Held, surrounded, by Jason and the Argo and the sea, listening to the sail and water for the rest of that long day, remembering her younger sister Chalciope and how they lay together most nights for years, as natural as breathing, yet became two different people entirely. Chalciope more foreign to Medea than these Argonauts. Familiar in every way, of course, in her habits and body. The weight of her arm across Medea’s back, scent of her hair. But what Chalciope thought or felt Medea was never able to guess, and Chalciope would never tell. When she was old enough, she lay with their father. Suddenly gone, never to spend another night with Medea again, and never to utter a word of what happened. Content and mute and blank, as difficult to reach as the sky. Always at the side of her father, inseparable. He may have returned to her now. That could be why there is no sign of his ship. Tired of a pointless chase and returning to his other daughter’s bed. But Medea doesn’t really believe this. Nothing will make him stop.

When evening comes, they rise and look carefully at the land now closer on both sides, narrowing. Low hills abandoned at first, the sun buried beyond, then a few fires appearing. Long channel. It seems the Argonauts do not plan to anchor or go ashore.

Ilium, Jason says. Your father could be at Ilium or could have sent riders.

They will sail or row through the night, dangerous. If the channel bends, will they know?

Entering another strange river without fall, another current without source, sped along by something unseen. The wind dying, sail collapsing. Filling again but without power, then curling and hanging uncertain until the men lower the yard.

Returning to the oars as the last light in the sky fades, the water ahead holding that light, a final mirror, deep blue. Jason and the helmsmen lining up in the middle of the wide channel hoping it remains wide, trying to memorize the shore.

Some crossing into another world, to row blind into darkness and steer without reference. Shape of a life. Riding a current unknown.

Outline of Argonauts even when all light is gone, a sense of shadow moving in unison at the oars. Shore passing invisibly, stars appeared above but without light, too far away. Medea on the stern again, behind the helmsmen and Jason, and when she blinks, every shadow relocates, the mass of oarsmen mutable.

They could be passing her father’s ship right now and he wouldn’t know. A good plan. She hopes the night will hold until they’ve entered that larger sea.

Small fires appear along the shore on the left, though none can say for certain where the margin lies. The fires could be far back from the water. Too small to illuminate anything surrounding, and no sense of distance.