Merletta stared at him in bemusement. What was the point of lying, given everything that had just happened?
“You want access to the restricted records?” Wivell interjected smoothly. “Very well. Since you are apparently,” he cast a disapproving look at Agner, “still a third year trainee for the moment, you are of course entitled to that access.”
He looked at Ibsen and tilted his head meaningfully. The two mermen swam a short distance away, where they held a rapid whispered conference. Ibsen’s tail flicked compulsively throughout the conversation, and he sent Merletta a venomous look as he nodded. Then he turned abruptly, swimming away toward the central spire.
“Merletta.”
It was almost eerie how emotionless Wivell’s voice was, given the circumstances. Merletta swam up to him cautiously.
“The new watchword is fidelity,” Wivell told her, his voice so quiet she could barely make out the words. “You may spend as long in the records room as you wish. When you are finished, we will discuss your future in light of the allegations against you.”
Merletta considered him thoughtfully.
“Do I have your word, Instructor?” she asked gravely. “That I can spend as long in there as I want, and I won’t be disturbed?”
“Certainly,” Wivell said. “Take all the time you wish. But when you emerge, we will finalize the matter of your status in the program once and for all.”
Merletta thought it over. Clearly the instructors wanted an opportunity to plot their course, and perhaps fabricate evidence against her. But she still considered the offer a boon. She’d been itching to get back into that records room since her one look inside, and had despaired of ever getting another chance.
With an uncertain glance toward her friends, who were still hovering just behind the wall of guards, she swam toward the central spire.
Chapter Thirty-Three
August and Eloise followed Merletta toward the spire, over the guards’ protests. No one actually stopped them though—no one seemed to know quite what to do with the couple.
It was surreal, swimming up to the records room once again, and writing the watchword on the leaf she was offered, as if she was back to being a regular trainee. The guard waved her in, and she passed through the doorway. Just inside, Ibsen hovered. He loomed over her, anger radiating from him.
“Enjoy your stolen time,” he ground out. “Because I promise you that when you come out, your expulsion from the program will already be finalized. Although I imagine that will be the least of your problems.”
He showed no vicious glee at the thought of her downfall. He was clearly still too consumed with anger for any positive emotion.
Merletta ignored him, swimming further into the room as he exited. The space was deserted, no educators or trainees in sight. Merletta’s eyes were drawn at once to a slab in the center of the room, on which a record was conspicuously waiting. She moved toward it cautiously, realizing that its preparation must have been Ibsen’s purpose in coming here before her.
She picked it up with hands that weren’t entirely steady, curiosity battling with foreboding. It was some kind of report, although it appeared to be an excerpt—there had clearly been more pages that came before, which were not on display.
In short, the cull dealt primarily with the problem. However, a handful of dissenters remained, mostly from Hemssted.
They held a series of public meetings, alleging deception and corruption within the Center. Standard approach undertaken—known dissenters convicted on charges ranging from assault to fraud.
Merletta swallowed. So far, this account was uncomfortably familiar. Except her fabricated charges had been stealing restricted records. The standard approach, was it? That came as no surprise. Her eyes flew back to the top of the page, dwelling on the word cull. Ominous. Flicking her tail tensely, she read on.
Error discovered some weeks later. One dissenter had evaded notice. When pursued, fled outside the barrier. Escalation approach number twelve utilized against family members and close friends. Three perished in unrelated accidents before contact with dissenter established. Approach successful—dissenter turned himself in and was eliminated.
Merletta felt a chill pass over her as she read the final words—a date some fifty years previously. None of it should surprise her, but she was a little stunned by the revelation of just how organized and formalized the Center’s more brutal tactics really were. And how long they’d been doing this kind of thing. It was shocking to read those admissions, stated so plainly and unemotionally, like she was reading harvest records rather than an account of cold-blooded murder.
She dropped the record as though it had seared her, watching as it drifted to the floor. The message was clear: we’ve done this before, we’ll do it again. They obviously believed they were past the point of being able to hide their true intentions from Merletta. Instead they were telling her plainly—desist, or we go after those you care about.
Merletta’s thoughts flew to Sage and the others. To Tish, who’d already been the target of an attack such as that described in the record. To Heath, although she knew that was foolish. How could anyone from the triple kingdoms touch him, far away and safe on land?
She couldn’t bear to see any of them killed because of her rebellion. She’d accepted that she may well die upon re-entering the triple kingdoms. Perhaps it was best to embrace that fate before anyone else had to join her.
But even as the thought passed through her mind, defiance rose up in her. It was the same defiance that had caused her to fight with every ounce of energy she possessed against the restrictive future the charity home had dictated to her. It was the same defiance that had led her—against all advice and discouragement—to pursue a position as a record holder, instead of letting herself be sent to labor on some outlying farm. It was this defiance that had sent her exploring outside the barrier, above the surface.
She needed that defiance. It had been her lifeblood for so long. Without it, she would never have discovered the wonders outside the triple kingdoms. She would never have met Heath, never have found her legs, never have made it into the program and met Sage and Emil and Andre.
And the triple kingdoms needed that defiance right now. If she let herself be cowed by the Center’s threats, she might save her friends’ lives today. But what about tomorrow? What about when the Center next decided to murder guards because they’d seen too much, or frame an innocent apprentice for knowing the wrong mermaid? If someone didn’t stand up to them, it would never end. This record was proof of that.
Merletta floated for a moment, perfectly still except for the gentle movement of the current. She knew her heart, but she still didn’t know her course. How could she best defy? Should she flee to Tilssted, try to rally an army of apprentices and farm laborers? So many would die, and would it change anything? She’d hoped to change things from the inside, but that path was closed to her now.