“Of course you want to keep it,” said Merletta staunchly. “And I’m sure you will.” She shuddered internally at the very thought of Tish in the Center. They’d eat her alive. She kept that reflection to herself, leaning forward to get a closer look at her friend’s work. “Wow, you’re incredibly good at that intricate carving work, Tish!”
“Do you think so?” Tish flushed with pleasure. “The head carver complimented my work the other day. She seems to like me well enough. I’m hoping I might be able to pursue carving, if I can stay on her good side. It’s easier work, and better pay, than what I’m doing now.”
“It often seems to work that way, doesn’t it?” observed Merletta wryly.
“It’s just the way of the world,” shrugged Tish. “You know, it’s really not as bad here as you think. They do work us hard, but we have plenty of food, and somewhere safe to sleep.” She lowered her voice. “Some of the other shellsmith towers have terrible reputations, but not here. They only employ women, and they’re rigidly strict in the way they run things. Honestly, I’ve never felt safer.”
“Well, that’s something,” said Merletta. She sighed as she pushed herself off the hammock, floating over to Tish’s tiny window and looking out at the grimy street beyond. It occurred to her that Tish was probably safer than she was, given the three times so far she’d been at risk of dying. There was a grim irony to the thought.
“What’s up, Merletta?” Tish asked, concern in her voice as she laid her work aside for a moment. “You usually make such a point of being cheerful that it’s as clear as day you’re not telling me about all the struggles you’re facing. I should be glad you’re not faking it, I suppose, but all I can do is wonder what’s so bad that even the unbreakable Merletta can’t put a brave face on it.”
Merletta gave a smile that was half grimace. Her friend knew her too well.
“It’s nothing so bad, really,” she said. “Just lots of little things.”
Tish raised an eyebrow, and Merletta laughed. “All right, lots of medium things.”
“Why don’t you try telling me just one?” Tish suggested. “It might make you feel better.”
Merletta drifted back across the room to join her friend. Tish was probably right, as usual. Back when they used to meet weekly on Vazula, she had confided more in Heath than she ever had in any being before, and it did usually make her burdens seem lighter.
Heath’s unexplained absence was one of her “medium” problems, of course, but she had no intention of telling Tish about any part of that. It would be dangerous for both of them.
“The Center isn’t quite what I hoped,” she admitted instead.
“They are unkind to you,” Tish said, frowning. “I knew it.”
“It’s not that,” said Merletta, shaking her head. “I mean, some of them are, of course. But not all of them. And that’s not what troubles me. I didn’t think they’d want me there, exactly, but I did think that once I earned a place there, I would actually be inside.”
“What do you mean?” Tish asked.
Merletta hesitated, the desire to share her suspicions warring with her instinct of caution. “Well,” she said at last, speaking carefully, “sometimes I think they’re not telling me the whole truth. And there’s only so much you can learn by reading records without instruction.”
“Well, you are only in your first year,” said Tish reasonably. “I’m sure there’s a great deal they won’t cover until you’re further advanced.”
“That’s precisely the problem,” said Merletta, her frustration seeping out of her. “Advancing won’t guarantee anything. From all I can gather, the most important training—what they teach the older trainees—is all done orally by the record holders, and can’t be found in written records.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Tish asked.
“What’s wrong with that,” Merletta said grimly, “is that it means there’s no way to keep them accountable about the content of what they’re teaching.”
Tish had picked her work back up, but she lowered it again, a frown of confusion spreading across her pleasant features. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I can’t learn in an environment where I don’t know how to trust anything I’m being taught!” Merletta burst out. “What if…” she hesitated, then plunged on, “what if it wasn’t just that they weren’t telling me everything? What if it was that they’re intentionally telling me things that aren’t true?”
Tish looked more confused than ever. “Why would you think that?”
Merletta swam over to her friend, taking one of Tish’s hands in both of her own. “Tish, do you remember what I told you once, about drying out? Remember how I proved that the head at the home was lying about it?”
“I remember you going without suppers for a week,” said Tish dryly. “But they lied to us because we were beneficiaries, with no one to care how anyone treated us. The Center wouldn’t do that. They couldn’t get away with it.”
“Couldn’t they?” Merletta challenged. “Who would hold them accountable?”
Tish’s frown deepened. “Where is this coming from? Why do you think they’re lying to you?”
Merletta released her friend’s hand, running one of her own over her face. “There’s a lot I haven’t told you, Tish.”
“I know, Mer, and it’s all right. I understand. You’re not allowed to talk about what you’re learning in your program—”