Page 58 of A Kingdom Threatened (The Vazula Chronicles 3)

Sage nodded. “Of course. But it’s part of the tradition. They act like they won’t see each other for four years—or as long as she succeeds in the program, anyway.”

“Where does that tradition come from?” Merletta asked. “Was the program once at a separate location from the rest of the triple kingdoms? Or were they stricter about visiting family or something?”

Sage shrugged. “I don’t think so. I mean, I’ve never heard anything like that.” She turned to Emil. “Have you?”

He shook his head.

“When I had my ceremony,” Sage added, “my mother joked that maybe someone with a difficult child introduced the gesture because they wished they could get out of the weekly visits. Trainee records are one of the areas she works in, you know, so she would have seen if there had been a wildly different way of doing the training within our recorded history.”

Merletta frowned. Sage was right—given that her mother was a record holder, she should know as well as anyone where the Center’s traditions came from. It seemed unlikely to Merletta that such a practice had just been invented for show.

The thought troubled her. It was like the incident with Andre’s family record—the makers of the record claimed that it went back as far as the triple kingdoms’ history, but it didn’t seem to stretch far enough to Merletta. There was a gap of missing time before the records began.

“Does she oversee our records, then?” Merletta asked, unnerved that she hadn’t known that aspect of Sage’s mother’s role the whole time she’d been staying with the family.

Sage nodded. “I believe so. Well,” she amended, “I don’t think she’s allowed to have any direct involvement in mine, because of the obvious personal interest. But everyone else’s, yes.” She grinned at Emil. “She’s not allowed to tell me the contents, of course, but I have it on good authority that your fourth year results were something I should be aspiring to.”

Emil looked startled. “You and your mother talked about my results? She said that?”

“Was she wrong?” Sage asked innocently.

“Yes,” said Emil. “I mean, no. That is, my results were…” He realized Merletta and Sage were both chuckling, and he scowled. “I just meant she was wrong to tell you what any other trainee got.”

“She didn’t tell me anything specific,” Sage said, still grinning. “She just admires you, that’s all.”

Emil’s ears had gone slightly pink, and Merletta sent Sage a look of impressed amusement. It was quite a feat to fluster Emil.

Indigo’s family were starting to head back over the drop off now, their gazes still full of pride as they looked back at Indigo, now floating happily next to Andre and chatting with a cheerful Agner.

“Is the single satchel just for show as well?” Merletta asked. “Will her family bring loads of other stuff for her tomorrow or something?”

“No, that bit is real,” Sage said. “Everyone is only supposed to bring what can fit in one satchel. You’re supposed to leave your wealth and family behind, so that everyone enters the program as equals, with no advantage or disadvantage.”

She winced slightly as she said it, but Merletta hadn’t been going to take a shot at the Center’s hypocrisy. Her mood was thoughtful as she reflected on the ceremony she’d just witnessed.

“They didn’t do any part of this ceremony for you, did they?” Sage asked sympathetically.

“No,” Merletta acknowledged. “There was no fanfare whatsoever.”

Sage shook her head. “That’s wrong. They should have done something at least.”

“I suppose so,” said Merletta without heat. The truth was that for once she was struck not by the injustice of being denied the experience of the other trainees, but by the beauty of the tradition.

“That was a very special experience,” she told Indigo, when she and Sage joined the others. “Thank you for including me.”

“You’re welcome,” said Indigo. She cast an uncertain look at Andre, who smiled encouragingly at her.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Sage asked Merletta quietly, as they led Indigo toward the female trainees’ sleeping quarters, where a hammock awaited her.

“Absolutely,” Merletta assured her friend.

It was true. For months now she’d been so disheartened by just how rotten the Center had become, and how impossible a task it seemed to be to expose the lies. It was encouraging to be reminded that not everything in this place was sinister. The Center had beautiful traditions and noble ideals, with plenty of well-meaning inhabitants who surely wished to live up to them.

She wanted to destroy the corruption, but not destroy the place itself, or the people. It wasn’t just Tilssted that was worth saving. It was the whole triple kingdoms—even the Center.

* * *

Time seemed to pass more quickly in third year than it had in second. Wivell didn’t contribute nearly as much to Merletta’s education as he had in first year, when the test focused on the qualification to become a scribe. Merletta still spent some time each week in literacy studies, but it wasn’t her main focus.