Page 31 of A Kingdom Restored

“Exactly!” Merletta told him seriously. “It was never about me. It was about what their treatment of me has revealed.” She shook her head. “You have no concept of how deep the rot goes.”

Her thoughts flew to Wivell’s lesson, the Hemssted group and the Skulssted group eyeing each other off, no sign that there was even a third city. She was the only spokesperson Tilssted had in the Center, and she was suddenly certain—absolutely certain—that removing even that weak representation was the last thing she wanted to do. She hadn’t forgotten the risk she was about to take, and the fact that she might soon be out of the picture anyway. But going down swinging was one thing. Taking an offered exit by way of suddenly acquiring the privilege of one of the wealthy cities was something else entirely. Something she could never do.

“I don’t want you to think I don’t appreciate your willingness to recognize me,” she said quietly. “Because I do—more than you can possibly imagine, most likely. I came here wanting answers for my own sake, and I’m glad to have found them. But I meant it when I said I don’t expect anything from you. My past is already set—I can’t change that. And I’ve chosen my course forward as well. I have no desire to turn back. This is who my experiences have shaped me into, and this is who I need to be. But I thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for your answers, and your offer. If we don’t meet again, I wish you and all your family well.”

And against his protests, she turned and swam for the door, emerging quickly onto the street.

The conversation, while heavy with years of significance, hadn’t actually taken long. Merletta found herself wandering dazedly through Hemssted, trying without much success to grapple with all that had just passed. By the time she found her way back to the Center for lunch, she’d almost forgotten about her afternoon’s plans.

But the somber presence of Sage, Emil, and Andre soon reminded her.

“Are you sure about this?” Emil asked her.

Merletta nodded, still jittery from her conversation with Elfin. “Yes, I’m sure.”

They were a quiet bunch as they swam the short distance to the central spire. No one asked Merletta what she’d been up to that morning, and she was glad of it. She wasn’t yet ready to talk about her discoveries.

Upon entering the central spire, the four of them all instinctively glanced up.

“I’ve only ever seen him descending from up there,” Merletta commented. “Is that where I go to find him?”

“I imagine you need to approach him through his personal assistants,” Emil said.

He led the way across the open, stories-tall lobby area, staying at seabed level. Following him, Merletta pulled up before a small opening on the far side of the space. She hadn’t even noticed it on her previous visits, but she saw now that the gap in the stone—positioned at head height—allowed communication with the merman settled in a seat on the other side of the wall.

“Excuse me,” Merletta said through the gap. “How do I go about speaking with the Record Master?”

The merman had been focused on a stack of writing leaves in front of him, but he raised his head at her words, brows quirked.

“You don’t. The Record Master doesn’t just sit down with anyone who has a fancy to speak to him. You can make a report, or register a request, through me. It will proceed through the appropriate channels.”

“Actually,” Merletta said evenly, “I think he will want to sit down with me.”

The man’s expression was scornful. “Do you indeed? And who are you?”

“I’m a fourth year trainee,” Merletta informed him. “In fact, I’m the only fourth year trainee.”

“And I’m sure all your friends back home are very impressed,” he said dryly. He waved an arm vaguely behind her. “But everyone you see has won a place in the Center in one way or another. If you expect the Record Master to be impressed by your position as—”

“I don’t expect him to be impressed,” Merletta said shortly. “But I do expect him to meet with me.” She raised her head slightly, the morning’s conversation with Elfin fresh in her mind. “My name is Merletta of Tilssted—I have no doubt he’s familiar with it.”

The merman’s face creased in a frown, his finger tapping on the stone bench in front of him.

“Just a moment,” he said curtly.

He swam briskly through a doorway behind him, and Merletta turned to see Sage regarding her with raised brows.

“Going for a bold approach, are we?”

Merletta shrugged. “I’m sick of playing games. There’s no way the Record Master doesn’t know who I am.”

They were left waiting long enough for Merletta to grow antsy. Sage and Andre showed similar signs of strain, although Emil remained his usual unflappable self. At last, however, the merman reappeared, his expression disapproving.

“You have been awarded an appointment with the Record Master. You are to return at this time next rest day.”

“Next rest day!” Merletta protested. “That’s a whole week away!”

“Your level of education stuns me,” the merman said sarcastically. “Did you expect immediate attention? Difficult as you may find it to believe, the Record Master has other matters requiring his focus than the whims of trainees.”

---