Daughter of the Sea

by Mira Zamin

Hadrian and Calista crisscrossed the paved streets of Portus Tarrus that were lit only by muted lanterns, which cast everything into an indistinct fuzziness. Although she felt as if sheer gauze lightly obscured her senses, Calista attempted to be wary as she walked beside Hadrian. Pretending they were conversing casually, Calista studied every surrounding direction, alert.

  As they neared a small space between two buildings, Calista spotted an armed man, wearing the soldier’s traditional tunic. Intent as Hadrian was on finding the inn, he did not perceive the soldier marching down the street, straight towards them. Thinking quickly, Calista yanked Hadrian into the dark crevice, covering his mouth as the man passed by. She peeked out and once he had vanished, she led them out again.

  “Avaritus probably has soldiers out looking for us,” Calista realized. “I cannot believe I didn’t think of that! We idled away hours and that thought did not occur.”

  He paused and then replied, “Maybe that’s good, because surely the search was most fierce when we’d just left. I would have assumed that the fellow we just saw is the remnants of what must have been a thorough hunt.”

  Calista released a held a breath in relief. “That makes sense. But! What if they found Mother and Pyp in your inn?”

  “We may as well check now that we’re out,” said Hadrian but some of his optimism had been replaced by bleakness. Regardless, he continued on his remembered path, passing fallen fruits and vegetables, the only remnants of this morning’s stalls. Hadrian squinted through the dark and discerned the recognizable sign swinging on the entrance. “Here it is.”

  Calista studied it carefully. “I don’t see my mother frequenting this sort of establishment.”

  Hadrian snorted. “Really? From the conditions she has become used to over the past year I am sure she will view this place in the kindest of lights.”

  She bit her tongue as Hadrian pushed open the door. The tavern was as she had imagined: darkly lit and frequented by the lower classes consorting with whores. But the dimness provided a cover against the handful soldiers sprinkled around the establishment. She closed her eyes. Please, please, please let them be here. Please.

  When she opened her eyes, Hadrian was weaving through the tables as if searching for a suitable one. Avoiding the soldiers, he arrived at the door to the kitchens. He spoke in a hushed tone to a plump woman who watched him warily and then led him and Calista to a private room. Ledgers were lit by the wavering light of an oil lamp.

  “As I promised, here is Calista.”

  “Bonum vesperum,” Calista said politely.

  The woman looked Calista up and down. “Well, you look like her. Tell me the name of the cook over at Portus Tarrus.”

  “Koisis!” Calista exclaimed. “Is he here?”

  The woman gave Calista a measured look. “Koisis cooks for Avaritus now so I expect he is there. You need to get your brother and mother out of here.”

  “Really? No!” Calista drawled sarcastically but then immediately regretted it. After all their allies, even grudging ones, were few and far in between—not to mention that they were risking their lives to help them. A hot nervousness spread from her core to fingers and Calista asked, “Can you take us to them? And thank you for all your help.”

  Potita ignored her thanks. “They sent men searching here and only the fact that soldiers patronize the inn saved them from being discovered. You have to get them out of here. Whatever Koisis says, I will not have them over my head.”

  The woman ushered them out of the room and then locked it firmly behind her. She took them through the kitchen again and Calista noted that the cook and the helpers kept their eyes deliberately averted. They were aware that something was afoot and had no desire to be a part of it.

  “Has another man come in?” asked Hadrian. “He has hair and eyes like hers. Tall.”

  The woman shook her head emphatically, ending any further discussion. “No such man has come in. Now, if you go down these stairs…”

  Not waiting to hear the rest of it, Calista eagerly stumbled over the alien, shadow-draped steps and a flash of memory coursed through her: another set of stairs, a fall, nearly killing Avaritus, surely killing Panos.

  “Calista? Caly?”

  And at the sound of the tentatively hopeful voice, her morbid thoughts vanished. “Pyp!” she exclaimed, tripping forward to embrace the dark, familiar figure. She could feel his thinness, the bones of shoulders jutting uncomfortably into her chest. The hair she buried her face into was no longer silky but brittle. Longer and unkempt though they were, the curls were still there and she playfully tugged one.

  “Calista?” Another voice, softer. “Can it be you?”

  “Mama!” Calista wailed, feeling her heart grow weaker and Olympia rushed to her children, cradling them both. She ran her hands over Calista, feeling her hair, her face. Tears rained onto her head, slid down her cheeks. Beneath the huddle, she struggled for breath but there was no thought in her mind to leave the warmth of her family’s embrace. Her chest was so heavy, her head so light that it felt like a strand of seaweed bobbing in the waves. Relief. Love. The twin emotions flooded her, driving away guilt and apprehension. This was why she had done it, the warm softness that surrounded her and there was nothing or no one in this world, Atlantis or beyond that was comparable. Laying her head on her mother’s yielding bosom, Calista felt awash with a third emotion: a lifetime of hugs, affection, laughs passed before her eyes in a blink and the feeling of security wrapped around her like a favorite blanket. She fervently wished that her father were there with them to complete this huddle. Fiercely, Calista whispered, “Never let me go.”

  “Never darling. Oh my brave girl, I will take care of you.”

  “Mama, what do we do?” she asked, oh-so ready to give up the responsibility that had been bowing down her shoulders.

  With a small smile, Olympia said, “Well, how about you introduce me to your friend.”

  Calista turned around to discover that Hadrian was, very politely, studying the barrels around him with deep interest.

  Still not releasing her mother and brother, she said, “This is my friend Hadrian and he has been absolutely instrumental in my return. Hadrian, this is my mother, Olympia, and my brother, Pyp.”

  Niceties were murmured all around. With bright interest in her tired eyes, she asked, “Calista, where have you been? Where could you possibly…? How could you...? That ship, the storm.”

  “I-I,” Calista giggled self-consciously. “Atlantis.”

  Her mother gaped at her in shock and Pyp chimed in, “You didn’t believe me, Mama, remember? Remember when I told you? You said I was being silly.”

  “Atlantis?” Olympia murmured in shock. “Tell me…”

  Calista suppressed a flare of remorse that tickled her chest. “Later, Mother. When we have time. It is a long tale.” Thinking of Evadne, Calista face tightened.

  “What is it, dear?” Olympia asked concernedly.

  “I…” Calista paused. “I am not your daughter, am I?”

  Olympia grasped Calista’s chin. “Beloved, you are my daughter as much as Pyp is my son. We are a family, and I know you know this.” She wiped a tear from Calista’s cheek. “There now, stop this foolishness, child.”

  Calista smiled weakly, but the confirmation, to hear it from her mother’s lips, wiped the last of those doubts away.

  Pyp, peering around the cellar, asked, “Where is Claudius, Caly?”

  Not revealing her worry, she answered, “We left him on the beach after Avaritus captured us. I expect he will be here soon.”

  Both Pyp and Olympia gasped. “Captured by Avaritus!” Olympia’s voice was shrill with shock and something like disappointment wove through her face.

  Hadrian rose slowly. “Caly, we haven’t much time. I shall go and find Claudius, and buy the horse back. In the meantime, explain the options. Potita?” he said. “Is there a back entrance through which I can leave?”

  “Through the kitchens,” she said, adding
, “I’ll send food your way.” She bustled out, leaving Hadrian to follow her.

  Pyp pulled on Calista’s filthy peplos. “Calista, what does he need the horses for?”

  “Hadrian…says that since Avaritus knows we are here now and that he will be prepared for virtually anything we attempt. He says that our one advantage against overwhelming odds was surprise and that we have lost that now so we may as well surrender.”

  “Surrender?” Olympia said, shocked.

  “No, not that exactly,” she explained unwillingly. “He said that Avaritus is doing a good job managing Portus Tarrus and that for us to leave now would not harm it. I supposed we could petition the Emperor and ask him to intervene.” She snorted. “If we could convince him of the truth of it, I think Emperor Augustus would be more than willing to oust Avaritus.” But then vengeance would be the Emperor’s not hers. He would execute Avaritus not for Lucretius, but for the Empire, and surely, surely her father deserved justice in his own name.

  Olympia mulled the option over silently and Calista was aghast. “You cannot actually be considering it! We must stay here and fight, Mama. You said you had a plan! You said you would take care of this.”

  She shook her dark head sternly, her curls trembling. “My idea was contingent upon surprise.”

  “Well, what was it?”

  “To assassinate Avaritus and that abomination Panos but now that Avaritus is expecting you, it makes it nigh on impossible. Are you truly so eager to break the family apart again that you would risk my death?”

  A part of her smiled at the similarity of their thoughts. “Mama, firstly, I would do the business. Secondly, I have already killed Panos.” Shock crossed Olympia’s face and Calista took a grim satisfaction in it. “Finally, it is doubtless that Julius Caesar knew that every step he took there was a chance of assassination, of death. How much surprise could there have been in that and yet they managed it.”

  “Calista, a vague threat is much more difficult to answer than a specific one and Avaritus now knows whom to look out for.” Olympia ran her hand across her daughter’s face in wonderment. She had never thought to see her again in this life.

  “So you agree with him?” The warm feeling of family was vanishing quickly, a bubble that popped as soon as it was touched. “You would let Father’s death go without vengeance?”

  Pyp piped up, “I don’t think Father would want us to die for him.”

  Calista threw up her hands in despair but did not say anything. Hearing a tread of footsteps on the stairs, she started but it was merely Potita, carrying braised fish stuffed with vegetables, as well as cheese and bread. She also carried bandages and salve for Calista’s foot. “Well?” asked Potita. “What has been decided?”

  “We are still working towards a decision,” Calista mumbled through a mouthful.

  However, Olympia said, “Potita, you have been more than kind to us and I am afraid all we could do was bring danger upon you. If you could prepare food for us to travel with, we will be leaving shortly.”

  Potita thudded up the steps with satisfaction.

  “Mother,” Calista hissed. “We cannot! We cannot! We can still do this. We can!” Her father’s face flashed before her eyes, the small creases which gathered around his eyes when he laughed, his warm solidity when he embraced her, his gentle words when she was raging…

  Disagreement etched lines into Olympia’s face. “I will not throw away this family for revenge. Listen, Calista, I too wanted to avenge your father. We had worked upon it, Koisis and I. We were going to assassinate Avaritus, however futile and difficult it may have been but I realize now, as you must, that to attempt any such thing would be tantamount to suicide! I do not want to leave that man drawing breath any moment longer than necessary but neither would I have our own breaths halted in the quest for mindless retaliation.”

  Rapidly, a plan formed in Calista’s mind, springing into it, full-born, like Minerva from the forehead of Jupiter. “Very well, Mother,” she assented, trying very hard to hide her own thoughts.