Ibsen looked irritated at her distraction, but when he followed her gaze and saw their audience, he moderated his own tone.
“Well, now you do realize.” His words were clipped. “And I expect you to remember it in future.”
Without another word, he flicked his tail, gliding through the water toward his retreating trainees. Merletta floated for a moment, amazed at having apparently escaped consequence, then hurried after him.
“That was…eventful,” she muttered to Sage, as she swam up alongside her.
Sage turned quickly, anxiety on her face. “What did Ibsen say? Are you in a lot of trouble?”
Merletta shook her head. “I don’t think so. He just told me off, and swam away.”
Emil raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment.
Sage also said nothing, but she gave Merletta a very speaking look. She may not know the full extent of what her friend was hiding, but she did know about Merletta’s confrontation with Ileana, and she knew that Merletta had decided not to pull anyone’s fins until she knew who was behind Ileana’s menacing hints.
Merletta sighed. “I know, Sage, and I am trying! I’ve just never been good at keeping my head down.”
Emil shot a sharp look between them, and Merletta fell silent. She probably shouldn’t speak even as freely as that in front of him, but she couldn’t bring herself to see him as an enemy. Even if he was a record holder now.
She shook her head to clear it of that thought as the trio swam silently through the streets of Tilssted. Since she was a small child, it had been her dearest ambition to become a record holder. When had she started thinking of them as enemies?
They soon caught up to the rest of the trainees, and Merletta noticed that Andre drifted slowly over until he was part of their group, leaving Oliver and Lorraine swimming behind Ibsen. Merletta was grateful for the silent display of support, and even more grateful that Andre made no comment on the incident at the kelp farm.
The rest of the day’s classes with Ibsen were tense and uncomfortable. Merletta wasn’t sure why he hadn’t chewed her out more thoroughly, but the restraint was obviously infuriating him. He barked like a territorial seal at anyone who asked a question, and soon the trainees all settled into silence, while he lectured them on the very uninteresting subject of the governance structures of the three cities.
Merletta let her attention wander. Ibsen could say what he liked about the regents having authority in their own cities. She knew that in Tilssted at least, the reality was that decisions were all controlled by a complicated and many-layered bureaucracy and that their regent was cowed by the other cities, and even more by the Center. Most of the time, his role was little more than ceremonial.
Her thoughts were on Tish. The shellsmith tower where her friend worked was quite close to the boundary. Was Tish being affected by all the disputes? How many in Tilssted were in danger of losing their livelihoods because of the expansion issue? Thoughts of Tilssted residents conjured the image of the farmer, and the laborers. Merletta’s stomach flopped strangely as she remembered the way they’d looked at her, and how they’d seemed to know her name and her story. She glanced at Andre, watching Ibsen with rapt attention. He’d said she was famous, as the first trainee from Tilssted in generations. She hadn’t for a moment believed it was true.
As always, Merletta had been looking forward to further training with Agner much more than the four solid days of classes which preceded it. But by the time she reached her training days, she was so edgy that she struggled to focus. She earned a rare rebuke from Agner for inattentiveness, and she could see that Sage was watching her with concern.
When the sun finally rose on rest day—albeit far, far above her—Merletta had made her decision. The strain of being cautious was taking a toll, and she couldn’t afford to be so distracted in her training. Add to that her feelings of guilt and inadequacy over still having no idea what really happened to the guards, and she felt suffocated. She was desperate to get out of the triple kingdoms for a while.
To that end, she was up with the sun. She fully intended to practice with her legs again, and having decided that Sage wasn’t ready for that revelation, she’d realized she needed to find a way to keep her friend from coming with her. The Sage of a year ago wouldn’t have contemplated crossing the barrier of protection around the triple kingdoms, of course, but Merletta had a feeling that she would come this time if given the chance.
It seemed Merletta had been a bad influence on her law-abiding friend.
So she had told Sage that she was going for her long overdue visit to Tish, and that due to her friend’s unreasonably long working hours, she would have to catch her before the day’s work began. The bit about the working hours of apprentices was true, and since Merletta had no desire to lie to Sage, she intended to make the part about visiting Tish true as well. She’d been meaning to check in on her oldest friend, and rest day was probably as good an opportunity as she was going to get. Sage usually spent her rest days at home with her family, so she wouldn’t know what time Merletta returned.
She swam through the quiet pathways of the Center, resisting the impulse to look over her shoulder every ten seconds. She wanted to know if she was being followed, of course, but it was more important not to look like she was hiding something.
The streets of Skulssted were still quiet, but by the time she reached Tilssted, the city was bustling with activity. There weren’t many in this corner of the triple kingdoms who could indulge in idle mornings. She passed her old charity home with barely a glance, not in the mood to be nostalgic. Tish’s shellsmith tower loomed out of the lightening water, and Merletta hurried toward it. As much as she wanted to see her friend, she was eager to get to Vazula before too much of her free day had elapsed.
Her passage into the building was barred by a thick-armed merman with a crude stone weapon. Merletta floated to a stop, looking him up and down. There hadn’t been a guard last time she visited. She supposed it must be in response to the rising tensions of the area, and it was heartening to see that the shellsmith took the safety of his apprentices seriously.
The guard was looking her over as well, his eyes resting on her armband and her spear in turn, before flicking to her face.
“What brings you here?”
“I’m here to visit a friend,” said Merletta, trying to sound confident. “Her name is Letitia.”
The guard studied her in silence for a moment, then blurted out, “Are you the Center trainee from Tilssted?”
“I—yes,” said Merletta blankly.
The merman drew to the side, gesturing for her to enter. His face had broken into a grin, and he added, “That’ll show ’em.”
Merletta entered the building, feeling dazed. She hurried up the levels toward Tish’s story. Early as it was, she had expected to find her friend in her room. But when she reached Tish’s floor, she saw that there was a whole group of mermaids working together at a long bench in the landing area. Tish was among them.