Kaavl Conspiracy, page 12
“I’ll speak to him now. I’ll do whatever I can to convince him—provided you agree to concentrate and work hard.”
“I will. Thank you, Kitran.”
Methusal slipped into the hall. With Kitran firmly on her side, she hoped Petr might see reason for once. The rest of her conversation with Kitran disturbed her, however. It was the first time she’d heard about using the energy of her emotions to advance in kaavl. How was that even possible? And he’d said he had just learned the precept. But how? And from whom? He was the only Primary level contender in Rolban.
She struggled to push the new precepts to the back of her mind. That was a worry for another day. Right now she needed to practice hard so she could beat Behran tomorrow. …If she was truly allowed to play.
Her adversary crossed her path when she reached the Grand Staircase. Behran lifted one eyebrow and snapped her a mocking salute before he disappeared into the dining hall.
With an eye roll, Methusal trotted down the staircase. How was she supposed to control all of her emotions? It was hard enough to control her small flashes of temper. The whole thing seemed ridiculously impossible.
Behran’s flippant salute had only served to stoke her burning desire to beat him. What she really needed to do was run outside, and simultaneously practice kaavl at all distances. Those combined skills were obviously impossible to perform inside.
Nearing the open gate, she gazed longingly at the brown, bush dotted plain, blanketed by a deep blue sky. Before community arrest, she’d never fully appreciated her freedom.
“Hey, Thusa.” Timaeus straightened from where he’d been leaning against the gate.
“Guard duty, huh?”
“Until supper.”
“What is your job, exactly?” She daringly stepped closer to the entrance. Freedom beckoned, mere steps away.
“Keep out invaders and wild animals. And keep the kids in.”
Had Petr actually ordered the guards to confine her inside? Yesterday she hadn’t tried to find out.
“Doesn’t sound too difficult,” she agreed. “Anything else?”
He smiled, but his brown eyes mirrored his regretful tone, “Petr ordered me to keep you inside, too.”
“I see.” Disappointment, along with her better sense, finally kicked in. Maybe her rash plan wasn’t the best idea anyway. If she got caught, she could lose her only chance to play in the Game. Worse, Timaeus could get in trouble, too. She didn’t want that. With regret, she let the crazy idea go and turned her attention to the investigation. “You guard the ore mine too, don’t you?”
He didn’t appear surprised by her question. “I heard about your adventure yesterday.”
Uncomfortably, Methusal wondered who else knew. Kitran hadn’t mentioned it. Maybe only the guards had discussed it. “It’s a long story.”
“Rumor says Renn found your necklace in the ore deposits.”
She nodded. “I’m still not sure how it got there. I found out yesterday it’s impossible to break into the ore room. That last guard is impossible to get by.”
He smiled. “Pretty much.”
Timaeus seemed to know a great deal. “So, how do you think my necklace ended up in the ore mine?”
He considered the question. “Must have been left there by a guard. Or someone with authorized access.”
“I need to find out who.”
“Can I help?”
Methusal was pleased that Timaeus wanted to help her. Finally, something was going right. “Maybe. Do you know who has access to the ore room? Could you give me a list?”
Timaeus eyed her for a moment. “It’s privileged information. Promise not to tell anyone.”
“I won’t.”
Timaeus ticked off names on his fingers. “Guards first. Well, there’s Pogul and me. Renn was one, plus about six other men. We have limited access. All the senior members of the Council have access, too. That includes Petr, your father, Kitran, Barak, Verdnt, old Sims, and a quite a few others. Plus Motr, Behran, and Goric, who engineer the water systems. Do you have a piece of paper? I could write them down.”
Methusal fished a parchment from her pocket. It was the parchment on which Kitran had written kaavl instructions yesterday. Timaeus produced a bit of charcoal and scribbled names.
When he finished, she said, “That helps, thank you. But it’s still quite a few people.” There were over thirty in all. How could she narrow down that list to find the murderer?
“Yes.” With a sympathetic glance, he handed her the list, which she pocketed again.
“Have you seen anything unusual at the mine lately? Anyone visiting more often than normal?”
Timaeus shook his head. “Most people go in about once a month. Nobody more than once a week.”
“What do they do in there?”
He shrugged. “Old Sims inventories the ore. So does Barak. That’s how they discovered ore was missing. The council members go because they check on each other. No one is trusted. It’s pretty serious stuff.”
“Thank you, Timaeus. I appreciate your help. ” Unfortunately, the authorized access list was dauntingly long. Any one of them could have dropped her necklace inside. Even Behran. That thought made her snicker a little. She couldn’t imagine Behran being so underhanded. If he wanted to trouble her, he’d do it face-to-face. In addition, she couldn’t imagine him murdering Renn. And her father couldn’t be guilty, either.
Frankly, she couldn’t imagine anyone she knew murdering Renn. Except for maybe Pogul. However, in her opinion he wasn’t smart enough to carry out a systematic plan of thefts, let alone kill anyone; although he had stolen the chalk from Verdnt yesterday morning. Pogul was definitely a troublemaker. He could be involved in the thefts. But he certainly wasn’t the mastermind of the whole convoluted plot.
Methusal tried to remember the last question she wanted to ask Timaeus. “Oh…here’s a strange question. When you’ve carried messages to other communities, have you noticed anything usual? Like fires that smell strange?”
“Strange…how?”
“I don’t know. Like burning ore?”
His dark brows drew together. “You think someone is stealing ore, and using it to make weapons?”
“I don’t know. Why else steal ore?”
“Good question. But no, I haven’t seen or smelled anything strange lately.”
“That’s good, I guess.” Although fires could be burned in areas where messengers never went, for example. “Thanks again for your help Timaeus.”
“No problem.”
With a sigh, Methusal cast a final, longing glance out at the plains. “I’ve always taken my freedom for granted. Now I’d give anything to practice outside.”
“I’m sorry, Thusa.”
“It’s not your fault.”
He hesitated. “I can’t let you out. But if I don’t see you go….”
Much as that had been her rash original plan, she shook her head. “No. I don’t want you to get in trouble. Thanks, though, Timaeus.”
“Will you practice on the chairs, then?”
“I guess so.”
Methusal retreated to the recliner closest to the gate and sat down. Her spirit felt heavy. Timaeus had helped a lot by providing the mine access list. But how could she narrow it down?
And the Tri-level match—how could she ever win if she couldn’t fully practice kaavl? After all, Behran had captured her in the ore deposit hall yesterday. And he’d successfully snuck up on her the other day, when she’d rescued that apte. Kitran was right. She did need to work on discipline and concentration. Would she lose to Behran, after all?
Stop it. She drew a steadying breath. Falling apart would solve nothing.
Methusal again pulled from her pocket the list of exercises that Kitran had given her. Before unfolding it, however, she concentrated and became aware of everything around her. Objects, people…
She sensed no one nearby. Surprised, she glanced left and right.
Timaeus was gone.
She glanced back at the Grand Staircase. No Timaeus. No one else was in sight, either. Had he left on purpose so she could escape outside?
Excitement made her heart pump faster. Should she take the opportunity Timaeus had just given her?
Chapter Ten
THE TEMPTATION TO RUN outside and practice kaavl nearly overwhelmed Methusal’s better sense. She wanted so badly to beat Behran. One final practice outdoors might make all the difference in winning the Game.
She hesitated, and thought fast. Could she do it without being found out? One risk was being spotted by the crop tenders. Could she escape the notice of Barak and the others on the crop plateau? She listened hard, but only heard three men digging near the Rolban River, near the intersection of the crop plateau and the cliff. Even if others were near the bluff’s edge, she might escape notice if she ran out on the plain and darted from bush to thick tagma bush to the kaavl plateau. The tallest of the bushes stretched one length high—a little taller than a large man.
Timaeus would be on duty for three more hours. She could practice for two hours, and be back before anyone was the wiser.
Finally, the cool voice of reason spoke. What if Petr found out? Or Kitran? She was already walking the fine line of expulsion from the Games.
But if she couldn’t practice fully, why play the Tri-Level Game at all? Clearly, she needed more practice. Behran had already proven twice that he could beat her.
The desire to go out overwhelmed her, and she closed her mind to the voice of reason. Mind made up, she glanced once more into the Great Hall and then darted into the bright sunshine. No one stopped her. The sun felt warm and delicious on her face, and she ran like the wind to the first tagma bush and ducked behind it.
No shouts. No cries of alarm.
She glanced back at the entrance, and also at the plateau above it where Barak and his helpers worked. No one was in sight. Now was her chance. She sprinted from bush to bush until she reached the far plateau, and then slipped to the far, southern side.
Still, silence reigned. No one blew the warning horn. She had escaped!
Methusal sprinted to the short distance to the top of the narrow, lonely plateau. It was a hill with the top chopped off, plunked down in the middle of the plain. It was also the starting plateau for the Kaavl Games, and her personal, favorite place to practice kaavl.
Cool wind caressed her cheek as she took the final steps to the top. Not another soul was in sight, and a scraggly bush hid her from view from Rolban. Sprigs of hearty vegetation spread their thin, pointed leaves toward the sky, drinking in the sun’s warm rays.
Her worn moccasins pressed lightly into the tan, gritty soil. A new hole was forming in one. She’d mended both moccasins so often that the soles now consisted of overlapping, worn patches. Soon she’d need a new pair, but hopefully these would last for a good while longer, since skins were in short supply, thanks to the thefts.
She crossed to the eastern side of the plateau and glanced down the steep, rocky face. Tomorrow the Kaavl Games would start—right here.
Her gaze lifted and swept across the network of tough, scraggly bushes that dotted the plain until it collided with the black bluffs to the east, which were a good twenty minutes away running time. This was the playing field, and within it rested her future.
She sat cross-legged on the uneven earth and made sure the scraggly plant hid her from the view of the Rolbani crop tenders. She opened the parchment Kitran had given her yesterday. He’d written two instructions. The first was: “Heighten sensory awareness.” The key senses of kaavl were vision and hearing.
The second instruction read: “Heighten awareness of others in relation to yourself.” “Others” referred not only to people, but to any tangible object. Awareness also included the ability to measure distances between herself and another object.
Methusal concentrated and gazed across the plain. Below, about ten lengths away, squatted a small apte beast. Its fur was short and dusty brown in color, and easily blended into its surroundings. Its arms and legs were mere stubs—barely longer than her little finger—and tiny striped ears bristled from its round, furry head.
It was time to practice her newest kaavl skill.
Concentrating still harder, Methusal carried—mentally calculated the distance to the apte, and then projected her hearing and fanned out in an area surrounding the apte. It was almost as if she stood in the very place the apte crouched, and heard everything the apte heard. She could not carry with vision, so she concentrated, hoping to break through on that front as well. Few people over the centuries had ever been able to carry with one—let alone both. Only the Old Kaavl Master, Mahre, had accomplished this.
Rustlings in the stubbly, straw-like vegetation to the east caught her attention, and her eyes strained to see what her ears recognized as coming. It was a low, fast wriggling whip beast.
The apte saw the whip beast the same instant Methusal did, and hopped rapidly, as if its short legs were made of springs, into a nearby bush and disappeared neatly from sight.
Silence.
The long, thick whip beast couldn’t tell where the apte had gone, and neither could Methusal. A victim of a short attention span, the whip writhed away to search for fresh prey.
But where was the apte?
Suddenly she saw it, and Methusal almost lost her concentration by laughing out loud. The round little beast was perched high in the bush. Now, how had it climbed up there? Maybe it had hopped up and become stuck? No. Even as she watched, the small creature dropped to the desert floor and rapidly hopped away—in the opposite direction from the whip beast.
The sun sank lower in the sky as Methusal practiced. She also concentrated on the less important senses—smell and touch. Already her nose could discern smells and pinpoint their origin by taking into consideration three things: the direction and strength of the breeze, coupled with the intensity of the fragrance. That required a lot of concentration, however.
The sun hovered a finger’s width above the far, western mountains when she finally felt ready for the last step of today’s practice. Only an hour of daylight remained. She’d need to make the most of each minute. Right now she needed to exercise her body and four senses to the fullest, so she could win the upcoming game. And she’d practice close and long-range kaavl awareness at the same time.
Methusal scrambled lightly down the rocky hillside, concentrating fully on each footstep and becoming sharply aware of the placement and texture of each surface she trod. At the same time, she fanned out her hearing range, trying to capture sounds near and far simultaneously, and to determine their distances from her, too.
The moment her foot touched the plain, she began to run, breathing lightly, moving effortlessly, toward the distant bluffs. Tuning each of her senses keenly into her environment, she felt sharply aware of each twig or stone she stepped on, and the placement of every bush, rock and small boulder she approached and passed. Her ears strained, catching the movement of an apte beast sixty lengths away, and then hearing the whistle of the wind sighing through a cluster of bushes twenty lengths to her right. She worked hard at trying to assimilate stimuli from three different locations at once.
It strained her concentration to the limit, to constantly receive and decipher simultaneous sources of input. Capturing three different sources at once only happened twice on her run to the bluffs, and she felt pleased with that. As hard as she tried, though, she knew there were still a lot of things she missed. But she felt confident that she’d detected the most important details.
She approached the base of the far cliffs. The sound of rushing water filled her ears now. The Rolban River. Really, at this point, it was little more than a stream, because it was only a length across right here. High on the crop plateau, it watered Rolban’s crops, and provided all the water for Rolban’s needs. It began as a rushing waterfall high in the Rolban Mountains, and gathered into a deep blue lake a half day’s hike from Rolban. The river flowed from the lake, following the contours of the Rolban Mountains until it flowed down next to the crop plateau, and then cascaded in a waterfall downhill, and then rushed out into this stream that followed the bluffs south.
Methusal scanned the stepping stones across the stream. Dry and safe. The water level was lower now than she’d ever seen it before. Hopefully next winter would bring more rain. She sprinted across, and then stopped and gazed up the cliff face. She took note of the dark shadow in the bluff above. It might provide her with the winning edge in the kaavl game. It was a cave—a unique one—and hopefully an advantage Behran knew nothing about. She retraced her steps and headed back. Her breathing was still even, steady, and silent—the result of long years of regular running. Panting would give away her position to her competitors in the Tri-Level Game.
Reaching the plateau again, Methusal glanced at the descending sun. Her best time yet. Soon it would be time to return home.
Her sharpened kaavl senses suddenly detected the “whoosh” of flying beast wings, and she turned north. Her heart accelerated. The dark flying beast was flying straight for her!
She stiffened. Flying beasts avoided humans…so why would this one attack her? It banked, and circled in low, lazy spirals over her head.
Could it be? With a smile, Methusal pursed her lips and emitted three high, sharp chirps
The flying beast continued to circle, but it flew lower now. Methusal drew in a breath to whistle again.
Three sharp chirps sounded from behind her. Startled, she spun. A tall, blond-haired giant of a man had gained her plateau, and now strode toward her. Uneasiness jolted through her. She carried no weapon. He was stranger—a rarity in Rolban—and he carried himself with sure confidence.
Either her concentration had slipped just now, or the man was very, very good at kaavl. Her unease deepened as he neared. Swiftly, she scanned the newcomer.
The man looked to be almost thirty, and he thankfully stopped two lengths away. He was powerfully built, with lean, sleek muscles, and he wore bleached leather clothing. The wind kicked up the edges of his short, white-blond hair, and his high, wide cheekbones emphasized the angular planes of his face. He was good looking, if one liked harsh, unusual features. His nose was straight, with a small hump in the upper quarter. Perhaps once broken and never properly reset. He exuded an overwhelming sense of power and purpose—far more than any man she’d ever met before.
