Kaavl Conspiracy (42 page)

“That’s awful.”

“Mentàll probably told the delegation that living in Rolban
would solve all of their problems. Of course, he convinced them Rolbanis are despicable, and deserve to be thrown out of their home.”

“And they’d believe that?”

“Wouldn’t you, if you lived like they do? Things weren’t that bad, even when I lived there.”

Everything made sense now. Her father had been right. Petr should have negotiated for a better Alliance, but his ego had tripped him up. He’d been too desperate to chalk up a diplomatic victory before the elections. Worse, he had been willing to forge an illegal treaty with the Dehrien Chief so he could potentially gain even more power. Now Rolban was trapped. Legally and morally, it was bound to uphold both agreements, unless proof of deceit was delivered in time to justify a preemptive, defensive attack.

Behran seemed to be thinking along the same lines. “We have to warn them,” he said harshly. “We have to do everything we can to stop the massacre.”

“I know.” But she didn’t verbalize her deepest fear—what if they were too late? What if the delegation had already taken over Rolban?

“How did you hear Pan and Mentàll’s conversation, anyway?”

Methusal froze. She felt Behran’s eyes bore into her…or maybe that was just her imagination.

“Well,” she hesitated, in order to collect her thoughts. Did she trust Behran enough to confess the truth? Would it mean losing her advantage over him in future competitions?
If
she competed again.

Behran gazed now at the green-tinged, shadowed plains below. Emotionally, Methusal felt like she was teetering on the brink of something big. Should she take that leap of faith
and trust her most guarded secrets to her fiercest competitor?

Her hands felt suddenly clammy, and she wrung her fingers together. Yes. Yes, she should. Taking a deep breath, she emotionally stepped off that cliff. She blurted, “I can hear things sometimes… All the time, I guess.”

“What do you mean?” His intent gaze rested upon her.

“I can hear far away conversations, if I concentrate.”

He sat very still, listening.

She paused. “Remember the legends of Mahre? How he could hear sounds an hour away by foot? I can do that, too, but to a smaller degree. I’m not sure how I do it. I just concentrate, and it’s
there
.”

“You mean you can eavesdrop on conversations wherever you want?”

“I don’t! Well, rarely. Only when necessary.”

“So you use your hearing ability like Mahre did.”

“Right. I listen to animal noises…leaves falling… Things like that, so I can practice pinpointing their origin.”

“Wow!” He gave a low whistle. “No wonder you’re so good at the games. Does anyone else know?”

“No. I didn’t want to give away my advantage.”

“It wouldn’t have helped if I’d known.”

“Anyway,” self-consciously, Methusal returned to the subject at hand, “lately—the last couple of nights—conversations on the other side of town have woken me up. I wasn’t even concentrating—I was asleep, for goodness’ sake. When I woke up, I still heard the voices if I relaxed. It’s happened three times now, and Mentàll was speaking every time.”

“What did you hear?” Behran sounded a bit awed.

“That first night was in Dehre, and Mentàll, Verdnt, and Kitran were talking. I didn’t understand what they were talking about then. But it all makes sense, now that I know about the new treaty. Kitran was telling Mentàll that Petr was in favor of it.”

Behran whistled again. “So Kitran and Petr have been selling out Rolban?”

“No,” she countered, “I don’t think so—not exactly, anyway. Remember, they were agreeing to receive three weeks of Mentàll’s counsel—no more.”

“But why? Why would Petr want to receive lectures from Mentàll about how to put kaavl into leadership? He knows the elders are against it, and if they found out he was for Mentàll’s treaty, his chance of being reelected Chief would be wiped out. The elders would censor him, and no one would vote for him. Why would he risk it?”

The same question had been bothering Methusal, too. Petr desperately wanted to be reelected. He’d only agree to Mentàll’s plan if he was certain it would help him.

A glimmer of understanding hit. She spoke slowly, trying to form her nebulous thoughts into words. “Petr wants to be reelected, right? And I’m sure Mentàll knows that. What better way to be reelected than if Petr can prove he’s the best leader in Rolban? Mentàll must have convinced him that kaavl would make him that leader.”

“But how?”

“Remember, Petr and the others practically worship Mentàll. And kaavl has made
him
great, supposedly. He promised to show Petr how this works—
if
he could get the second treaty signed.

“So Petr must have liked the idea of the new treaty. No one would actually
know
he was in favor of it, if everything turned sour. He didn’t sign anything, except for the letter to Pan, which I’m sure is supposed to remain a secret. So he’s protected either way—if it doesn’t work out, it’s not his fault, and if it does, he gets reelected, because everyone will see how kaavl has transformed him into an outstanding leader. Maybe Petr hopes the elders can be convinced that only kaavl players should be Chief. I’m sure Mentàll painted it as a win win situation to Petr.”

“What about Verdnt? He’s a kaavl contender, too.”

“I know, but Petr beat him in the games. Petr would point out that the best kaavl contender will make the best leader. Since only Kitran is above him, and he isn’t interested in politics, that leaves only Petr to be Chief. Simple.”

“So Mentàll was manipulating him,” Behran concluded. “Petr would welcome Mentàll and his hordes with open arms.

“He’s already welcomed them.” Heavy foreboding again settled in Methusal’s spirit. “I heard one other conversation, too.” She told him about Mentàll’s conversation with the man she believed was the murdering thief. “I don’t know who it was. Kitran, or Verdnt, or another Rolbani that snuck into Dehre without being seen. Maybe a messenger. I don’t know.”

“We’ll probably find out soon enough,” Behran said grimly. “You should have told me this a lot sooner, Thusa.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

They both fell silent as Ryon rose higher overhead.

“It should be light soon,” Behran said. “Unless I miss my guess, Mentàll will track us down then, on the plains.”

“Probably. He knows we’ll have to wait until dawn to cross it.” She hugged her knees to her chest and tried to block out a new, growing sense of urgency that urged her to throw caution to the winds and race home now. “Mentàll was armed.”

“I know. I saw the sword, but where did he get it?”

“I don’t know. But it was hidden in a thin pocket on the thigh of his breeches. I didn’t even know it was there until he threatened me with it.” She touched her neck gingerly, remembering the sharp pressure against it. Her neck stung. “Looks like Dehre didn’t melt down all of their weapons like the Great War Peace Agreement ordered.”

“But they did,” Behran countered. “Remember? I lived there. The only metal objects we had were kitchen utensils or hunting knives. And those were vital. They wouldn’t melt those down for swords.”

“But it wasn’t a hunting knife he pulled on me. If they didn’t melt down their tools, then where did Mentàll get the metal for his knife?”

The answer became clear to both of them at the same time. “The metal stolen from Rolban!” Methusal also remembered her heavy ore tablet necklace. It had probably been stolen, too, and accidentally left in the ore mine. Somehow Renn had found it, which had put his life in danger.

Then why did Rolban’s two missing pots end up in Tarst? Both were made from ore. It was the one link that made no sense.

“There’s a traitor in Rolban,” Behran said softly. “Renn must have found something incriminating. The thief had to stop Renn from reporting it, because that would have jeopardized his bigger mission.”

“To arm Dehre, so they could take over Rolban.” But she wondered about the stolen grain and pelts. Were they only diversions, so no one would suspect that ore was the primary target? Were the pots left in Tarst as a diversionary tactic, too—to point blame away from Dehre?

“The delegation is probably armed.” Behran’s voice was grim. “It might be tough to get them out of Rolban before Mentàll arrives.”

What if they had already started their attack? But wouldn’t they wait for their leader? Urgency to hurry home overfilled Methusal. She scanned the eastern horizon. Surely the sun would rise soon.

Worrying had side-tracked her mind from kaavl, and she knew, by the jerk of his shoulders, that Behran heard the rock tumbling down the cliff the same instant she did.

He hissed, “What’s that?”

Methusal concentrated and listened for the slightest sound. Footsteps scuffed above them. Six systems of movement rustled close by, and lighter, softer footsteps were further away. Seven.

There were seven in the Dehrien kaavl team. That included Hendra. But wasn’t Hendra on their side now?

A softly spoken word reached Methusal’s ears.

“…here?”

“Yes. At first light we will have a clear view as they cross. We will catch them then.”

Mentàll’s voice caused a shiver to ripple down her spine. He was a cruel, dangerous, cunning man. Could she and Behran outwit him?

“Dehriens,” she whispered. “They’ll track us at first light.”

“We’d better start now, then, before they can see us.”

“What about the wild beasts?”

“Our lives won’t be worth more if Mentàll catches us.”

Methusal shivered, but knew he was right. Their luck had run out. This time Mentàll wouldn’t hesitate kill her, if he caught her. In that light, the decision to run now didn’t seem so foolhardy.

“How do we get down?” she breathed.

“Follow me.” Behran swiftly rose to his feet. He must have been mapping out a plan of escape while they had waited on the ledge, for he moved with confidence. Trustingly, she followed, forcing herself to relax and concentrate fully. It was a long way down. One foot slip, and she’d be dead.

The ledge narrowed to a handbreadth just when the moon swam behind another thick cloud. Methusal halted and pressed herself against the hard, angular rocks jutting from the cliff. Her heart bumped hard and she closed her eyes, refusing to look down—not that she could see much in the dark, anyway. To her right, Behran’s breaths sounded calm and even.

As soon as the moon peeked out again, they continued. The ledge tapered to nothingness, and Behran carefully led the climb down the craggy bluff. Thankfully, hand and footholds were plentiful. Only once did Methusal lose her footing and hang, swinging by her fingertips. A stifled scream tore from her lips.

“Move your right foot to the left.” Behran’s voice came, calm and reassuring. “Now up a bit. There, you’ve got it.”

Methusal’s heart pounded so wildly that she felt like it might explode from her chest.

Left foot now secure as well, she took time to wipe her damp palms, one by one, against her tunic. Then she continued her descent, trying to ignore the tremors rippling through her. She had almost fallen to her death.

Right hand…left hand…right foot…left foot…right hand…

“You’re almost down.” Encouraging words, and then Behran’s strong hands lifted her down the remaining drop.

Boulders lay jumbled before them now and gently sloped downward to the plain floor. Behran led the way, scrambling over the smaller rocks and around the larger ones. Methusal intensified her kaavl and stepped carefully after him. She couldn’t allow anymore slips in foot or concentration—a twisted ankle now would mean certain death. She sent an apprehensive glance at the eastern horizon. A faint yellow glow backlit the eastern Rolban Mountains where it curved north to meet the Tarst Range.

No sound of pursuit—or wild beasts—so far. Her feet touched the dry, cracked surface of the plain. If they hurried, they could reach Rolban in a little over an hour.

She walked more rapidly to match Behran’s long strides. The waning moon bathed the tagma bushes in cool green light. A small beast skittered under the bushes ahead. The plain was still, as if the wind held its breath, watching and waiting to see what fate would befall them. The sun slowly rose, lightening the sky with pale, rosy gold and pink fingers.

It seemed too quiet. Too still. Methusal’s flesh crept, but her straining ears heard nothing. Only the faint hiss of a breeze to the west, softly rustling the dry leaves…

Instinct made her catch at Behran’s sleeve, catapulting them both into a frantic, foot pounding sprint. Those weren’t leaves. The scratch of claws flying over the earth filled her ears. She willed her legs to work harder to keep up with Behran. The hot, snarling breath of the beasts seemed to reach out and envelop her very soul.

Sixthday

Feet barely touching
the ground, Behran and Methusal flew desperately over its hard surface. The sky was now lightening rapidly, pushing the night shadows from the land. It was a race against time. The beasts’ sensitive eyes could not bear the bright sunlight. Soon they would have to give up the chase. But when? When would they give up the hunt?

Methusal gasped, and slowed slightly when a stitch seized her side. The scratch of tens of razor sharp claws ripped over the earth.
They were almost upon her….

Terror urged a burst of speed from her flying legs, and
her mind rapidly assimilated the terrain before her. A stumble
now would mean an agonizing death, ripped to shreds by the long, sharp fangs of the wild beasts.

“They’re gone.” Ahead of her, Behran slowed, panting. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed the furry backs of the beasts as they fled for the gloomy protection of their rocky caves. A few howled, as if in pain.

Her steps slowed to a fast walk and she doubled over, gasping. Pain, like a hot fire stick, seared into her side.

“You okay?”

She nodded, unable to speak. Her well-conditioned lungs wheezed, not used to sprinting all out so far, or for so long. Finally, with a wince she straightened. “I thought…I thought we weren’t going to make it.” Her back prickled. The threat of goring, shredding claws still felt like an itch down her spine.

Behran unexpectedly caught her hand and gently squeezed it. “But we did.” His gaze held hers for a steady, reassuring moment. Reluctantly, it seemed, he released her hand.

A little of the fear melted away. Unexplained happiness warmed Methusal’s soul.

They were almost home now. Only a half an hour remained.

Moments later Behran asked, “Do you hear anything?”

Methusal listened. The relief of escaping from the wild beasts had almost made her forget about Mentàll.

Nothing.

They were still too far away to hear without using her kaavl gift of carrying. She first directed her attention back to
the rocky cliff, and then practiced a carry by placing the center
focal point of her hearing on that spot. It was as if she actually she stood on the rocky cliff and heard everything just as clearly as if she stood there right at this moment.

Ahh, there they were. They’d just jumped down from the final boulder onto the plain. Moccasins scratched over the soil. They were running. Soon they would be within Methusal’s normal range.

“They’re coming fast. Six of them,” she reported, and the two sprang back into a hard sprint. But pain again seared Methusal’s side. Gasping, she jogged to a halt. Behran checked his pace.

“Go on,” she urged. “I’ll trick them off course. Then I’ll make a run for it when this pain lets up.”

“No. I won’t leave you alone.”

“Rolban has to be warned. That’s the most important thing right now. I’ll be okay. Promise.”

“Mentàll is Kaavl Master! No, I won’t…”

“Hurry!” She shoved him as the sounds of their pursuers filled her ears. “We’re out of time!”

Behran gave her one last agonized look, and then took off at a dead run, leaving her quickly behind. Limping in his footsteps, Methusal hastily formed a plan. A game, actually. A kaavl game—except she competed against six Dehrien opponents, one of whom was Kaavl Master. No time to capture. Only evade.

Walking as fast as she could, Methusal cut west, deliberately leaving a faint trail behind her. Next, she cut north for a time, and then south and west again. Faint, scuffling noises tickled her sensitive ears.

Mentàll’s contemptuous voice said, “They’re running scared. You two go north and east, you two west. You’ll go south with me. Regardless, we’ll meet at the Rolbani gate in fifteen minutes. Is that clear?”

It was clear to Methusal that only Mentàll and one Dehrien were tracking her now.

She lunged into a sprint for Rolban, but pain seared her abdomen again. She gasped, frustrated. She had to continue to escape capture for a few more minutes.

Deliberately, she left a faint trail in the hard ground beneath her moccasins. A tagma root lay exposed several lengths ahead. She quickly scooped up a handful of loose stones and leaped lightly and with perfect balance onto the narrow, gnarled root. Carefully thrown rocks stirred the dust, continuing her old path. Hopefully it would mislead the Dehriens.

Toes clutching the wood through the new, soft moccasins, Methusal ran to the other end of the exposed root and hopped onto another one. No foot marks betrayed five lengths of her path now. She leaped onto a flat rock, and then onto a smaller, rounded one. There her options ran out, and she set off again for Rolban, her feet flying over the dusty earth. The pain in her side had eased. Only another minute of rest and she should be able to sprint for home.

Her ears strained to hear her foes. One followed her latest diversion, but the other Dehrien was hot on her trail. Probably Mentàll. He was chasing her, just like in her dream. Was her dream a prophecy? Had it predicted what was happening now?

But hadn’t the Prophet said it applied to a future time?

It soon became clear he wasn’t fooled by her feeble diversionary tactics. Within a minute, Mentàll would reach her. Panic churned in Methusal’s heart, but she forced herself to remain calm.

Another tagma root poked up, stretching south and left, but this time she ignored it. Several small stones formed a path to a tall, bushy tagma plant two lengths to the right. If she jumped from stone to stone, careful not to let them skid, she could make it.

Feet moving as swift as thought, Methusal put the plan into action and hopped, landing on the pads of her toes. So far so good….

Mentàll was almost upon her.

She ducked behind the prickly, leafy bush at the last possible second and crouched, her breaths silent, as Mentàll jogged into view.

He stopped, barely a length from her bush, and carefully glanced about. First at the tagma root, and then at the stones beneath his feet. He stood very still, as if listening.

Frozen, hardly daring to breathe, Methusal waited, formulating a plan of escape. Then she heard the faint slither of a whip beast come from the direction of the root. Mentàll heard it too, for his blond head quickly swiveled that way. He took one hesitant step that way, and then another. Quickening his stride, the Dehrien trotted after the false lead.

Methusal leaped to her feet and sprinted for Rolban. The pain was gone now. If she was lucky, she had a few seconds before Mentàll realized his mistake.

Her mountain home drew closer and closer, but she still had to round the southern end, because the gate to the community faced south. That was when she would be most vulnerable, because there was little vegetation to use for cover at the base of the mountain.

Rounding the corner, she heard two systems of movement sprinting up behind her. One minute until they caught her. The memory of Mentàll’s razor sharp knife urged her tired legs to pump faster. She could see the wide open gate now. Only a few more seconds…

Something caught at her arm and jerked her violently sideways, and then down to her knees. Quicker than thought, someone dragged her behind a huge boulder. A firm hand pressed against her mouth, cutting off her frightened cry. “Sshhhh!” Methusal struggled to see her captor.

Behran! He held a finger to his lips and cautiously peered around the side of the boulder. He sprang to his feet. “Come on!”

Confused, Methusal staggered after him up a narrow path that twisted up the southern side of the steep mountain. The path was hidden by massive boulders. Crouching low, she sprinted from boulder to boulder.

Near the top he ducked into a shallow cave. She blinked to adjust to the gloomy shadows.

“Thusa!” A little body hurtled forward and hugged her fiercely. “I thought Mentàll was going to get you!” Aali’s face was dirty and tear streaked. When her cousin pulled back she clutched Behran’s hand, as if afraid to let it go.

“What’s going on?” Fear made Methusal’s words sharp.

“It’s awful!” More tears streaked her cheeks.

“What is?”

“If only I hadn’t gone sneaking, like Father said!” She choked on a tremendous sob. Terror gripped Methusal. Something was terribly wrong.

“Come sit down.” Behran took charge, and gently led Aali to the back of the cave, where the three squatted. “The delegation took Rolban hostage late last night.” His voice was quiet.

“
What?
But why didn’t they wait for Ment…”

“It’s all my fault!” Aali wept. “Father told me to stay in
my room and I wouldn’t. I didn’t trust those merchant people.
So when Father fell asleep, I snuck down the hall to the guest chambers and listened outside one of the doors. I thought for sure it was probably too late and they were sleeping. But they weren’t. And I didn’t think…” More sobs, and a wet sniffle. “I didn’t think I’d hear something
incriminating!”

“What did you hear?” Methusal fought to keep her voice as calm and level as Behran’s.

“A loud voice—it sounded familiar, but I don’t know who it was, because other people were talking at the same time. Anyway, he
insisted
they should take over Rolban right now. Now was the time, he said, while everyone was sleeping. He said Mentàll would be glad, because then he wouldn’t have to do the messy work. The man said he hated us Rolbanis. That we were horrid and prideful and deserved to be put in our place.”

More gulps. “Then another voice argued that they
had
to wait, because those were Mentàll’s instructions, and they’d be foolish to cross him. He said Mentàll wanted a peaceful, legal takeover. Then a mean looking, dark-haired man threw open the door and saw me!” With a heavy, shaky breath she whispered, “I think it was Jascr. He won the Bi-level in Dehre.”

“Then what?”

“He grabbed me and put his hands over my eyes and mouth and dragged me into the room. He wanted to kill me, but the others wouldn’t let him. He said the first man was right. They
had
to take over Rolban right now. Because if I went missing or told anyone, their whole plan would be ripped. The others agreed. So they tied me up, threw me in a closet, and jammed it shut. I heard their plan. They said they’d go from compartment to compartment and break in and tie up the Rolbanis. It would be easy while everyone was sleeping.”

“And we don’t have locks to keep anyone out,” Methusal interjected grimly.

“Yes, they said they’d capture every single Rolbani, or kill us, if necessary.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Then they rampaged out.”

“So they took over Rolban while you were in the closet?” Methusal blinked rapidly, trying to hold back horrified, welling tears. What had happened to her parents and her sister?

“I finally got out, but it was too late. They had a bunch of people corralled in the dining hall at knife point—actually most had
swords
. The Rolbanis were gagged and their hands were tied, but their feet were tied loose enough so they could shuffle a little. I knew a secret passageway outside, so I snuck out and hid outside all night. Luckily, I stopped Behran before he ran in and got captured.”

“Mentàll!” Methusal suddenly turned to Behran. “Do you think he’ll find us up here?”

“Listen.”

And she would have remembered that, too, if she had been thinking clearly. But Methusal heard no footsteps climbing up the mountain. “Nothing,” she reported. “So he must be inside already.”

“Probably,” Behran agreed. “But he’ll search for us soon, so we’d better come up with some ideas, and fast.”

“A plan!” Aali looked up. Her eyes brightened through the tears. “Can we rescue Rolban?”

“We have to try,” he said grimly. “We’re the only ones left.”

“Except for Kitran, Lina, and Retra.”

“It’ll be a while before they get here. Have they captured everyone?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve heard fighting.”

“So hopefully it’s still chaos inside. We need to move now.”

“What can we do?” How could they possibly rescue Rolban
from twenty warriors, plus Mentàll, plus five kaavl competitors—a total of twenty-six Dehriens to their three? Of course, hopefully some Rolbanis were still free, but how many?

“We need to free the people in the dining hall,” Behran said.

“But how would we get by the Dehriens and untie them?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a few are free. We have to try. That would help even out the odds. Then we can hunt down the other Dehriens in the halls, one by one.”

Methusal turned to Aalicaa. “You said you know a secret passageway to get in. Where does it come out inside? Is it anywhere near the dining hall?”

“Yes. Just down the teaching hallway a bit—it comes out in the first classroom. It’s hidden in a closet behind a loose board.”

“Here’s an idea,” Behran said. “We’ll go hide in Aali’s passageway now. It’s not safe here. Mentàll’s sure to send out a search party for us soon. While we’re inside you can listen, Thusa, and tell us what’s going on in Rolban. We’ll take it from there.”

Aali sprang to her feet. “We’ll need weapons, Behran. The Dehriens have long, wicked looking, skinny knives.”

“That they hide in their breeches,” Methusal finished grimly. But Aali paid no attention to her comment, and scrabbled about outside, gathering up fistfuls of rocks.

“We can use these!” she shrilled.

“That’s probably the best we can do,” Behran agreed. The three scooped up what they could, and tucked them into their pockets, tunics, and in Methusal’s pack, and then Aalicaa led them outside and up a short distance to the sheer face of a cliff. A length overhead, balanced on a narrow stone ledge, was a tall, flat rock. The top edge of the tilted rock rested against the cliff.

“It’s behind that rock. Be careful going up, ’cause there aren’t many holds,” Aali explained, stepping nimbly ahead of them.