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Sage smiled. “You don’t do well with sitting still, do you?”
Merletta grimaced at the reference to Ibsen’s criticisms the day before, when he’d reached the limit of his patience and chastised Merletta for her fidgeting. She’d tried to keep still, but her thoughts had been on Vazula, as usual, and she was itching to reach the next rest day. Heath had promised to bring a map of his kingdom, and she couldn’t wait to examine it. The only maps she’d ever seen were crude ones carved into rocks as signposts. The possibilities of a map on paper were incredible.
“I never have,” she sighed to Sage. “It was constantly getting me in trouble at the home.”
“What was the home like?” Sage asked curiously.
Merletta looked at her in surprise. It was the first real sign of interest anyone in the Center had shown about her past. Well, about her actual experiences, anyway. Snide comments about her background were still common from both Ileana and Jacobi, although the other trainees had started to lose interest in such petty barbs.
“It was dreary,” she said frankly. “And depressing. Life was predictable, with no variation, no excitement, and a lot of hard work. Beneficiaries often have to compete for the same apprenticeships, so there’s more rivalry than friendship, and the carers were mostly not very warm. They wanted us to know our place, and didn’t encourage us to have big ambitions.”
Her tone turned dry. “When I announced, years and years ago, that I was determined to apply here, it didn’t make me very popular.” She gave a sad smile. “Tish was the only one who didn’t sneer at me, but I don’t think even she believed I could do it.”
“Tish?” Sage asked.
“Letitia. My only true friend in that place. She turned sixteen a few months before I did, and started a shellsmith apprenticeship.” Merletta’s eyes became unfocused for a moment as she thought how she’d neglected her friend in her excitement over her new discoveries. “I should really visit her, see how she’s doing.”
“Sounds like a challenging environment for learning.” Both Merletta and Sage turned in surprise at the new voice. “I’m impressed you were able to learn enough to perform so well in the entry tests.”
“Good morning, Emil,” said Merletta carefully, as the fourth year trainee settled next to Sage and began to scoop oysters out of a basin.
He’d never been insulting, and had shown her a basic level of respect since Instructor Agner’s revelations about her results, but this was the first time he’d ever joined her and Sage at a meal like this.
“It took a great deal of effort and application to get any kind of education, if I’m honest.”
Emil nodded. “Admirable.” He nodded to the other trainee as well. “Sage.”
Sage nodded back to him, but her eyes returned quickly to Merletta. “I think you’re skilled at working within a difficult environment to learn in.”
Merletta grinned at the carefully worded comment. She’d take any support she could get, however veiled. “Are you referring to Instructor Wivell’s disinterest over whether I learn anything, or Instructor Ibsen’s open determination that I don’t?”
Sage hesitated for a moment, her gaze passing around the room to make sure no one could hear them, and her face turning slightly pink as she glanced at Emil. But her expression was determined as she responded. “Both. I think the prejudice against you due to your origins is not only unfair, but entirely impractical.”
“Ah well, life isn’t fair, is it?” Merletta said cheerfully. “Like you said, I don’t need an easy ride in order to learn. The resources available in the Center are like nothing I’ve seen before. I spend most of my spare time in the records rooms, you know, reading the public records. I’m learning an incredible amount, even if most of it isn’t in class. Did you know that because of their sheer size, the kelp farms actually bring in more income than the oyster farms? Even counting both oysters and pearls.”
“I agree with Sage,” Emil said calmly, cutting off whatever reply Sage had been about to make. Both mermaids turned to him in open astonishment.
“The reluctance of our instructors to properly teach you is detrimental to all our learning, and seems to me a strange use of the resources of this place.”
There was a stunned silence. Merletta could hardly believe her ears. Was Emil actually criticizing the program? She had never suspected that any such thoughts were hidden behind his impassive expression. Outwardly, he had always seemed to keep the line of the instructors’ approach.
“It is to your credit that you’re managing to learn as much as you are,” Emil continued, nodding to her again.
“It certainly is,” Sage added, with another small smile of encouragement. “To be honest, I think Ibsen is getting increasingly frustrated by how well you’re keeping up.”
Merletta chuckled, shaking off her stupefaction over Emil’s interjection. “Well, he might not like me, but he can hardly have all the public records, and all the trainees’ resources, locked away just to spite me, can he? It’s no secret he’s hoping I’ll just fail first year and disappear back to Tilssted,” she added cheerfully, “but he won’t find it so easy. I’m as difficult to dislodge as a barnacle, or so the carers used to tell me. I’m going to do everything I can to pass.”
“I hope you succeed,” said Emil unemotionally. With a final grave nod, he rose up in the water, drifting toward the door of the room, his food barely touched.
“Well, that was unexpected,” said Merletta, the moment he was out of hearing.
“It certainly was,” Sage agreed, staring after him. “I think that’s the most real conversation I’ve ever had with him, and I’ve been here almost two years. Not to mention before.”
“Before?”
“I grew up a few streets away from Emil,” Sage explained.
Merletta raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Really? I didn’t know that.”
