Kaavl Conspiracy (22 page)

Hendra made use of the relief hut facilities, and told herself to go back to bed. Unfortunately, her feet took her straight to Mentàll’s tent. She stood in the shadows and listened.

She recognized the voice of Ludst Lst, a particularly unpleasant runner and also a fellow Quatr-level kaavl contender. He said, “I retrieved it last night. It’s a fine gift.”

“Yes. Willingly, Rolban pays this first price. But it is only the beginning of the debt they must pay.” Mentàll sounded grimly pleased. The skin prickled up on Hendra’s arms. His tone changed. “So, the fool agreed to the plan.”

“Appears so. Here’s the note that came with it.”

Silence elapsed while Mentàll presumably read the note. Harshly, he said, “Even better. Lust for power consumes him. He’s not suspicious of our mutual friend’s motives.”

“Why not?”

“He believes it’s all for kaavl. His ego blinds him to his vulnerabilities. Good work, Lst.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The tent flap rustled, and Hendra pressed back into the shadows, her fingers covering her mouth as Ludst exited and strolled toward his own home. Her breath felt choked in her lungs.

What was going on? What gift had Mentàll received, and who in Rolban had sent it? What debt did Rolban owe?

She knew Mentàll hated Rolban, as did most Dehriens. Rolban’s protected croplands and community inspired envy in most starving Dehriens. However, Mentàll’s hatred for Rolban had simmered for years, and she didn’t understand the basis for it. Envy didn’t motivate him. If she knew her cousin at all, it had to do with injustice, or a wrong done by Rolban. And yet Hendra knew of no wrong Rolban had ever done. Even during the Great War, two hundred years ago, Rolban had been the victim and Dehre and Tarst the aggressors.

So why had Mentàll hated Rolban for as long as she’d known him, and why did he think they owed Dehre a debt? Hadn’t Rolban signed the Alliance? What more could he possibly want?

Rolban

Fifthday

Liem confronted Methusal
at breakfast the next morning. Deccia and Aali—who was glad to escape solitary confinement—sat with her. Aali didn’t seem too troubled by the confinement. She had accomplished her goal, and Methusal had no doubt she’d continue to learn kaavl in the same impetuous, secretive way.

Without preamble, Liem said, “I checked the ravine.”

Methusal felt a spark of hope. “Did you find the grain?”

“No.” His gaze looked condemning.

Of course not. The news would be all over Rolban if he had. “Did you find anything at all? Any clues the grain was there?”

“I saw grain scattered on the ground.” Liem’s slow words indicated his reluctance to admit the information.

“So the grain
was
there!” Aali exclaimed.

“Was,” Liem agreed. His dark eyes bored into Methusal. “Where is it now?”

He still didn’t believe her. He
still
thought she was guilty. Discouragement felt like a dead weight around her neck. And yet why had she expected anything different?

With a tired sigh, she said, “I don’t know. Your guess is as good as mine.”

To her surprise, he left without accusing her of additional crimes. It didn’t mean anything constructive, of course. He was biding his time and collecting more evidence against her. Once she was punished for Renn’s murder he’d feel peace.

“You were right, Thusa,” Deccia said. “The thief threw the grain down in the ravine.”

“I’m surprised the bag didn’t split open,” Aali said.

“I’ve seen those sacks when I fetch grain for Matron Olgith,” Deccia said. “They’re tough.”

“But who would steal the grain? And who took it from the ravine?” Methusal wanted to know. “The last runner left the day before yesterday—
before
the grain was stolen. No one from Dehre or Tarst has been here since.”

“How do you know?” Aali said. “Maybe they secretly ran here, stole the grain, and slunk home before we could catch them.”

“It’s possible,” Deccia agreed. “It’s only a four hour trip to Dehre. Tarst is five hours. The grain must have disappeared sometime between the night you saw the thief, Thusa, and lunch time yesterday, when Liem searched the ravine. If a runner left Dehre at first light from either place, he could arrive here by midmorning.”

“But Barak or the other crop tenders would have seen him,” Methusal pointed out. “They were planting grain on the plateau yesterday morning. If Barak had seen something suspicious, everyone would know.”

“So the runner—or thief—came in the night,” Aali deduced. “A Rolbani traitor obviously threw it down into the ravine. And another thief took it home.”

“What about the wild beasts?” Methusal said. “Do you really think someone would risk their lives to fetch a sack of grain in the middle of the night?”

Slowly, Deccia said, “A Dehrien might. They’re almost starving, according to Timaeus. And I don’t think they’re as scared of the wild beasts as we are. They fight them off from Dehre all the time.”

“We just signed an Alliance with them. Why steal from us?”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Deccia agreed. “None of it does.”

“My father thinks someone is trying to stir up trouble between our communities.”

“Why?”

“Maybe it’s someone who is against the Alliance.”

“But the Alliance is signed,” Deccia said. “It’s too late now.”

As Deccia had said, none of this made any sense whatsoever.

“At least school is almost over,” Aali said, gulping tagma juice.

School would officially end next week. Methusal was glad. It would signal the end of her childhood and the beginning of adulthood. Although truthfully, she felt like she’d grown up more in the last week than she had in the last seven years.

As if picking up on her thoughts, which her twin often did, Deccia said, “What happened at the Kaavl Games? Goric came in second? How did that happen?”

“I don’t know.” Methusal closed her eyes for a second, fighting the depression that continued to lap at her spirit whenever she thought about it. “I’m trying to forget about it. I have so many other things to worry about.”

“Did you talk to Behran? Maybe he saw something you missed.”

“Behran and I aren’t really speaking.” As Methusal remembered, the last time they’d spoken she’d told him to step off.

Deccia touched her arm. Compassion warmed her eyes. “Everything’s a mess for you right now, isn’t it, Thusa?”

Hot tears pooled in her eyes. Kindness just might be her undoing. For the last few days she’d been trying so hard to hold her life together and stay out of prison…but so many crazy things kept happening. She felt like she had lost control of her life, and it scared her.

“It’s okay.” Deccia hugged her. “We love you. We believe in you. It will all work out.”

“It will,” Aali piped up. “We’ll make sure of it.”

* * * * *

In class that morning, Methusal tried hard to pay attention to Verdnt’s lecture. She failed miserably. Kaavl, and her regrets and unanswered questions about the game, circled through her brain. So did Kitran’s new kaavl precepts.

Currently Verdnt paced the front of the classroom, droning on about math equations that she’d memorized long ago. She stared at her parchment and doodled in the margins. In class yesterday she had tried to focus her emotional energy like Kitran had instructed her, but it had not helped her kaavl at all. Not only had it been impossible to block out her feelings and channel only the energy of her emotions toward kaavl, but she’d hated the way it made her feel. Cold, like a frigid, rushing stream. Full of energy, but dead to experiencing the world. She’d felt detached from her classmates—like one clinically studying bugs from a great height.

It had felt terribly wrong. Maybe she had been doing it wrong, but she felt more troubled than ever by the whole subject. As a result, she hadn’t practiced kaavl since. In fact, that had been her only practice session since the Tri-Level Game. In five years, it this was the first time she’d slacked off in practicing kaavl. She felt guilty about it, but not enough to want to practice today, either.

And, much as she wanted to forget it, the loss to Goric ate at her soul. The Inter-Community Kaavl Games would start in five days, but she wouldn’t be able to go. Until she’d lost, Methusal hadn’t realized how much she wanted to participate in the new games. The first set of games would be at Dehre, and the second set would begin two days later, in Tarst. Kitran, Verdnt, Behran, Goric, and two Quatr-level contenders would compete—needless to say, Aalicaa would not be one of these. Methusal wished with all of her heart that she could go. She’d never visited another community in her life.

Her mind returned to the Tri-Level Game. How had Goric reached the bluff and run back, completely undetected by both Behran and herself? Darker thoughts crowded in. Had he cheated? Had he hidden on the plains at the start of the race and then popped back out when she and Behran returned?

She remembered that a system of movement had vanished about the time she’d captured Daltha. She’d thought Behran had captured that person, but had Goric slunk into hiding then? She could ask Behran what he remembered. But maybe when the rift between them felt a little less raw.

Maybe she was only suspicious of Goric because she was a poor sport. That possibility kept Methusal silent. She wouldn’t accuse Goric without proof.

* * * * *

In other news, Verdnt was again creating a problem in Deccia’s life.

Methusal sat with her twin at lunch, munching on a hunk of bread topped with tough bits of boiled wild beast. “Verdnt did
what?
” Methusal said, chewing the same lump of meat for more interminable seconds. She hated gristle. If it wouldn’t be horrible manners, she’d spit it onto her plate.

“He asked if I’d grade papers in his compartment tomorrow night.” Deccia looked troubled. “I know it’s just to work. But I also know we’d talk about the election. That’s all he talks about now, and it’s starting to bother me. He apologizes, because I’m in the middle, since Father’s running against him, but he keeps talking about it anyway. And I don’t think it’s a good idea to go to his compartment. It might give him the wrong idea.”

“It might,” Methusal agreed dryly. Taking a large sip of tagma juice, she gulped down the glob of meat.

“What should I do?”

“Don’t go.”

“But he’s my mentor. How can I refuse to work?”

“Easy. Say you can’t. Offer to do the work some other time. Or do it in the dining hall. Somewhere public.”

“I don’t know.” A frown worried her brows. “I don’t want him to think I’m rejecting him…”

“Aren’t you?”

“Well…yes, but I don’t want to upset him. He could drop me as an apprentice. What would I do then?”

“He won’t, Deccia. Just be tactful but firm—he won’t even realize you’ve rejected him.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Does Verdnt really think he has a chance to win the election?”

“He talks like he does. But most people I’ve talked to plan to vote for Liem.”

For Methusal, at least, this was bad news. “I think Petr might still have a chance. At least, I hope so.”

“
You
hope so? Why? …Oh.” Deccia quickly understood. “Why do you think he still has a chance?”

“Remember when Liem and the mob tried to drag me to prison the other day? Petr gave a whole speech about how kaavl will make him a better leader than Liem. He says Liem is driven by his emotions—which is true. Petr said that he’s growing in kaavl, and all the best leaders from Dehre and Tarst are all high level kaavl players.”

“Interesting. I heard him say something similar when Mentàll Solboshn visited.”

Methusal hadn’t told her twin that she had made an enemy
of the Dehrien Chief. But she was curious about her empathic twin’s impression of the man. So far, the Alliance seemed to be working out fine. Dehre had promised to send several heavy vases of oil soon, in return for five large sacks of logne leaves from Rolban’s high mountains. Could she have misinterpreted everything? Was she wrong about the Dehrien Chief’s motivation for the Alliance?

“What did you think about Mentàll?”

Deccia shot her an odd look. “Why do you ask?”

“I didn’t like him. But now I wonder if I got the wrong impression. What did you think?”

“He was charismatic.” Deccia hesitated.

“You didn’t like him, either?”

“No. I couldn’t get a good read on him, but… He
seemed
charming enough. He said all the right things, but the
way
he said them…”

“What do you mean?”

“The way he spoke—especially during the speech—was almost…condescending. Like every word was calculated to have a certain effect. No, I didn’t like him, but Father thinks he’s the sun and moon combined, and I think Kitran feels the same way. I overheard them all talking one night, before I went to bed.”

“Interesting. He visited me in jail.” At Deccia’s raised eyebrow, she explained what had happened. “He doesn’t like me, that’s for sure. I told him I thought the Alliance was a trap. Whether that’s true or not, I don’t know. But I do need to watch what I say. He probably dislikes me because I rubbed him the wrong way, like I do other people.”

“Thusa, you don’t.”

“Sure I do. I speak when I shouldn’t, and make enemies right and left.”

“Like who?”

“Behran. Petr. Pogul. Liem. Even Verdnt, in class. The list goes on and on. Who’s the common denominator? Me.”

“Sometimes you speak without thinking,” Deccia agreed. “But everyone who knows you best, loves you. You have a soft heart, and a lot of spirit. You mean well, Thusa. You’d never intentionally hurt anyone. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“Thanks, Decc.”

“But going back to Mentàll… The conversation I overheard that night was pretty interesting.”

“What do you mean?”

Deccia swallowed more juice, and looked uncertain about whether she should continue with the topic or not. “You know how Kitran thinks only people with kaavl abilities should hold important jobs, like Chief? He thinks their minds are sharper so they can lead better.”

Methusal nodded. “He hasn’t talked about it in a while. But the elders don’t agree, and won’t consider if it might be true. Making it into a law won’t happen, even if Petr and Kitran both want it.”

“Right. And I agree with them. It’s not fair.” Deccia bit her lip. “That night I found out that Father and the Dehrien Chief think the same way as Kitran.”

“That’s not so surprising, is it?”

“Well,” Deccia paused. “I don’t know why, but the whole thing really
bothered
me that night. Like…” She hesitated again. “Like something
wrong
was going on. I don’t know what, but Father was really excited about it. He said straight out that he wished kaavl was a part of leadership. Maybe he thinks he could stay in power forever then, since Kitran isn’t interested in becoming Chief.”

“What about Verdnt? He’s on the Bi-level too, just like Petr.”

“Well, Father apparently plans to keep growing in kaavl. He probably hopes he’ll reach the Primary level before Verdnt does. And he seemed pretty much in awe of Mentàll. He basically said the Dehrien is a visionary, and brilliant in kaavl.”

Methusal remembered how the Dehrien had managed to approach her, undetected, on the plateau. He
was
extraordinarily good at kaavl. “Did you hear anything else?”

“No. They noticed I was listening, and Father sent me to my room. They talked in low voices afterwards. I only heard a few words. But if I didn’t know better, I’d say they were talking about a second agreement—something to go along with the Alliance. How something like that would be in Rolban’s best interest.”

Methusal frowned. “That
is
strange.”