Kaavl Conspiracy, page 11
“Bother Father! I’m tired of the way he orders us around. Do this, do that. Mother was never like that, was she? Why couldn’t we have Mother instead of Father? He’s mean, and I hate him!” Aalicaa burst into tears and fled from the table.
“What was that all about?”
Deccia sighed. “She’s going through a rebellious stage. She keeps testing him.”
“About what?”
“Kaavl. Father just found out she’s been secretly practicing. He’s forbidden her to learn it, but you know Aali. Father’s furious. He’s old fashioned, and doesn’t think girls should learn kaavl, since it used to be a weapon of war. But she refuses to give it up.”
Methusal remembered Aali listening in on the Quatr-level instruction. “And she shouldn’t.”
Deccia sighed, “Thusa…”
“Did you want to learn kaavl too, Deccia?”
“No! Not really. Please, Thusa, try to understand. Father is of the old school, and Aali needs to obey him. It’s a power struggle, that’s all. Aali’s just testing him.”
Methusal agreed it was a power struggle, but she didn’t think Aali’s desire to learn kaavl should be crushed just on Petr’s say so. Especially if she was gifted. It would be a crime to suffocate kaavl talent. However, it was pointless to argue, because Petr was inflexible, as she knew all too well. He would never change his mind—not about her guilt, nor about anything else. But it was a shame about Aali.
Deccia changed the subject. “How is your investigation going? Have you found any clues?”
“No, and it’s frustrating. The Kaavl Games are tomorrow, and I want more than anything to concentrate only on that. I talked to Kitran, and he believes I’m innocent. He said he’d talk to Petr about letting me play in the Tri-level. But I don’t know if it will help.”
“I’m sorry, Thusa. I forgot to tell you, but I spoke to Father about the charges against you. He wouldn’t listen.”
Methusal wasn’t surprised. “Thanks, anyway.”
“If I can do anything to help you clear your name, let me know. If you need to investigate outside…or anything,” Deccia insisted.
“I’ll let you know if I do.”
“Were you able to investigate the ore mine?”
She told Deccia about her misadventures at the mine, and that Behran had unfortunately apprehended her. “At least I know now the thief has to be someone with authorized access. How many people, do you think, are on that list?”
“Ask Timaeus.” Deccia blushed. “Remember, Aali said he’s a guard for the mine sometimes. He must have access to the list.”
“Good idea.” Methusal’s mind went to the recent thefts. “I don’t understand why pelts, food, and pots have been stolen. No one in Rolban is hungry, and if they are, they can go to the kitchen and get a snack.”
“Dehre needs food. But I heard they’re trading with Tarst now—at least for lumber. Besides, no Dehriens come here, except for messengers. And I haven’t seen any of them running off with big pots in their arms.”
Methusal agreed. “It has to be a Rolbani. But do you know what’s really bothering me? The ore. Why would someone steal ore? No one needs it. We’re not short on hunting knives, or pots…well, we’ve lost a few of those, I guess.”
“The Peace Plan banned ore melting.”
“Right. Because people can make weapons with it.” This fact sent an uneasy chill through her. Slowly, she said, “What if the food thefts are just a distraction? What if they’re meant to divert attention from the ore thefts?”
“You think someone could be making weapons? But where, and how? It would have to be smelted. Someone would see the smoke, or smell it.”
“You think it’s a crazy idea.”
“No. Maybe not.”
“Timaeus might know,” Methusal said. “He’s a messenger to Tarst, Dehre, and Aestoff. I’ll ask if he’s seen any strange fires while he’s been out.”
“Good idea.” Deccia flushed slightly, and looked down.
“Or you could ask him,” Methusal slyly suggested.
“No. …No,” Deccia said more firmly. “I don’t want to come across as too…pushy. I already talked to him this morning. I don’t want to chase him.”
“You barely speak to him. You’re not chasing him.”
“Still. If he’s interested in me, he should make an effort, too.” Deccia abruptly changed the subject. “I love my teaching apprenticeship.”
“What about Verdnt?”
“He’s still behaving.”
“Good. Thank goodness he’s not taking advantage of Petr’s marriage endorsement.”
Deccia eyed her. “No need to be sarcastic.”
“How do you stand it?” Methusal managed not to roll her eyes in complete frustration. “Okay. I’ll stop. Tell me more about teaching.”
“Verdnt is overworked, so he’s giving me more of his teaching load. It does mean we’re spending more time together. Besides teaching, he’s been talking to people about the problems in Rolban. And, of course, he’s campaigning to be Chief.”
“Doesn’t that bother you? I mean, he is running against your father.”
“No. He’s so excited about running for Chief that it’s kind of fun to listen to him. He has a lot of good ideas. Like giving honors to people who work especially hard, and updating the school texts. Things like that.”
“Hmm.” Those things didn’t sound terribly exciting, but she didn’t say so. “What about Timaeus? You said you talked to him today?”
Deccia flushed. “We stood in line together this morning.”
“Uh huh…” Methusal wiggled her eyebrows. “What did you say?”
Deccia smiled. “I said it looks like a sunny day, and he said he was looking forward to guarding the entrance this afternoon. That way he can be outside for a while.”
Methusal squeezed her twin’s arm. “That’s wonderful, Decc.”
Her sister looked quietly pleased.
Methusal was glad that her sister had made the effort to conquer her shyness and talk to Timaeus. In her opinion, Deccia should talk to him a little more. But maybe her twin had a point—if Timaeus was interested in her, he should definitely take more initiative, too.
Class would start soon. Methusal quickly finished the last of her cereal and hurried to the classroom with her sister.
A rash plan had begun to form the minute she’d learned Timaeus’ schedule for this afternoon. First, she’d ask him about the ore mine authorization list, and about any suspicious fires he might have seen in other communities. Then she’d put her next plan into motion. She sketched out a few details in her mind as she slid into her seat, and then briefly slipped into daydreams about the Tri-Level Game tomorrow. Tomorrow! She hadn’t heard from Kitran yet. Hopefully he’d convince Petr to let her play.
Fidgeting, she waited for Verdnt to finish speaking about the Great War, which ended 200 years ago. He was pointedly stressing that both Dehre and Tarst had invaded Rolban back then. Ancient history. Her mind wandered. After class she’d help Old Sims. After lunch, she’d visit Timaeus at the gate.
The details of her rebellious plan continued to take shape, too. Should she do it? Prudence said no, but Petr’s unfair treatment rankled deep. She was innocent, after all.
Would this class never end?
Her fingers drummed softly on the desk. She had so many things to do.
Verdnt was discussing the Alliance again, but Methusal had heard enough about it. She blocked out the lecture and attempted to listen in on the class next door. First level math.
Boring.
She became vaguely aware that someone was calling her name.
“Methusal!”
Uh oh. She’d tuned out her present surroundings too completely. Her eyes focused upon her teacher’s irate face. “Yes, sir. I’m right here.”
Snorts of laughter erupted in the class.
Verdnt scowled. “I’d appreciate your complete attention.”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
He turned his back on her. “That will be all, class.”
Next to her, Deccia whispered, “Be careful, Thusa. He could get you expelled from the Games.”
“I know.” Worry gripped her. What a fool she’d been. All she needed right now were both Verdnt and Petr allied against her. “Do you think he’ll talk to Kitran?”
“No.” Deccia scraped together a few parchment leaves. “I’ll put in a good word for you. I don’t think he’d report you this close to the Games, anyway.”
Methusal spotted Timaeus over her sister’s shoulder, and subtly elbowed her. “Look,” she hissed. “It’s Timaeus. Talk to him.”
Deccia shot her a warning look. “No.”
“Why not? Or maybe you’re interested in Verdnt, after all?” Methusal only said this to try to provoke her sister into action. They slipped into the hallway together.
“Thusa!” Tears brightened Deccia’s eyes, but her mouth settled into a straight line. “I don’t like Verdnt. I’m just sick of wondering if Timaeus likes me. I wish he’d make an effort, if he does. I want to know how he feels.”
“I’m sorry, Deccia. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
At that moment, Timaeus exited from the classroom and glanced at Deccia. The frown she shot his way made him stop in obvious surprise. Deccia turned and marched away.
Timaeus stared at Methusal. “What was that about?”
Maybe she was making another mistake, but the two clearly needed some help. Their relationship had crept forward at a slug monster’s pace over the last several months. And now, with Verdnt in the running…
She chose her words with care. “Have you ever felt nervous about talking to someone?”
Timaeus’ mouth drooped. “Sometimes I feel that way with Deccia.”
Methusal smiled to herself. Easier than she’d thought. “Maybe you should talk to her. A little more, I mean.”
Hope dawned in his dark brown eyes. “You think so?”
“It wouldn’t hurt.” She smiled.
He flashed a grin. “Thanks, Thusa.” He swung away, his steps light.
“And what was that about?” Methusal turned to find Behran watching her with a quirked eyebrow. “Playing matchmaker?”
It was amazing how fast her warm feeling of accomplishment could turn into irritation. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“Temper, temper.” Grinning, he sauntered down the hall.
He’d done it again. Biting her lip, Methusal slipped toward the supply room. When would she ever learn?
Today Sims wanted to do a detailed inventory of all the upstairs supplies. The ongoing job of sifting the two bags of seed grain would have to wait. Terrific. Methusal was thrilled to postpone that boring job.
“The grain for meals is kept in that corner,” Sims pointed. “Be sure to count the seed grain in a separate column.”
“All right. But I have a question—maybe it’s dumb. What is the difference between seed grain and the grain we eat?”
“Not dumb at all, my girl. We sort through the seeds and choose the heartiest kernels for replanting. Those have strong, intact skins, with no blemishes or marks. Then we soak them in hot water for a time, which helps prevent certain diseases from infecting the crops. After treatment, we carefully and thoroughly dry the grain. Usually, those kernels provide the best crops.”
“That’s interesting. Did you say Barak will plant half of it soon? What about the other half?”
“Two crop cycles are planted. One will begin shortly, and the other will begin halfway through summer. That way, if one part of the summer is too hot, or if the insects are bad, we have another crop to count on. Of course, drought is never a problem, because we have the Rolbani River and Motr’s irrigation system.”
Behran helped Motr to engineer better water systems for the community and croplands. An important task, but Methusal had never fully realized how important until now. “I’m looking forward to the summer months for another reason,” she said. “Fresh vegetables will be a nice change from grain and meat every day.” The logne leaves were the first of the summer’s leafy vegetables.
“I couldn’t agree more. Seems we’ve been eating the same things for months.”
Methusal silently agreed. Supplies of grain and meat were all well and good, but variety would be awfully nice, too.
She spent the next two hours counting supplies for Sims. She also swiftly learned the layout of the upstairs supply room. Sacks of regular grain and wildberries did seem low; especially since she knew how much grain was necessary to make breakfast for the entire community each day. Barely a two month supply remained.
After she’d handed Sims the parchment with her tallies of the food supplies, she said, “Do we have enough food to last until the new grain grows?”
“That, my girl, is the question.” Sims slowly lowered himself onto a stool. He scanned her parchment. “Combined with the supplies downstairs, this should be enough, but just. I’ll be glad when the first crops come in.”
“Why is the grain so low? Is that normal for this time of year?”
“No. Last year the aptes multiplied faster than we could count. They ate a quarter of our crop. This year should be better. The aptes, just like everyone else, are suffering. And the crop tenders have created new traps. Those wily beasts won’t get the best of us this year.”
Although Methusal would rather save animals than kill them, she knew saving the grain crop was the priority. “We’ll get more fresh meat. Pelts, too.”
“That we will.” Sims glanced at the three large sacks resting against the far wall. “Barak will need the grain soon. Tomorrow you’ll finish sorting the seeds.”
“Fun.” Methusal grinned.
Sims smiled, too. “Off with you, then. You’re done for today. I’m sure you’ve got lots to do, with the Games taking place tomorrow.”
Yes, she did. And first up—right after she grabbed a grain disc for lunch—was to set her risky plan into motion.
Chapter Nine
AFTER A QUICK LUNCH, Methusal headed for the Grand Staircase. The plan that had been fermenting in her head all morning now seemed rash. Her steps slowed. The Tri-Level Game was tomorrow. Maybe she shouldn’t take unnecessary chances. If Petr found out, he’d expel her, for sure.
“Methusal.” Kitran’s grave voice halted her steps. The flickering, reddish-orange lights of the hall silhouetted his large frame. His face was cast in shadow. “I need to talk to you.”
Had he spoken to Petr? Had Verdnt reported her poor behavior in class? Her stomach sank with dread.
Methusal followed Kitran into his office. He curtly motioned for her to sit, and she perched nervously on the edge of the wooden chair. Thankfully, he didn’t leave her waiting.
“I talked to Verdnt. He said your attitude in class this morning was poor, bordering on insolent.”
Uh oh. Her stomach gave a queasy lurch.
“But I didn’t mean…”
“It doesn’t matter what you meant, Methusal. You know how important discipline is in kaavl.”
“Yes, I know. But…”
“Don’t worry. I won’t expel you from the Tri-Level Game for Petr’s allegations, and I won’t for this, either.”
Hope leaped. “You won’t?”
“If you listen to me now.”
“Of course. I understand.” Methusal sat back and waited for the inevitable lecture. But she felt relieved.
“Verdnt didn’t intend to expel you from the Games, either. It’s simply become clear to both of us that you don’t understand the importance of discipline.”
Methusal nodded. “I’m sorry.”
Kitran continued, “I’ve learned a new kaavl secret, and I’ll share it with you now. Discipline and self-control are vital building blocks to achieve the Bi-level, and ultimately the Primary level. Only those tools will hone your skills and take you beyond the ordinary. Kaavl becomes a part of your very being.”
“What do you mean?”
He hesitated, clearly searching for the right words. “This might seem like a leap, but listen carefully. The intensity with which you experience kaavl is directly related to how you discipline your emotions. Emotions can either help you, or hinder you. They can help, if you channel their energy along productive paths. But they can hinder if you allow them to overwhelm you, and make you act according to how you feel.”
“So…,” she groped to understand. “I can’t act how I feel?”
He sighed. “You must use your emotions, Methusal. Focus that energy to concentrate more fully into kaavl.”
“So I should use the energy of my emotions?”
“Yes. Channel them. Make your emotions work for you.”
“What about feeling my emotions, then?”
“I know this is hard to understand now, but you will. Feeling emotions is not important. Use your emotions. Don’t let them control you.”
“So feeling emotions distracts me from what is really important. Instead, I should ignore how I feel, and give all of my energy to kaavl?”
Kitran’s expressionless gaze flickered. “That’s crude, but pretty close. To advance past the Tri-level, you’ll need to prove you’re capable of that kind of discipline. Your behavior this morning is a symptom, telling me you need work in this area.
“If you use the principles I’ve just told you about, I see no reason why you can’t step up to the Bi-level within two years. You’re extremely gifted. To be honest, I’d hate to see you get off track.”
“I understand.” And she did understand—a little. To become a competitor at the Bi-level, she must use—or channel—her emotions, and ignore all of her feelings. This was the first time she had ever heard about this, and it disturbed her. She rose to her feet.
Kitran eyed her for a moment, and then joined her at the door. “I hope you do understand. Remember, to advance to the Bi-level, you must come in first or second at the Tri-level this year and next year. Plus put in a year of practice.”
Methusal hesitated. “Have you talked to Petr? Has he agreed to let me participate?” Even though Petr could not officially expel her from the Game, he could prevent her from competing simply by confining her indoors, or by throwing her in jail.
