“Writing leaves?” Heath asked, pausing in the act of retrieving the half-disintegrated parchment from his rucksack. “You mean paper?”
Merletta’s eyes grew round as she caught sight of the parchment in his hand. “What’s that?” she breathed, resting her elbows on the rocks in her eagerness.
“It’s called paper,” Heath explained. “It’s made from trees, and it can last generations if taken care of.” He grimaced slightly as he glanced down at his treasure. “Which this one hasn’t been, of course.” He looked back up at Merletta, realization washing over him. “I hadn’t even thought about it, but of course you couldn’t exactly have paper underwater. No trees, but also, it wouldn’t last, would it?”
“I should think not,” Merletta said, her eyes still riveted to the ancient letter. “This changes everything,” she muttered. “Half the function of the Center would be unnecessary.”
“What do you mean?” Heath asked, curious. She had already explained about her trainee position in the merkingdoms’ Center of Culture, but he wasn’t sure what paper had to do with it.
“Never mind that now,” said Merletta impatiently. “What does it say?”
“See for yourself,” Heath offered, holding it out to her.
She hoisted herself partially up onto the rock, taking the parchment in her hand.
“It seems to be a letter,” said Merletta, fascinated.
Heath just nodded, watching her as she read the paper. It was incredible to see a mermaid reading the language of men with as much ease as he had. But that was only part of what held him in thrall. The delight of discovery that lit her whole face was like watching his own emotions from the outside. It was a novel experience, and it warmed him to her considerably.
“‘I was grieved to read in your last missive of the troubles plaguing Vazula since I left,’” Merletta read aloud. She ran her fingers down the page. “Most of the rest is illegible.” She screwed up her face in her effort to read the faded words. “‘You should join me in Albury,’ unreadable, unreadable, ‘wealth of this land not exaggerated,’ blah blah, ‘I await your reply.’”
She stared at the page for a moment after she’d finished. “Where’s Albury?”
“No idea,” said Heath, lazily wiggling his toes in the cool water. “Never heard of it.”
Merletta looked up at him, a smile growing on her face despite her difficulty in deciphering the message. “It’s incredible,” she breathed. “If this place has really been abandoned for as long as we think, this message has survived for centuries!” She shook her head. “I can hardly believe it. Imagine being able to record your thoughts and experiences like this, knowing they would last beyond your lifetime.”
Heath returned her smile. “It’s fascinating to read the words of someone long gone, I agree,” he said. “It doesn’t have quite the same effect on me, I suppose, because I’m used to the existence of ancient records. In fact, it was just such a manuscript which sent me looking for Vazula.”
“Well,” said Merletta, her eyes still riveted on the paper. “It might be commonplace in your world, but this would change my world completely.”
“I am curious, though,” Heath said, stowing the paper safely away again when Merletta handed it to him. “What’s a writing leaf?”
“I’ll bring one to show you,” Merletta said absently, her eyes on Reka, who had just slipped off the rocks and into the lagoon, and was twisting through the water with an agility to match the mermaid’s. “Next time.”
“Yes,” Heath agreed, his lips curving up into another smile. “Next time.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Merletta spun herself around in a body roll as she swam to class, just for the sheer joy of it. It wasn’t her upcoming history lesson that had her in a good mood, either. She’d become familiar with Instructor Ibsen’s teaching style, and she had little expectation of today’s class providing any genuinely useful information, any more than the previous dozen had.
And yet, she’d been learning a great deal over the last several weeks, nevertheless.
Her mind went back to the most recent rest day, a couple of days before. Heath was teaching her to whittle wood, and it was the most fascinating challenge she’d ever undertaken.
She could still hardly believe the effectiveness of the knife he’d produced. Metal, he’d called it. It cut with so much more precision than stone, or coral, and was a hundred times stronger and more durable than fish bone. Heath had been impressed by her demonstration with the writing leaf and coral implement she’d swiped, but it was nothing to his revelations. She patted the satchel at her side, elated at the thought of all the ways her treasure could be useful.
Her cheeks warmed as she remembered the smile in Heath’s blue eyes when he’d insisted she keep the knife. He’d said they were common back home, that he had plenty more, but still…receiving gifts had never really been a part of her life, and the gesture meant more than he could possibly know. She shook her head slightly. She had no idea why the human seemed to have taken such an instant liking to her, but she wasn’t about to discourage him.
Merletta was just hurrying through a simple breakfast—even after all these weeks, she still couldn’t quite bring herself to gorge on the delicacies routinely provided—when a voice hailed her.
“Good morning, Merletta.”
She turned, smiling a friendly greeting as she swallowed her mouthful of squid. “Good morning, Sage.”
“You’re up early this morning. You were gone before I even woke.”
“I went for a morning swim around the reef,” Merletta explained cheerfully. “Sometimes on lesson days, I feel the need to stretch my fins before we start. It’s a long time of sitting still.”