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Merletta nodded. “You have nothing to fear from the land,” she assured him. “Go there, and I’ll meet you as soon as I can. I’ll be on break from tomorrow, for a whole month.”

August hesitated, searching her face. She saw the moment he decided to trust her, and he gave a curt nod. Merletta didn’t wait for more. She needed to hurry if she wanted to make it back before sunset.

She was on edge as she swam the last short distance to the barrier, but she didn’t need to be. Nothing sinister emerged from the growing gloom, and she reached the northwestern edge of the kelp farms without incident. A pair of guards were waiting for her. She stiffened slightly, then saw that they were Tilssted guards, judging by their crude weapons and excited faces. Her people.

But were they her people? She suddenly remembered the scroll tucked into her satchel, and she experienced again that sense of being untethered, without foundation. She shook it off.

“Trainee Merletta?” asked one of the guards eagerly. “Returning from your test?”

Merletta nodded, and the guards both gave little cheers.

“We were told to watch out for you,” said the other guard. “We were worried you wouldn’t make it back by sunset. Congratulations!”

“Thanks,” said Merletta, permitting herself a little grin. “But I can’t stop. I have to make it back to the Center by sunset in order to pass.”

The guard nodded enthusiastically. “We’ll escort you, make sure you don’t hit any trouble.”

Merletta nodded her thanks, more grateful for their protective presence than they could imagine. She felt herself relax. The last opportunity for someone to attack her unwitnessed was gone. She’d made it. She couldn’t help but chuckle to herself at the readiness with which the guards abandoned their posts to come with her. There was a reason she’d always had so much success sneaking out past the barrier when the guards on duty were Tilssted ones, bless them.

The guards swam all the way through Skulssted with her, sending her off with grins when they reached the entrance to the Center. Merletta swam eagerly across the drop off, her heart lifting. She’d done it. No one could take that away from her.

A lone figure floated ahead, halfway across the drop off, and Merletta recognized her at once. Freja. She slowed slightly, remembering the strange overheard conversation at the training yard.

“Merletta!” Freja cried, her delight evident. “You made it! Not much time to spare, but you did it.” She beamed. “Did you retrieve the stolen item?”

Merletta nodded, fishing the record from her satchel and handing it over. “I think this is it.”

Freja took it, looking interested. Merletta got the sense the older guard hadn’t known what item Merletta was to locate. She’d never been a Center trainee, after all.

“Congratulations, Trainee!” Agner had appeared from nowhere, also beaming at Merletta. “You did it. I’m not surprised, of course.” He looked down at the record in Freja’s hand. “Was that your stolen item? What does it say?”

“I didn’t read it,” Merletta shrugged. “I didn’t think it was a real record. I assumed it was just a prop, for the purposes of the test.”

Agner held her gaze for a long moment. It was hard to tell whether he believed her lie, but he didn’t comment. She wondered if it was really true that he hadn’t known what item was in the center of the maelstrom. But he was the head instructor for second year. If he wasn’t the one to set up her test, who was?

“Come on,” he said. “I’m to take you to Instructor Wivell as soon as you return.” They swam through the streets of the Center, and to Merletta’s surprise, Agner and Freja both entered Wivell’s office with her.

“Well, Wivell, we have a new graduate of second year!”

Instructor Wivell lowered the leaf he was reading, looking neither pleased nor disappointed.

“Do we?” he said. “Congratulations, Trainee.” He raised an eyebrow at Agner. “The stolen item?”

Freja handed it over, and Wivell placed it, still unopened, on his desk. Was Merletta imagining that both instructors watched surreptitiously for her reaction to losing the record? It wasn’t hard to keep her face impassive. She didn’t need the written record to remember the information she’d read there.

“Well, Merletta,” said Instructor Wivell, fixing her with a clear look. It was unusual for him to really look at her like that, and Merletta straightened her back. “You have earned yourself a place among the guards, should you choose to claim it.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Merletta. “But I wish to continue to third year.”

Wivell was silent for a moment before replying. “I understand,” he said calmly. “I know it has been your ambition for a long time to become a record holder. And it is indeed a noble calling. However, as Instructor Agner, and your mentor,” he nodded to Freja, “will tell you, the role of a guard is noble as well.”

“I know it is, sir,” said Merletta quickly. “My decision is not intended as any disrespect to the guards. But I want to be a record holder.”

The words rang with her certainty. She’d wondered, over the last few months, if the life of a guard really would suit her. But the overheard conversation in the training yard had shown that she wasn’t truly a good fit for the role. She would never be able to accept orders without asking questions…without knowing the intent behind them, or even who’d issued them. And that was exactly what a good guard was expected to do.

Plus, the encounter with August and the others had reminded her of all the reasons she wanted to be inside the Center, right at its heart. Guards, while important, could never reach that level of access. This was no longer about her childhood ambition. It was about striking at the rot that was at the very core of their triple kingdoms.

Again, Wivell took a moment to respond. “Merletta, you have proven yourself capable these last two years,” he said. “More, I will confess, than I ever expected. I also understand from Instructor Agner,” he inclined his head to Agner, who nodded earnestly, “that you are extremely capable and determined in your training with him. I say without reservation that you would be an asset to the Center guards.”


Tags: Deborah Grace White The Vazula Chronicles Fantasy