“I have,” said Andre from Sage’s other side, his voice still subdued. “Although never one as big as this. And yes, that’s how they always arrange themselves on formal occasions.”
Merletta nodded, her eyes passing over the crowd now as they followed their instructors toward a ridge on one side of the square. The stone had been carved into ascending levels, forming a multi-layered seating area. She raised an eyebrow as she saw other merpeople drifting to seats on the four sides. She suddenly realized that each guard unit was hovering above one side of the square, with a distinct block of merpeople seated below them.
“Are the spectators divided by city as well?” she asked.
“That’s right,” nodded Andre. “One side per city, and one for the Center.”
“Do they have to sit in their area, then?” Merletta asked.
Andre looked surprised by the question. “I suppose so,” he said. “I mean, they get directed on arrival.”
Merletta’s forehead creased as she took in the seating area on the far side of the square from theirs. It wasn’t entirely accurate to call it seating, since alone of the four sides, it was merely open water, without a stone ridge. Merpeople were floating upright, unable to sit. It wasn’t a large space, given that a coral garden bordered that side of the square, and although there weren’t many of them, the spectators were pressed quite close together. A quick glance up showed that the guards floating above that section weren’t nearly as well organized, or as well equipped, as the other units. As she watched, one of the guards scratched his nose. Compared to the rigid and unmoving Center guards, they looked like a bit of a joke.
“I think I can guess which area is Tilssted’s,” she said dryly, her eyes returning to the merpeople floating below.
Following her gaze, Andre gave a shrug. “I suppose it’s not as comfortable for them, since they don’t have anywhere to sit. But from what I’ve seen, not many from Tilssted bother coming to these types of public events, so it makes sense that they get the smallest area.” His normally cheerful face darkened. “I don’t know why they don’t show up. After all, the guards who died were patrolling the Tilssted boundary when they got drawn out so far past the barrier. They were chasing a thief who’d been stealing from a Tilssted farm, weren’t they?”
“I doubt it’s because they can’t be bothered,” said Merletta frowningly. “More likely they don’t have the leisure to attend a memorial. Most Tilssted residents work hard from morning until night to provide for their families.”
Andre considered her, an arrested look on his face. “I’d never thought about it like that before,” he admitted. His gaze passed back to the few Tilssted attendees, his expression now thoughtful.
Merletta followed with her eyes, once again frowning. The forced segregation of the cities from each other, and from the Center, seemed like the opposite of what these types of public gatherings were supposed to achieve. She looked up behind her, spotting a silver-haired figure at the top of the Center’s seated tiers who she was fairly sure was the Record Master, the most senior merman in the whole Center. She’d met him at the Founders’ Day celebration the previous year. As on that occasion, he was flanked by two guards, who also looked familiar. Perhaps they were the same ones who’d been protecting him at the Founders’ Day event.
As she looked, the Record Master glanced down her way, and something strange once again happened to her vision. His eyes, which she remembered from their previous meeting to have been storm-cloud gray, were suddenly yellow, blazing with the intensity of the sun. She stared in stupefaction as what seemed to be bubbles of boiling water poured out of them, reaching through the ocean toward her. She was frozen to her seat, unable to move, moments from being scorched, when—
“Merletta? Are you all right?”
Sage’s voice cut across her thoughts, and she turned, blindly, her heart racing. Couldn’t Sage see? They were about to burn!
But Sage’s face showed nothing but a faint anxiety as she searched Merletta’s features. Merletta turned frantically back toward the top tier, but there was no scalding stream, no danger. The Record Master was still there, but he wasn’t looking toward her, and his eyes certainly weren’t spewing anything.
Merletta swallowed, her heart still pounding unpleasantly fast. What had just happened?
“You’re quite right,” Sage said, still sounding anxious. “It’s not fair that the Tilssted attendees have nowhere to sit.”
Merletta stared blankly at her friend. She’d completely forgotten about their conversation, but now she once again fixed her eyes on the floating Tilssted residents.
“I should watch from there,” she said, in a moment of sudden decision. She felt weighed down, oppressed by the living shadow of armed guards hovering over them and alarmed by the bizarre vision she’d just seen. An urgent desire swept through her to put some distance between herself and all things Center. “I’m from Tilssted, that’s my section.”
She rose from the seat she was occupying, on the lowest tier of the Center’s seating, ready to swim across the square.
“Trainees are to sit in their allotted section.” The terse voice from behind her made her turn, to see Ibsen glaring at her. “You are studying at the Center, are you not?”
Merletta held his gaze for a pregnant moment, her thoughts in such a whirl, she could barely remember her intention to keep her head down and not cause trouble. But gradually, as he glared at her, her breathing slowed, and sense reasserted itself. She’d already pushed Ibsen to his limit that morning. She subsided, sinking back into her seat. The faint look of triumph on Ibsen’s face as he turned away made her clench her teeth. This playing along approach was as difficult to swallow as she’d known it would be.
Before she could stew over it too much, the memorial began, and all thoughts of Ibsen floated away. Merletta was still on edge, confused and already doubting whether she’d actually seen anything out of the ordinary. She couldn’t quite sit still, her fins flicking compulsively beneath her. Nevertheless, her attention was fully caught by the sight of Agner swimming to the center of the square. She’d known he was a high-positioned guard, but she hadn’t realized he was quite so senior.
Silence had fallen at his approach, and his voice carried clearly through the water. He solemnly welcomed the attendees, and reminded them all of the reason they had gathered.
“This is a tragic loss,” he added, his voice grave. “But their sacrifice has achieved one thing, in reminding us of the dangers beyond our barrier, and the importance of being united in our defense of our home.”
A shifting behind Merletta made her glance back. Ibsen wore a slightly exasperated look as he watched his colleague, and Merletta had the sense that Agner had drifted off script a little. But she couldn’t see anything controversial in what he’d said. Well, except for the bit about the highly exaggerated dangers beyond their borders, but she doubted Ibsen would object to that, since he spent half their classes selling them the same cautionary tale.
Agner’s speech was drawing to a close, and he turned, inviting up the head guard of Skulssted whom they had met earlier. The muscled merman threw out his chest before addressing the crowd, and his voice had a booming quality that Agner’s had lacked.
“Our comrades did indeed sacrifice themselves for a worthy cause. In bringing back the news of the proximity of land, and of the threat of human aggression, they reminded us to be on our guard,” he barked out.
It occurred to Merletta that Agner had actually made no mention of either humans or land. He certainly hadn’t said anything about land sickness.