Kaavl Conspiracy (36 page)

Oblivious to her distress, Behran said, “I know. But Dehre
can’t move closer, because when the Tarst River floods it almost reaches Dehre now.”

“Yes.” Stiffly, Hendra bent to retrieve a grain disc, and edged even further away from him, hoping that would help. It did not. The skittering panic cooled to ice. She hoped he didn’t notice that she’d shrunk away from him. She felt bad about doing it.

Behran watched her now, and the force of his warm male attention and his obvious concern should have made her feel better. It didn’t. She just felt colder. More detached. “Don’t worry, Hendra,” he said softly. “I remember. I won’t come any closer.”

She wasn’t afraid anymore. She didn’t feel
anything
anymore. With a choked laugh, she said, “I’m not worried. You’re one of the good men.”

“And how much experience have you had with one of us?”

None. And she felt certain he knew that. Behran had always been able to see right through her. Why was that, when she’d never told him anything about her home life? And he’d left just before the most awful things had happened. She forced a smile to her frozen lips. “Please…can we talk about the river?”

His deep blue eyes held hers for a long moment. Finally he said, “Dehre needs to dig an irrigation ditch from the river to Dehre. It might be best to dig it west of town, and maybe a reservoir, too. Then loop it back to the river. That way if the river floods, it still won’t affect Dehre. It would take a long time to dig, though.”

The simplicity of the idea amazed her. “That’s a wonderful idea. You should tell Mentàll.”

“You tell him,” Behran said grimly. “He won’t listen to a Rolbani.”

“But you’re not…”

“I am.”

“I will, then.”

Confiding her fears about Mentàll to Behran flitted through her mind. Behran was a good man, and she knew she could trust him. Part of her longed to relieve herself of the heavy burden. How easy it would be to give the responsibility to him.

But she would not. She would give her cousin the benefit of the doubt for now.

In Tarst she would spy on him and discover the full truth.

Even though ice froze her emotions, shame still slipped through a crack and twisted her gut. It reeked of betrayal. But what other choice did she have? Then, if she couldn’t stop him, she would tell Behran everything.

* * * * *

“Time to go!” Mentàll’s grating voice was a welcome sound, for once. Methusal averted her gaze from the sight of Behran sitting so close to Hendra on the rock.

What was wrong with her? It wasn’t like she had those sorts of feelings for him. She pulled on her pack again to turn her mind away from her disturbed feelings, and they all started hiking north again.

Soon they reached the foothills of the Tarst Mountains. The path steadily grew narrower and steeper. Methusal hiked in the middle of the pack. For the most part, the trail followed the Tarst River. At times the slow moving, deep green river rushed faster and frothed white over boulders. Sometimes, when Methusal turned a corner, cool water misted her skin.

Behran lagged behind, talking with Hendra again, which Methusal struggled to ignore. The path widened as they crossed a plateau on the first mountain, and the Dehrien Chief dropped back to fall into step beside her. A sick feeling lodged in the pit of her stomach.

“How are you today, Methusal?” His voice was perfectly charming, but a darting glance upward encountered ice blue eyes. She remembered his conversation with the killer last night.

“Fine.” She kept her tone level, and tried to overcome an unwelcome spurt of fear. He would kill her if she got in his way. His actions right now would probably be designed to frighten her; to make her “keep her place.” And if she did not… She swallowed.

“Do you have hopes that you will win in Tarst?” Mockery rang clear in the low tone.

She walked more rapidly, wishing he would leave her alone. “Yes, I
do.”

“Temper, temper!” Mentàll chided softly. “Only the self-controlled will win, you know.”

“Like you?”

“The fiery Methusal speaks at last.”

“Leave me alone. I’ve done nothing to you.”

“You challenged me in Rolban. Threatened, if I recall. Have I won, then?”

“You have won nothing,” Methusal snapped. “You’re an evil whip. And you’ll lose!” More rash words. Would she never learn? If she didn’t pretend to “keep her place,” Mentàll might decide the killer was right—that he should kill her.

Anger and fear tightened in her gut. She couldn’t stand the thought of kowtowing to this man. She’d sooner jump off a cliff than pretend any sort of submission, or admit any fear to the Dehrien Chief. Maybe that was stupid, but she couldn’t help how she felt. Unfortunately, it was that same attitude that had caused her so much trouble with Petr, Verdnt, Pogul, Goric, and others.

“You think I will lose?” Mentàll laughed harshly. “No. But you fear me.” He lowered his voice. “And that is just as it should be.”

“I fear nothing.” Methusal hated that she couldn’t meet his gaze, to give truth to the lie.

His knuckle lightly traced the edge of her jaw. The shock of it made her gasp, and she jerked free. “Don’t touch me!” Tears sprang to her eyes. Although she knew the move had been calculated to frighten her, rather than to be suggestive, that didn’t make her feel any better.

He hated her—this had become abundantly clear. Now, to accomplish purposes of his own, Mentàll wanted her to fear him. And she did. She hated that.

“Now we see the truth.” The Dehrien Chief’s voice hardened into a low threat. “Only a fool would cross the line I have given you, Methusal.”

She glared back and spoke again before thinking. “You’re not my Chief. You have no authority over me.”

“Haven’t I?” His teeth bared in a small smile. “Keep your place, Methusal. I will not give you another warning.”

The Dehrien Chief strode forward again to take the lead.

A shudder rippled through her.
Why hadn’t she taken the smart path? What made her want to challenge him?

Well, that was simple enough. She wouldn’t let the whip win the final victory over her.

Clearly, she posed some sort of a threat to him. But what was he plotting that would require strong-arming her to submit to his will? It had to be about more than a few thefts.

Last night’s disquiet returned in full strength. Mentàll was a dangerous man. Not only to her, but to all of Rolban.

Behran walked beside her now, his deep blue eyes looking curious
and faintly protective. It was amazing how two sets of blue eyes could look so different. “What did Mentàll want?”

“He’s trying to intimidate me.”

“Why?”

“He hates me. I told him I think his Alliance is a trap. It made him angry. He’s warned me not to cross him.”

“Cross him how?”

Methusal shrugged. “By trying to uncover his secret plan? I don’t know. He scares me. I don’t trust him, and I don’t trust that Alliance.”

“The Alliance will do a lot of good for Dehre. Why would he risk it? For any reason?”

“I don’t know. I just wish he’d leave me alone!”

“He’s changed since I knew him,” Behran commented after a moment. “He was always a solitary person, and only interested in perfecting his kaavl. He was always polite enough, but he was reserved. Sometimes he even seemed aloof, like he thought he was better than everyone else.”

“Well, he hasn’t improved with age.” Methusal didn’t want to discuss the Dehrien any longer.

The trail narrowed and steepened, so Behran fell in behind her. The troop silently marched on, and as the slow hours passed, Methusal’s legs grew fatigued. But no one mentioned a rest stop, so she trudged on without complaining. The sooner they reached Tarst, the sooner she could rest.

While nocturnal wild beasts were not a threat in the mountains, rotarhudges were. They were stout, short-legged beasts with razor sharp teeth. They traveled in packs in the
daytime, and were a danger to sleeping wild beasts and humans
alike. They were also able to swiftly navigate through the dense forests, unlike the large wild beasts, which was another reason why few wild beasts roamed in the mountains.

She was glad several of the men carried hunting knives, and Ludst Lst, the Dehrien runner, carried a bow and arrows. They should be safe enough. She hoped.

As they hiked through Tarst’s high, densely forested mountains, she wondered if Tarst would be like Dehre. Or would the people be friendly, instead?

The sun was low in the sky, and the air turning chilly when the twelve began their final descent into a heavily wooded valley. Sunlight glinted off the tops of lush, green
leaved trees as they slipped into the cool shadows of the valley
floor. Here the Tarst River flowed dark green and wide. And probably deep, Methusal guessed.

It was dim and quiet, except a few winged beasts perched, chattering, in the branches overhead. The ground cover was mossy and soft, and their footsteps were almost noiseless. So far, no snuffling snorts of rotarhudges.

The beautiful forest would provide new challenges in the championships tomorrow. Inexplicably, she felt her spirits lift. Surely people who lived in this beauty would be more openhearted than the cold, withdrawn Dehriens.

The valley floor curved up on the other side of the river. A high, flat clearing came into view, dotted with tidy rows of clean, well-mended buildings. More buildings dotted the hillside beyond it. Tarst. No bonfires marked the edges of this town. Apparently the wild beasts were not a threat to this secluded valley. The river probably deterred the few that strayed into the mountains.

To the left, on the far, northern slope, she spotted a herd of animals nibbling grass. Urchets. Methusal had only seen a few in her lifetime. The pack beasts preferred the rocky hills and lush vegetation of the mountains. She’d heard that the Tarst had tamed the large beasts of burden. The four-legged, broad-backed animals did look content as they munched on the grass.

Ahead a wide, wooden bridge arched over the mighty Tarst River. Methusal stared in amazement. She’d never seen such a thing before! How had they built it over the water?

Heavy gates had been built on each end—no doubt to keep out stray wild beasts. Inhaling the refreshing, tangy scent of pine air, Methusal stepped onto the wooden bridge. The raw power of the rushing river thundered beneath her feet. She wanted to absorb the sound of it, and drink in the beauty of the mountains surrounding her. And the wonderful scent of the trees. What a magnificent place!

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Hendra stopped beside her. Wonder shone from her brown eyes.

“Can you imagine living here?”

“I’d love it,” the other girl said with quiet fervor.

The rest of the team passed by.

“Hendra.” Warning sounded in that low voice.

Hendra jumped. “Mentàll.” Worry clouded her eyes.

The Dehrien Chief sent Methusal a cold look. Evidently he didn’t believe she was fit company for his cousin. “Come.” He waited, obviously expecting Hendra to join him.

“I’d like to talk to Methusal.”

Methusal glanced between the two of them, surprised that Hendra would defy him.

Mentàll’s icy gaze moved from his cousin to Methusal. The cold hatred in it pierced her soul. He hated
her.
For a second, this fact hit deep. Was it because she was trying to uncover his secrets? Or did he hate her, personally?

“Remember my words, Methusal.” His words felt like sharp knives. He turned on his heel and left them.

“I’m sorry for how my cousin treats you,” Hendra said, as they followed in the tall Dehrien’s footsteps.

“He hates me. Do you know why?”

Hendra didn’t directly answer. “Did something happen when he visited Rolban?”

“Yes. I told him I thought his Alliance a trap. He didn’t like it. Maybe because it’s true. Is it a trap, Hendra?” She carefully watched the other girl’s expression.

“He tells me nothing. But his behavior toward you is wrong.” Hendra looked troubled. “I know you won’t believe me, but I’ve never seen him act like this before.”

“What? Cold? Mean?”

“Mean.” Hendra hesitated. “I’ve seen him intimidate many men. But I’ve never seen him attack a woman the way he does you. He wants to frighten you. It’s wrong, and I’m sorry.”

“Do you know why he wants to scare me?”

“No.”

“I know you owe Mentàll your loyalty. He’s your cousin, and he gives you shelter. And maybe you know a side to him that I don’t.” Personally, Methusal couldn’t imagine anything good living in the Dehrien. And Hendra had admitted yesterday that she didn’t know him very well, either. Maybe gratitude made Hendra imagine qualities in her closest kin that didn’t exist. She needed to help Hendra see the truth now. Maybe then the Dehrien girl would help her to expose his plan.

“Mentàll is a cold, ruthless man, Hendra.”

“Yes, he is cold. And he can be completely ruthless,” she agreed. “He’ll do whatever it takes to get what he wants.”

In other words, he was dangerous. “I think he wants something. Desperately. Do you know what it is?”

Hendra looked away. “No. Nothing specific.”

Softly, Methusal said, “If you find proof he’s a danger to Rolban or Tarst, will you tell me?”

The other girl’s conflicted gaze met Methusal’s. “Yes. I will. You have my word.”

* * * * *

The inner section of Tarst consisted of buildings set in an unusual pattern. Two rows of buildings formed each of the four sides of Tarst, and each parallel line was approximately the same length. The town was laid out like a long rectangle. As she stepped past the two rows of outlying shacks, she noticed that the buildings faced a large, inner courtyard paved in flat stones.

A massive building at the far, southern end of the plaza caught her attention. That must be their communal hall.

Her tired steps quickened as they neared the large structure. Already she could tell this place was totally different from Dehre. For one, it didn’t stink!