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There had been some entire slabs of information she’d memorized unnecessarily, and one section of the test she couldn’t answer very comprehensively, even after pausing for several minutes to complete an entire mental swim through of her memory journey. But most of what she’d learned, she’d needed. Already she could feel some of the rote learning slipping away from her exhausted mind. She let it go strategically, gambling that Wivell was unlikely to return to topics already covered successfully.

When Wivell fell silent, no new question forthcoming, Merletta looked at him hopefully.

“Is the test finished?”

He was still for a long moment, then he nodded. “It is.”

Merletta waited, but he didn’t continue. “Well?” she asked quietly. “What will it be, Instructor? Will you sacrifice your principles, or will you put up with my presence in your program?”

Wivell’s fins twitched convulsively, although his face remained impassive. His gaze scanned her face, settling on her eyes.

“Yours is one of the most promising minds I have seen in a generation,” he said quietly. “To succeed in this test, under the conditions you currently face…” He shook his head, looking resigned. “Had you been more teachable in all other ways, you could have been Record Master one day. I truly believe that. As it is…” He gave a fatalistic shrug. “I hate to see such potential wasted. Congratulations. You have passed third year.”

Merletta stared at him, struggling to process all his seemingly contradictory words.

“I passed?” she asked stupidly, needing a simple answer.

“You did,” Wivell confirmed gravely.

Merletta nodded, rising into the water. She felt none of the elation she’d felt the previous two years. This wasn’t a lasting victory. And it certainly wasn’t an achievement that would allow her to rest. All it meant was that she could proceed to the next challenge, the next impossible, life-threatening struggle.

But that was something. She’d chosen her course. She wasn’t going to back down now.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely. “For having a code of honor, even if it doesn’t match mine.”

Wivell let out a stream of water, looking neither gratified nor offended by her words. “Do not expect your code of honor to get you far down your chosen trail,” he said disinterestedly.

“So…” Merletta hovered uncertainly. “So what happens now?”

“That,” said Wivell, rising from his seat as well, “is out of my hands. I will, of course, make the standard public announcement regarding your results.”

And with that he swam from the room, not even glancing back.

Merletta followed slowly, her mind reeling, no particular emotion able to hold sway for long. She had only a very hazy idea of where she was, and was relieved to be charged by a wonderfully familiar figure as soon as she emerged into open water.

“Merletta!” Sage cried, enveloping her in a hug. “Merletta, you’re alive! Wivell just said you passed…don’t tell me they let you take your test?”

“That’s right,” Merletta said groggily. “Speaking of which, congratulations on passing yours.”

“Never mind that,” Sage said impatiently. “Merletta, we thought you were dead! Not for all these months,” she added, by way of clarification. “These last two days. I mean, we thought you were dead all these months, as well, but—oh, Merletta, I just can’t believe you’re here!”

“I can’t believe no one’s tried to kill you yet.” Andre’s voice chipped in, causing Merletta to disentangle herself from Sage and beam at him.

“I can,” Emil said dryly, appearing alongside Sage. “If they did that now, they’d have to be ready for war, I think.”

“But they are ready for war,” Andre said skeptically. “I mean, surely the Center guards would wipe out Tilssted without any great trouble.”

“Yes, but Merletta’s entrance was too public,” Emil said. “Everyone would know the fighting was over her, and the Center doesn’t want to turn her into a martyr, with itself as the persecutor.”

“Why are we talking about war?” Merletta asked faintly. Her stomach chose that moment to give a painfully audible gurgle.

“When’s the last time you ate?” Sage asked, her forehead creased in concern.

“Two and a half days ago?” Merletta guessed.

Sage’s expression merged into one of utter horror. “If we hurry, we can still catch the end of dinner!” she declared, tugging Merletta through the water by one arm. “You’re almost dead in the water, look at you!”

Minutes later, Merletta was stuffing her face blissfully with salted cod, only half aware of the ongoing debate between Emil and Andre.


Tags: Deborah Grace White The Vazula Chronicles Fantasy