Kaavl Conspiracy (19 page)

Her heart rate accelerated. Where was he? For a moment,
panic disrupted her concentration. She whipped her head right and left, trying to pinpoint his position. Then she saw him dart out of the plains behind her, and just to the north.

Pulse pounding in her ears, she sprinted for the cliff. Each of them must touch the black wall before they could return to the plateau. The terrain ahead was bare of vegetation. There was nowhere to hide.

She heard his swift footsteps.

Her brain rapidly assimilated the terrain ahead of her, memorizing and cataloguing each stray rock or twig. She couldn’t trip now. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t let Behran capture her.

She sprinted across the stones of the stream and scrambled up into the rocky pile at the base of the bluff. He was close. His panting breaths rasped in her ears.

Panicked, she lunged over the top of a small slope and suddenly one of the patches in her threadbare moccasins split. She slipped. Her feet flew out from under her and she fell hard on her bottom. She skidded down the pebbled hill and crashed into a huge boulder. It knocked the breath from her lungs.

She didn’t have time to lie there, gasping. Lunging to her feet, Methusal staggered toward the bluff. Her moccasin flapped under her foot, and she forced her trembling legs to scramble over the huge boulders blocking her path. At least the rocks helped hide her path from Behran. But he was still close. Much too close.

At last she spotted her goal and gasped with relief. The crevice in the cliff. She’d often played there as a child. Again she prayed that Behran knew nothing about it, since he’d grown up in Dehre.

A step later, she bolted through the dark, narrow opening. The rough stones scraped her shoulders, and she lunged down into a crawl, scuffling rapidly along on her knees in the pitch dark.

She put out her right hand and felt along the wall. There!

Empty air. It was a short tunnel leading to a chimney, which shot straight up. She’d climbed it often as a child. Could she do it now?

After crawling inside, Methusal began to climb, using her stiffened legs and feet to grip the stone. Dim light shone from above. Two lengths later, she scrambled out into a small, sunlit cave.

She crawled to the nearby ledge. It provided an excellent view of the broad plain below. Her arms trembled badly. She had escaped from Behran. For the moment. Now it was time to turn the tables on him. First, though, she pulled off her torn moccasin. It had completely ripped across the bottom, and she was afraid it might catch on something, or fly off while she was running. And the hole in the other one had grown larger. It could rip apart at any moment, too. She stuffed them both into the back of her waistband. Her feet were tough. She could easily run barefoot. A thorn or two would be a small price to pay to beat Behran.

Methusal slid sideways onto her stomach, and angled herself behind a small bush. It partially obscured her view, but hopefully it would hide her head from Behran’s sharp gaze. She scanned the rocky pile below for her opponent. A second later he stepped into view, frowning in puzzlement. He stood right below her. He looked left, and then right, obviously wondering where she had gone.

If only she could distract him. Or maybe divert his attention in order to make him believe she was somewhere she wasn’t.

Lying motionless on the ledge, Methusal flicked a pebble off the outcropping. It skipped down the boulders a length to her right.

Behran’s head whipped up. He seemed to look right at her!

Pulse skittering, Methusal ducked back down. The warm, rough rock scraped against her cheek. Her ploy hadn’t worked. Chances were he
had
seen her. The scrabble of feet on the cliff rang clearly in her ears.

Hastily, she gave up her plan to capture Behran. She was fast beginning to feel like the hunted, rather than the hunter, and didn’t like the feeling. She needed to escape. Evading capture was equally as important as capturing, after all.

After giving him time to climb halfway up the cliff, Methusal quickly scooted back down the rock chimney. Then, feeling fully exposed, she took off across the rocky jumble, hopped across the stream, and slipped into the cover of the plains. Behind her, Behran noisily descended the cliff and headed west into the plains, hard on her heels.

Methusal increased her pace and intensified her kaavl concentration. Every pebble on the ground felt as tangible to her as the warmth of the sun toasting her skin. Her feet flew, avoiding roots, branches and rocks. Unfortunately, a few thorns pierced her bare feet, but she ignored the pain.

Behran was gaining on her. She couldn’t outrun him to the finishing plateau. If she wanted to capture him, she’d better form a plan. An idea glimmered. Feet moving as swift as thought, she plunged left, at a sharp angle south, away from the finishing plateau.

She heard Behran follow for a few steps, and then he changed the direction of his footsteps. He’d taken the bait! He wouldn’t chase her. Instead, he would make a direct dash west for the finishing plateau.

Methusal immediately cut back toward the finish line. Behran was ahead of her, but now she ran on a path parallel to him, but a dozen lengths south.

Behran suddenly cut left, toward of her, and slowed down.

He was setting a trap. Changing her direction slightly, she continued on, keeping a sharp eye out for anything unusual.

She spotted the kaavl line snare twenty lengths away, and at the same time her extra-sensitized hearing pinpointed her opponent’s location. She ducked out of his line of vision and sprung the trap with a well flung, broken branch.

Behran charged around his bush, but pulled up short when he saw his empty trap. Methusal bit her lip to keep from giggling. Looking perplexed and uneasy, her rival quickly strode for the finishing plateau.

Methusal trailed behind him, keeping well out of sight. Twice, she heard him stop and then resume his pace. He seemed determined to capture her. Good. It slowed him down. More opportunity for her to win. She made a great point of skirting around each of his potential traps, and sped on.

The finishing plateau was close now, and Methusal increased her pace to a fast sprint and cut ahead of Behran like a silent, invisible ghost.

A few lengths away from the base of the finishing plateau, another system of movement touched her ears. It was close.
Too close.

One length away, a thin young man entered her peripheral vision. Hadn’t all her opponents been captured?

Suddenly she felt a tug at her ankles, and she fell hard onto the dirt. Behran’s panting breaths approached. He stared at her, shocked, as he sprinted by. Methusal rolled over and pushed up into a sitting position as Behran raced the other young man to the top of the plateau.

Captured. She had been captured! Methusal couldn’t believe it. How had she missed the other player? When had he touched the far bluffs? How had he passed her, undetected?

Her palms burned from hitting the ground so hard. Her thorn pierced feet didn’t feel so terrific, either. Other scrapes, earned earlier in the game, stung now, too. Slowly, she gained her feet and climbed the plateau.

“The winner! Behran Amil!” Kitran boomed to the audience. He announced his perfect scores, and then placed the chain, and wooden pendant in the shape of a soaring flying beast, around his neck.

A wild cheer swelled from the mountainside. Spectators rose to their feet, stomping and clapping their hands,

Still feeling a bit stunned, Methusal shook Behran’s hand, and offered a handshake to the slightly built man who had come in second place. Goric was his name, she remembered. He’d moved here from Aestoff three years ago. His smile looked exultant, but his gaze didn’t meet hers.

After Behran shook Goric’s hand, he turned to Methusal. His deep blue eyes looked puzzled when he muttered, “Where did he come from?”

“I don’t know. I thought you’d captured him.”

“And I thought you had.”

Methusal was suddenly near tears. Not only had she lost to Behran, but she’d come in
third.
Even worse, it wasn’t a good enough placement to travel to the Inter-Community Kaavl Games.

“Congratulations,” she managed to tell Behran. “You did a great job.”

“You almost had me. How did you do it?”

“Do what? Lose?” Methusal climbed down from the plateau. Behran followed her.

On the plain, Behran caught at her shoulder. “Slow up. That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

Methusal struggled to hold back her ridiculous tears. “You won, Behran, fair and square. Congratulations.”

“How did you do it?” he insisted.

“How did I do what? Evade you?” Anger finally bubbled up. “I’m good at kaavl, Behran! You never thought I’d cut it, did you? Well, now you know. If it hadn’t been for Goric…”

“I never said you’d fail at kaavl.”

“No, but you’ve always made it clear what you think of me. All these years…all your condescending put downs… You’ve
never
thought I had what it takes. Apparently, you’re right. I don’t.”

“Methusal…’

“Leave me alone. For five years, I’ve put up with your smirks, and put downs, and your cocky attitude. I can’t stand it anymore. It’s petty, and it’s rude, and I don’t have time for it. In fact, until you decide to treat me with respect, I don’t have time for
you
anymore!”

Behran’s jaw dropped. Chagrin dawned in his gaze. “I never meant…”

But Methusal turned her back on him and strode away.

Back inside Rolban
, in her family’s compartment, Methusal cleaned up her feet and pulled on an old pair of too small, patched up moccasins. She’d definitely need to re-patch her current ones, or else get a new pair from her mother soon.

She tried not to think about the debacle that had been the Tri-Level Game. She had lost to Behran. While this was hard to swallow, she could accept it. After all, he had a lot more kaavl experience than she did. Goric, however, was another matter.
How
had he won? How had she missed seeing him tag the far bluff? Was he that incredibly fast? He must be.

Unless he had cheated.

No.
Methusal pushed that uncharitable thought from her mind. No one ever cheated in the Kaavl Games. Honor, discipline, and integrity were such important precepts of kaavl that they were ingrained into everyone who learned it. Even though Goric had been trained in Aestoff, and had moved to Rolban a few years ago, she felt certain that Aestoff’s kaavl contenders valued the same principles.

However, no judges checked to make sure contestants reached the far bluffs. …And it was too far away for Kitran, on the plateau, to have seen.

“
Stop it,
” she told herself. “Stop being such a poor loser.”

Clearly, Goric was an excellent player. She had concentrated on Behran, when she should have learned more about her other competitors. Behran had never mentioned how skilled Goric was before.

The feast for the kaavl winners would begin soon. It was time to join the festivities. If she concentrated on controlling her emotions—maybe channeling them into constructive
paths, like Kitran taught—maybe she could survive the evening
without bursting into tears.

Feeling alone, and more than a little depressed, Methusal made her way to the noisy dining hall. She turned the corner, and nearly bumped into Pogul.

“Watch it!” His eyes narrowed. “Loser.”

Methusal rolled her eyes. As if she cared what he, of all people, thought.

Timaeus appeared. “See ya, Pogul. Bye, Thusa.”

“Where are you going?” she asked.

Pogul burped in her face and sidestepped to intersect the path of a dark-haired man. The stranger carried a bow and arrows on his back like a runner.

Timaeus scowled at Pogul, and returned his attention to Methusal. “Tarst. I’m traveling with Mentàll and his group. We’ll reach the mountains before sundown. We’ll be safe.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Pogul furtively pass something into the other runner’s hand. Whistling, he then sauntered for the dining hall. Her investigation flew to mind.

“Who is that?” she hissed to Timaeus. “That runner. He looks familiar, but I can’t place him.”

Timaeus grunted. “That’s Kilum. He’s from Tarst. He keeps to himself.”

“Is he going to Tarst, too?”

“No. Aestoff.” Timaeus glanced over her shoulder and nodded to someone behind her. “Here comes Mentàll. I’m off. Say ’bye to Deccia for me?” He offered a shy smile. “I’ll be back in a few days.”

“Of course.” She smiled back. “Have a safe trip.” Although
she didn’t see the Dehrien Chief approaching from behind, an involuntary shiver slid down her spine, telling her that he was near.

“Timaeus,” the Dehrien said curtly, coming into her view. Those pale eyes, like chips from a glacier, froze into Methusal like frostbite. His mouth curled in contempt as he passed by. And then both he, Timaeus, and the Dehrien’s entourage disappeared down the Grand Staircase.

Kilum caught her eye as he turned toward the staircase. Although the contact lasted only a second, his dark brown eyes held her rooted to the spot for a moment. His were the deadest pair of eyes she had ever seen. A shiver of another sort worked through her.

Unnerved, she watched the Tarst runner disappear down the Grand Staircase. Two possibly dangerous men, one after the other, were leaving Rolban.

Pogul appeared again, now on his way out of the dining hall. She stepped in front of him. “So,” she said. “Passing contraband to the Tarst?”

“What?”

“What did you give Kilum? Something Petr should know about?”

“You’re an idiot,” he snorted. “I gave him a note. For my family. Remember, I’m from Tarst?”

“Kilum is going to Aestoff. Not Tarst.”

“Get outta my
way,
” Pogul shoved her hard. His elbow rammed into her side. It hurt.

“Whip,” she snapped. “I’ll be watching you.”

As a guard, Pogul had the means to steal ore. And by pilfering Verdnt’s chalk, it proved Pogul wasn’t morally averse to stealing. Still, that didn’t mean she should let him know he was her prime suspect. Maybe she should watch her tongue a little more carefully.

* * * * *

Roasted wild beast was the main course for the Kaavl Games feast. Although it was tough and stringy, it was a welcome change from porridge, and the occasional apte or gamey whip beast.

Methusal ate the meat and the salted logne leaves, although she’d have preferred not to eat the wild beast at all. It brought back ugly memories of Renn’s death, the thefts, and everything that went with it.

Nothing had been stolen recently. Maybe with both Liem and Petr after him, the thief had decided to lay low for a while. She hoped that wasn’t true. If he went into hiding, it would be harder to catch him.

“Thusa.” Behran sat down across from her.

“Behran.” Methusal managed to affix a semi-pleasant expression upon her face. “Nice award.”

The Kaavl Game award necklace dangled from his chest. Bits of gold and silver dusted the wings of the flying beast image, and a red stone marked its eye.

“Thanks.” Deep blue eyes searched her own. His gaze looked troubled. “Maybe next year it will be yours.”

“We’ll see.”

Aali suddenly plopped down beside her. “Father is shooting knives at me with his eyes. It’s only a matter of time before he banishes me to my room.”

“He won’t. Or he’d have done it already.”

“No. People keep congratulating me, and he doesn’t want to look like a slug. He’ll punish me later, you’ll see.” Aali’s bright eyes looked defiant, and a little hard.

“You did a great job at the Quatr-level. I’m proud of you.”

“Congrats,” Behran agreed.

“Thank you.” Aali grinned. Her expression grew more serious. “Okay, Thusa, time to talk about important things. You have to catch that thieving murderer, and fast. I want to help, and I have a plan.”

“What is it?”

“We have to catch the thief in the act, right? It’ll prove for sure he’s guilty.”

Behran raised his eyebrow. It looked a bit patronizing. “How do you plan to do that?”
This
was what had irritated Methusal so much over the last few years—how he’d looked down on her kaavl abilities. Now he was looking down at Aali.

“I’ll watch and spy for the thief. I know all the hidden passages in Rolban, and no one ever pays attention to me. I’ll catch him, fast as a whip!” She snapped her fingers.

“It would be dangerous. I don’t…”

“I’m doing it,” she stated. “And you can’t stop me. So let’s work together.”

Methusal put in, “The garment room, kitchen, and supply r
ooms all need to be watched. All the time.”

“Maybe Petr will post a few guards,” Behran suggested, forking up the last of his logne leaves.

“Are you volunteering?” Methusal asked sweetly.

Behran’s gaze held Methusal’s. After a moment, he said, “If you need me to.”

Methusal smiled. “Fantastic. Your superior kaavl skills can at last be put to good use.”

His face darkened, and he looked down.

Aali looked from one to the other. “Would you ask Father for more guards, Thusa? He won’t listen to me. I’m not on his approved list right now.”

Methusal snorted. “And I am?”

Behran looked up again. “I’ll ask him,” he said quietly.

Any other sarcastic remarks died in Methusal’s mouth. Behran meant it. He wanted to help. Now she felt bad about her previous comments. “I’m sorry, Behran. Thank you. That would be great. Let’s do it now.”

Aali whipped a glance toward her own table. Petr glowered across the room at her. “If it’s all the same to you,” she said in a cheery tone, “I’ll stay here.”

Behran and Methusal made their way across the room to Petr Storst. Behran explained the plan to trap the thief, and requested extra guards for the key rooms that had been targeted before.

To his credit, Petr did listen, but his white head was shaking long before Behran finished. “Sorry, Behran. Impossible. I don’t have enough guards.”

“We could help out,” Methusal offered.

“No.” Petr sent her a quelling glance. “You’re to stay out of this investigation.”

“But my life is on the line. I need…”

“
Out,
” he thundered. “Do you understand?”

“But…”

“I’ve put my neck on the line for you. You will obey me, or you’ll go back to jail.” He nodded to the adjacent table. “Liem wants you there now.”

Renn’s father must have heard his name, because he glanced up. A scowl contorted his features when he saw Methusal.

“Go,” Petr commanded. “And keep your place, if you know what’s good for you.”

Fury, like a white hot flame, shot through her, but before she could open her mouth Behran grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the Maahr table.

“Let me
go,
” she snapped, wrenching her arm free. “How dare you push me around?”

“Shut it,” he said kindly. “I’m doing you a favor. Unless, of course, you want to spend the night in jail.”

Maybe Behran did know her a little too well. That didn’t mean he could manhandle her.

“Thanks,” she muttered. “Now step off.”

“I will,” he said in a harder tone. “Later.” He strode out of the dining hall.

Hanuh looked up when Methusal sat down. It was the first time she had seen her mother since the Games. Hanuh’s gaze was sympathetic. “I’m sorry, Thusa. I know what the Tri-level meant to you. But you did a great job. I know you’ll win next year.”

“Thanks, Mama.” Her small, uncomfortably tight moccasins thankfully distracted her thoughts. “My moccasins are in pretty bad shape. I’m wearing old ones now. I could re-patch them, but I was wondering—do you have a new pair available?”

Hanuh smiled. “Come with me after dinner, and I’ll find the best pair for you.”

Her mother’s smile finally soothed the deep hurt in Methusal’s soul. She smiled back. “Thank you.”

* * * * *

After the feast, Methusal and her mother stepped into the dark garment room. The familiar sweet, dusky scent of cured leather filled Methusal’s senses.

Hanuh touched a firestick to the lamp mounted by the door, and the medium-sized cave sprang to life. As usual, leather lay in heaps about the room, in various stages of garment completion. A new wild beast skin was stretched on the wall to dry, as were several smaller apte pelts, near the door.

Hanuh noticed the direction of her gaze. “That’s the pelt of the beast that killed the hunter. It’s a good one. It’ll help out with our shortage, since we’ve had a few pelts stolen.”

“But at such a terrible cost.”

“I know,” Hanuh murmured. “At least no more skins have gone missing. Otherwise, no one would get new moccasins.” She scanned the scant line of moccasins in the dim light, and selected a pair. “Try these, Thusa. And let me see your old ones.”

The new moccasins felt wonderfully soft, were the right size, and formed perfectly to her feet. “I love them!” Methusal exclaimed with pleasure.

With a practiced eye, Hanuh examined her old, small moccasins. “I think these have stepped their last. Bring your other ones by later, too. Maybe I can use them for scraps.”

“I will.”

Her mother smiled. “Enjoy your new ones.”

“Thank you!” Methusal hugged her. She hadn’t had a new pair of moccasins in three years. With all of the bad things that had been happening in her life, this was one small luxury she would enjoy for a long time.

Hanuh carried her old moccasins to the scrap bin, and then moved to a table strewn with very thinly cut ribbons of leather, each about a length long. Kaavl strips, Methusal saw with surprise. And a few of them were bound on the ends with Methusal’s favorite, blue dyed thread. Hanuh had bound the thread around the strips in her signature band and cross hatch pattern.

Hanuh smiled over her shoulder. “I meant to give these to you before the Game. But then you went to jail, and the Alliance was signed…” She held out ten long strips. “Would you still like them? You mentioned a while back that you’d run out of your favorites.”

“Of course I’d like them!” Methusal reverently touched the soft leather strips. The ones she’d carried during the game weren’t nearly as good as these. The leather for these had been worked to be smooth and supple, with just the right amount of snap, so if flicked out, it would wind tightly around an opponent, a bush, or whatever it needed to adhere to. Her mother made the very best kaavl strips in Rolban, and she always saved her best work for Methusal.

She hugged her mother again. “Thank you so much. I don’t know what to say.”

Hanuh released her. To Methusal’s surprise, tears glimmered in her eyes. “Just promise you’ll be careful.”

“What do you mean? Have you sensed something else? Is it about the Alliance?”

Hanuh nodded. “You’re still in danger. I still feel that. More strongly every day. I don’t know why.” Her mother bit her lip. Methusal had never seen her so upset before, and frankly, it scared her.

“What should I do?” She tried to sound calm and level-headed. Honestly, she wanted to calm both her mother’s fears and her own, too. She wanted to believe that everything would be all right.

“I don’t know, Thusa. I get the feeling there’s not much you can do. Except be careful. And…listen.”

“Listen?” Her strange nightmare returned to mind.