Kaavl Conspiracy (29 page)

* * * * *

I was almost caught tonight! Methusal Maahr escaped with her life this morning, but matters will not be so pleasant for her from now on. She has stirred up enough trouble. Liem is also an increasing threat. I must terminate these problems before the plan unravels prematurely. I will write a note and warn my ally, should Methusal still be a problem at the time of the IC Games. If so, he will be prepared to eliminate the threat she poses. My tracks will remain covered, and our plans safe. It is laughable how easily my ally can be manipulated; he is a fool. Rest assured, Presidente, I will terminate my opposition, and it will be done immediately. Victory is within reach.

Dehre

Firstday

Hendra had found no evidence
of swords in Dehre. She’d looked in storerooms, and even asked a few friends if they’d seen anything unusual lately. None had. Maybe she should search Mentàll’s tent, too, but she couldn’t bring herself to violate his privacy. Anyway, she’d been in his clothes room last week, and had seen no evidence of swords in there. So where were they? Was she wrong about everything?

Or had her cousin ordered all of the weapons to be stashed somewhere secret?

Another development—one that troubled Hendra even more—had arisen, too. Mentàll had ordered a delegation of twenty “merchants” to visit Rolban this coming Sixthday. A peace mission, supposedly, but Jascr was to go, as well.

Why would Mentàll send a man he hated and distrusted to Rolban?

Why send a man of violence on a mission of peace?

* * * * *

Rolban

Methusal awoke early,
feeling more relaxed than she’d felt in a long time. Petr seemed to have doubts about her guilt, which was great news.

She hoped she could beat Goric, because she wanted to attend the Inter-Community games on Thirdday. She’d love to visit Dehre and Tarst. She’d never been to either community before, and had always longed to visit new, exciting places.

She wondered how Behran was feeling about returning to his home village of Dehre. Would it be bittersweet? Would
the Dehriens still see him as one of their own, or as a defector,
and now a Rolbani?

She strode swiftly down the hall, her ponytail swishing the back of her neck. A change in hairstyle seemed to fit her change of mood that morning. Too bad she had kitchen duty. It was the only unpleasant task on the horizon.

Petr exited from the dining room just as she arrived. Maybe he’d been visiting his aunt, because breakfast wouldn’t start for another hour.

When he saw her, his white brows knotted into a scowl. “Remember what I told you last night. No investigating…
at all.
”

Methusal blinked, taken aback by the ferocity of his tone. “I…”

“Or else,” he growled, and disappeared toward his office.

With a frown, she joined Deccia and Matron Olgith in the kitchen. The sticky gruel was again on the breakfast menu. She stirred and then served until it was her turn to eat breakfast.

Deccia and Aalicaa sat alone at the Storst table. Since Petr had long ago eaten breakfast and left, Methusal joined them with her bowl of steaming gruel.

“We heard what you did last night!” Aalicaa gazed at her with something akin to worship. “Did you see the thief? What did you learn?”

“Not much. Except the thief is a man, like we thought,” Methusal said. “Petr doesn’t want us to investigate anymore.” Not that she’d listen, of course—not if she found another clue to follow, anyway. But for now, she’d toe the line. “So that’s it, then.”

“You can’t give up! You know Father needs help.”

“I know. But he asked us to stop, so we’d better. At least for now.”

Aalicaa scowled. “Why does Father always ruin everything? Just when we were starting to win!”

“Aali…” But the girl up leaped and ran into the hall.

The older girls silently ate their porridge. After a while, Methusal said, “When will Timaeus get back from Tarst?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Will you speak to him?”

“I don’t know. Father may not let me.” Deccia didn’t look happy.

Methusal sighed. “Stand up to him, Decc. Choose what makes
you
happy.”

“We’ll see.” A few minutes later, Deccia said, “Well, I’m off to class.” Her voice was calm, and her gaze serene. Methusal marveled at that. If Petr was her father, she didn’t know what she’d do.

Although Methusal was sorry her sister and Timaeus couldn’t see each other, at least Deccia had someone interested in her. She felt a pang of jealousy when she considered her sister’s ability to draw male attention. Timaeus, Verdnt….Why were so many men interested in her, and none in Methusal? They were both pretty—they were identical, for goodness’ sake. But Deccia’s personality was gentle and kind, whereas Methusal was prone to emotional outbursts, and only focused on one thing in life—kaavl. Evidently, those weren’t appealing characteristics to men.

She drew a quick breath. Why was she thinking about this? And what did she care, anyway? Her life was full enough now. Certainly, she didn’t need any man to complicate things even more.

* * * * *

Class was boring, as usual, but for the sake of staying on Verdnt’s good side, Methusal paid close attention. It was hard. Especially since after lunch she would get to challenge Goric. Excitement made her heart flutter. She slipped into kaavl, and carefully focused on Verdnt’s voice and several other sounds at the same time. Several times she was able to follow three isolated sounds at once. Her spirits lifted. She couldn’t wait to challenge Goric.

At the end of class Verdnt announced, “Tomorrow will be the last day of school for this class. You will receive your certificates of graduation at that time.”

Methusal added her cheers to the whoops of the class.

“What about the other class levels?” Daltha asked. “Is tomorrow their last day, too?”

“No. They’ll go to the end of the week. Deccia will finish up for me.” Verdnt directed a smile at Methusal’s sister, who offered a nervous looking one in return.

Several classmates turned to Deccia with smiles and congratulations. The experience would mean she’d get to teach her own class next year. Probably just the youngest children, but a real step forward for her. Methusal was happy for her. For her sister’s sake, however, she hoped Verdnt wouldn’t try to finagle any more time alone with her.

After class, she burst into the supply room with a smile. “Good morning, Sims!”

“Good morning, my girl.” His leathery face creased into a smile.

“I’ll finish copying this list right away,” Methusal promised, pulling the inventory sheets from the wall.

“Good, good,” Sims nodded. “I’m going to inspect the crops in a little while. Would you like to come with me?”

The prospect of bright, warm sunshine and a clear, cloudless blue sky beckoned almost overwhelmingly. Oh, to get out of this cave! She hadn’t been outside in almost a week. And since Petr was loosening his restrictions, he probably wouldn’t mind if she went outside with Sims now. Another thought came to mind. She could investigate that ravine. Maybe the thief had thrown the pelts into it last night.

“Yes. I’d like that.” She bent her head to the list. The sooner it was finished, the sooner she could go outside. And at noon she’d play Goric for the Tri-level.

An hour later, list completed, she headed down the hall after Sims and then up the narrow stone staircase, which led to the tableland on top of the mountain.

The plateau was rich in nutrients, and crop tenders tilled it to provide food for the community. Waste plant material from the summer’s crop was plowed under in the fall, and provided an even richer soil for the next spring. Each year one of the four fields was left fallow, allowing it to rest for one growing season.

Methusal stepped onto the flat tableland. She smelled Barak’s compost pit behind her, but tried to ignore it. She’d rather focus on the beautiful scenery.

The wide plateau stretched to the west for a short distance before it ended abruptly in a sheer cliff. The plateau stretched for a longer distance to the east, and provided room for three of the four fields. It ended just before the stream, and before the landscape erupted into the tall, rocky cliffs of the Rolban Mountains. The Rolban River rushed in a narrow stream between the plateau and the cliffs, and then cascaded in a waterfall to the floor of the plain. From there, the stream continued on and followed the bluffs south. It was the same stream that she would cross this afternoon for the kaavl game rematch.

The tall Rolbani mountain range partly encircled the valley
to the south, and ended in the black bluffs, which were the halfway point for the Kaavl Games. To the north stretched another valley, which ended a good distance away in the Tarst Mountain Range.

This year the field to the west lay fallow. To the east, Barak’s team of crop tenders dotted the plateau, carefully irrigating the mounded rows of dirt by using water piped from the stream. Last year Behran and the other engineers had finished this system. Several people were needed at strategic spots throughout the fields to turn the water flow on and off, but that was a small chore compared to the task of carrying water, pail by pail, from the stream.

Several men unplugged pipes now, and water spurted from the tough, hollow wooden rods, which were elevated from the ground by intermittent wooden stands. The stands prevented the wood from rotting too quickly. That way the system would last longer, according to Behran. A few workers carefully adjusted the rods, making sure the crops received maximum water.

Barak strode their way, his face gleaming with sweat. He rubbed a dirty palm across his forehead, streaking it black.

“Sims!” he roared. “Good to see you. Come take a look at the fields. Those two will be planted with grain and that one with berries,” he thundered, pointing to the rich, freshly plowed earth. “We should have a great season this year—if that uncured grain sprouts.” His thick black brow knotted in a frown.

Barak forged ahead, towering a half head taller than the crew under his command. Methusal and Sims followed, meekly observing each feature Barak indicated.

As they headed east, toward the mountain, Methusal quickly spotted the waist high wall bordering the ravine. Quietly she wandered north, away from Barak and Sims, but was careful to stick to the path so she wouldn’t trample the newly planted seeds. She glanced over her shoulder. Barak and Sims crouched near a thin, spindly plant. They wouldn’t miss her for a minute.

At the gorge, she leaned over the edge and examined the ravine, was was cut into the black rock of the plateau. At the far edge of the bluff the crevasse was two lengths wide, but it narrowed to a point where Methusal stood. Where had that man stood when he’d thrown the grain over edge?

About here, in the middle? She peered over the rock wall. It was a sheer, twelve length drop before it ended in a cluster of black boulders far below. And to her left, to the north, stretched the flat plain. To her right, toward the narrow end of the chasm, the cliff cut down at a sharp angle—almost like a steep slide—and ended with the boulders. Maybe the thief had rolled the grain down that incline.

Were the stolen pelts down there right now? She struggled to see, but black shadows darkened the bottom of the gorge.

“Methusal,” Sims called. “We’re heading to the other field.”

“Coming.” She concentrated into kaavl. One particular dark lump looked a shade lighter than the other rocks. Unfortunately, she couldn’t tell if it was a roll of tied up pelts. Maybe she could ask Deccia to check. Her sister had said several times that she’d like to help with the investigation, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. Especially since Methusal didn’t know when she’d have time to investigate the ravine at ground level, since the rematch with Goric was coming up so quickly. If the pelts were there, the quicker
they were retrieved, the better. She’d send a message to Deccia as
soon as she returned inside.

“What’re you looking at?” Barak bellowed. The amusement in his eyes reminded her of his brother, Kitran.

“It’s steep,” she commented.

“Cliffs are. Be careful.” The dry comment reminded her of almost falling down the stairs yesterday. And how Barak had saved her from a nasty accident.

Barak lumbered on, pointing out details of the crop plateau. Methusal had trouble keeping track of it all. She supposed that as she learned more about the job, Barak’s statistics would mean more to her.

By the end, they’d circled the entire plateau.

Methusal paused in the place where she knew Renn had fallen, and her gaze dropped to the rocky jumble below. A long way to fall. A shiver slid down her spine.

“Methusal?” Sims’ voice wavered from the staircase door.

Glad to be pulled from her gruesome thoughts, Methusal hurried to catch up. It was almost time for lunch. But she grimaced when she thought about it. Lunch didn’t vary much; tastelessness was its consistent quality. Maybe she should talk to Sims about that varied diet…

She followed Sims as he carefully climbed down to the second level. “Sims, could we preserve more varieties of
foods for the winter? It’s boring eating the same things every day.”

Old Sims unfastened the circular lock to the supply room and motioned Methusal inside before answering her question.

“Grain, berries, nuts, and dried meats can be preserved,” he lectured kindly. “Luckily, logne leaves can be picked half of the year, but the other foods we eat, such as tubers and
certain green vegetables, can only be harvested in the summer.
We can preserve some of those, too, but most food needs to be eaten fresh.”

“So we can’t change anything?” It was a depressing thought to have to accept the tasteless boredom of the winter foods. Or maybe it was just Matron Olgith’s cooking that needed improvement.

Sympathy flickered across the old man’s face. “Believe me, I wish we could spice up our meals, too. Long ago, I lived in Quasr, to the north. We had a nice variety of foods there. It’s a coastal village, as you know.”

Methusal nodded.

“The climate is mild. Tubers and all sorts of plants and flowers grow there year round.”

“Maybe we could trade with them.”

“Yes. Maybe.” He fell silent.

“Why were you in Quasr, Sims?”

“Oh.” He started. His smile looked sad. “I grew up there. Met the love of my life, a spunky girl.” He chuckled and his smile softened. “Yes. The love of my life. She gave me a son, but I didn’t know about him until much later.”