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Agner told her exactly what to do to improve, in stark contrast to Ibsen. Even Wivell had been visibly reluctant in teaching her how to construct a mind palace, and she was developing it only with Sage’s occasional coaching rather than any assistance from the instructors. She was struggling to get the hang of it, and reluctant to spend much time trying. It was a fascinating concept, of course—the idea of storing information in imagined rooms within her mind, to be retrieved at will like belongings from a shelf. But didn’t help that Wivell had insisted she must base her mental building on her childhood home, with which she was most familiar. She didn’t like spending large chunks of time mentally wandering the hated halls of the charity home. Although if she could overcome her distaste, it would probably be a benefit that there were so very many rooms there, in which to store the information she was to learn in her courses.

But all that was a problem for another day. On training days, she didn’t have to swim through her mapped out mind palace. Nor did she have to drill herself on previous lessons in an attempt at solidifying information through interval repetition.

Better yet, today she had no need to reflect on the fact that Safe Mermaids Don’t Break Surface in order to remember the stages of the triple kingdoms’ establishment: search, magical barrier, designing, building, and stabilizing. Today she could focus on building her physical strength—a much more quantifiable goal.

As was her custom, she got up early on the first day of training, intending to reach the courtyard before class began. She liked to get in some extra warm up exercises. She crept around quietly as she got ready, knowing that Sage wasn’t fond of early mornings. She wouldn’t have cared if she woke Ileana up, but the third year mermaid seemed to have woken even earlier, because her hammock was swinging empty.

Merletta swam into the training courtyard in a determined frame of mind, her thoughts on the defensive technique Agner had drilled her in the week before.

She was so focused on her training, she didn’t even hear anyone approach. The first thing she knew was an excruciating pain in her tail, as something hit her, hard, from behind. She spun in the water, trying to see what had come at her, but before she could get a good look, she was whacked across the face so hard it made her head snap back and her vision spin.

She recognized the weapon this time—there was no mistaking the brutal crack of a training pole. And equally familiar were the snide voices.

“Whoops, didn’t see us coming, did you, Tilssted?”

“Didn’t they teach you how to watch your back in that slum of yours?”

Merletta pulled herself upright in the water, infuriated by this overt attack. But her vision was still blurry from the hit to the face, and before she could do more than bring her own spear up, Jacobi had butted the end of his pole into her stomach.

Water was expelled from her mouth with a choking rush, and she doubled over as pain blossomed from her center. Her vision had cleared enough to see Ileana’s next move coming, however, and she managed to parry the thrust with the length of her spear.

“What are you doing?” she hissed, eyes narrowed in anger.

“Teaching you your place,” Ileana spat, her own features contorted as she pursued her attack.

Merletta was hard pressed just to hold her off. She couldn’t maintain her position—Ileana was forcing her back across the courtyard, Jacobi taking advantage of every opening to land painful blows to her arms and tail.

“You think you’re one of us?” Ileana grunted. “Rubbing shoulders with the Record Master? You will never be one of us.”

Merletta stared at her. “That’s what this is about?”

Her distraction cost her, as Ileana finally managed to break through her guard. The older mermaid shoved Merletta right in the chest with the end of her weapon, and Merletta was thrust backward, giving an involuntary gasp of pain.

Ileana’s eyes narrowed in triumph, and a spark of defiance leaped up within Merletta. She surged forward, taking the other trainee by surprise, and landing a solid blow to the side of her head. She used the butt of her spear—however dishonorable this attack might be, she didn’t even consider using the blade, not when Ileana and Jacobi had come against her with only training poles. But Ileana clearly didn’t appreciate the forbearance. She hissed in pain and anger, pure hatred leaping into her eyes.

She fell on Merletta with renewed vigor, raining blows on her head that Merletta could barely defend against. Merletta darted backward, only to find her back against a wall. Before she could blink, the shaft of Ileana’s pole was laid across her throat, and the older mermaid was pressing all her weight on it.

Stars danced before Merletta’s eyes, and she could barely pull in water. She struggled against Ileana’s grip, but the pole only pressed in harder. She began to thrash more and more wildly, panic setting in. Her spear fell from her nerveless hands, and she scrabbled uselessly at Ileana’s arms.

“Ileana,” muttered Jacobi, sounding nervous.

“Quiet,” Ileana hissed. “I know what I’m doing.”

Merletta’s eyes were bulging, blackness creeping in at the corners of her vision. She locked eyes with Ileana, and for a terrified moment, read the intention of the older girl’s eyes. This wasn’t some cruel prank. Ileana was genuinely trying to kill her.

An instinct deep within Merletta awoke, and she knew that she had to fight now, or die. Calling on an extra reserve of strength she didn’t know she had, she brought her tail up with a furious surge. It caught Ileana solidly in the chest, and the other trainee’s grip slackened enough for Merletta to throw her off. She dove down to retrieve her spear. She had just brought it up in front of her, serious now, when a cheerful voice called across the courtyard.

“Now that’s what I like to see! Trainees enthusiastic enough about the art to be here at the crack of dawn!”

All three of them turned, lowering their weapons at the sight of Agner, swimming calmly across the courtyard. A quick glance at her attackers showed that Jacobi looked afraid, and Ileana mutinous.

“Who’s winning the bout?” Agner asked brightly, his eyes passing between the three of them. He raised an eyebrow at Merletta’s weapon. “A spear against a training pole, Merletta? That’s not your usual style.”

Merletta was silent. Her whole body had begun to shake as shock set in, and for a moment she couldn’t master any words.

“Merletta?” Agner pressed, looking mildly concerned.

“Ileana just tried to kill me,” Merletta gasped, drawing in a mouthful of water in a shuddering motion.


Tags: Deborah Grace White The Vazula Chronicles Fantasy