Kaavl Conspiracy, page 47
“I’m sure there’s more to the story.” Erl sounded weary. “Let’s go to the dining hall and sort out the rest, if we can.”
So while most Rolbanis cleaned up, and others helped D’Wit tend to the wounded, the Maahrs, Amils, Storsts, Kitran, and most of the Council elders congregated at the longest dining table.
“First order of business,” Ben Amil said. “Petr’s break in faith with Rolban’s citizens. I move that we schedule a trial. Facts will be judged by a group of your peers, Petr. I think it’s safe to say that you’ll lose your power as Chief. And you will lose your bid for reelection.”
Petr’s face crumpled, but he said nothing.
“In fact,” Ben turned to Erl, “since every man running for Chief has been disqualified or is dead…Erl, be prepared to take office on Firstday. We’ll hold a vote, but I’m sure you’ll win.”
Hanuh and Methusal smiled at Erl.
Another member of the Council spoke up. “I’m confused. So much as happened. Would someone tell the whole story, from beginning to end?”
Erl looked at Methusal. “I think Methusal, Deccia, and Aali can do that.”
Methusal and Deccia started the tale with their suspicions about the robberies and murders, while Aalicaa threw in pertinent bits, and then Methusal repeated the story of her trip home from Tarst.
“…and Aali got us in through her secret passage,” Behran interjected. “If it hadn’t been for her, I don’t know how we would have made it inside without being caught. And she and Sims distracted the Dehriens in the dining hall, too, when they threw rocks down onto them.”
Petr looked at his daughter with pride and with humility. “It seems I’ve made many mistakes, Aalicaa. It’s a hard lesson for a man to learn, to realize he’s been prideful and close-minded to his peers,” he glanced at Erl and Ben Amil, “and inflexible in raising his daughters. Aalicaa, you have my blessing to pursue kaavl. Make me proud.”
“Father!” Aali burst into tears and flung her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Father. But I don’t deserve it, I don’t! It’s because of me sneaking that they took over Rolban so soon. I should have listened to you.”
Gently, Petr said, “Then we’ve both learned that we need to follow the rules. I hope it’s a lesson neither of us forget.”
Aali shook her head, face still buried in her father’s shoulder, but when she pulled away she was smiling, and happily clutched Methusal’s arm. “You’ll help me learn kaavl, won’t you, Thusa?”
“Of course.”
Kitran spoke up. “I feel like most of what happened is my fault.” His voice was heavy, as if he had a lot to get off of his chest. “I’m sorry. Mentàll fooled me, and I’ll admit he played on my pride to get what he wanted. He’s cunning, and I’m beginning to see how he planned the whole takeover. With Verdnt as his eyes and ears here, he knew exactly how to play on my weakness—and Petr’s—to achieve his own ends. My weakness is a passion for kaavl, at the expense of common sense, and Petr’s was a desperation to be reelected, and to stay Chief for as long as possible.”
Petr’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. Kitran went on, “Mentàll claimed to be great in kaavl—and he is. I could see that for myself. When he told me it was because he’d found the way to the Ultimate level, I was ready to believe him. Then, when he told me how to reach the Ultimate level…I was overwhelmed. And I started to believe everything he said.”
“Anyway,” Kitran drew a harsh breath, “Mentàll told me that only kaavl can produce the best, most honorable leaders. He thought it was really important, and I began to agree. Kaavl does make the mind sharper. Maybe wiser, too. And both Dehre and Tarst have strong kaavl leaders. I began to think Rolban was wrong to ignore how vital kaavl could be to leadership. It wasn’t long before I convinced Petr of it, too.”
He looked at his partner in crime. Petr stared at the table, his mouth twisted in clear humiliation. The great man had been humbled. He had been fooled, yes, but it had been his decision to go along with Mentàll’s self-serving plan, and to write the letter of authorization, and to steal Rolban’s seed grain and give it to Dehre. Fooled or not, he was responsible for his actions.
Kitran doggedly continued. “Mentàll must have planned out every detail. He gained my confidence first, and then used my influence to get to Petr. He tricked both of us into thinking the second agreement would be a good thing.”
He gave a short, bitter laugh. “All the secrecy around the second treaty made me feel uncomfortable, but I tried to ignore it. Facing up to the true fact—that I’d been taken for a fool—was too hard to face. But on that long trip home this morning, I realized I’d made a huge error in judgment. And I’d convinced Petr to make the same mistake. I’m terribly sorry.”
Hanuh touched his arm. “Mentàll is a cunning man, Kitran. He would have found another way to trick us. Count it as a lesson. I think we’ve all learned from this.”
Kitran clenched his fist. He did not look comforted. In fact, fury blazed in his eyes. He clearly hated the Dehrien Chief for tricking him.
“I’m sorry, too.” The words sounded wrenched from Petr’s throat. He would soon face trial. As punishment, he’d be stripped of power, and probably disqualified from ever running for Chief again. Maybe even worse was facing unpleasant truths about himself. Such as how his lust for power had almost destroyed Rolban.
It seemed clear to Methusal that kaavl alone couldn’t make a truly great leader. Only wisdom, fairness, honor, and integrity could. Kaavl couldn’t produce strong character, because character came from a pure heart, which was made evident by the honorable decisions of a man. Mentàll, the Kaavl Master, portrayed none of those qualities.
Timaeus stepped up during the reflective silence and put a hand on Deccia’s shoulder. “Are you ready to look over your classroom, instructor? We’ve just finished clearing out Verdnt’s things.”
With the chief teacher gone, Methusal realized Deccia would have to start teaching full-time next year. It was a lot of responsibility, but she had no doubt her sister, in all of her quiet strength, would do a wonderful job.
No one had mentioned Verdnt. Maybe because the hurt of his betrayal ran deep. He’d been the first Dehrien to immigrate to Rolban, and had lived there for over seven years. They had trusted him.
How long had he betrayed them? Always? Or starting four years ago, when Mentàll had come to power?
Maybe answers could be found in his compartment. Methusal decided to speak to her father about that a little later.
Deccia glanced up at Timaeus, and a soft smile lit her face. “I’m ready.” A final, serene smile for Aalicaa, Methusal, and her father, and she departed with the man she loved. Unmistakable joy leant a spring to her step.
“We’ve all learned a lot,” Erl said after a little silence. “One thing is clear. The Dehriens—or rather, Mentàll—can’t be trusted. They’re back to the same tricks that started the Great War. We’d better warn Tarst.”
“Later.” Ben stood. “Today, we’ll celebrate the heroes of Rolban.”
“Many of whom are our children.” A relaxed Hanuh Maahr looked proudly at her daughter, and Methusal smiled.
Two weeks ago, so many things had been different. Renn had been murdered, and her necklace on his body had implicated her in the crime. Now she finally understood why Verdnt had framed her. Her necklace was the key. Verdnt had stolen it because both he and the Dehrien Chief had wanted the Second Book of Kaavl. Verdnt had thought her necklace was a clue to its location. It appeared he’d been mistaken. Maybe she’d never know how Renn had ended up with the necklace in his pocket. But she guessed Verdnt had planted it on Renn’s body, in order to point suspicion toward her.
And now Mentàll possessed her family heirloom. She wondered if she’d ever get it back.
So many things had changed since the night Renn had died. She had changed the most. Two weeks ago, all she’d cared about was becoming Tri-level kaavl champ. Since then, she had accomplished that, and so much more.
But best of all, she had discovered there was more to life than kaavl—family, community solidarity, and more. She glanced at Behran out of the corner of her eye. Rolban would never be the same after this, and neither would she. For the first time in her life, she realized just how lucky she was to live in Rolban.
Slowly, the party broke up and Methusal wandered down the hall to her compartment to change for lunch. Pain twinged in her shoulder, which reminded her of capturing the Dehrien in the supply room. But after moving it a little more, she decided it wasn’t that bad. A small price to pay for victory over the Dehriens. She’d also need to put coltac juice on the cut on her arm.
Lost in her thoughts, she jumped a bit when Old Sims fell into step beside her.
“I’m glad you’re back, my girl. Didn’t realize what a help you’ve become to me until you left for that long trip.”
“Oh, Sims!” Methusal impulsively hugged him. Her discoveries in Tarst flooded her mind, and she grinned. “Have I got a surprise for you!”
* * * * *
During lunch, Erl agreed with Methusal that Verdnt’s compartment should be searched for more clues about the conspiracy. Verdnt had admitted that Ludst Lst was one accomplice, but what if he’d had more? All facts needed to be brought to light now, for Rolban’s safety.
Erl searched Verdnt’s desk, Ben searched the bedchamber, Petr the main compartment, and Methusal the trash. She discovered the mother lode. One page of dense, cramped handwriting was addressed to a “Presidente.”
“Papa,” Methusal said urgently. “Look.”
Erl took the letter and read out loud:
Presidente,
Victory is near. Still, they suspect nothing. I have planted clues so that Rolban will trust neither Dehre nor Tarst. Already those seeds are bearing fruit. Even if our pawn’s takeover fails, distrust has been sown, bitter and deep. I am confident that when the full course of time has ripened, the ore will be ours to pluck. Their weaknesses are plain, and have been simple to exploit. The plan is a success. My fellow Zindedi in Tarst has done his job well, and I will give him this letter soon. As for your deepest, closest spy, he remains silent and undiscovered, waiting and watching, as you wish. When the battle is finished, I will convey the full details to you.
I remain your dedicated servant,
Verdnt
“Who is this Presidente?” Petr wondered.
“And where is Zindedi?” Methusal wanted to know.
Lines of worry deepened in Erl’s brow. “I’m not sure, but Zindedi must be a land across the sea. No such people live on Koblan.”
“Verdnt and his accomplice came here to create distrust. They want us to be at war with the Dehriens and the Tarst?” Methusal asked.
“Yes. And apparently they want our ore.”
“Verdnt said that to me,” Methusal agreed. “He said Mentàll wants the ore, too.”
“Maybe Mentàll is the pawn Verdnt referred to in the letter.”
“Do you think Mentàll was working for Verdnt? For Zindedi?” Although Methusal didn’t think much of the Dehrien, she felt fairly sure he was only acting for himself, to accomplish his own goals. She couldn’t imagine him knowingly being a subservient pawn to anyone. Then again, what did she really know about the Dehrien? He’d proven he was a wild beast. Maybe he was capable of anything.
Petr blustered, “I wouldn’t put anything past that Dehrien whip.”
“One thing is clear,” Erl said. “Verdnt’s accomplice lives in Tarst. I need to contact Pan. We’ll need to talk about the Alliance and Zindedi.”
“What about that deep spy Verdnt mentioned?” Methusal said. “Do you think he’s here in Rolban?”
Grim lines tightened her father’s mouth. “We will be on guard, and we’ll warn other communities to do the same. Clearly, the Zindedis have been planning this for years. They planted Verdnt in Dehre thirteen years ago. And he moved here seven years ago. His death won’t stop their plan, whatever it is. Multiple spies could infest communities all over Koblan.”
Methusal remembered again what the Prophet had told her about the coming trouble. Would that take place in a few years? Or sooner? Maybe she hadn’t listened closely enough to the Prophet before, but she would now. He’d known about Mentàll and his sword. He’d told her to pray for her enemy, but she had not.
Would it have made a difference if she had?
In a quiet voice, she said, “I think we’d better hurry, Papa.”
Erl frowned. “Why?”
“According to the Prophet, this is only the beginning of trouble.”
* * * * *
That night, Methusal sat with Behran on the crop plateau. They were safe from all predators there—both man and beast. The tally had come in—five Rolbanis had been killed during the short war, and seven Dehriens. They were lucky they hadn’t lost more people.
Stars pierced the black velvet sky, and the plain below glowed green, bathed in the pale light of Ryon. Methusal had just finished telling Behran about Verdnt and Zindedi.
“I’m still confused about a few things,” Methusal said. “It seems clear from Verdnt’s letter that the Zindedis are the ones who wanted the ore. Did Mentàll, too?”
“He wanted power. I’m not sure about the ore, except for maybe to make weapons.”
“Yes. And he’s arrogant enough to think he can have anything he wants.”
Behran gave a short laugh. “It’ll prick his pride to learn he was only a pawn.”
“Or maybe Verdnt was his pawn.” For the first time, Methusal wondered why the Dehrien had really wanted to take over Rolban. Because his people were starving? Because he wanted to find the Second Book of Kaavl? Had his delegation been sent to conquer Rolban, or to be used as back up if his unknown plan didn’t go like he’d hoped? In reality, twenty-six Dehriens would be hard-pressed to conquer Rolban, unless he’d planned to send for reinforcements. Little made sense. What had been Mentàll’s primary motivation? What had he really wanted to do in Rolban?
Slowly, she said, “Verdnt said Mentàll wanted vengeance. For what, do you think?”
“It doesn’t matter now. It’s all over.”
“I hope so.” Her mind returned to the strange visual carry she’d experienced during the battle that morning. She decided it was time to trust this fact to her fiercest competitor.
“Wow,” Behran said afterward, and fell silent.
Methusal felt uncomfortable. “I guess I’ll have to wait and see if it happens again.”
“It probably will.” Behran’s voice was quiet, but proud. He didn’t sound envious at all. “Are you going on to the Bi-level, then?”
“Yes, since Kitran has rejected Mentàll’s theories. What about you?”
“I’ll never be able to beat you again.”
“How do you know?” She glanced at his familiar features. “I think we’ve barely scratched the surface of kaavl. But I know we can learn more together.”
“Maybe you’re right.” His midnight blue eyes held hers. She felt his warm hand enfold hers. He interlaced their fingers. Her breath caught—a little surprised, and a little bit not. A sweet joy surged through her, tingling to her fingertips.
From rival to friend, to possibly more. The future stretched out before them, bright with promise and hope. Adventure lay ahead…and challenges. Of that, she felt certain. But no shadows.
Surely, no shadows.
Epilogue
CARACHKI, ZINDEDI
(Two weeks later)
“A LETTER, PRESIDENTE.” Bowing, the skinny young man placed the envelope on the desk, and scurried out.
“At last.” The Presidente of Zindedi plucked it up with a smile. “The pot has boiled.”
Across the room, the General stopped muttering to himself. “What, brother?”
The Presidente flicked him a tolerant glance. “Are you prepared for the mission?”
His amber eyes, so like the Presidente’s, finally focused. “Mission? Yes! I am ready for battle.” He licked his lips in anticipation.
The Presidente smiled. “Good. Make sure your mind doesn’t deviate too far while you are on the battlefield.”
His brother smiled widely, his teeth gleaming yellow in the sun that shone through the window. “On the battlefield, you have no one better than me. And off the bloody field, my fancies are my own.”
The unholy light in his brother’s eyes made the Presidente smile. “Go ahead. Be as ruthless off the field as on. Just so long as it sharpens your appetite for battle.”
The General’s eyes hardened into the eager blood lust the Presidente knew so well. And the Presidente knew his brother would deliver Koblan to him, just as he had united Zindedi in one short, horrific war two years ago.
The Presidente slit the envelope and withdrew the single page. Unease shot through him. It wasn’t Verdnt’s neat handwriting. The words were dark and crudely formed. He checked the signature. It was from his spy in Tarst.
“Read it out loud,” the General urged.
“Verdnt is dead.” The Presidente read the words again, hardly able to believe them.
“Forget him,” the General said. “What about the war? Is Koblan weakened, and primed for our attack?”
The Presidente read more. “Verdnt started the war, and our Dehrien puppet joined the cause, as expected. But…”
“But what?” The General strode over and tried to grab the paper.
The Presidente shot him a vicious glare and bared his teeth. The General lowered his hand. “Read it. I want to hear.”
The Presidente complied; mostly so he wouldn’t have to repeat it later.
The war ended in two hours. Rolbanis fought fiercely, and Methusal Maahr used kaavl to capture the Dehrien Chief. Rolbanis found one of Verdnt’s letters. It stated he wanted to stir up war between Rolban, Tarst, and Dehre. Zindedi was mentioned.
The Presidente pressed his palm to his forehead. “The fool!”
