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Authors: Jennette Green

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BOOK: Kaavl Conspiracy
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He paused, fingers scrabbling in the hollow beneath the smooth sheet of rock. His black brows wrenched together. “Where’s my chalk?” Gray eyes pierced the class. “Has anyone seen it?”

No one answered.

“I’m sick of this! That’s the fourth time it’s disappeared.” He stalked from the room.

“Why would someone steal chalk?” Deccia whispered to Methusal.

“Why steal skins or plates? Or ore?”

A faint snicker tickled Methusal’s sensitive ears, and a glance over her shoulder spotted Pogul shoving a meaty fist into his pocket. The heavy-set young man was a well-known troublemaker.

Their tall teacher strode back in, clenching a stick of light colored, powdery rock in his fingers. “Now. Where were we?” His gaze focused on Methusal. “Ah, yes. The Alliance.”

Dark head bent, he paced the front of the class room. His head snapped up. “How many settlements are within a day’s run of Rolban?” He scanned the class. “Timaeus! You’re a messenger. Answer the question.”

Timaeus stood. “Three settlements, sir. Dehre and Tarst. Also Eerpor, to the east. They prefer no outside contact.”

“What about within a two day run?” Verdnt shot back.

“Two more, sir.”

“Three days?” Verdnt barked.

“Five more, sir. If you include Rolban, that equals a total of eleven settlements on our land mass of Koblan.”

“Thank you, Timaeus.” Verdnt’s gaze raked the class. “Who can tell me what types of settlements they are?”

Methusal spoke before being called. “Four mountain settlements, including ours, two plains, and five coastal.”

Verdnt’s eyes narrowed. “Correct, Methusal. Now, who can tell me how an Alliance with Dehre and Tarst would benefit Rolban?”

“More women,” Pogul leered. A few snickers erupted from the back of the room.

Verdnt sent him an icy glance. “A diversification of families could be a benefit, Pogul. But what else, class? Think.”

“In an emergency, we could help each other,” Deccia said quietly.

“Good, Deccia.” Verdnt’s face warmed into an approving smile. “What else?”

Methusal had no idea. Apparently, neither did anyone else.

Chalk snapped against the smooth black wall. “
Culture
, class. We would meet new people. And do activities together—like Inter-Community Kaavl Games.”

Methusal sat up straighter. Kaavl Games with other settlements? Fantastic idea! Dehre and Tarst both produced great kaavl players. Behran and Verdnt were examples in point, since both had emigrated from Dehre.

If only she could win Rolban’s upcoming Tri-level match. With pleasure, Methusal imagined beating Behran in the game. Then, in the Inter-Community Games, she could go up against the best—maybe she could even be Tri-level champ of the whole land…

A rude voice broke into her pleasant daydream. It was Pogul again. “My father says the Dehriens are lazy, shiftless good-for-nothings. All they’d do is mooch off of us—or
steal
…”

“Ignorance!” Verdnt’s snapped. His ear tips flamed red.
“A few of Rolban’s best citizens have come from Dehre. Or perhaps
you don’t agree?”

Verdnt had emigrated from Dehre seven years ago, but he was such a respected member of the community that people tended to forget his origins—although he did go to Dehre at least once a month to visit old friends. That was why the Rolban’s Council had allowed him to put in a bid to be Chief of Rolban in the upcoming elections.

A brief, uncomfortable silence elapsed. “I didn’t mean you,” Pogul muttered. His scalp, beneath his blond hair, reddened.

“I’m surprised you’d throw the first stone, Pogul.” Verdnt’s gray eyes looked as hard as a blade. “Seeing that you and your family are from Tarst.” Pogul fidgeted.

Verdnt turned his frown upon each member of the class. “And let’s not forget that Petr emigrated from Wyen thirty years ago. Don’t be ignorant, class. You don’t know what the Dehriens are really like. And you won’t, until you meet them personally. And visit their settlements.”

“I already know,” Pogul insisted, but under his breath.

Another student thankfully changed the subject.

Methusal doodled on a dried white parchment leaf, using a sharpened stick of charcoal wrapped in a rolled leaf as her writing instrument. The Alliance sounded like a great idea to her. She didn’t care too much about culture. But kaavl! Her eyes glazed as she slipped into another daydream. The games expanded, new competitors to beat….

The class ended a few short minutes later, and Verdnt called Deccia to his desk. The teacher pointed to a stack of papers, and the two dark heads bent together.

Timaeus sent the two a sidelong glance as he slowly gathered up his books.

Methusal waited for her sister in the hall. It didn’t take long, and she soon fell into step beside her twin. “I’ve never asked—how do you like being Verdnt’s apprentice?”

Deccia hesitated, and then moved out of earshot of the classroom. “It’s okay, but…” she glanced back, and whispered, “I think Verdnt might be…interested in me.”

Methusal could not be more shocked. “
Interested
in you? But he’s ancient.”

“Not that old,” Deccia said, a bit defensively.

“He’s
thirty-one
, and you’re eighteen. What about Timaeus?”

Deccia gave an uncharacteristic toss to her head. “I don’t
like
Verdnt, Thusa. It’s just kind of flattering that a man might actually be interested in me.”

And Timaeus had never shown interest. At least, nothing overt…so far. She felt compelled to advise, “Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

Deccia actually laughed. “Like you’re one to lecture me.”

As Deccia departed to attend the primary grade class she helped to teach—more time with Verdnt—Methusal mulled over her sister’s small dilemma. She’d never considered Verdnt in a romantic context before, and it felt odd to do so now. He’d always been her teacher. But he wasn’t married, and he was fairly good looking—tall, dark, and handsome. She supposed Deccia could do worse. Even so, it did seem a bit unsettling for a teacher to show interest in his apprentice.

However, she reminded herself that Deccia’s opinion was the only one that mattered. And she seemed flattered that Verdnt might like her.

Even though Timaeus was her true love.

 

* * * * *

 

Methusal wanted to speak to Kitran next, but a glance into his office proved he was in the middle of instructing the Quatr-levelers. With a sigh of frustration, she decided to try again later.

A flash of movement next door caught her eye. Blond hair glimmered, and then Aali scuttled down the hall.

Methusal smiled. Apparently, her cousin had cut class in order to spy on Kitran’s kaavl lessons. Petr would have a fit if he knew.

Since talking to Kitran would have to wait, Methusal decided to investigate the crop plateau. Liem had found the bloody knife there this morning. Maybe she could unearth another clue. Of course, going up there meant she’d also see Barak.

Tension knotted in her gut. She needed to choose a job today. What should she do?

Her stomach rumbled. She’d eaten little of her unappetizing cereal this morning, so now she slipped into the dining hall and grabbed a grain disc for a snack. Slowly, she headed for the supply passage, which also lead to the cropland and cliffs overhead. While she crunched off a bite of the grain disc, she again reviewed the pros and cons of each job.

The supply room attendant job could quickly become responsible. Sims Nalg was the manager, but he’d passed the age of productivity long ago, and since Renn had died, he desperately needed a sharp young replacement. If she became his apprentice, she’d probably advance soon to the position of supply room manager.

Sims kept inventory of supplies, and also calculated how much food Rolban would need during the long, cold winter. This included estimating crop sizes each year. Overall, it sounded like an interesting task.

One thing was for sure, Methusal thought as she forced
the hard lump of grain down her throat. If she became supply
room attendant, she’d make sure Rolban stored up a better variety of foods for the winter months. Eating the same few foods every day was intolerable.

If only she could become a kaavl instructor.

Unfortunately, the Council elders didn’t think teaching kaavl was a productive activity. It didn’t provide food or water, or do anything else constructive for Rolban—except give the entertainment of the annual Kaavl Games.

Only one full-time kaavl instructor was allowed, and that was Kitran Mehl. But he’d served first as a full-time messenger and part-time instructor for years.

Things had been different during the Great War. People gifted in kaavl were prized warriors back then. They’d attacked and retreated from the enemy virtually undetected. Now kaavl was solely a personal quest. It was still highly honored, but served no vital purpose in Rolban.

Regretfully, Methusal moved on. She would love to teach kaavl, but…

Her final vocational choice was crop tender. Barak Mehl was chief crop tender. He was also Kitran’s brother. The idea of spending her days outside in the warmth of the sun strongly appealed. Of course, in the winter there were no crops, and she’d have to scour the plains and hillsides for edible nuts, fruits, and berries. It was cold in the winter. And she got cold easily.

Methusal realized that she’d reached the supply hall. Hanuh’s garment room was empty at the moment, but next door, a frowning Sims wandered the supply room, muttering to himself. Methusal wondered what was wrong, but decided to ask him after investigating the cropland near the cliff. Now was her best chance to escape outside. She hadn’t seen her uncle since breakfast.

Quickening her steps, Methusal hurried for the end of the hall where the passage turned right and led to roughly hewn stone steps. As she turned the corner, she almost barreled into Petr, who had descended from the stairs. With a gasp, she skidded to a stop.

 

 

 

 

Chapter Six

 

 

 

Petr’s white brows bristled
together. “Where are you going
?”

“I need to talk to Barak,” Methusal improvised. It was true, after all. “He wants to know my job decision.” Petr didn’t need to know that she also planned to search for clues that Liem or Petr might have overlooked.

“I forbade you to go outside. Remember?”

“You mean I can’t go outside, even to talk about a job?” Could Petr be any more stiff-necked?

Petr’s meaty hand gripped her shoulder. It hurt. He marched her back down the passageway. “Don’t take that tone with me, girl! I told you, you can’t go outside.”

“But the job…”

“You can’t
have
that job. I’ll tell Barak myself.” He released her when they reached the supply room door.

“But that’s not fair! I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“You’re under investigation. You will abide by my rules, or you will go to jail.”

“I know I’m under investigation. But what about new clues? Have you found any of
those?
” Methusal’s tone skated on insubordination, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. Petr’s accusations, not to mention him curtailing her freedom and manhandling her…it was all really too much.

His eyes narrowed. “Watch your mouth. If you want your freedom, tell me the truth. Who’s your accomplice?”

“I don’t have an accomplice!”

“So you did it alone?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Methusal cried out. “I’m innocent.
Why do you always think the worst of me?”

A thick fist grabbed the neck of her tunic. “One more shout, and I’ll put you in jail.”

She stayed silent, but tears burned her eyes.

“Good. I didn’t think this day could come. Methusal quiet. Obedient.”

“Let me go!”

Petr released her. “Show some gratitude. After all, I haven’t put you in jail. Yet. But you’re a selfish, willful girl—you’ll never learn. Remember this: The penalty for murder is death. It may not be long before Liem forces my hand. Count your minutes of freedom, because they may not last much longer.”

He left her. A sob caught in her throat, but she didn’t let it out. He wouldn’t hear how upset he’d made her. Jail time.
Death.
Her uncle had actually just threatened her.

Shaking, Methusal stood in the middle of the hall. She wrapped her arms around herself. Tears slid down her cheeks. She felt angry and helpless, but she’d been wrong to let her temper take over, yet again. As had happened too many times in her life, her undisciplined tongue had gotten the best of her. But Petr frustrated her. He wouldn’t let her go outside to investigate Renn’s death, and he wouldn’t let her go out to practice kaavl, either. Soon, if not already, Petr would talk to Kitran.
She
had
to talk to Kitran first.

“Thought I had more…” Sims’ mutter from the adjacent cave interrupted her thoughts.

In the supply room, the tall, thin old man bent over a sack of dried meat. His gnarled hands shook as he tied the sack closed with twine.

He straightened slowly, his lips moving in a silent commentary to himself.

“Sims?” From the doorway, Methusal spoke softly. She didn’t want to startle him.

Sims’ shaggy white head swiveled, and his faded blue eyes smiled. “Methusal, my girl! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Is something wrong?”

“Heard me talking to myself, did you?” A snaggle-toothed grin flashed. He reached for the clipboard. “We’re low on dried meat. Not sure how that happened. Last week I had eight sacks. Now I can only find five.”

“Did you check downstairs, too?”

Rolban had two supply rooms—one on each level. The cold storeroom on the lower level served as a temporary holding area for meats before they were cured, and for grain or berries that had overflowed from upstairs. Most of the supplies were kept on the second level, however, for several reasons: because a flood would destroy the food on the first floor, and also because the food was closer to the dining room on the second level. In addition, if wild beasts ever broke in, the food was easily defended on the second floor, since the only way in was through the entry hall and up the Grand Staircase, or through several portals in the roof.

“No. I haven’t had a chance.”

“I could look, if you’d like.” She probably still had a few minutes left before Kitran finished with the Quatr-levelers.

He sent her a keen glance. “This mean you’re coming to work for me?”

Methusal hesitated—although she’d already made her decision, even before Petr barred her from going up on the croplands. “If you’ll have me.”

Joy lit Sims’ face. He reached her in two steps, and his warm, gnarled hands wrapped tightly around her own. “Wonderful. How soon can you start?” His voice was eager and hopeful.

Methusal’s spirits sank. Now her worst fear was coming true. Sims wanted her to come work right now. He obviously needed help right away. And while she did want to help him, what about kaavl practice?

“I can start now,” she said quietly.

The old man sent her a keen glance, and then released her hands. “In the mornings, then, after class. I know the Kaavl Games are coming up quick, so you’ll want to practice hard for the next few afternoons.”

Methusal smiled with quick delight. “They’re the day after
tomorrow.”

“Could you work a little this morning, then?” The old man sounded hopeful.

“Yes, but first I need to speak to Kitran.” And later, maybe after lunch, she’d investigate the ore mine.

“Off you go, then.” Sims waved her out the door. “I’ll see you soon.”

With a light heart, Methusal sped next to her kaavl instructor’s office. The Quatr-levelers had vanished, but Kitran Mehl was not alone. Behran, her ever present nemesis, lounged in the doorway.

“And here she is.” Behran tossed her a mocking smile.

What was that supposed to mean? Her happy mood faltered. Had they been talking about her?

No. Kitran would never discuss his students with other players. Behran just wanted to rile her, that was all. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

His lips twisted into an annoying grin. “Motr gave me the morning off so I can prepare for the Tri-level.”

Methusal’s expression remained carefully neutral. “That’s nice.” She glanced at Kitran, who sat ensconced in the small, warmly lit cave. “I’ll come back when you have more time.”

The large, broad-shouldered man glanced from Methusal to Behran. A smile twitched under his bristling black mustache. He knew about the long simmering rivalry between the two.

“Won’t be necessary. Behran was just leaving.”

With a half-smile, Behran stepped away from the door. “True. I have a little practicing to do. See you later, Kitran.” He strolled away.

A
little
practicing to do. Methusal managed to remain silent. She really must stop biting the bait every time Behran chose to provoke her.

“Come in, Methusal, and close the door.”

She did as he asked, and then perched on a chair facing her instructor. His intense black eyes held hers as he locked his hands together, his elbows resting on the narrow wooden table between them. Something was clearly on his mind. Had Petr already talked to him? Anxiety tightened in her chest.

Methusal couldn’t read Kitran’s expression. As always, it disconcerted her. Kitran’s only passion in life was kaavl. As a result, he was extremely self-controlled, and highly accomplished in the art of kaavl. He would participate in the Primary Level Game this week. Unfortunately, he had no competition among the Rolbanis. Verdnt and Petr were his closest opponents, but each had only achieved the Bi-level.

A thought flashed through her mind. Maybe Kitran favored the new Alliance. Then he could go up against true competitors.

As if hearing her thoughts, Kitran finally spoke. “Have you heard about the Alliance? And what that could mean for the Kaavl Games?”

“Yes.” Relief eased her anxiety. Apparently, Petr hadn’t spoken to Kitran yet. Good. She could plead her case first.

His opaque black eyes held hers. “I was in Dehre yesterday. Mentàll…” a note of awe crept into his voice, “…the Dehrien Chief, asked us to join in their Kaavl Games a week from Thirdday. Tarst invited us to their Games a few days later. Provided, of course, the Alliance is signed by then.”

Kitran had traveled to Dehre several times in the last several months, at Petr Storst’s request.

A question formed, but Kitran answered it with his next sentence. “Yes. I’ve been relaying messages between Petr and the Dehrien Chief about the Alliance. I know Mentàll from my early messenger days, so Petr asked me to work out a rough Alliance while he took care of responsibilities here.”

His reelection, Methusal surmised. Petr was determined to be reelected. Liem and Verdnt’s challenges for the title had only fueled his single-minded obsession.

“Anyway,” Kitran’s voice pulled her back to the present, “you’ll have a chance to participate in those Games if you do well here. I’m authorized to send the two best competitors from each level.”

Methusal’s cheeks warmed from that bit of praise from her enigmatic instructor.

Kitran held up a cautionary finger. “You’ll need to practice hard these next two days. I’ve written up a list of exercises.” A pale leaf, etched with bold dark markings, fluttered across the table. “The Tri-level event starts at noon sharp. I expect you to be prepared.”

Methusal heard the note of dismissal in his voice. Although she grasped the parchment, she did not stand. “I have a problem. Petr wants to disqualify me from the Tri-level.”

With a heavy frown, Kitran leaned forward. “Why? That’s under my authority.”

“I know.” Kitran’s black stare made it difficult to marshal her thoughts. “Petr thinks he’s found Renn’s murderer. Me.”

Kitran leaned back again. A faint smile tugged at his mouth. “You’re serious?”

Did he believe she was innocent? Methusal quickly explained the whole story. “I’m not a thief, and I didn’t push Renn off that cliff.”

“Of course you didn’t.”

Relief flooded her. Finally, a small break. “Then you believe me?”

“Of course. But Petr can still prevent you from playing.”

“How? If you won’t disqualify me…”

“He can lock you in jail. Or keep you under community arrest. Either way, you wouldn’t be able to participate.”

“But that’s not fair. I’m innocent. Can’t you do something?” Kitran was her best hope, because Petr might actually listen to him. He wasn’t her relative, and even better, he held a high position of authority on the Council.

Kitran fell silent, apparently thinking it over.

“Please?” she added in a small voice.

He nodded. “I’ll try. Your kaavl talent is unusual. Of all my students, you have the most potential. It would be a loss to kaavl if you couldn’t play.”

Methusal stood. “Thank you, Kitran.”

He nodded toward the parchment in her hand. “Modify those exercises, since you’ll have to practice indoors. You still could win.”

“Thank you. I intend to win, if I can.”

He smiled. “Good luck.”

* * * * *

 

After speaking to Kitran, Methusal returned to the supply
room.

“I checked the supply room downstairs,” Sims greeted her. “The meat wasn’t there.”

“Maybe Matron checked it out, and forgot to write it down.” Or maybe the thief had stolen it. But Methusal didn’t mention this possibility, for fear of unnecessarily upsetting Sims. Of course, he had probably thought of that himself.

“Maybe,” he muttered. “I’ll ask later. When the Kaavl Games are done, my girl, we’ll do a full inventory of both supply rooms.”

“Okay. What should I do today?”

With a rueful smile, Sims gestured toward the three large bags of seed grain. “One and a half bags will be planted soon. The remaining grain needs to be sorted, and any molding seeds thrown out. I don’t want moldy seeds rotting in the bags, waiting for the next planting. I’d like you to sort two full bags now. After that, those two bags of wildberries.”

“That should keep me busy.”

“For a few days,” Sims agreed. “I promise, things will improve after that, my girl.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” She smiled.

Sorting out molding seeds was an easy, if mindless task. The peace and quiet was welcome. In fact, as Methusal sat and worked, the unhurried pace of Sims’ quiet shuffling soothed her. Tension relaxed from her tight neck and shoulder muscles. It felt nice to have a moment’s peace, especially since she intended to create more drama after lunch.

Methusal carefully plotted how to break into the ore mine. First, she’d get Aali’s map and infiltrate the ore mine. Hopefully, she wouldn’t get caught. Or maybe she should hope she would. Because that would cut all kaavl players and eighty percent of Rolbanis from the suspect list. Then she’d know only authorized people could access the ore.

 

* * * * *

 

Since she couldn’t go outside to practice kaavl, Methusal decided to get as close as she could, and practice for a few minutes to warm up for her ore mine adventure. At the moment, she perched on a wooden recliner at the edge of the open gates. On the opposite side of the hall, a young guard leaned against the gate. He glanced at her, and then outside. Methusal chafed to go out, but didn’t dare.

Breathing quietly, she concentrated into kaavl. It was still an effort. True masters of the art, like Kitran, remained in a constant state of kaavl, always intensely aware of everything happening around them. A few aspects of kaavl were becoming a part of her, too. Like unconsciously increasing her concentration to listen in on conversations—although as a rule, she tried not to dishonorably eavesdrop.

Kaavl had improved her physical coordination, too. Now she easily won games involving hand-eye coordination and balance.

But discipline was the true key. Discipline of mind, body and spirit. Learning to concentrate on the important and ignore distractions was still a struggle for her. Thankfully, the full complexities of those skills weren’t necessary until the Bi and Primary levels.

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