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“Of course not,” she told him, blinking rapidly. “I just needed the study time. But I’m done now. I’m ready for my test.”

“Your—?” Wivell’s voice was sharp. “What are you talking about?”

“My third year test,” Merletta explained groggily. “I’m ready.”

“You can’t take your test,” Ibsen raged. “You’ve been absent from your classes for months. That precludes you from—”

“Ah ah ah,” Merletta interrupted him, waving her record through the water hazily. “My secret weapon.”

All three instructors stared at her in bewilderment. Merletta turned to Agner, holding out the leaf.

“I distrust you least, Instructor,” she told him with a bleary smile. “What do you think?”

Agner took the record and scanned it quickly. He obviously had no difficulty grasping the relevant part, because he threw back his head and let out a booming laugh.

“Tides above, you’re a quick one,” he told her. “Yes, all right, I’ll play. I’m positively bursting to see how this ends.” He handed the leaf on to Wivell. “Is there something I need to sign, Wivell?”

The other instructor snatched the leaf from Agner’s hand, his face paling as he read it over. Ibsen, on the other hand, was growing redder by the second.

“This is an outrage!” he shouted. “Agner, you cannot seriously consider—”

“I know you don’t agree, but I think she’s great for the program,” Agner cut him off. “She just needs the chance to show what an asset she can be.”

The two mermen stared each other down, fury meeting cool amusement. Finally, Ibsen turned to Wivell.

“Surely you won’t allow this.”

Merletta cleared her throat. “If I understand these regulations correctly, Instructor Agner’s support entitles me to sit the test, provided it hasn’t been more than a year since I sat my previous test. Which means I’m eligible now.” Her eyes found Wivell’s. “Let me remind you, Instructor Wivell, that you announced publicly, just a couple days ago, that if I passed the test, I could go on to fourth year.”

Wivell looked as though his next words cost him physical pain. “These are the regulations under which the program operates.” His eyes were serious as he turned to Agner. “I also caution you to think carefully before taking a course which will have consequences for you as well as the trainee you intend to sponsor.”

“No doubt it will have consequences for us all,” Agner said lightly. “Where do I sign?”

“It makes no difference,” Ibsen growled maliciously. “I administer the third year test. And I have total confidence that Merletta will fail.”

“No.” Wivell’s voice was colder than ever. “Your inability to swallow your personal prejudices has already brought the program under public criticism for discrimination. I will not allow it to be robbed of all credibility by your conduct. The program must be protected, whatever the outcome of the current conflict. Due to the accusations Merletta has made against you, I will administer the test.”

Ibsen swelled with rage, but Merletta felt a sweet trickle of relief. Wivell wouldn’t fail her unless she actually failed.

Which, she reflected, as she drooped in the water, was still a very real possibility.

“She needs food first,” August barked. “And sleep.”

Merletta shook her head. “I won’t say no to food,” she said. “But I don’t need sleep.”

Wivell regarded her with narrowed eyes. Did he suspect that some of the memory choreography she’d used would be wiped out by sleep? She tried to look innocent.

“There have been more than enough irregularities in this process already,” Wivell said shortly. “If Instructor Agner is determined to sanction the trainee’s absences, she is entitled to sit the test. But only if we commence now, before any other external circumstances have the opportunity to sully the integrity of the process.”

Fair enough, Merletta thought. If I won’t sleep, I can’t eat either. She’d be taking the test on an empty stomach, then. She nodded her agreement, and in less than fifteen minutes, she found herself in a small room, across from Wivell.

“As you know, this test is designed to assess your capacity for the role of an educator,” he said, his words clipped. “Ordinarily, part of the test would take place out in the community. But given the circumstances, I will take the part of the various individuals you will be asked to educate.”

Merletta nodded wisely, her voice still a little slurred. “I am a little too hot to handle out there in the public eye,” she acknowledged.

Wivell’s tail flicked in irritation, but he made no further comment, instead diving into the first question.

By the time the test was complete, five hours had passed. The questions had been more complex and nuanced than she’d expected, and Wivell’s role-playing of community members in need of education had been surprisingly convincing. Merletta’s head pounded with the agony both of her need for sleep and her hunger. But judging by Wivell’s increasing agitation, she was performing satisfactorily. The thought bolstered her.


Tags: Deborah Grace White The Vazula Chronicles Fantasy