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Emil returned the gesture, his expression disinterested, and turned away. It appeared he had no more to say.
Merletta observed Emil’s profile with interest. He looked like the oldest, which might be why he seemed to have the respect of the rest of the group. Like Ileana, he had the classic features considered appealing by most merpeople. Pale skin, fair hair, and faintly purple eyes. He even had the vibrant green tail that many of the girls in the home had often described as the most attractive of scale colors. Ileana’s tail was green as well, although not nearly as bright in tone.
Not all of the group matched this ideal. The friendlier of the mermaids—Sage, if she remembered correctly—had skin a shade darker, brown hair, and a tail the pinky-orange color of the coral found in most gardens. And one of the remaining two mermen, although his skin was similar to Sage’s, and his tail a deep blue, had even darker hair.
Merletta thought she herself was the darkest in skin tone, although not by much. She glanced at her tail with some satisfaction, pleased that the vibrancy of the purple-blue scales gave her nothing to be ashamed of. But the momentary surge of pride made her laugh at herself. It wasn’t her coloring that made her stand out, of course. She would hazard a guess that none of the other five had grown up in Tilssted.
“Good morning.”
The strong voice made everyone sit up straighter in their seats. Merletta followed the others’ gaze toward the portal into the room, to see a middle-aged merman enter, his eyes on the large writing leaf in his hand rather than on the group he was addressing.
“Good morning, Instructor Wivell,” responded the five trainees as one.
The merman floated across to the empty side of the space. He looked up at last, his eyes scanning the group in an unhurried way before fixing on Merletta.
“We have a new trainee,” he said, his face showing neither welcome nor disdain. “Merletta, I believe?”
“Yes, sir,” said Merletta, pushing up from her seat.
He nodded. “I am Instructor Wivell. You applied yesterday, correct?”
“That’s right,” Merletta confirmed.
The instructor nodded again. “And am I correct in understanding that you are not a legacy applicant?”
“Uh…” Merletta hesitated, unfamiliar with the term.
Ileana snickered, exchanging a look with a pale-skinned merman with copper hair and a burgundy tail. But Instructor Wivell didn’t seem either displeased or amused by Merletta’s ignorance.
“A legacy applicant,” he explained, “is an applicant with a parent, or perhaps grandparent, who has trained in the record holder discipline.” His eyes lingered on the mermaid who had been friendliest—Sage—and Merletta wondered if she was such an applicant. She tried not to feel jealous. What an advantage that must be.
“Oh,” she said, realizing that the instructor was still waiting for a response to his original question. “I’m not one of those.”
The instructor nodded. “And you haven’t received any formal education, beyond the rudimentary training of a charity home, yes?”
Neither his face nor his voice showed any consciousness that his words might bring Merletta embarrassment, and she tried to appear equally detached as she nodded in confirmation.
“You will have a great deal of water to cover, then,” he said, as unemotional as ever. “For now, I will explain the basic structure of our program to you, before we begin our day’s training.”
A couple of the other trainees sighed, and Ileana grumbled audibly, but Merletta ignored them. She propelled herself back down into a sitting position, leaning forward eagerly. She was more than ready to start learning something.
“The training program is rigorous, and covers multiple aspects of what is required to work with the record holders. You will have three primary instructors. With me, you will study literacy, an area of which you must be a master if you hope to become a record holder. Another instructor will train you in the history of our kind.”
Merletta sat up straighter, excited already. The history of how the triple kingdoms developed was one of the areas that intrigued her most.
“Finally, you will receive physical training—including in combat—with a third instructor.” He glanced around the group. “If you succeed in becoming a record holder, you will be one of our kingdoms’ greatest resources. It is considered important that you are capable of defending yourself from injury or attack.”
Merletta raised her eyebrows, wondering who would dare to attack a record holder. But the instructor was barreling on.
“In being accepted into this program, you are joining an elite group. At present, we have only five—now six—trainees undertaking the training.” He paused, his eyes fixing on the copper-haired merman who had snickered with Ileana. “You have one fellow trainee in his first year of training—Jacobi.”
The young merman nodded tightly when Merletta looked at him, not quite making eye contact. He must be sixteen, then, like her. He did look young.
“If you complete the first year of your training successfully,” Instructor Wivell continued, “you will earn the right to take a position as a scribe in the record holder discipline.”
Merletta frowned slightly. A scribe? She knew their role was important, but she hadn’t gambled everything on this path for the hope of becoming a mere scribe.
“Or,” Instructor Wivell went on, “you can choose to continue to a second year of training, as Sage,” the mermaid nodded briskly in response to his gesture, “and Oliver have done.” Merletta nodded to the merman indicated, the dark-haired one. His eyes were cold as he stared back at her, and she looked away quickly.
