Ariadne

Deme awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of arguing.

The child immediately recalled the innkeeper’s warning earlier that evening. She flung herself out of bed, rushed to the offending room, and threw open the doors. Ariadne and Samuel glared at each other from opposite sides of their empty room. To Deme’s surprise, Old Calvin stood awake between them, looking lost and conflicted.

“I didn’t almost freeze to the death in the mountains for this to happen,” Samuel yelled. “What are we going to do about the horses? About the midwife I hired for us?”

“'Tis all you can think about?” Ariadne gasped. “The money you spent on horses, wagons, Sister Caroline. Is Sister Caroline the one bearing your child, Samuel? No? Then why care about her when I’m standing right here?”

“Of course I care about you, that’s why we’re even talking about this,” Samuel growled. “That’s why we need to get ourselves aboard a ship, make for The Opposing Shore, so our child is born in a land that isn’t dying.”

“The land’s not dying, Samuel, 'tis changing,” Ariadne snapped. “Weren’t you listening?"

“Weren’t you?” the blacksmith scoffed. “What part of that whole speech didn’t you find absolutely insane? They want you to stay here and die with them, dear.”

“Samuel! Ariadne!” Deme interrupted. “If we wake up the old granny downstairs, she’s going to kick us out of the inn. Could we at least keep it down?”

“Deme’s right,” Old Calvin muttered. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you two.”

“We can’t just set this aside,” Ariadne shook her head, though she did lower her voice. “I’m staying, Samuel. I’m staying here with these Andari. I want you to stay with me.”

“This was the first day you’ve ever even heard from them,” Samuel said. “You don’t have any second thoughts? You didn’t want to listen to them more before coming to a decision?”

“And what about The Great Sea?” Ariadne sneered. “Everyone is so confident that we’ll reach The Opposing Shore. What gives you that confidence, dear? What if there’s a storm at sea and I’m hurt? What if the baby’s hurt?”

“As opposed to staying here, which is guaranteed to kill our only child?”

"'Tis not guaranteed!”

“Why would they issue The Royal Decree if there was nothing across the sea?” Samuel asked. “Women and children first. Are you saying we knowingly sent innocents first to the slaughter?”

“I don’t know. I don’t care,” Ariadne shrugged. “What matters is that our child survives. I think our child has the best chance if we were to stay here.”

This was going nowhere. Deme saw this argument lasting all night, even out in the streets after the old innkeeper woke up and threw them all out.

“We can talk about this tomorrow, when everyone’s had a night’s rest,” Deme suggested. “We’re already in the city anyway. The ships aren’t going anywhere.”

“You don’t know that,” Samuel growled. “For all you know, they’ll run out of materials to build new ships before we even get ourselves aboard one.”

“That’ll be wonderful!” Ariadne hissed. “You’ll have no choice but to stay with us.”

Deme snatched Ariadne’s arm before she uttered her next comment. She nodded to Old Calvin to grab ahold of Samuel.

“Ariadne,” the child said. “You’re staying with me tonight.

“Wha—“

“Old Calvin,” Deme continued. “Take Samuel. I think they both need time to cool off.”

Deme pulled Ariadne out of the room. They walked across the hall into Deme’s quarters, where the child shut the door and pointed at Lavenza’s sleeping bag lying next to hers.

“It’s Lavenza’s,” Deme said, “but she’s probably not coming back tonight. You’ll sleep there.”

“I wasn’t finished talking with my husband,” Ariadne muttered.

“Yes you were,” Deme replied. “Like I said, I’m not being kicked out from the inn because you two can’t behave like adults. Talk about it again in the morning.”

“Have you no sense of urgency, child?”

Deme shrugged. She hadn’t pulled the woman out one of argument in order to start another. Deme leaned against the door to remind Ariadne that she wasn’t going anywhere. The blacksmith’s looked jumpy; she waited for Deme to respond to her provocations and pouted when nothing came of it. She sulked over to Lavenza’s sleeping bag and nudged it as if checking to see if it was alive.

“I’m not tired,” she said.

“Then I’ll stay up till you fall asleep,” Deme yawned. “Lie back and relax or something.”

“None of you understand me,” Ariadne sighed. “None of you carry a child. You don’t know the way people look at you, talk to you.”

“They think you shouldn’t have conceived?”

“They call me a child killer.”

“Funny,” Deme smiled. “Lavenza’s been called the same.”

“She isn’t taking you to The Opposing Shore?” Ariadne asked.

“I don’t want to go,” Deme said.

“That makes two of us at least,” Ariadne knelt over the bedroll and slipped inside. “So you too think that—”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Deme shook her head. “I’m not going because I made a promise to my father. I’m going to reforge his armor if it’s the last thing I do. We’re not the same.”

“You’re wrong,” Ariadne replied. “We’re more alike than the others. You have your armor. I have my baby. I don’t know much about this business with the flower, but I can tell that you think it doesn’t exist across the sea. We've reached the same conclusion, child. My baby doesn’t have a life if we sail. Neither does your father’s armor.”

“The old blacksmith you admire,” Ariadne continued. “He thinks I’m a fool. He’s right. I am a foolish housewife. His stories tell me that he’s lived for many lifetimes. I don't have his experience. But he is wrong, child. He’s wrong that we all must escape beyond the sea or perish. He thinks that you should go too, doesn’t he? Against your own wishes?”

“We have a difference in opinion,” Deme crossed her arms. She didn’t want to mention her conversation with Old Calvin from earlier that night. “That’s all.”

“The end is coming,” Ariadne tucked herself beneath her covers. “It’s less than a year away, child. All we can do is live our own choices. Samuel demands that I leave with him, endanger my child. Old Calvin’s wishes for you to leave your father behind. That doesn't sound like a difference of opinion."

Ariadne closed her eyes. A faint snoring arose from her lips.

Now it was Deme’s turn to not feel tired. Ariadne’s words had troubled her more than she thought. The two of them were similar. They both had reason to stay in Aparthia. Old Calvin’s doubts crept into her. How did she know that Rafta could even be found?

“Lavenza thought so,” Deme murmured. “So it must be true.”

She put out her lantern by the windowsill and snuggled beneath her own sleeping bag. An hour of unrest passed. It didn’t help that Ariadne’s snoring underwent a rumbling crescendo. After some more unhelpful tossing and turning, Deme shifted on her back and stared at the ceiling.

There was a trick that her father used to teach her for falling asleep.

“Draw the world out in your head,” he used to say. “Plan out the next day, the next month, the next year. Where will those plans take you Deme? Be specific, and before you know it, your mind will remember that it’s tired.”

There was no next year in Deme’s plans, at least not yet. She drew the whole of Aparthia using the ceiling as her parchment paper. She reimagined the western shore, the southern peninsula, the mountain ranges that divided the inner kingdom from the vassal territories further east.

Then, there was the Abyss. The old dungeons delved deeper the further east one went. That’s why Lavenza said they would find Rafta there. Deme imagined its dark tunnels and tricky passageways. She closed her eyes and flooded it with such detail that she could hear the drip of water in lonely caverns and ancient doorways that hid great treasures.

Lavenza and Deme stood in a great hallway. Deme didn’t know if it was the Abyss she was still imagining, but the antiquated symbols on the walls suggested that if it was not the Abyss, then this place was just as old. Lavenza led Deme to the end, where an open doorway led into a peerless chamber. Lavenza smiled and produced from within her robes a blossom of Rafta.

That was when Deme realized she was dreaming. Her eyes snapped open.

It was morning. The sun had risen just enough that its light crawled above the windowsill and into her room. Deme turned her head to her right. An empty sleeping bag lay beside her. The door to Deme’s room was left ajar.

“Oh.”