Daughter of the Sea

by Mira Zamin

Given a free morning by a generous Thetis, who Calista privately felt was still feeling some of the aftereffects of the festival night’s rambunctious drinking, Calista decided to run a few final errands. Evadne had given her promise two nights ago. Today was the day.

  Twining her fingers through the fine gold threads of her chains, Calista took a steadying breath aware that the journey she would be embarking on in the space of a few short hours would be the most perilous and important of her life. The knowledge did nothing to soothe her rollicking stomach.

  Drawing another deep breath, she picked her way through the sandy streets, determinedly avoiding the gaze of the people she would soon proceed to deceive, disappoint. They expected her to be the heir to Atlantis, to be their leader into the future. The rumor which had begun as a few whispers from Hadrian to her, was now considered to be widely acknowledged fact, and she was given a respectful berth by the Atlantians. They had never seen this real to her before, always something like a half-dream, but now that she was departing, she was no longer in any doubt: they were as real as her and she did not like it. Calista could not help but think that if she had been in their position, she would resent a foreigner coming and taking on the most powerful position of her land. Now what would the future of Atlantis hold?

  She looked away from their searching eyes and saw a lost-looking Claudius. “Claudius,” Calista called out despite herself.

  He started at the sound of his name. “Calista?”

  He seemed so solid, so certain. That she could trust him, she was sure. Perhaps she could give him warning enough to keep him safe. He loved her, she knew. The weight of that responsibility fell heavily on her; he loved her. She had to take care of him, this man who loved her, despite the inherent wrongness of it. She owed him at least that much for his devotion.

  She bit her lip. “I am going home today.”

  “Home?” he asked, surprised.

  “Home. I may be able to provide you passage back to Rome...unless you have grown to love Atlantis or someone here. In that case, I ask you to keep your silence.” He had been so flat and listless since he had arrived in Atlantis, as if stretching and molding into a new identity had beaten away all that had made him Claudius when he had lived under the sun. She was surprised that he had not fought to return to his family as hard as she had fought to return to hers.

  His eyes took on a sudden tenderness. “You are the only one I love,” he said simply.

  To Calista’s surprise, her eyes grew watery with tears and as she blinked them back, several slipped down her cheeks and onto her trembling lips. Impetuously, she reached out to hug him. “You are a good friend Claudius,” she said even as she knew how those words would hurt him.

  “I would like to help you in whatever you hope to achieve for your home,” he said. “And then…I’d like to return to mine as well.”

  She breathed, “Oh Claudius. It will be dangerous…I cannot ask it of you…Come with me, return to your mother, father, sisters by all means, but you owe me nothing, you owe Portus Tarrus nothing.”

  Clasping her hands, he replied, “I am yours and I will find you, whatever this plan of yours is.” He turned her palms over, kissed each once, and then clasped them closed. “I am yours.”

  She wondered just how he could love her as much as he did. She knew she had done little to warrant the depth of his affection. Yet, a part of her could not help but think, How can I get the type of love Claudius bears me to be transferred to Hadrian? But that seemed thankless in the face of all that he had done for her, in the face of what his eyes promised he would do for her. His love still disturbed her, even disgusted her, but she could not bring herself to turn him away. He genuinely was a good friend, a good man; she wished she could have been a better friend to him. She considered what their life might have been like in ignorance Above. “Thank you. I will try to find you when…whatever happens.”

  His eyes lingered before he turned around and disappeared into the distance. She offered up a small prayer to Neptune that Claudius would be safe and she snorted. Neptune was her father, who, despite being a god, had tangled the mess of her life and had never asked for her again after that first night. From what Calista had seen, divinity did no good.

  Calista stumbled as a largish pebble rolled into her sandal. She ducked into a doorway to shake it out. Readjusting her lavender peplos after the pebble fell away, Calista’s eyes lighted upon Hadrian. She quickly averted her gaze. She reddened remembering her behavior from the night of the festival. His shadow came closer and closer.

  “Hello Hadrian,” she growled, staring at the ground.

  When she finally raised her eyes, she startled at the dark circles curving beneath his eyes, his messy, unwashed ebony black hair. His white tunic, usually spotless, was crumbed with dirt and food.

  “Are you well?” she gasped in surprise at his filthy appearance.

  “I have treated you unfairly Calista,” he said without preamble. “I have done things I should not have and it has filled me with guilt…For gods’ sakes, even Thetis asked me what was wrong. That was when I realized. Calista, after the night of the festival, I lay with Philyra.”

  She felt winded as if someone had punched her in the stomach. She remembered his words from before: ‘There is something you have Philyra could never have…My interest.’ Bullshit. She did not blame her sister. Philyra loved Hadrian and had made it clear from the beginning...but Hadrian, Hadrian who had sought her company, who smiled at her with knowing sweetness, who tried to draw out her secrets, convince her to stay in Atlantis, with that unspoken promise of a life with him.

  Taking a deep breath, she answered icily, “It is of no matter to me whom you take to your bed. I generally appreciate not being privy to someone’s bed hopping habits. It is no matter of mine. Best of luck to the both of you. Now…if you will…?”

  He grabbed her arm. “There is something else.” He swallowed. “I am Thetis’ son and for her, I have been trying to seduce you, to make you fall in love with me so you would not leave Atlantis.” His face crumpled miserably. “I am so sorry, Calista. You do not deserve it and I hope you will permit me to atone for it any way I can.”

  He sounded sincere but it was drowned out by the vicious anger that roared through her ears, followed rapidly by the cutting sting of betrayal. I was a fool, I was a fool. She could not bear to look at him. She hated the sight of him, everything about him, those smirking lips, those lying grey eyes. She wanted to weep. No, I am going home and leaving all this deceit behind. Mastering her emotions, she glided past him.

  He looked at her. “I hope you can forgive me. Calista...I...care for you. Deeply.”

  “There is nothing to forgive,” she said coldly, mimicking Thetis at her frostiest.

  She walked away from him as fast as she could, ignoring Hadrian crying out her name.

  Soon, the many-columned villa of her birth mother appeared. It was naïve to think that Evadne would not face consequences for what was to happen tonight, but Calista could not help but hope that they would be light. A millennium of currying favor with the Lord of the Seas should count for something, she thought. A twitch nestled between her shoulder blades as if someone was watching her, as if someone knew what she was about to do.

  Kicking the sand, she drew strength from the effervescent sea writhing above, as she used to a long, long time ago. With bated breath, she entered the house.

  She found Evadne lying on the scarlet coverlet of her bed, a cold compress over her eyes. Moving to take a heavily carved chair near the bed, Calista nervously cleared her throat. “Ahem. Evadne? Mother?”

  Evadne peeled the compress off and smiled delightedly. Calista felt a swoop of sadness in the pit of her stomach. Briefly, she considered what her life would have been like in the warm shelter of Evadne’s arms.

  She momentarily considered abandoning her plans and residing in Atlantis with Evadne, relying on prayers and the promises of unreliable Neptune and the relatively more dependable Thetis
to rescue Pyp and Olympia. She did not want to leave Evadne just as she was getting to know her better—the promise of that loss was already beginning to hurt—but there was no doubt that her mother and brother needed her far more than Evadne. To reside in Atlantis would be the coward’s way out without any guarantee that she would ever see them again. Without any guarantee that she could see herself without shame.

  Evadne’s smile faded and Calista noticed for the first time dark hollows around her eyes and the paleness of her cheeks.

  “Calista, I have everything set up, but dear child, do you know what you are sending yourself back into? Can you handle it?”

  Calista wished she had the answer to Evadne’s question. “Being part god and part nymph…am I conferred any other special sort of skills?”

  “Fancy yourself a Hercules, do you?” Evadne laughed dryly. “An outward manifestation of clear and directed skill is generally rare. Instead, your gift is very likely charisma a...persuasiveness. Does that sound like you? I thought as much. It is one of the most important abilities, in my opinion, conferred by divinity. A great and subtle power.

  “Oh, and of course immortality—we are a resilient breed. Use it well.” She paused. “In some rare cases, I have heard that a child can take on almost full god-like qualities, powers, answering prayers and such, but it is a power that manifests later in life.”

  The golden-haired woman surprised Calista by grasping her wrists. “I know you cannot love me as you loved your mother Above but I hope you can love me in some small way, my daughter. I cannot ask you to revoke your love for your mother Above for that is a holy and sacred thing but you are my daughter, my heart, and I would like just a fragment of yours.”

  The younger woman hugged Evadne again and murmured in a choked voice, “You have my love, Mother. You should know that.”

  “I will be sorry to see you go.”

  “Can you visit me?” Calista asked, and blushed like a fool at the question.

  Evadne smiled a kind albeit watery smile. “No, my love. Goodbye is goodbye. For a time at least. Eternity yawns before us, and I will always be here waiting for you.” Her lips quivered.

  Calista kissed her mother’s hands as tears rimmed her eyes. “We will meet again.”

  Evadne’s voice shook. “Now, say good-bye to your sister, but do not let her know what is afoot. She is already suspicious. In ten minutes, I will do it. It will be best if you are standing behind the Maretheon. Say your farewell quickly and go out.” She wiped her tears with a few determined fingers.

  Despite her own unsettled feelings towards Philyra, Calista did want the chance to bid her her blood sister farewell. Somewhere towards the vicinity of the kitchens, Calista heard a ringing laugh. She padded softly down the steps, so that only the cloth of her peplos whispered gently against her legs.

  “She will writhe in envy when she hears…Bloody Above-bred bitch.” The voice cackled in satisfaction and Calista registered it as Philyra’s. Sweeping the curtain aside, she slipped in. Philyra perched on a table, gossiping with a kitchen servant. She gesticulated animatedly as the woman laughed.

  “What is so funny Philyra?”

  Her sister’s face slackened with shock. She slowly slid off the table in a melting movement. The woman with whom Philyra had been speaking squeaked in terror.

  “Um. Nothing,” Philyra replied but the guilt was so evident in her voice that Calista had no need to probe further.

  The kitchen servants slid away, sensing a confrontation in which they wanted no part.

  All thoughts of attempted reconciliation disappeared and all Calista could think of were Hadrian’s words from the night of the festival. She had refused to believe Philyra’s betrayal, more fool her.

  “So—you enjoy spreading hateful lies about me. I wonder why?” Calista sneered with surprising venom. Philyra’s eyes widened with shock. “Let me think, let me think.” She pronounced each word with great relish. “You have your fool heart set on Hadrian. How old are you exactly? Around four I expect, the way you sit here spewing this, as if speaking of me that way will make Hadrian regard you in a manner other than that of a flute girl. And for some gods forsaken reason you are mad with envy over me. You—you—” here Calista lost some of her momentum. “Well, what have you to say for yourself?” Her voice quavered with anger. She was unaware that Evadne’s ten minutes had passed.

  Philyra’s eyes widened even further and she attempted to twist her lips into words but no sound escaped. They finally became immobile. “I had him,” she whispered as though her mouth were frozen.

  Calista’s cheeks rose with a satisfied smile. “He already told me what an easy slut you were.”

  Tremors vibrated through the ground. The earth jumped gently and Calista tripped against the table. The floor began to move rapidly beneath her, hard and fast as though it were being shaken by some great hand. The dishes and pots clanged and chimed and crashed against each other. Philyra froze in shock as abject terror overtook her face. She glanced at Calista.

  Evadne had given her ten minutes to go to the Maretheon, and was not there. Is that why this was happening? She did not think so. Something must have gone wrong.

  Calista stumbled outside only to see Atlantis’ dome shivering and shimmering queerly and the surrounding water bubbling furiously. It seeped through the newly-developed fissures. Something has gone wrong! she thought desperately. “Fix it! Fix it!” she cried, almost to herself, hoping against hope someone—Thetis, Neptune—would hear her pleas.

  The land jutted up in jagged pieces, almost goring Calista. She gaped in horror.

  Men and women spilled onto the streets, screaming with fright, in agony. They ran but to where? There was no way to go. Guilt bloomed in Calista as she spied a child crying in her mother’s skirts, and the mother barely holding onto herself as the land threw up around them.

  Spilling in with ferocious force like some titanic waterfall, the water churned with the earth and everything shook violently. Buildings crumbled and collapsed all around Calista. Steam crept up from between the cracks of the earth, snaking between legs, rising to kiss faces with its scalding heat. Their dying cries were forever imprinted into Calista’s memory.

  The scorching smell of sulfur swirled in the air. It burned Calista’s eyes, nostrils, mouth. She hacked violently. Behind that steam came the scarlet and gold glimmers of lava, luxuriously threading through the cracks to burn unwary individuals.

  Unthinkable heat licked her ankle, licked it and twined itself around it like a thousand suns suddenly bearing all of their searing heat onto her foot. Screaming with pain, she leapt away, stumbling onto her good foot. She could not think for the pain. It wiped away all semblance of anything but a desire to escape the fury of Tartarus that had opened on Atlantis. She was scrambling to the edge, to water—the shaking escalated.

  The screaming grew louder. The burning. Oh the burning.

  OH THE BURNING. OH THE SHAKING. THE SHAKING. Earth, everywhere. Lava. Lava eating, chewing, spewing. Water. Water. Choking. Gasping. PAIN, death. Everywhere.

  Nothing.

  CHAPTER XXII