Kaavl Conspiracy (31 page)

She screamed.

* * * * *

“Methusal!”

She opened her eyes. Kitran stood over her. Timaeus and another runner also stared down at her. She lay on the ground.

She’d fallen. She had bumped her head, too…

The memory came back. She moaned and covered her eyes. Welling tears slid down her cheeks. “Did you see?” she whispered.

“We saw,” Kitran said grimly. He gripped her arm and pulled her into a sitting position.

Methusal couldn’t help it—her eyes went back to the mangled human form. The wolmites were gone. A whip slithered closer, but Timaeus pivoted and hurled his hunting knife. The whip twitched and lay still. He swiftly retrieved the knife.

Wiping the bloody knife on a leaf, Timaeus pointed to the other runner. “That’s Dastn.”

The dark-haired runner nodded to her. After the cursory greeting, he pulled a bow and arrow from the quiver on his back, and held it at the ready, waiting for another animal to slink closer to the corpse. The Tarst runner looked to be the same age and height as Timaeus, but he was more thickly muscled in the chest and arms.

Methusal’s gaze slid again to the bloody mess that had been a man. Kitran knelt by him, examining something at his neck. Bile rose in her throat. She staggered to her feet and vomited in a nearby bush.

“It’s Liem,” Kitran said.

Liem!

“How do you know?” she choked out.

He fingered a bloodied, looped strand. “This is his family’s marriage necklace. He’s worn it since his wife died.”

Methusal crossed her arms and hugged herself. She could not look at the dead man—Liem—again. Tears ran in a rivers down her cheeks. “Mama was right,” she whispered. Something awful
had
happened. Liem was dead. Murdered. Who would
do
such an awful thing?

“His wrists are tied to the bush.” Timaeus said.

“I know.” Kitran sounded grim.

Methusal gasped. “You mean…someone tied him there, and…and let the wild beasts…eat him?” A horrible, gasping wail left her throat. She pressed a hand to her mouth. “Who would
do
such a thing?”

“Look, Methusal.”

“No. I
can’t!
” Looking was the last thing she wanted to do.

“He’s tied up with kaavl strips. The ends are wrapped in blue. Just like yours.”

“
What?
” She couldn’t help but look where Kitran was pointing.

Sure enough, blood and skeletal wrist bones were tied to the bush by blue-banded kaavl strips. Her kaavl strips.

“They’re not mine!” she cried. “I would never… I could
never
…”

“I know. Timaeus, get Petr and Erl. Fast,” Kitran said. “Leave your knife.”

“Yes, sir!” Timaeus and Dastn took off for Rolban at a dead sprint.

Methusal sank down on the ground again, facing away from Liem. She could not believe this had happened. Liem was dead. And the killer had framed her again.

* * * * *

Erl and Petr soon arrived, along with two grave diggers. Timaeus came with them, but Dastn had had to continue on his run in order to reach Dehre before nightfall.

In the meantime, Kitran had searched the perimeter for footprints, but he said he’d found it hard to distinguish the killer’s footprints from their own, as they’d all come from the same direction.

Methusal stood, arms crossed, shivering in the late afternoon’s gentle breeze. She felt numb inside. “I didn’t do it.”

“We know, Thusa. Here.” Her father pressed a cloth into her hand. She hadn’t realized she was still crying.

“I
didn’t!
” She pressed the cloth against her mouth, and tried to suppress her throat aching sobs. Tears streamed from her eyes.

“I know.” Petr’s quiet rumble surprised and comforted her. “I know you didn’t do it.”

She turned swollen eyes to him. “
How
do you know?” Her voice trembled. “Those kaavl strips might be mine. Every single clue points right at me!”

Gently, her father said, “We know because you’re not that kind of a person, Thusa.”

More matter-of-factly, Petr said, “And Liem would not have allowed you to lure him out here. He’d have been on his guard with you. He was a tough fighter, too. You could never have overpowered him. And if someone dragged or carried him out here—you couldn’t have done that, either. The evidence is a little too convenient. Combined with the other clues you’ve found, I’m convinced you’re innocent.”

Thank goodness for that.

“But unless I miss my guess,” Petr continued, “you’re in danger. Liem was investigating, and now he’s dead.”

“Renn investigated,” Methusal whispered. “He’s dead.”

“And you’re investigating. I can lock you up, if you’d like,” her uncle offered. “If he thinks you’re out of the way, you might be safe.”

“No!” She turned to her father. “I don’t want to be alone in that jail cell. Anything could happen to me there.”

“I agree,” Erl said. “The safest thing may be to get you out of Rolban. Thank goodness the IC Games are tomorrow. You should be safer in Dehre.”

She hoped. Methusal couldn’t look at Liem again. “What will happen to him?”

“We’ll bury him tonight,” Petr said. Then, to the grave diggers, “Wrap him up. We’ll have his service before supper.”

* * * * *

Liem’s service was short and sweet. Hanuh wept on Erl’s shoulder. Methusal had never known it before, but Liem had been her mother’s first love, when she’d been a teenager. While they had gone their separate ways as adults, she still cared for him very much. Maybe that was why she’d felt the premonition of his death so strongly last night

Liem’s compartment was also searched. There were signs of a struggle, and a pool of blood found on the floor. It appeared that he had been killed there, and carried onto the plains last night. While the front gates were locked all night long, there was a steep path down from the crop plateau to the plains. It was located near the waterfall. The killer must have carried Liem’s body out that way. At least Liem had been dead before the wild beasts ate him. A huge mercy. Still, someone had brutally murdered him.

Petr announced at the service that he would require every man with access to the ore mines to come in for questioning. He’d speak to Kitran and Verdnt tonight, since they would leave tomorrow for the IC Games.

At last, her uncle was clearly taking steps to find Renn and Liem’s killer. Methusal couldn’t help but wonder why it had taken so long. …Unless he’d been investigating all along, and she just hadn’t seen it.

A subdued group of people reentered Rolban for dinner. Fear was a noticeable undercurrent, as well.

Methusal was afraid she was next on the killer’s list.

Although she wasn’t very hungry, she joined her family at the table. The dining hall was quiet. Liem’s spot was noticeably empty. When Methusal spotted Sims sitting alone, she rose to her feet and went to him.

“Sit with us,” she urged. “Please,” she added with a small smile. No one should be alone tonight.

Sims offered a small smile in return and walked slowly with her to the Maahr table.

Erl stood as they approached, and shook Sims’ hand. “Sims. We’re honored you can join us. Please sit.”

Methusal had never had a chance to speak to her parents about asking Sims to join their family’s meals, but her father seemed pleased by the idea, all on his own.

With an answering smile Sims sat down, and Hanuh and Poli immediately engaged him in conversation. The old man began to relax and enjoy himself.

Behran arrived a few minutes later. Then, to Methusal’s surprised delight, Deccia and Aalicaa arrived, too. They wanted to eat dinner with Methusal tonight, since she’d leave tomorrow.

“Sorry I have to rush, though,” Deccia said. “Verdnt wants me to put in a few more hours of work.” A faint frown worried her brow, and the movements of her spoon were jerky.

“What’s wrong?”

Aali glanced at her big sister. Her bad temper, which had been simmering over the last few days, had mysteriously vanished. “Yes, Deccia, what is it? You’ve splashed my arm twice with your soup!”

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry.” But her gentle smile looked pinched, and eyes troubled.

“Her heart is breaking for Timaeus,” Aali said, but not unkindly.

Deccia remained silent. Hurriedly, she finished her soup and rose to her feet. “I have to go. Good luck, Thusa. I know you’ll do great. Remember, we’re all pulling for you… And you too, Behran,” she added with a faint flush, perhaps afraid that she had slighted him somehow. He smiled quickly to dispel her embarrassment. “See you when you get back!” Then she was gone.

“Verdnt must be turning into a slave driver,” Methusal commented, untidily draining the last, surprisingly delicious drops of soup by tipping the bowl into her mouth. “I thought he was supposed to finish instructing her this morning.”

“He’s probably been distracted by preparing for the IC Games,” Behran said, ignoring her bad manners.

“Methusal!” Hanuh frowned. “Please don’t eat like that in Dehre or Tarst. They’ll think we’re uncivilized.”

With a sheepish smile, Methusal put down the bowl. She wiped her mouth with the blot of lynnte weed distributed to each table for such emergencies.

“So, do you two think you’re ready?” Erl asked with a faint twinkle in his eyes. Since Aali and the others had arrived, the mood at the table had lightened a little.

“I’m ready,” Behran stated. One of his brows shot up in an arrogant manner when he glanced at Methusal.

“So am I.” Calmly, she met his gaze.

“Good.” Erl’s mouth twitched. “Then let’s have a toast to Behran and Methusal. Sims, you start it off.”

“May you both bravely meet the challenges before you…”

“And put forth your best effort…”

“Remembering your code of ethics as Rolbanis…”

“Treating others with courtesy…”

“And above all…win!” This last impertinent bit was from Aalicaa, and they all laughed.

“One of us will win,” Behran agreed.

Methusal only rolled her eyes and smiled.

* * * * *

Honorable Presidente,

Liem is dead, but Methusal still roams free. I could not prevent it. Logic and justice are not words Rolbanis understand. Again and again, they prove they are weak and stupid. Methusal, however, is far more of a threat than I originally believed. Not only does her investigation endanger our plans, but her kaavl is extraordinary, according to Kitran. She is a true threat, should we go to war. She cannot be allowed to live. Our Zindedi messenger has been warned of all issues. He will monitor the situation from afar. Should something happen to me, he will send you a letter detailing Rolban’s last stand. However, I am not worried. Victory is certain.

Dehre

Thirdday

Hendra stepped outside
into the clear, crisp morning. Today the Rolbani team would arrive for the Kaavl Games. So would Behran—one of the few men in her life whom she’d granted a sliver of trust.

It had been five years since she’d last seen him. Lately she had been remembering how she’d been able to talk to him about almost anything. Would it be the same now?

Dared she tell him about her suspicions concerning Mentàll?

Again, worry conflicted with her lifelong respect and loyalty
to her cousin. Had he ordered illegal swords made, or not? Was his secret plan a threat to Rolban? She didn’t want Rolbanis hurt. Especially not Behran. But if she confessed her worries to him, would she be betraying Mentàll?

Of course she would. Behran may have been born a Dehrien, but now he was a Rolbani.

So what should she do?

If she could get Mentàll to tell her the root of the problem, maybe then she could try to steer him back on the right path.

Uneasiness settled in her soul. The Prophet had asked how she’d stop Mentàll. Well, she’d wait, and she’d watch, and when the time came, she would do what she absolutely must.

* * * * *

Rolban

Pale fingers of sunlight
slid beneath the curtain to her room as Methusal silently moved about, collecting together essentials for the trip. Extra clothes, a comb, and a few other items were all folded neatly into her coverlet, which was in turn folded and threaded securely with leather straps. Those hooked through her arms so she could carry the coverlet like a pack.

She slipped the pack strap over her shoulder. Time to go.

Sunlight streamed into the main chamber of the Maahr’s compartment. Her mother paced the chamber with a cup of tea in her hands. Chup Chup sat on a chair, and his alert eyes followed Hanuh’s movements with interest. Probably wondering when she’d feed him.

“Morning.” Methusal gave the apte a quick pat on his soft, furry head.

Hanuh turned. A gentle smile touched her lips. “Thusa.” She crossed the room and swiftly pulled her daughter into a quick hug.

When Methusal stepped back, she saw the worry that her mother tried to hide. “What is it?” Unease gripped her. “Is more trouble coming?”

Hanuh shook her head. “I don’t want to burden you. I want you to enjoy your trip.”

“Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“I could be mistaken.”

Methusal remembered Liem. “I doubt it.” In fact, she’d never known her mother to be wrong. She waited patiently.

Hanuh placed her cup on the table and crossed to the balcony ledge. She gazed out at the silvery pink dawn. “It’s not over. The worst is yet to come.”

“For whom?”

“You. Rolban.” Her mother turned back. Tears glimmered in her eyes. “I’m glad you’re leaving. It’s dangerous here, Thusa. And…” she took a deep breath, “it’s dangerous where you’re going. Please be careful.”

“I will. I promise.”

“I know your father hopes Petr will find the killer before you return home. So do I.”

“Me, too.” Methusal didn’t state the obvious—that the killer may have associates in Tarst, and possibly Dehre, too. She’d need to stay on her guard, which meant trying to stay in kaavl, aware of every nuance of her surroundings, at all times—if she could. Staying focused into kaavl was difficult for her. She had a lot to learn before she could reach the Bi-level.

“I’ll be careful,” she promised. “And I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Sixthday?”

“Sixthday.”

“Go with The One.” It was an odd blessing, and one her mother had never used before. Hanuh smiled, and Methusal quietly let herself out of her family’s compartment.

She slipped down the hall to the dining room, where the other kaavl contenders and Matron Olgith stood waiting. When Matron saw her, her finger jabbed impatiently at a pile of grain wafers and dried meat and berries. Apparently those were Methusal’s rations for the coming four days. Dehre and Tarst would probably feed their guests, but the custom had not yet been established. On the chance they would not, the Rolbani contenders would not go hungry. She scooped the food into a pouch created by the folding of her coverlet, and strapped the parcel to her shoulders.

Kitran stepped forward. “Thank you, Matron Olgith, for preparing our meals for the journey.”

The fat, hard face of the matron dimpled for the handsome Kitran. Clearly, the work had not been a chore, if done for him.

Kitran’s black eyes scanned the faces before him. Retra and Lina, the two Quatr-level contenders, stopped giggling.

Methusal and Behran were the contenders for the Tri-level, and only Verdnt represented Rolban’s Bi-level. Actually, Petr had won the Bi-level competition last week, but he had decided to stay behind and welcome the Dehrien
delegation. And Kitran was the only Primary level competitor
.

His black eyes finished their piercing inspection, and Kitran pointed to the Grand Staircase. “Time to go.”

Obediently, the five followed on his heels.

The silver rays of dawn had given way to a soft rose and orange tinted sky. The air was a crisp mixture of both warm and cool on Methusal’s face as she stepped beyond the gates. Perfect walking weather.

Kitran halted. “It will take three hours to reach Dehre. I expect each of you to keep quiet and practice kaavl during that time. Your Dehrien competitors will be hard to beat.”

Kitran set a brisk pace. Retra and Lina had to run from time to time to keep up with his long strides. Methusal was used to walking fast, so the pace didn’t bother her.

She didn’t mind Kitran’s order of silence, either. Who would she talk to, anyway? Maybe Behran, but he’d probably be annoying. She eyed Verdnt, just ahead of her, and wondered if Deccia finally felt ready to teach the younger students’ class.

As the sun rose, Methusal practiced hard, determined to become acutely aware of her environment in every way possible. She memorized the terrain ahead before her foot touched each stone, root, or twig. She also paid close attention to the sounds Kitran and Verdnt’s footsteps made. Grass, dirt, sticks, and stones each made distinctive noises as they trod on them. And their gait and body movements signaled where the terrain rose and fell.

She filtered out and compartmentalized the noises her fellow travelers made before focusing on outlying sounds. A whip beast slithered through the dry plain ten lengths to her right. Leaves rustled in the light breeze sweeping the plain… And a few odd, light, and quick sounds came behind the kaavl team. After a while she ignored them. Probably a pack of curious aptes following them.

Time passed quickly. Retra and Lina quit practicing and whispered together. Kitran didn’t hear them, but it became increasingly annoying to Methusal, who was still trying to concentrate. Fortunately, the trip was almost over. The gray wooden shacks and tents of Dehre sprawled in the distance. It looked open and defenseless, except for one partial wall built on the southern side.

How did Dehriens defend themselves from the wild
beasts? And how much protection did the thin shelters provide
against the winter’s stinging rain and icy snow? She’d always taken the safety and security of her home within the mountain for granted, but not any longer.

The village grew quickly larger. It soon became clear that the tents were ringed by a protective row of wooden shacks. Deep fire pits alternated with the line of outlying buildings. Maybe the light and heat of the fires drove away the wild beasts at night. The plain surrounding the town grew steadily barer as they drew closer—probably from fueling all of those fires every night.

Behran’s steps quickened as they neared the line of outbuildings. He must be looking forward to seeing old friends again. It seemed odd to think he had a life she knew nothing about.

“Kitran!” A loud shout drew their attention, and Methusal recognized the lean, blond-haired giant of a man striding up to join them. Mentàll Solboshn. The Dehrien Chief. Apprehension slid through her. Remembering his unhealthy interest in her tablet necklace, she swiftly tucked it inside her tunic.

He hadn’t seen her yet, but the chill in her soul intensified when she again noticed his freezing, pale blue eyes. A wide smile stretched the man’s otherwise expressionless face, and he turned his full attention to Kitran.

“Mentàll!” Kitran firmly shook the large hand of the other man. Mentàll towered over Kitran by a good handbreadth. “It’s good to see you again. I was sorry we didn’t have more time to talk while you were in Rolban.”

“We will have to remedy that here,” Mentàll agreed in his low, harsh voice. His pale eyes surveyed the little group clustered beside Kitran. “These are your kaavl contenders.” His gaze settled on Methusal, and a faint smile bared his teeth. “Ah. The lovely Methusal.”

With guarded caution, Methusal outstretched her hand in the customary, courteous gesture. What game was the Dehrien Chief playing? He certainly didn’t think she was beautiful. He couldn’t stand her.

Mentàll’s hand gripped hers a little harder than strictly polite. “How nice to see you again.” The words were low, maybe meaning to sound sincere, but instead they sounded threatening.

Methusal snatched her fingers free and offered a chilling glare in response.

A predatory light flashed in his eyes, and Methusal’s heart rate accelerated. His gaze held a hint of cruel amusement. Clearly, he had just warned her, yet again, not to cross him.

She struggled not to let her emotions show. People like
Mentàll probably thrived on power and fear. He’d wield neither
over her. Methusal gritted her teeth and stared back.

The Dehrien Chief’s freezing gaze moved to Verdnt, on her left. “Verdnt. How are you enjoying life in Rolban?” The icy eyes were unreadable.

“Fine, thank you.” Verdnt’s smile looked a bit nervous.

Mentàll speared Behran next with his gaze. “Behran. How is your family?” His lips stretched into a smile, but his eyes fleetingly glittered with contempt.

“Fine, sir.” Behran met the older man’s gaze, but his shoulders looked stiff. He only relaxed when Mentàll moved down the line to the Quatr contenders.

“Mentàll is the Chief of Dehre,” Kitran announced to his students, as if they didn’t already know. “And my chief contender at the Primary level.”

“You honor me.” Mentàll’s tone was modest, but it also seemed clear to Methusal that he took the praise as his due. He turned smoothly. “This way to your quarters.”

The little group strode to a nearby outbuilding, which had two doors; one at each end of the structure. “You may leave your packs here, if you’d like. I will take you to the dining table next.” The Dehrien Chief flicked an expressionless glance over them. “Men in one cabin, and women in the other, of course.”

A prickling sensation down her back told her the Chief’s gaze followed her as she stepped up the two uneven stones and peered into the murky interior of the shack. An involuntary shudder rippled down her spine. Just a few days ago, she’d envied Deccia’s ability to draw male attention. Well, she certainly had the Dehrien Chief’s attention, but it wasn’t for a good purpose. Instinct told her that he’d concocted some sort of a wild beast versus apte game, and she was the apte.

The unexpected stench of the room made Methusal gag as she stepped inside and crossed to a cot shoved against the far wall. She pulled the pack from her shoulders. The wall at the head of her bed abutted the room next door. She heard Behran’s low voice speaking to Kitran. Letting the bundle slide through her fingers onto the narrow cot, she glanced around, while attempting to hold her breath.

The room was small, dirty, and bare, except for the three cots. A narrow gash in the wall above provided the only light in the room, and there were no lamps, no coverlets, and no source of heat. Luckily the day was warm, and she had brought her own coverlet for the chilly night.

“Ew!” Lina wrinkled her nose. “It stinks.”

“It sure does.” Methusal pinched her nose. It smelled like old sweat and rotting boards, and a certain other noxious fragrance. Maybe a whip beast lay rotting beneath the floorboards.

“Don’t they ever
clean?”
Retra sniffed, scuffing her foot across the dirt encrusted floor. Maybe that was a source of part of the foul odor.

“Let’s get out of here.” The overpowering stench made Methusal’s stomach churn. Her cabin mates were close on
her heels when she left the building. She gulped in great gusts of fresh, crisp plains air. The men were already out, so Mentàll strode with Kitran toward the center of the community
.

Methusal fell in to walk beside Behran. “Does your room stink?” she whispered.

“Yes.” He offered a thin smile. “Welcome to Dehre. Water is
scarce, so cleaning is almost impossible.”

Other sights met her eyes as they hiked through the small town. Children were dirty and unkempt, and women stared at the Rolbanis with hostile expressions. Few of the men looked like they’d washed within the last month. Compared with the rest of his fellow citizens, Mentàll looked positively clean, suave, and sophisticated.

The whole camp had the smell of the cabin, and Methusal found her nose wrinkling more with every step. No wonder the Amils had moved to Rolban.

The only tents that looked fairly clean were arranged in a cluster to the northwest. One was much larger than the rest. All were made of white, sun bleached leather. Behran quietly told her that the seven tents were part of the Chief’s compound. They were where he lived and worked.

“Here we are,” Mentàll indicated two tables which were drawn up end to end together, and flanked by weather-beaten benches. A whole roast wild beast lay stretched out on the tables, with a baked apte clenched in its mouth. The large, furry beast was trimmed with decorative logne leaves and green wildberries.