Merletta narrowed her eyes. It was on the tip of her tongue to inform them that she came from Tilssted, but she thought better of it. Clearly they didn’t realize she was the infamous Tilssted trainee, and if she wanted them to keep speaking freely, she would probably be wise to keep it that way.
“So you’re brushing up on these records?” she asked. “So you can make sure you remember all the details?”
“No, we’re going to take the records,” the first educator told her, swimming over to join them. “We’ll send the appropriate ones to the scribes for copies to be made, and distribute them among the rabble-rousers.” He carried a stack of records in his arms, and a grim smile crossed his face as he glanced down at the top one. “This one, for example, should make them pause.”
Merletta craned her neck to read it.
Dragons have unparalleled senses—sight, hearing, smell. They can scent a mermaid from great distances, and although they cannot breathe underwater, they can survive in water for indefinite periods. Only their flame will be affected by the inability to take in air. Although our history mainly recounts dragons attacking merpeople in the shallow waters when our ancestors were foolish enough to settle near land, there are also accounts of dragons following the trail of merfolk even to the deep ocean. If once a dragon sees a mermaid, it will hunt until it finds not only the mermaid in question, but the rest of its community.
Merletta let out a shaky stream of water. That information would create terror in the mind of most merpeople. Was that the kind of panic-inducing lie to be found in this restricted records room?
“This is also a good one.” The educator handed it to the mermaid, and Merletta read what she could as it passed by her.
What follows is the account of the massacre that occurred when our triple kingdoms attempted to establish a second settlement near land to the northwest, and ran afoul of a dragon colony in those parts. It is on that basis that dwellings are now allowed only within the barrier itself.
That also would surely make anyone nervous about venturing beyond the barrier.
“Not this one, I think,” the merman said. “What do you think?”
The female educator took the offered record, scanning it with furrowed brow.
“Definitely not,” she agreed.
Peering over her shoulder, Merletta caught a fragment.
…may be possible to coexist peacefully with both humans and dragons, but only if…
Merletta strained to see more, her mind spinning at the casual way the educators ignored information that contradicted the Center’s claims about humans. But the other mermaid had already slipped the record to the bottom of the pile as she leafed through the others.
“And this one absolutely not.” The educator gave a short, barking laugh. “Can you imagine?”
“May I see it?” Merletta asked.
The mermaid handed it to her absently, and Merletta’s eyes raced across it.
“But this would be fantastic,” she said, surprised. “It’s so practical and useful.”
The educators all paused, looking up at her incredulously.
“Basic shark defense, repelling predators, finding cover,” she read. “It’s instructions for how to navigate the open ocean safely. Isn’t this exactly what everyone needs to see?”
The first educator plucked the record back from her with a disapproving frown. “On the contrary, it’s exactly what everyone doesn’t need,” he said severely. “It would lead to chaos.”
“Chaos?” Merletta repeated. “You mean, you’re actively repressing any information that might actually empower them, just so you can keep them huddled in fear inside the barrier?”
“You have a great deal to learn if you think that’s how the educators work,” the mermaid said, her tone matching her colleague’s. “We’re trying to keep everyone safe. If they read something like this, it will give them a false sense of safety, and make them think they can survive out past the barrier.”
“But they can survive out past the barrier,” Merletta insisted. “If they followed these guidelines, and were sensible, and traveled in groups—”
“Enough.” The educator’s voice was as cold as the depths. “Who are you? You said you were a third year trainee, but a senior trainee would know better.”
“I am a third year trainee,” Merletta insisted.
“Have you learned nothing from your educator training so far?” the mermaid asked incredulously.
“I’ve learned more than enough today,” said Merletta, her temper getting the better of her. “This isn’t education.”
She gestured at the records, which the third educator was sorting into two piles—presumably one for distribution, and one to remain locked in the Center’s untouchable sanctum.