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To her relief, she could see no sign that anyone suspected her of having suffered from the mythical land sickness. She was heartily glad she’d kept all her delusional thoughts to herself. From all most of them saw, she’d had a severe case of nausea, nothing more.
“You must have eaten something that disagreed with you,” Andre said when she first returned, shaking his head sympathetically. “Now it’s out, you should be fine.”
Lorraine stifled a snigger at the mention of Merletta’s embarrassing display, but Merletta ignored her, turning Andre’s words over in her mind. He’d spoken innocently enough, but the guess certainly made her think. She’d completely forgotten that they’d been served their breakfast in individual portions the day of the memorial. Was it possible someone had slipped something into her food? Shame on her, if so. She should’ve been more careful, after Ileana and Jacobi tried to poison her with pufferfish the year before.
She barely had the opportunity to discuss her thoughts with Sage, however, let alone seek Emil out to tell him. Unfortunately, she had mastered the shorthand as quickly as Emil had predicted, so she no longer had classes with the junior record holder. And even Sage was difficult to get on her own. The instructors were all working the trainees harder than ever, and given that Merletta was trying to avoid secluded situations, opportunities for private conversation were pretty slim.
With regret, she accepted that it wasn’t wise to return to Vazula the next rest day, both in terms of her physical strength after the illness, and her need to avoid attracting attention.
Beyond Andre’s sympathy on her first day back, no one had mentioned her illness, and she certainly hadn’t seen any sign of an attack. But she thought she’d still better be cautious, and she wasn’t the only one of that opinion. In a rare moment of privacy in their barracks, Sage had dragged out of her the information that she’d seen Heath when she returned to Vazula the previous week. Swallowing her reaction to learning that her friend had once again cavorted with a human and then hidden it from her, Sage demanded that Merletta promise not to return the following rest day. Her position was too fragile, Sage insisted, and Merletta had to admit she had a point. Lorraine had swum into the room at that moment, so there was no time for more discussion. But Sage clearly considered Merletta bound by the promise, and when rest day came, Merletta made no attempt to give her friend the slip a second time. She just hoped that Heath wasn’t on the island, waiting in vain for her, as she had for him so many times the year before.
In spite of her sensible decision, Merletta found herself leaving the barrier sooner than expected, albeit under quite different circumstances.
“All right, Second Year,” Agner addressed her briskly one training session, after giving the rest of the trainees their instructions. “Do you remember I told you that you would be doing training outside the training yard this year?”
Merletta nodded.
“And you said, if I recall correctly, that you have no objection to completing some of your training outside the barrier?”
Merletta raised her eyebrows. “I’m going outside the barrier today?”
“You are,” Agner said. “A guard patrol will be accompanying a group of harvesters to a natural oyster farm not far to the south of the barrier. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to begin your acclimatization training.”
“My what?” Merletta demanded.
“It’ll all be explained on the way,” said Agner, with a dismissive wave of his hand. He nodded to a small group of Center guards on the far side of the yard. “They’re expected at the oyster farm, they’re just waiting for you.” He glanced down at the spear in her hand. “Got your weapon, I see. Good. Off you go.”
Merletta swam quickly over to join the group, which she was relieved to see did not contain Ileana. In fact, there was no one near her age. They were all at least fifteen years older than her, if she judged correctly.
“You’re the trainee for the acclimatization exercise?” the oldest, a silver-haired mermaid, asked her curtly.
Merletta nodded.
“I’m Freja,” said the mermaid, clearly the patrol’s leader. She gave the order for the guards to move out, then fell into place beside Merletta.
“Got your weapon? Good, good. Need to be prepared for the ocean beyond the barrier. You get all sorts out there.” She squinted through the water at the tip of Merletta’s spear. “Confident with it, are you?”
“Fairly,” Merletta said respectfully.
Freja nodded. “Had a trainee several years back sent out for acclimatization training with a blunt pole.” She made a noise of disdain in her throat. “Shouldn’t allow them to progress to second year if they haven’t even earned the right to their own spear yet, if you ask me. But then, no one would ask me. They do their own thing in the training program, and it’s all a bit above my head.”
Merletta looked at her sideways. “You didn’t come to the guards through the program, then?”
The older mermaid barked out a laugh. “Hardly. I never had any interest in being a record holder. Dull job, from what I can see. I always knew I wanted to be a guard. I started out as a Skulssted guard, actually, then transferred across to the Center when they were recruiting.”
“I didn’t know that happened,” said Merletta, interested. “One of the trainees has a father who’s a Skulssted guard, and he’s been telling me a bit about it, but before that I never really knew anything about how the guard training worked for the different cities.”
“Ah yes, young Andre,” said Freja, with a touch of fondness. “I know his father well. Everyone’s given him a hard time for entering the program instead of training with the guards, but we’re all proud of him, really.” She cast a fiercely affectionate look back in the direction of the training yard. “He won’t be moving to second year with a blunt pole, that’s for certain. I’m surprised he hasn’t been given a spear already.”
Merletta chuckled. “I imagine it won’t be long. Agner’s working him to the bone, which means he likes him, and sees his potential.”
Freja smiled tolerantly, and Merletta studied her surreptitiously. After swimming in silence for a while, she plucked up her courage for another question.
“If you know Andre’s father, does that mean you knew the patrol leader who died?”
The other mermaid’s face became grim. “August? I knew him all right. Worked with him for twenty years. He was a good merman.”
“I’m sorry,” said Merletta, subdued.
