Kaavl Conspiracy, page 33
The bonfires on the edge of the community guided her steps to the Rolbani cabin. The stinky room was pitch dark, and she tripped over a pack one of her roommates had left lying in the middle of the floor. A quick hop saved her from falling flat on her face. Reaching her bed, she sat down carefully, and then blindly unpacked the carry coverlet. She had to rely upon memory to remember how each piece was packed. Garments out, she carefully lay her food rations on top and put them at the end of her bed.
Drawing the cool leather coverlet up to her nose, she lay down, but it was a long while before she fell asleep, because something about the evening niggled at her brain. Just before she slipped into sleep she remembered. The grain! Where had the Dehriens got the grain for the porridge? Rolban certainly hadn’t given it to them. But her head hurt too much to think about it any longer.
* * * * *
The party broke up a little after the fire dancers finished. Hendra said goodnight to the others and retired to her tent. She was glad to be home. Seeing Behran and Methusal reminded her all over again that her cousin might be a danger to them. Her stomach felt knotted, and it made her feel sick. Hopefully she would be able to sleep tonight. She headed for her bed chamber.
A knock sounded on the wooden board outside her door. Startled, she hesitated, and then returned to the main living area. Who could that be, at this hour of the night?
“Yes?” she said warily.
“Hendra. May I come in?” Mentàll’s harsh voice surprised her. He had never asked to enter her tent at night before.
Apprehension clawed at her heart. What did he want? Had he guessed that she was thinking about betraying him? But that was crazy. How could he possibly know?
She refused to put a name to her other, unspoken fears. Mentàll had provided for her basic needs for four years. He had never harmed her. With trembling hands, she pulled open the door and stared up at her tall cousin. As soon as she saw him, her fears quieted. Her cousin would never harm her. Not on purpose, at least. “Of course. Please come in.”
Maybe it was for the best that he was here. She needed to confront him about his plans for Rolban.
Mentàll took one step inside. He let the tent flap fall closed behind him.
Before he could speak, Hendra said, “I’m glad you came. I need to ask you something.”
A faint frown creased his brow. “Speak.”
“I talked to Methusal this afternoon. She said Rolban has suffered thefts, and two murders.”
“Two murders?” That fact clearly took him by surprise. “Kitran told me about one, but not the other.” Although the information was clearly new to him, the dark, icy wall that perpetually shielded him like armor appeared to thicken.
“Methusal said that pots, and other items made of ore, have been stolen.”
His expression cooled by several swift degrees. “What does that have to do with me? And why did you speak to Methusal? She is not worthy of your attention. She is trouble.”
“For whom?” Hendra said softly. “For you?”
Anger tightened his large frame. Silkily, he said, “Do not question me, little cousin.”
It was too late to turn back now. Tonight she would get her answers. “You treat her horribly, Mentàll. Why?”
“It is none of your concern! Stay out of my affairs, Hendra.” He had never used that hard, cutting tone with her before, and Hendra trembled inside, wanting nothing more than to abandon the discussion and return to her peaceful relationship with her cousin. But if Mentàll planned war, she must speak.
“Why do you hate her so much, Mentàll? Because she’s a Rolbani?”
Hatred cracked the cool ice of his gaze. “She is the epitome of Rolbani arrogance. Everything I hate, and have contempt for about Rolban has been bred into that girl.”
“She thinks you’re up to no good. But you know that, don’t you? Is that why you hate her—because she’s a threat to you?”
Mentàll did not answer, but she sensed his rage building, just beneath the surface. Her courage wavered, but she made herself push on. “You must stop what you’re planning. Before innocent people die. We have the Alliance. What more could you want for Dehre?”
His fists tightened, but he did not answer.
Insight flashed. “It’s not about Dehre, is it? It’s about you. Why do you hate Rolban so much, Mentàll? What have they done to you?
He snarled, “What haven’t they done? They are arrogant and fat. They’ve never rendered aid here. Never. Not even when hundreds of innocents,” he spat the word, “died. It is the same now. We are worthless. As dust beneath their heels. Now they will take note. Now they will understand that we are a power worthy of their respect and fear.”
“Why should they fear us? Aren’t we friends now, through the Alliance?” She had to make him see reason. “Soon we’ll receive food in exchange for oil. This Alliance is good. Why would you want to break the peace you worked so hard to create?”
He said between clenched teeth, “Do not worry about that, little cousin.”
Hendra gathered her courage for one final, dangerous parry. “Is the Alliance a lie? Is that why you’re making swords and training…” She stopped with a gasp, for Mentàll’s face had darkened with rage, and he advanced on her so fast that she froze in utter shock.
He stopped a spare three handbreadths from her. “You will never call me a liar. Never! A liar is a man who pledges promises he never keeps. Who leaves a child and his mother to be eaten by wild beasts. That is what the Rolbanis have done! That is the kind of people they are. This is not about lies, Hendra. It is about serving justice. I will keep my word with the Alliance. But they must keep theirs.” Mentàll stepped back, seeming to come to himself. Fists clenched, he turned away.
Hendra trembled with fear. Gathering her last threads of courage, she whispered, “Tell me what they’ve done. Tell me what they did to you.”
He did not answer, and instead strode for the door. She sensed the fire in him, consuming the ice that usually held him in complete, cold control. He didn’t like it, she sensed; he didn’t like anyone seeing the true heart that still lived inside of him. But she had pushed much too far to stop now. The truth must come out now.
“Tell me why you want vengeance!” she cried out. “What have they done to you?”
In the tent doorway, he turned. “You would not understand,” he said thickly. “No one will ever understand.”
“I want to understand,” she said softly. “Help me understand. I can’t believe you would deliberately go somewhere you’ve promised peace, and then cut down innocent children in cold blood.”
He visibly blanched. “No innocents will die.”
“How do you know?” She pressed harder, “If you’re planning war…”
“I am not planning war. I have promised peace, and I will keep it—as long as Rolban keeps their end of the bargain.” He paused. “Only the guilty will suffer.”
What did that mean? Hendra took little comfort from his words. Clearly, he meant to hurt someone. Clearly, he meant to wreak vengeance on Rolban. But who were his intended targets, and how did he plan to administer his own brand of justice?
“You can’t,” she whispered. “You have to stop now, before it’s too late. The Prophet warned me. He said that those who draw the sword will die by the sword. I don’t want you to die, Mentàll!”
“I will not die, little cousin,” he said coldly. A bitter smile curled his lips. “I will not die until rights have been wronged, and justice served.”
“But…”
“Enough!” His voice cracked like a whip. “I have allowed your questions, but no more, do you understand me? No more.” The ice was firmly back in place, and his tone sliced like sharpened icicles. “Do you understand?”
“Yes.” Her voice trembled. She understood that she would get no more information from him. But the things she had learned disturbed her. Worse, they raised still more questions. Mentàll claimed that he did not plan to start a war, as long as Rolban held up her end of the Alliance. Why did he think they would not?
Much as the thought of betraying Mentàll sickened her, maybe it was time to warn Behran and Methusal.
“I almost forgot,” her cousin stated coldly. “I came here for a purpose. Jascr brought news of your match with Wortn.”
She gasped. Jascr had finally spoken to Mentàll, as he had threatened last week. She had begun to hope Jascr had forgotten. Foolish of her. Drawing a shallow breath, she stared into Mentàll’s chilly, expressionless eyes. She had already made him angry. Would he listen to her now?
She must make him understand. “I do not want to do it.”
“You do not want to marry?”
“No. Never!”
Surprise flickered. “Jascr is your closest kinsman.”
“He has no rights over me!” she insisted. “I live in your tents. I live under your protection. I will listen only to you.”
“Now you will listen to me?” Amusement barely twitched his lips. “First blood is a stronger tie. His authority outweighs mine.”
Panic tore through her, ripping like wild beast claws. What he spoke was true, in Dehrien law. She had to make him see. But how?
The answer came, and it sickened her. Mentàll did not know her shame. Or why her brothers had refused to provide shelter for her when their father had died. She had to confess the truth now.
Feeling ill, she swallowed her dishonor. “Jascr and I share no blood. He is no true brother.”
Mentàll’s gaze narrowed. “Explain.”
“Jascr’s mother was not my own. His mother died, and then Father married my mother.”
“Yes. I know that.”
She drew a shaky breath. “When I was thirteen, my mother introduced me to my real father. He was not Jascr’s father.”
“Who, then?”
“He’s dead now. The only truth that matters is Jascr and I share no blood. What’s more, he knows this.”
Her cousin considered her words. Still, she could not tell what he was thinking. The horrible, choking terror rose higher. He had to listen to her! He must!
“Please, Mentàll,” she begged. She would go on her knees, if she had to. “Please don’t let Jascr have power over me again!”
He frowned, and she knew he remembered the past as clearly as she did.
After a moment, he said, “I will not.”
“Thank you,” she choked out. She crossed her arms, hugging herself, trying to stop her now uncontrollable trembling.
Her cousin frowned, obviously noting her distress. But just as clearly, he did not know how to respond. He said in a lower, gentler voice, “You will marry no one…unless you wish it. We will not speak of this again.”
She nodded wordlessly, and Mentàll left as silently as he had come. Hendra crumpled on the floor and wept tears of relief. What would she do without Mentàll’s protection? He had saved her life when he’d taken her in four years ago. And he continued to protect her now, even after she’d confronted him with her fears about Rolban. How could she ever tell Behran her suspicions about him? How could she betray her only living blood relative? She owed her safety and all of her loyalty to her cousin.
Another conviction gripped her as she recalled the gentle tone Mentàll had used with her just now. It reminded her of the young man he had once been. Mentàll could not have lost his soul completely if he could still speak to her that way. She had to help him out of this mess before it was too late—for him, and for everyone else. Somehow, she must stop his plot.
But how? How could she do it without betraying him? How could she stop it, if she didn’t even know what he planned?
Hendra would not talk to Behran. Not yet. Somehow, she would uncover all of the facts. Then she would stop Mentàll. If he would not listen to reason then—if she was left with no other choice—only then she would betray her cousin.
* * * * *
“…since Tarst and Dehre have experienced first-hand how kaavl makes great leaders…”
Methusal’s eyes popped open in the darkness. She still heard the crystal clear words. It was Mentàll Solboshn’s voice. Different voices spoke now…
Where was she? What was happening?
Heart thumping, she sat up. Her roommates’ quiet breaths were the only sounds in the pitch black. Dehre. She was in Dehre for the IC Kaavl Games.
Her hand clenching the coverlet relaxed.
“What about…” The clear voice spoke in her ear, making her jump. Frightened, she swung her arm, trying to find the source, but no one was there.
What was happening?
She forced herself to focus on her surroundings. The clear voice faded to a whisper.
Her dark room was silent, except for the snores of her roommates. So was the men’s cabin next door. No one spoke in either room. Then why did she hear voices?
Methusal pinched herself, just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. It hurt. Good. This wasn’t another sleepwalking nightmare. Slowly, she lay down again. Was she going crazy? She’d read stories of people hearing voices in their heads—of course they’d all skipped off the bluff of reason.
The whispers faded. She relaxed, and to her surprise one voice rang clear again. It was Verdnt’s. Did crazy people hear the voices of real people? Forcing herself to relax even more, she listened.
“Petr fully agrees now that individuals excelling in kaavl make the best, most honorable leaders for a community. Dehre is the perfect example.”
Methusal cringed. In her opinion, Dehre’s leader possessed no honor.
Mentàll spoke again. “…the job is half completed. I congratulate your devotion to kaavl and to your community.” A pause. “Kitran, have you begun to teach my precepts on emotional energy yet?”
Kitran! Methusal strained her ears to listen more closely.
“Yes, to a few. I’ll admit I introduced it as my own idea. At the time, I wasn’t sure they would follow a Dehrien leader’s teaching. No offense, Mentàll.”
“None taken. You have been wise. Has this method helped your kaavl? Do you feel like you are approaching the Ultimate level, like I am?”
“I think so. Some of it is still a bit hard to grasp.”
“Do not worry. It will become clear to you soon. Go now and rest. We will have time to talk more in the days ahead.”
“Goodnight, then.”
A tent flap slapping shut reached Methusal’s ears. A minute later the door creaked open next door, and two sets of footsteps softly stepped inside. Kitran and Verdnt.
So, she hadn’t been hearing things. But how she had heard the conversation must be considered later. More important was Mentàll’s claim that he was approaching the Ultimate level, and that the things Kitran had taught Behran and herself about using emotional energy were really Mentàll’s concepts. And Petr appeared to be on board, as well.
The knot on her head throbbed. Something very wrong was going on here. And Kitran, Verdnt, and Petr appeared to be blindly following Mentàll’s teachings. But she could not piece together what was wrong, besides kaavl being corrupted by the detestable Mentàll. If only Deccia or her mother were here—their intuition would probably help her figure out what was going on.
Murder, thefts, secret conversations, kaavl in leadership, and the possible corruption of kaavl… How did it all tie together?
Exhaustion finally made her eyelids droop. Methusal drifted on the edge of slumber when voices again awoke her. Once more, the first voice was Mentàll Solboshn’s.
“You want to bring the count to three?” Cold disbelief cracked in that harsh voice.
Who was he talking to now? She groaned softly. Would the man never sleep? Why did she keep hearing him?
“It’s necessary,” whispered a second voice. “I warned you before, in the letter, remember? Don’t worry. I will take care of it.”
“As you took care of the others who were in your way? Without my authorization.”
“Methusal must go.” The words were a sibilant hiss.
Methusal drew in a sharp breath. She must go? She concentrated harder, trying to pinpoint the location of the voices. They appeared to come from about thirty lengths northwest. Maybe from the Chief’s tent.
“No.” A flat, cold order. “You will leave Methusal to me.”
“You are a fool!”
“She is a mere girl.” Contempt sliced through that icy tone. “It will be an easy matter to make sure she keeps her place.”
“She is not easily intimidated,” insisted the whisperer. The tone was low pitched. He must be a man. “Better to kill her now.”
Methusal gasped softly. Pieces of the conversation flew together in her brain. As you took care of the others who were in your way…You want to bring the count to three…Better to kill her now. Finally, she understood.
Mentàll was talking to Renn and Liem’s killer. The Dehrien must be the thieving murderer’s ally. And the killer wanted her dead, too. She wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or uneasy that the Dehrien Chief wouldn’t allow it. For what purpose he wanted to keep her alive, she couldn’t imagine. Unless he truly thought he could use fear to manipulate her into keeping her place. A likely possibility, and in keeping with the Chief’s arrogant personality. And if fear didn’t work, she had no doubt he could take that ultimate step. Something about that cold man told her he could kill brutally and emotionlessly, should the situation require it. She shuddered at the thought.
If only the killer would quit whispering, so she could identify him. Was he a Rolbani who had come to Dehre with the kaavl team? Or had he traveled to Dehre tonight on his own?
“You will leave her in my hand.” A nasty note underscored Dehrien Chief's tone, “Do you understand?”
“She will destroy our plans.”
“Do you understand?”
A squeak escaped, and then a small scuffling sound. “All right,” rasped the other man. “But you had better not let her destroy my plans… Your plans, I mean. Believe me, soon you will want her dead, too.”
