the gods are you doing here? How did you get here?” She stopped. “How are you?”

  “Oh Caly, you have left us up there, and, and Mother isn’t well, and we are being kept in the cellars like slaves…and Avaritus has killed them all. General Cornelius…he gave General Cornelius to the lions. And all of the others as well. All those that fought to protect Portus Tarrus.”

  Calista’s eyes flashed angrily. “Well, what did the townspeople say about that?”

  “Caly, they don’t care.”

  His sister stood up, her hands clenched in two shaking fists, and Pyp thought that if by some strange way, Avaritus appeared in front of her, she would break him in half over her knee.

  “You have to come back, Caly. We cannot go on without you.” His breath caught. What if she liked this strange new watery world more than she liked him? She looked as pretty as he had remembered her, pink-cheeked and healthy. What if she didn’t want their problems, but the ease of silk and conversation with fine people? He did not know what he would do then.

  He could feel her warm tears against his neck. “Oh, Pyp, I want to. I want to, I do. I think of you and mother all the time. And I am trying, but how can I come back? I’m at the bottom of the ocean. I cannot just…leave. But how are you here?” She pulled back and gazed at him in wonderment. “Are you real?” She reached out and touched him. He felt cool, not his usual warm softness—but real.

  “Apollo.” Pyp responded, pleased with himself, relieved that Calista still loved him, still thought of him, would not abandon him and Mother to Avaritus. He’d known it all along, hadn’t he?

  “What?” Calista toyed absently with the locket Pyp had given her. He remembered that day on the beach. It felt like centuries ago. It had been a little more than six months.

  “Apollo,” repeated Pyp. “He let me see you in return for a small favor.”

  Calista groaned, ruffling his hair ruefully. “Pyp. One does not just go and make deals with the gods. That lot says one thing and means another. You should have been more careful.”

  “Bugger careful!” Pyp shouted, childishness breaking through the adult reserve he had built around himself. “I should not have to be careful. I’m only seven.”

  Calista’s eyes widened, a sure sign she was going to give someone a sound telling-off. “You do not have time to act like you are seven. If things had been normal, then yes, you would
have played with Maro and studied your lessons and gods, I wish that was what your life had been. But you cannot. You have to be strong, you have to grow up.” Her voice softened. “It is not easy, Pyp, but is what you have to do. You are our father’s heir. If you cannot protect Terronensis and his memory then who will?”

  He looked down at his scuffed sandals. “But it is hard.” He knew he sounded petulant, like a baby and he did not like it. His father would not have liked to hear him speak so.

  Calista breathed deeply and took his hand in hers. His hand had grown, but it fit as well with his sister’s as it ever had. “I know it is hard, but to each of us, the fates parcel our destinies. You have to protect your birthright, reclaim our father’s legacy. I do not know how you will do it…but resist Avaritus, be strong for Mother. Stay strong and I vow to you, I will come.” She hugged her little brother close and they leaned on each other, supporting each other.

  “I’ll find a way Caly.” His mouth set into a strong line of resolve, at odds with his baby-soft cheeks and childishly full lips.

  “I know you will. And I promise you, the next time we meet will be under the sun.” She embraced him tightly and her fingers seemed to press ever deeper into his back. “What’s happening?”

  Pyp looked at his hands which were growing translucent, foggy. “I’m going back, Calista. Promise you will too.”

  Calista reached out helplessly. “Of course.” she whispered. “I love you. Tell Mother I miss and love her too.”

  Pyp blinked and he was once more sitting before the fire in his heap of blankets. He looked up at Apollo. “How do I know this is real?”

  “You don’t.” And Apollo vanished as well.

  * * *

  Pyp was riding in the back of a merchant’s cart, as the fortune-teller had promised. He intended to hop off and find Nuala. And Maro. He had found his sister and now he would find them too. He had a great deal to do but a great deal of time to do it. After all, he was only seven.

  CHAPTER XIX