Calista was wandering around the Agora stalls, a habit she had developed over the past few weeks. She had been here long enough to accept the reality of Atlantis, with all its strangeness and magic, but not a day passed that she did not long for her family, that she did not try to implement some scheme to take her home.
She had been born (or found, she supposed) in Portus Tarrus, but when she was six, her father had shifted the family to Rome for a handful of years after her grandmother had died. She had been a capricious child and one day had sneaked off alone to explore Rome. She remembered weaving through the legs of citizens and slaves, delighted with her freedom. There had been an instance of fright when someone who Calista still swore had been a slave trader caught her arm, but she had wrested her hand away by yanking her arm through the weak link of his thumb. Once she had escaped, she had begun narrating the story in her head as she later would to her friends in Portus Tarrus—never mind another five years would pass before her father would be appointed proconsul and she would see them again. At the end of the day she had returned to their villa, where her aunt Laetitia now lived, shocked when her parents had punished her by confining her to the house.
Today, too, Calista was eluding capture. Today, two things had happened that had set her already teetering world reeling. Calista had been jolted awake by a most unsettling dream. She could not recall the details of it or even the basic plot for that matter, but that dream…there had been something horrific about it, an aura that lingered in her mind.
At the farthest edge of the Agora, Calista peered up at the walls of water that contained the air for the inhabitants of Atlantis to breathe, trying to see past the bubbling swirls. She strained as if by looking through sun-strained waters she would catch sight of the family she had left behind. She felt herself slowly walking towards the wall of water and pressed herself against the jelly-like barrier. As the chilly water splashed against her face, she was unceremoniously pulled back.
“What in Tartarus are you doing?” Hadrian’s grey eyes were stormy with fury. “If you had broken the barrier, you would have drowned.”
“I see no reason to remain when it is evident that my return was a triviality: I am not the gods’ plaything, no matter what they may believe.” She was suddenly very aware of his large hand wrapped around her arm. She tried to free herself of his hold as she had with the Roman slave trader but he held fast.
Hadrian was calmer but he spoke firmly. “If you answer the Waveguide’s summons your questions might have been answered. I can appreciate a dislike of the Waveguide, but that is nothing to kill yourself over.”
“Don’t yell at Calista.” Appearing from nowhere, Claudius was still as golden and handsome as ever. Calista had heard Philyra’s friends sighing over him. Yet, there was a tightness in his eyes that had not been there before and Calista was very much afraid that it was her fault.
“Claudius,” Calista said, sensing the antagonism simmering between the two. “Really, it truly is not your place. I appreciate it, but don’t worry yourself.”
For a few moments, Calista was very much afraid that she would have to wrestle Claudius down but he finally conceded, “Very well.”
The trio stood awkwardly before Calista said, “The Waveguide has summoned me, so I suppose I shall go now.”
Claudius touched her elbow. “Do you wish me to escort you to the Maretheon?” He caught Calista’s glance at Hadrian. “Do you need his permission to go with me?” he quipped.
Calista forced a sunny smile as they left Hadrian. “How have you been keeping yourself?” After the banquet, she had been avoiding him and she wondered if he realized that. When he did not respond, Calista assured him in what she hoped was a comforting manner, “You must forget everything you said when you were drunk. I realize that people say things that they do not mean when they have been drinking. Even the most bizarre things seem sensible and right.”
Claudius changed the subject. “Why is your stola wet?” His finger faltered just short of touching the water-transparent fabric. Calista was thankful for the thick tunic underneath.
She was relieved when the pillars of the Maretheon came into view. She had no desire to tell Claudius about her ill-thought and botched escape attempt. “If you will excuse me, the Waveguide is expecting me. Thank you for walking with me, Brother.”
He flinched but Calista felt no compunction—if he required hourly reminders she would provide them. Hearty discomfort flooded through her at the thought she was the object of her brother’s affection. It would be like if Pyp...She could not complete the thought. He needed to be reminded that despite his semi-divine status, he could not throw away all sense.
As he left, Calista leaned heavily against a soaring column. She knew full well that the moment she entered the Maretheon, she would be the target of all eyes, curious to know what business the Waveguide had with the strange girl from above. She sucked in the salty air of Atlantis.
A man dressed in the scarlet tunic of a Maretheon guardsman asked, “Are you Calista?”
After her affirmation, he gestured for her to follow him as if she could not recall every step to the Waveguide’s chamber. The familiar wood doors opened, revealing Thetis perched regally on her gem-encrusted throne. Seeing Calista, she indicated the seat in front of her.
“I am sorry that I have not spoken to you since your arrival, but there were some affairs that required my oversight.” Thetis did not appear particularly contrite, but Calista knew this was the most she would receive for her weeks of impatient worry. Once I know what is expected of me, I will know better how to counter it.
“I have been deliberating since your first day whether or not to name you my heir,” Thetis stated with startling frankness. “I had decided, long ago, that if anyone were to rule Atlantis after me, then she would have lived Above, just as I did. You were chosen to be sent Above by Neptune and now that you have returned, I am pleased to see you are a clever girl.”
Judging by Thetis’ expression, Calista supposed she was expected to rejoice. “Perhaps you should have thought to consider the lives you split asunder with your plans,” she said quietly.
Thetis ignored her. “I have selected you to be my heir. Your discovery of that pendant you wear around your neck was the trigger for your return. All those born of Atlantis have similar pieces struck for them on birth; it is a sign of your heritage. You have shown resilience and resourcefulness on your sojourn Above. Of course, you will need to be thoroughly trained and educated before you are prepared to completely assume the role of Waveguide.”
“Perhaps I do not want to take over your position as Waveguide.” Calista wanted to reach up and wrench the necklace from her neck and throw it away. If this was what brought her to this place, then she had never loathed anything more.
Thetis seemed unruffled and raised a thoughtful finger to her lips. “I cannot force you to my will, but as Waveguide, I hold the favor of the gods. At a simple request, they could destroy your foster family without a second thought—or they could save them.”
Calista’s breath was trapped in her throat. Thetis smiled.
“And if I agree you will have them rescued?” Calista wished she could believe it, but having seen Neptune, she found that she could not put her faith in the hands of the gods.
Thetis smiled enigmatically.
With difficulty, Calista modulated her tone to mild disbelief. “I do not see why you are so eager to have me as Waveguide. I do not know Atlantis nor do I think I would prove a deft hand at intrigue.”
“You are untouched by the factions within Atlantis. Were I to choose someone from here, I would offend other groups: the nymphs, the men who walked Knossos, their children. Each has their own interests. And you have proven an emotional toughness. Like those of the original generation, like myself, you know life Above and as we did, you will learn of life in Atlantis.”
Calista wanted to be nothing of the sort. “I refuse,” she said sharply.
Thetis did not raise her v
oice, but her brow tightened with fury. “Deny me again and I will see you confined to your mother’s house.”
As a sense of powerlessness rushed through her ears and eyes, Calista decided she had had more than enough. “The arrogance to presume that I would wish to assume responsibility for Atlantis leaves me speechless. I bear this place no love. And you dare threaten my family and then think that I would be eager to serve you? So, Thetis—” She refused to address the woman by her title. “—Thank you for this generous offer but I have to decline.” If she could not control her fate, the fleeting satisfaction of venting her anger at the woman responsible was pleasure enough.
Thetis’ golden eyes flashed with the anger Calista had hoped to kindle. “I believe I just warned you of the consequences of speaking so. I did not believe you to be a stupid girl, but perhaps you are unworthy of Atlantis after all. Whatever the case, I do not go back on my word.” With a wave of her hand, she summoned a guard. “Gnaeus will take you to your mother’s home.”
Calista’s stomach swooshed as the import of her foolhardiness dawned upon her. With the thrill of confrontation rushing through her veins, she had not recognized the immensity of ostracism. She would lose her mobility about Atlantis, the chance to pry at its cracks, to solicit the good will of its citizens to help her find a way home. Foolish, foolish, foolish, Calista berated herself.
“What was that?”
Calista had not realized she had spoken aloud.
“Even if you apologize,” Thetis continued, “I will not forgive your transgression. There is no use in trying to wheedle your way out.”
Remaining silent, Calista tried to level Thetis with her most condescending stare. The indignity she had suffered at Avaritus’ hands would make even the longest solitary imprisonment seem like a holiday.
Unfazed, Thetis ordered the guard to take Calista away.
CHAPTER XV