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Merletta started forward, the movement almost involuntary.
“Trainee!” Ibsen’s hiss came from behind her. “We are here to observe only.”
“But surely he’ll be compensated,” Merletta said, turning to him with wide eyes. She’d spoken more loudly than she intended, and everyone in the cleared area turned to look at her, their expressions ranging from surprise to fury. “Surely if his farm is being cleared to make way for new settlements, he’ll be compensated.”
There was a moment of silence, and Merletta felt her own anger begin to build. She appealed to the Center guard who had threatened to detain the farmer.
“Isn’t he being compensated?”
The guard shrugged. “That’s a matter for the regent of Tilssted, who approved this space for inclusion in the new settlement.”
Merletta’s eyes flashed. They were really going to pretend this was an internal Tilssted issue? “Because there’s no pressure on the regent from the other cities,” she said sarcastically.
“We can’t be held responsible for tension between the cities,” the guard said dismissively.
Merletta narrowed her eyes, turning to the Hemssted workers. “You’re keeping records though, aren’t you?” she insisted. “Of how much space is cleared from whose farms, to allow for compensation later?”
“Records?” muttered one of the workers. “Isn’t that your area? We’re not from the Center.”
Merletta’s frown deepened, but before she could say another word, Ibsen’s angry voice cut through the water.
“Trainee! That’s enough!”
Merletta turned to face him, scowling as he swam toward her. She knew she was supposed to be keeping her head down, but this incident was nothing to do with humans, or land, or drying out. Was she really supposed to just float by and watch a Tilssted farmer get cheated out of his livelihood?
“But why should—”
“Merletta.” The interruption came not from Ibsen, but from Emil. Merletta’s eyes flew to his. His face was entirely devoid of expression, but his eyes seemed to communicate a warning. The thought reminded her of Agner’s words during her first bout with Sage, and how she had wondered if he’d been trying to subtly warn her. What had he said?
Make sure you’re in a strong position before you strike. You can’t take back a false move.
Merletta closed her mouth, battling with her own frustration as she bit back angry words.
“Merletta?” This time her name was spoken by one of the farm laborers. The mermaid was young, probably no more than five years older than Merletta, and Merletta was sure she’d never seen her before. The mermaid swam forward, a note of excitement in her voice. “You’re the Center trainee who comes from a Tilssted charity home, aren’t you?”
Merletta blinked at her in surprise, her mouth falling slightly open as the farmer spoke, his tone brightening.
“I’ve heard of you! So the rumor is true. Good for you! Nice to have some representation in the Center for a change.” He cast a venomous look at the Center guard who had threatened him.
But everyone else seemed to have temporarily forgotten the dispute. The farm laborers had all come closer, their gazes eager as they looked at Merletta. Even the Tilssted guards were watching her with interest. She realized her mouth was still open, and closed it self-consciously.
“Trainees.” Ibsen’s bark brought her attention back to him, and she could see on his face that this was not the time to argue. The five of them drew close, and at a curt order, they swam back through the fronds and into Tilssted. The Center guards stayed behind, but Emil joined the trainees.
“As most of you are well aware,” Ibsen spat, with an angry glance at Merletta, “the aim of these outings is to observe and learn, not to hamper the efforts of the guards by getting involved. Thanks to Merletta,” he glowered at her again, “our presence has become a hindrance to resolving the conflict. It is therefore necessary for us to leave.”
Oliver and Lorraine both threw dirty looks at Merletta. She didn’t know what the first year mermaid had to complain about. She’d wanted to get out of Tilssted as quickly as possible, hadn’t she? Andre didn’t scowl at her, but he looked tense, his eyes wide as they rested on Ibsen.
The trainees began to swim back toward the Center, but Ibsen called Merletta to a stop with a curt command. She floated stiffly, her eyes fixed warily on the instructor’s face.
“What were you thinking?” Ibsen growled. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten that you are a trainee. You are not a guard, and you hold no position that would give you authority to intervene on behalf of the Center.”
“I haven’t forgotten, sir,” Merletta said, trying to keep the resentful note out of her voice.
Her eyes flicked to Sage, moving slowly away behind the other trainees, glancing frequently back. She looked like she was debating whether to wait, but Merletta saw Emil mutter something, and the two of them kept moving. Merletta turned back to Ibsen, her gaze fixing on the observers behind him. A few of the farm laborers had drifted out of the fronds of kelp, and were watching the confrontation.
There was such excitement in their eyes as they rested on Merletta, it was all she could do not to squirm. She had decided not to push too hard until she was in a stronger position, but keeping to that decision had never been harder than right now. What was the point of making it into the program if she didn’t use her voice to speak up for the vulnerable of Tilssted? She swallowed her discomfort with an effort.
“I didn’t realize we were supposed to remain silent,” she said, the words as close to an apology as she could bring herself to give.
