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“Come on, then,” he said, turning around and gesturing with his head for her to follow. “You’d best come into the Center with me right away. There are some preliminary questions you’ll have to answer before we can schedule your test.”
“Yes, sir,” said Merletta quickly, trying to contain her excitement as she swam after him. After years of being desperately curious to see inside the Center, she could hardly believe the moment had finally come.
In the recruit-master’s wake, Merletta passed through the curtain of seaweed that provided a screen for the door out of the receiving hall. The long fronds waved lazily in response to her passage, brushing against her skin with a cold touch that she found faintly unpleasant.
Skulssted sat a little deeper than Tilssted, and Merletta had noticed that it was colder. The Center was the deepest point of the triple kingdoms, so she could only imagine that it would be even worse. She grimaced slightly, secure in the knowledge that the recruit-master had his back to her.
The pair proceeded down a long polished corridor, and Merletta tried not to be distracted by the several doors that opened off both walls. This building might not technically be in the Center, but it was the public face of the revered culture-keepers. There were probably many important things that happened here.
Merletta felt a ripple of excitement go down her tail at the thought that she might soon learn all about those activities. She had taken every opportunity to learn what she could in her sixteen years, and consequently knew considerably more than her peers at the home about the governance and history of their triple kingdoms. But that wasn’t saying much. Like most merpeople, Merletta still knew very little about how their way of life came to be. There was so much to discover.
“So did you just turn sixteen?”
Merletta’s strokes faltered slightly, startled out of her thoughts by the recruit-master’s question.
“Yes, sir,” she said. “Yesterday.”
The man nodded. “You didn’t waste any time.”
Merletta didn’t need to ask what he meant. Anyone wishing to apply as a record holder had to do so within two weeks of turning sixteen. She’d familiarized herself with the process when she was about six.
“No, sir,” she said instead. “Joining the Center of Culture has been my ambition for some years. And,” she added conscientiously, “it’s customary in charity homes for beneficiaries to seek employment when they reach the age of sixteen. They don’t really encourage us to delay once our birthdays have passed.”
The recruit-master looked surprised, and Merletta was pretty sure it wasn’t the policy of the charity home that he found unexpected. She knew very well that it wasn’t exactly common for merchildren to dream of becoming record holders.
But he didn’t comment on it. “Is this your first time out of Tilssted?” he asked, still looking forward. She had to work her tail strongly to keep up with him.
“No, sir,” she said carefully. “We had outings occasionally, mostly in Hemssted, but once in Skulssted.”
A true, if incomplete, answer. Merletta knew better than to reveal her other excursions, but she would very much prefer not to actually lie if she could avoid it. It seemed like a bad way to start out at what she hoped would be her new home. Plus, without family, history, or means, what did she have to hold on to but her integrity?
“Well,” said the recruit-master mildly. “I imagine it’s a little different from what you’re used to.”
As he spoke, they emerged out of the building, and it was all Merletta could do to keep her mouth from hanging open like a whale swimming through a krill swarm.
“You could say that,” she responded faintly, her eyes scanning the scene before her in amazement.
The building opened onto the edge of a drop off. It wasn’t as deep as some others she’d seen, but it was all the more impressive for that very reason. The ocean floor didn’t disappear into darkness, but stretched out below her in a breathtaking panorama. The vertical rocky ledge teemed with life, pastel coral sitting smugly between waving fronds of seaweed, and many colorful fish darting in and out of sight. Sea turtles moved lazily across the surface of the coral, occasionally stopping to nibble at a choice patch of algae.
None of this was what captured Merletta’s attention, though. It was a beautiful drop off, certainly, but not more so than others she had discovered in her explorations. It was what lay beyond that made her stare like the peasant she was.
There were no other buildings for some distance—nothing but a clear expanse of water, empty except for the varied sea life. But at the lower level of the ocean floor—not so much deeper than where she now floated—rose up an incredible complex that could only be the Center of Culture. If she had thought the receiving hall was impressive, the Center itself put it to shame.
Buildings rose, tall and pointed, their stone sides more smooth and even than any buildings Merletta had ever seen. They had clearly been carefully crafted and meticulously maintained. And it wasn’t just a couple of buildings. It looked like a city. Tilssted, Skulssted, and Hemssted had each perhaps looked that way once, but the three cities had expanded so much that they now resembled one sprawling mass of mismatched architecture more than three individual cities.
The Center of Culture, on the other hand, was defined and contained. It was ringed around by a thick reef, giving the impression of a city with a wall, albeit a colorful one. It must have been built on a rocky mound underneath, because it rose in ascending layers, with one pointed spire protruding from the very center, and rising significantly above all the rest. Merletta’s heart beat faster in her excitement. Was that where the most valuable records were kept? In the center of the Center? It would be fitting.
She had momentarily paused, but she propelled herself quickly through the water, catching up to the recruit-master as he swam out over the top of the drop off.
Her eyes were fixed on the spire as she followed him. That was where she belonged, right in the heart of where the knowledge was held.
And she would prove it, whatever it took.
CHAPTER FOUR
“HEEEELP!”
The anguished shout made both Heath and Percival draw up their horses, exchanging looks of alarm.
