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She shook the thought off, unnerved by her own reaction. Surely it was his kind who had built the structures she’d seen on the…what had he called it? The island. But he’d said he was hoping to meet the people who lived there, so presumably he didn’t actually live there himself. So where had he come from?
She strained her memory, searching for the details of the stories the merchildren had told each other at the home. The most popular had been the scary tales of careless merpeople being eaten in one bite by the fierce dragons who apparently lurked on the surface, waiting to snatch up unwary wanderers. But there had been other stories, too. Myths like sea witches who dwelt in the deep ocean, ready to grant wishes.
Casting her mind back, Merletta pulled up a vague memory of another myth, about land-dwellers who were restricted to the land by their form. Creatures similar to mermaids, but without tails, or mermaid intelligence. The legends were that they so envied the merpeople’s ability to roam the water freely that they used to gather enough driftwood to make structures, and ride across the surface of the water on them, trying not to fall in, because if they were fully submerged they would die, just as mermaids would die if they dried out.
Merletta couldn’t remember much detail of these tales. She had heard them only once or twice, many years ago. She had always been less interested in the make believe, and more interested in the secrets of their own history. But she had an excellent memory, she reminded herself. She screwed her eyes shut more tightly in her effort to remember what these land-dwellers had been called.
Humans!
Her eyes sprang open, satisfied that she had found the word. The land-dwellers from the myths were called humans.
She shook her head again, slowly this time, still too stunned to fully believe what she’d seen. It seemed humans weren’t a myth after all. They were real, and they were close. And they were more like mermaids in both form and intelligence than the stories had claimed.
It was almost too much to take in. She had thought that in finding the land, she’d made a big discovery. But it was nothing to what she’d seen today. Her initial shock and panic began to ebb, excitement taking their place.
There were creatures of intelligence living on the surface of the land! Creatures capable of speech, and of building houses. They might be restricted from entering the water, but they could roam the land at will. If merpeople could cooperate with these humans, both groups would have twice the reach they’d had before. Who knew what they could discover, what new and better ways of doing things could be found with this extra source of information?
She pulled the round, brown object from her satchel. This item alone had a myriad of possible uses. She ran a hand over the rough, sturdy surface. Perhaps it could be cut in half, and used as a covering, instead of shells. Or fashioned into a bowl. And it might even be a new source of food. With the triple kingdoms expanding too rapidly for their infrastructure, there was always more demand than there were resources to meet it. No one knew that better than an orphan from Tilssted.
She sat in the cavern for a long time, wrestling with her thoughts. A lifetime of sneaking around, of disproportionate punishments and undeserved snubs, had created an instinct of secrecy in her. The first thought in her mind was definitely that she shouldn’t tell anyone what she’d seen. Who knew what the repercussions would be for her if those at the Center found out about her frequent unsanctioned trips to the surface?
But there were greater factors to be considered. She struggled with herself, pushing her own fear of consequences down in favor of what the triple kingdoms could gain from this discovery. She would have to face whatever punishment she might be given. It would be worth it for the merpeople of all three kingdoms to have such an opportunity. Perhaps in time her misdemeanor would be forgiven when everyone saw the full possibilities of this discovery. Besides, if the legends were true, and humans couldn’t fully dive below the water, then it wasn’t as though they were any threat to merpeople.
For a moment Merletta was distracted from her resolution, lost in the memory of the human she’d seen on the island. His eyes hadn’t been dark like hers, but a dusky blue, like the sky after a spring storm. And they had seemed gentle. She had fled from him in her shock, but considering the matter now, in the safety of the triple kingdoms, she didn’t actually believe he was dangerous. There had been nothing threatening about him.
She was suddenly overwhelmed by an illogical desire to return to the island then and there, to see him again, and find out who he was and what he knew. But she shook it off. She had more pressing things to consider. Like how she could communicate her discovery in a way that it was most likely to be believed and least likely to get her thrown from the training program.
She had decided on an approach by the time she arrived at class the following morning with her fellow trainees. She had barely been able to sleep the night before, too nervous and excited to let the gentle rocking motion of her hammock lull her into calm. The other trainees seemed to be in good spirits, chatting about what they’d done on their day off. It seemed that most of them had visited their families, as Instructor Wivell had predicted.
“How about you, Merletta? What did you do on your rest day?”
Merletta turned, instantly wary. But it was Sage who had spoken, and the other mermaid’s face showed neither suspicion nor hostility. She was even giving Merletta a tentative smile.
“I, uh…” She searched her mind for something she could say that was true, but not dangerous. “I went back to Tilssted for a little while.”
Sage nodded, her expression still friendly, if a little awkward. “Nice that you got a chance to visit your fa—friends.”
Merletta held back a smile at Sage’s slight flush, certain that the other mermaid was chastising herself for starting to say the word “family”. There was no need for her discomfort. Merletta wasn’t sensitive about being an orphan. She’d had her whole life to get used to the idea.
She glanced around the group, noticing with surprise that the rest of the trainees had been listening to the exchange, a couple of them even doing so without hostility on their faces.
When her eyes passed to Emil, he nodded gravely. “Good morning, Merletta.”
“Good morning, Emil,” she responded, a little stunned.
It took her a moment to identify why his greeting seemed so significant. She suddenly realized she wasn’t sure she’d ever heard the young merman—or any of the trainees—actually address her by name before. But Sage and Emil had both just done so, and even Oliver wasn’t glaring at her. Ileana still was, of course, and Jacobi was ignoring her altogether, but it was still a huge improvement.
She searched her thoughts, trying to identify the cause of this change, and she decided it must have been Agner’s revelations. Apparently the information of her excellent test results had earned her some measure of respect. She sat a little straighter in her seat, a flash of pride passing over her. Unlike the rest of the group, she had earned her place here without the advantage of help from anyone.
Instructor Ibsen drifted into the room soon after, and Merletta’s momentary satisfaction slid away. She swallowed nervously. It was unfortunate that the history instructor was the least friendly, because his class was the most obvious opportunity to lead into her revelations. She ran a hand over her satchel, reassuring herself that she’d remembered to bring the hard round plant for demonstration.
She had decided not to interrupt, but to wait until he offered the chance for questions. Being Ibsen, it was some way into the class before the opportunity arose. Ibsen invited questions, and Jacobi, her fellow first year, raised a hand.
“Yes, Jacobi?” the instructor said, nodding invitingly to the trainee.
“You said that the instructors fall within the training department of the Center rather than the record holder department. Are they the same thing as the educators?”
“Good question,” nodded Ibsen. “They are not exactly the same. The educators also fall within the training department, but their role is to work with the public. The instructors are a separate discipline who conduct training and education within the Center. They are drawn from all disciplines, and generally serve only a term as instructors. For example, when Emil is a junior record holder,” he nodded to the nineteen-year-old, “he will also answer to Instructor Wivell—the chief instructor. That is because part of his role as a junior record holder will be to help with training others.”
