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Jacobi nodded, his question answered, and Ibsen glanced at the rest of the group. “Any other questions?”
Merletta cleared her throat. “I have a question.”
Instructor Ibsen turned to her, his eyebrows already drawing together in disapproval, and his tone anything but encouraging. “Oh?”
Merletta sighed internally. He hadn’t even heard her question, and he was already angry with her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Sage looking between Jacobi and Merletta, but she didn’t allow herself to become distracted.
“You said last week that it’s too dangerous for merpeople to live anywhere near land, because of the dragons.”
“I meant,” said Ibsen, in a long-suffering voice, “questions about the establishment of the Center, which we were discussing.” He turned away, as if dismissing the topic, but Merletta had nerved herself up for this, and she wasn’t going to give up easily.
“I know, sir, but I was wondering whether it’s possible that there could be benefits of living near land that might outweigh the risks. For example, surely there are resources that appear on land that we don’t find in the ocean, that we could use for materials, for tools, maybe even for food!”
“I can assure you that any potential benefits do not outweigh the risks,” Ibsen said, his tone bored.
“But what if the risks have been exaggerated?” Merletta pushed, shifting forward in her seat. Her hand strayed toward her satchel. “Wouldn’t it be worth at least considering what we might find? Perhaps we could discover a way to—”
“Enough.” Ibsen cut her off, his voice dismissive. “Others more qualified than you have weighed the risks and the benefits, and we are only safe if we stay within our own borders.”
“But are we safe if we’re running out of space, running out of food, always struggling for enough resources?” Merletta argued, her frustration rising at the familiar non-answer.
“I said, enough.” Ibsen’s voice had taken on a deadly calm that did little to hide his growing anger.
Merletta held back a grunt of frustration. She was only trying to help the triple kingdoms—that was her only reason for raising the matter. Was his prejudice against her background really so strong that he wasn’t even willing to consider something that might benefit everyone?
She drew in a deep swirl of water, collecting herself. She had braced herself for personal consequences—she still had to try.
“What if there are land-dwellers—other than dragons,” she hastened to add, “who could talk to us, tell us things we don’t know, help us expand our capabilities? How will we know if we don’t—”
“What part of ‘enough’ didn’t you understand?” Ibsen growled, and Merletta fell silent, alarmed by the sudden fury in his eyes.
“Land-dwellers?” muttered Jacobi in an audible aside to Ileana. He gave a slight snicker, apparently oblivious to the deadly edge to Ibsen’s demeanor. “Is she talking about humans and those types of myths?”
Merletta’s eyes flicked to the duo, her expression resentful, but she was surprised by what she saw. Jacobi looked smug and condescending as he made fun of the slum-dweller who believed in bedtime stories. But for once Ileana wasn’t joining in with his mocking. She was avoiding his gaze, looking at Ibsen with a carefully blank expression. Her eyes darted to Merletta, then quickly away when she saw that Merletta was watching her. Her face was devoid of its usual glare, her expression remaining unnaturally empty.
Merletta’s forehead creased, confused by the other mermaid’s manner as she followed her gaze back to the instructor.
“As I said,” Ibsen emphasized, “I was inviting questions on the content of today’s lesson. We were not discussing the dangers of the land. That is subject matter far more advanced than your level of study.”
Merletta opened her mouth to protest, but a sudden thought made her pause. She closed it, watching the instructor thoughtfully. He seemed to take her silence as acceptance, and continued the lesson, speaking briskly.
Merletta stole a glance at the other trainees. Emil was as unexpressive as ever, and Oliver looked no different from usual. Sage, however, looked a little confused, and while Jacobi still wore a smirk, Ileana showed no sign of her usual enjoyment of Merletta being chastised. She was still unnaturally expressionless.
Merletta looked from them to Ibsen—who was speaking casually but still looked angry to her eye—and her suspicion hardened to certainty.
They know.
Her head whirled at the realization. All that talk of it being more advanced than my level…the instructors know about humans. Her gaze passed from the confusion of Sage—a second year—to the uncharacteristic demeanor of Ileana—a third year. And so do the older students. They’ve been taught about them.
As if the discovery that humans were real wasn’t enough of a shock, now she had to come to terms with the fact that their existence was being actively concealed from the population by those whose job it was to educate them. But why? Why were they keeping it a secret? They must have their reasons—perhaps they genuinely believed it was too dangerous for everyone to know. Perhaps humans were a threat in ways Merletta didn’t understand.
But thinking of the man she’d seen on the island, it was hard to believe it.
Besides, she thought angrily, not even pretending to listen to the lesson anymore, even if they were hiding it from the public, why were they hiding it from the younger trainees? She thought back to what Ibsen had said, and she scowled as she realized the reason. In her case at least, the instructor was surely hoping she’d fail her next test, and never advance to the level where she would be taught such things. They obviously didn’t want drop outs to have that information.
The thought was sobering enough to pull her from her anger. This was more than a petty vendetta against someone from Tilssted. This was organized deception, and it made her question everything. It also made her extremely glad that she’d exercised some caution at least, and hadn’t blurted out to the class that she’d seen a human herself. Who knew what that would have led to? She was glad not to find out.
One thing was certain. She would have to be more careful than ever.
