Kaavl Conspiracy (24 page)

Deccia patted Methusal’s arm as she stood. Compassion warmed her eyes. “I hate to break this up, but I need to see Verdnt.”

The teachers usually used the last two days of the week to catch up on lesson plans, since there was no school on those days.

Methusal remembered that Verdnt had asked Deccia to work in his compartment today. “I thought you’d told him…” she glanced at Petr, “you couldn’t.”

Timaeus’ gaze sharpened.

“I’m just picking up the lesson plans.” She explained, “I’ll teach the lower grades when Verdnt goes to the Inter-Community Games.”

“Do you think that will solve the problem?” Methusal murmured, not wanting to create another drama, but concerned for her twin. “He’ll want to
discuss
the plans, too.”

Deccia flushed. “I’ll be quite clear about what I will and will not do.”

Timaeus unexpectedly spoke up. “Can I walk you there?”

Deccia’s mouth fell open. Her eyes brightened and her cheeks pinkened still more. “Well… Thank you. I’d like that.”

“Great.” Palms on the table, Timaeus pushed himself to his feet. Deccia cast a backward glance at Methusal as they left the dining room together. Her wide, delighted eyes said,
can you believe this?

Methusal smiled, happy for her twin. Deccia deserved this. Timaeus was such a nice person, and she was glad her sister might finally have a chance with the man she’d liked for so long.

A glance at Petr, however, revealed the opposite reaction. He scowled after the two. Well, Petr couldn’t dictate true love. And Methusal felt happy that for once, her uncle would not get his own way.

* * * * *

Goric intercepted Methusal on the way to the supply room. “Methusal. Wait up.”

Seeing the slight, medium height young man brought a sick feeling to the pit of her stomach. Was she really such a sore loser? She should congratulate him, instead of feeling sorry for herself for losing the Tri-level.

Although she couldn’t quite force a smile to her lips, she did manage to say, “Congratulations on the Tri-level.”

“Yes. Thanks.” His pale hair fell in thin spikes down his forehead, and his eyes didn’t meet her own. “Kitran wants to speak to you.”

“Okay. Thanks.” She wondered what Kitran wanted. When Goric made to turn away, she blurted, “I’ll bet you’re excited about the Inter-Community Games.”

“Yes. Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” His eyes shifted away.

“Too bad the games won’t take place in Aestoff. Isn’t that where you’re from?” For the first time, Methusal wondered why Goric had moved to Rolban three years ago. He didn’t seem to fit in, and he didn’t seem to want to try. In fact, she’d never really noticed him much before now. His only contribution to the community was working with Motr and Behran on the water systems. Otherwise, he kept to himself.

Opaque gray eyes bored into hers. “Yes. You know I’m from Aestoff.”

“How did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Come in second at the Tri-level.”

“I’m good. Better than you, apparently.” He gave a small, nasty laugh.

Methusal swallowed back a smart remark. “Did you plan your strategy beforehand?”

“Of course. Who doesn’t?”

“What was it? Obviously, I need pointers.”

His lips curled. “Simple. I ran straight to the bluffs and back. I didn’t stop to capture. And I beat both of you.”

“That’s imp…” She stopped. She wouldn’t tip Goric off to her unusual hearing abilities. “I guess capturing isn’t one of your strengths.”

“I captured you.” With a smirk, he left her.

It was probably irritation made her feel more convinced than ever that Goric had cheated. She’d bet anything that he’d hidden on the plains and run nowhere. And then he’d sprinted for the finish line at the last minute. But how could she possibly prove it?

* * * * *

A few minutes later, Kitran curtly motioned Methusal into his office.

“Goric said you wanted to see me?”

His penetrating gaze bored into her. “Have you been practicing?”

“No,” she admitted.

“Not since the games?”

“No. Well, not really.” That short time in class couldn’t really count.

“You lost. But your kaavl is good, and it could be great. Quit moping.”

“I…”

“I know you wanted to beat Behran. Get over it.”

“I’m trying. It’s Goric. I can’t believe he got by me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He says he ran straight to the bluffs and back. But I didn’t see him. Neither did Behran.”

“Are you accusing him of cheating?” Warning deepened Kitran’s voice. Slander was a serious charge, and she’d need proof.

She swallowed. “Of course not.”

“Sulk. Or get back to work. Your choice.”

“I’ll practice today.” Methusal felt ashamed as she left his office. Was she really that pitiful? Whining, on the verge of slandering Goric…

But Kitran was right. The world hadn’t ended because she’d lost the Tri-level. She needed to pull herself together and work even harder. Next year, she’d win. Next year, she’d make sure a judge was stationed on the far bluffs, too.

* * * * *

Methusal and Liem are becoming more dangerous. They are fools, and fools do not enjoy a long life span. It’s laughable that Methusal does not realize the key to the
2
^nd
Book of Kaavl
hangs around her neck. A fool, like all Rolbanis. My ally wishes to see the necklace, but I fear he must languish with disappointment. I have the information I need. Now only to find the book, and unravel the peace between Rolban and her “allies,” once and for all. I will take care of my own enemies swiftly, for the glory of Zindedi.

* * * * *

The remainder of the day passed in relative peace. Aali had compiled a list of immigrants who were either guards or served on the Council, and had given her findings to Methusal that afternoon.

Fourteen men remained on the list. Narrowing it down still further would be difficult.

Catching the thief in the act was obviously the best solution. Even though the pots were found in Tarst, Dehre still could be involved in the thefts. And their runner would come tomorrow. That meant if Dehre was in allegiance with the Rolbani thief, items might be stolen tonight or tomorrow night, and tossed down into the ravine for pick up. Petr continued to refuse to post guards, so she would have to take matters into her own hands.

First, though, she’d practice kaavl, and then she’d stake out the garment room. A hunch told her it would be the thief’s next target.

Methusal sat cross-legged on the pallet in her room, quieted her mind, and then concentrated fully into kaavl. Today she’d study an excerpt from the ancient
First Book of Kaavl
, written by the Old Kaavl Master, Mahre. It was the only text they had which detailed how to learn kaavl.

If only they had the
Second Book of Kaavl.
Unfortunately, it had disappeared from Rolban during the Great War. Legend said a Dehrien had stolen it, but no one knew for sure. The man and his cohorts had died at the end of the war. Most people believed the book had been destroyed
then, too. After the Great War, Rolban had sent search parties
to every corner of the continent to find the book, but no trace had ever been found.

The
First Book of Kaavl
had been copied many times, but the Maahr family, as direct descendants of Mahre, owned the original copy. Methusal opened the brown, brittle cover, and traced the inscription inside the first page.

By Mahre. For all succeeding generations.

A few more words were scratched onto the first page:

Love The One

with all your heart

and with all your soul

and with all your mind,

…and love your neighbor as yourself.

She’d known these scriptures all of her life, but how did you love a God you didn’t know? Who was he, and what was he like? Rolban was not a particularly devout community. Sometimes, on the seventh day of the week, someone would read a few words from the thin, tattered
Word of The One
, but usually not.

As she’d done many times over the last few days, Methusal thought about the dream she’d had in jail. It still made no sense to her. Why had she dreamed about The One at all? She never thought about him during the daytime.

Not true. Lately, she had been—because of Renn. His death made her wonder what lay beyond that final door. If The One was real, then what did he expect from her now?

Methusal turned the next page of the ancient book. The
First Book of Kaavl
outlined how to reach the Quatr, Tri and Bi-levels of kaavl. It contained a few tips about the Primary level, too. Complete control of body, mind, and emotions were the goals. One interesting paragraph caught Methusal’s attention. The ancient Master of the art, unparalleled since his death three hundred years ago, had written:

Kaavl is not a religion, and cannot provide moral rules to guide one’s life. Rather, it is a method by which one can more truly experience life by mastering control over one’s self and senses. Self-control provides one tool by which one can practice what is right and true.

Self-control helped a person do the right thing. But did complete self-control include milking all of her emotions dry? Did it mean she should channel that emotional energy to intensify her kaavl?

Had the Old Kaavl Master used emotional energy? She had never read about that concept in the
First Book of Kaavl
. But surely Kitran knew what he was talking about.

Soon she would have to choose—to continue on to the Bi-level or not. But the idea of climbing to the second level now felt like stepping into a cave with no way out. Only grays and blacks and shadows… No colors with which to experience life.

But the paragraph had said that kaavl was one way a person could truly experience life.

It made no sense. Frustrated, she wondered what the
Second Book of Kaavl
said about the matter. According to legend, it resolved all conflicts and clearly explained how to reach the Ultimate level—which only Mahre had achieved, late in life. If only she could read that book!

The endless questions weren’t helping her to concentrate. After all, she didn’t have to decide now. But her reluctance to continue up the kaavl ladder made her feel scared, and a little empty. What could she pursue instead of kaavl? Was kaavl the only thing that gave meaning to her life?

Stop it! Time to practice.

Methusal squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated. Gradually, her worries melted away as she focused on her hearing.

Tonight, for the first time, she would try to carry into the gathering room down the hall. No one was playing whaal tonight. Instead, she soon heard a few council members in the room discussing the upcoming visit of a group of Dehrien merchants. They would arrive on Sixthday; one week from today. The delegation would be twenty in number, and would stay in Rolban for two days. Rolban had never hosted such a large group from another community before, and the council members—especially Petr—seemed eager to make sure that all went well.

Methusal heard the low tones of her father, and concentrated harder. He would be the focal point for her carry.

“Where would they stay, then?”

The carry was difficult, and her nails bit into her palms as she concentrated. This was the first time she’d ever tried to carry through twenty lengths of solid rock, without the aid of her eyes to pinpoint the location of her carryee. In her struggle to accomplish the near impossible, she missed the reply, and instead focused upon her father’s voice, who spoke again.

“Whose compartments, then? And where will our people stay?” At last! Methusal pinpointed her father’s location, and mentally completed the carry her hearing had already made. It was almost as if she sat in the very place her father sat, and heard everything he heard. Only she was blind, and could not see the others in the room. She could only tell them apart by their voices.

She couldn’t relax her concentration for an instant, or she’d lose the carry.

“We’ll double up,” said Barak, to her father’s right. “Let’s see a show of hands. Who’s willing to give up their compartment for a few days?”

To her frustration, Methusal heard only a whoosh of hands.

“Good!” Directly across from Erl, Petr sounded pleased. “One problem solved. Sims! Do we have enough food?”

Old Sims’ voice came from Erl’s left. “We’re running low, since the grain was stolen. Fresh meat would help.”

“Noted.” Petr did not sound concerned. “Now…”

Suddenly exhausted, Methusal relaxed. The carry had drained all of her energy, and her stomach gave a protesting gurgle. A snack before staking out the garment room sounded appealing.

She blew out the lamp above her pallet and slipped from the compartment. It was late, and the passageway deserted. Methusal glanced into the gathering chamber as she passed by, and was pleased to note Sims, Petr, Barak and her father all in the exact positions she had pinpointed during her carry exercise.

A single lamp burned just inside the entrance to the dining
hall, leaving most of the large room and the kitchen shrouded in shadows. Moving too quickly, she bumped into the buffet rock outcropping. She bit back a cry of pain and cautiously advanced forward again, hands stretched ahead like feelers.

In the kitchen the light filtered weakly through the serving
window, making the counters appear gray, but the floor remained black, looking like a deep pit. Carefully, she moved to the far wall. Her fingers patted up, over the rocky ledge and touched the earthenware bowl filled with leftover dried meat. At last. Greedily, she grasped two roughly textured meat strips and ripped off a bite.