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“Giving only the records you want them to know—records that can’t be externally verified anyway—and withholding information you decide they don’t need…that’s deception, not education. And given the topic at hand, it’s even worse than that. It’s fear-mongering.”
“Get out,” snapped the merman. “I don’t know who you think you are, a trainee coming in here and telling experienced educators how to do their jobs, but I will certainly be speaking to your instructors. Now out.”
Merletta didn’t wait to be told twice. She was half defiant, half regretting her burst of outraged candor. As she swam for the door, however, a section of the records room caught her eye.
Census, the inscription on the top of the shelving read.
She slowed, her heart picking up speed. This must be the older records Sage was speaking of. But she hadn’t sounded confident of their contents—she would never have had reason to examine them herself. Was it possible they were more recent than she realized? Could the names of Merletta’s parents be in there?
“Out!” roared the educators in unison.
Merletta didn’t even glance backward. If she wasn’t to be granted the opportunity to explore the section now, she would simply have to come back.
Chapter Seventeen
The whole incident in the records room played powerfully on Merletta’s mind for the rest of the day. She simply couldn’t shake her frustration at the approach the educators had been taught—to systematically play on the fears of the population, while withholding any information which might give them the tools to actually succeed.
And constantly niggling at the back of her mind was the census section. Were the answers she so desperately wanted within her reach after all?
Rising early after a restless night, Merletta decided to go back to the restricted records room before breakfast on her rest day. She hadn’t banked on waking Sage in her preparations, but once her friend was roused, she was determined to accompany Merletta. She’d been tense herself since Merletta had told her the day before of the showdown with the educators. It hadn’t helped that the Center was rife with gossip about the ongoing unrest in Tilssted. Some even started to whisper the word uprising in dramatic tones that made Merletta roll her eyes.
“Are we even allowed in this early?” Sage asked, her eyes darting around her at the mostly empty streets as they swam toward the central spire.
“No idea,” said Merletta. “But I guess we’ll find out.”
By the time they entered the spire, more merpeople were about, beginning their day’s errands. As on the day before, the doorway to the records room was flanked by armed guards, although they weren’t the same ones.
“We’re trainees,” Merletta told them, more confidently this time. “I’m in third year, and my friend is in fourth year.”
“Watchword.” The guard handed her another small leaf, and she scrawled Vazula on there hastily.
After a brief glance, the guard dropped the leaf, allowing it to float gently to the stone beneath their feet.
“Incorrect.”
“What?” Merletta had already started moving forward, and had to pull up. “But…” She dove down, retrieving the leaf. She’d definitely written it correctly. “But it was correct yesterday.”
“It’s changed,” the guard said curtly.
Merletta and Sage exchanged a glance.
“But it’s been the same for years,” Sage said, bewildered.
Merletta knew that, like her, Sage must be thinking of the stone slab in the middle of the maelstrom, with generations’ worth of trainees’ names etched onto it, and at the top, the inscription, Watchword: Vazula. It wasn’t even in the water, so it could have been there for decades, for all they knew.
“Incorrect,” the guard repeated, narrowing his eyes. In a synchronized movement, he and his fellow guard crossed their spears, blocking the entrance.
Left with no other option, Merletta and Sage drifted away, back toward the building’s main exit. Neither spoke while they were still inside the spire, but it wasn’t necessary. There could be no doubt in either mind that the change related to Merletta’s actions the day before.
What a fool she’d been! She’d sabotaged her chance of accessing the information she needed, not only to pass her test, but possibly to find out about her family!
But then, had she been wrong? If she was never going to speak up, never going to actually try to change things, what was the point of trying to succeed in the program?
Movement above them caught Merletta’s eye, and she looked up to see a silver-haired figure drifting down from a higher level. She heard Sage’s quiet exclamation, and knew that her friend had also recognized the austere Record Master. Did he live up there, in the upper echelons of the Center’s central spire? It would be fitting, if perhaps almost comically obvious.
He paused for the briefest moment as he passed them. None of them said a word, but Merletta didn’t miss the way his storm-gray eyes lingered on her. It was all she could do not to cross her arms defensively over herself. She felt scrutinized—seen through.
They hovered, waiting for him to exit the building before coming out into the lightening water themselves at a slower pace.
