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“I thought I told you not to interrupt my class,” he said, his brow stormy. “I didn’t invite you to ask questions. I invited Jacobi and Sage to give you information.”
“But if they were educators, giving this information to regular merpeople, wouldn’t their audience be likely to ask questions?” argued Merletta. “Shouldn’t they prepare for how to answer them?”
One of the instructor’s eyebrows twitched as he stared her down. Then he turned abruptly to Jacobi. “How would you answer such a question, Jacobi? Try to imagine your fellow trainee is a common merchild.” His lip curled. “It shouldn’t be too difficult in this instance.”
Jacobi turned to Merletta, a slight smirk on his face. “Thank you for your interest,” he said, again sounding as though he was repeating a set line. “But I have no more information to give regarding that topic. Accept the history you have been told as a gift.”
Merletta frowned slightly. She might not be getting the answers she wanted, but she was certainly learning a great deal.
It was discouraging. She was very familiar with this approach to questions—it had been standard practice at the charity home. But she had thought it was merely the repressive atmosphere of the home itself. Surely here in the Center she would get better answers than that. That was certainly not the type of educator she would be, if she ever ended up in that role. She opened her mouth to say as much, but stopped herself, trying to think a bit more strategically.
She turned to Instructor Ibsen, her tone careful. “I understand that Jacobi has completed his task, but he’s speaking to trainees, not actually to common merpeople. You said you would teach me everything I need to know to be an educator, and more. Surely the educators have more information than that?”
Ibsen’s eyes had been gradually narrowing the whole time she spoke, and they were now the smallest slits. But after a moment’s silence, he begrudgingly answered.
“The brothers came from another settlement of merpeople, but they—and their wives—were the last survivors of that people. The rest were wiped out by the dangerous creatures that live in the deep ocean. The brothers survived the destruction, which is why they created the wards that protect us. So it couldn’t happen again.”
Merletta opened her mouth, then closed it. There were some holes with that story, but it was clear from Ibsen’s demeanor that she wasn’t getting any more answers on that topic, at least not today. She had to remind herself that she had a lot to lose now that she was a trainee, with a genuine chance at a better future. This was no place to mouth off like she so often had at the home.
“Jacobi,” said the instructor, turning away from Merletta, “you answered satisfactorily. Sage,” his expression was still a little dark as his gaze settled on the second year mermaid, “do you know where you went wrong?”
Sage didn’t immediately answer, and Ibsen opened up the question. “Can anyone else tell Sage her mistake?”
“Yes, sir,” said Emil, the fourth year student, calmly. “She answered more than the question asked. You asked her about the establishment of the triple kingdoms, and she blurred her answer from that into a discussion of our kingdoms’ current politics. The extra information muddied the water, and confused her listener.”
“Precisely,” said the instructor, clearly pleased. “Well explained, Emil.” He turned to Sage, his eyes flickering darkly to Merletta. “Our new trainee has demonstrated exactly why it is unhelpful to provide information that has not been sought. She became caught up on details that were not important, instead of focusing on what you were actually saying.”
Sage nodded thoughtfully, clearly accepting the chastisement.
Merletta’s first instinct was to contradict Ibsen and point out that her question about Jacobi’s insufficient explanation bore no connection to Sage’s answer. But at the last moment she changed her mind. She wasn’t here to argue, she was here to learn. And she had many questions.
“Since we’re discussing the topic of the merging of the triple kingdoms,” she said, trying her very hardest to make her tone respectful, “why is it that we can’t expand beyond our current borders?”
Ileana made an impatient noise in the back of her throat. “Haven’t you been listening to a word? The cities are surrounded by a magic barrier, and it’s not safe to live outside it. We’ve already expanded to the edge of the barrier, so any more expansion must happen inward. That’s how the cities have merged into the triple kingdoms.”
Merletta flicked her tail, frustrated. “Yes, I know that. But what if some amongst the population wanted to take their chances? Perhaps they could live in settlements just beyond the barrier if they built more natural defenses. They could be close enough to have support from the triple kingdoms as needed. There are plenty in Tilssted who I’m sure would be brave enough to at least try.”
“It is not a matter of bravery, but of stupidity,” said Ibsen harshly. “You are again providing a helpful demonstration for the class, this time of the ignorance that has made Tilssted so much less prosperous than its neighboring cities. It is simply too dangerous to live outside the barrier.”
“But—” Merletta paused. She had again been about to contradict, picturing the stretch of ocean she had traversed the day before. It wasn’t so wildly dangerous from all she’d seen. But she stopped herself just in time. She couldn’t make that argument without revealing her excursions outside the barrier. “But I’ve been told that most of the creatures in the ocean aren’t aggressive,” she said carefully. “Surely they’re not so much to be feared.” She gave a small shudder. “Except for jellyfish, of course.”
A snicker drew her attention to Jacobi. “She’s afraid of jellyfish?” he mocked, in a carrying whisper. Ileana wore a look of open disdain, and even Instructor Ibsen had a sneer on his face.
“In any event,” Merletta pushed on, forcing herself to ignore their derision, “we’ve already expanded so far inward that we’ve merged. There’s no more room to increase. More and more of the inhabitants of Tilssted are being pushed into the kelp farms. What will happen in another generation or so? We simply won’t fit.”
“We’ll be fine,” said Ibsen dismissively.
“But how?” Merletta insisted.
“Enough questions,” growled Ibsen. “You’re here to learn, not take over the lesson.”
“But how can I learn if I don’t ask questions?” Merletta asked, her frustration bursting from her.
“That’s enough!” Ibsen’s calm gave way for a moment, revealing an anger beneath that was more alarming than his icy hostility.
He took a moment to breathe, calming himself before continuing, and Merletta reined in her own frustration, her heart rate spiking slightly. She’d been trying to be careful, but she’d still pushed too far, as usual. She had to remember that this wasn’t the home. If she wasn’t careful she would get herself thrown out before she’d begun.
“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” Ibsen said at last, speaking in a more measured tone. “And allowances must be made for your ignorance, being only at the very commencement of your study. But these are matters for far wiser and more experienced minds than yours to worry about. These things move in cycles, and problems right themselves in a natural course.”
