Kaavl Conspiracy, page 7
“Thusa, that’s horrible. I’ll speak to him, and try to make him see reason.”
“Thank you. But we both know Petr never changes his mind about anything.”
“Even so. I’ll talk to him later.”
“Kitran is the only one who can ban me from the Tri-Level Game,” Methusal said. “I’ll talk to him after class. Maybe he’ll choose to take my side.”
“We have to find the real murderer,” Aali spoke up. “Then Father will have to let you play.”
“No, Aali. We won’t do anything,” Methusal said at once. “I don’t want you involved. Someone’s already killed Renn. I’m sure he’d kill again if he feels threatened.”
“He wouldn’t catch me.”
“Is your kaavl that good?”
Aali flushed, as if embarrassed by a memory she didn’t want to share. “Mostly. But sometimes I get too focused on one detail.”
“Keep your focus moving all the time,” Methusal advised. “Try to concentrate on something different every few seconds.”
“Thusa!” Deccia hissed. “Stop. You know Father doesn’t want you to teach Aali kaavl precepts.”
Methusal couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Right now, she couldn’t care less what the close-minded Petr wanted. He was wrong about her part in Renn’s death, and according to her father, he was wrong about the Alliance, too. Denying Aali permission to pursue kaavl was wrong, too. At least, it was in her opinion.
“Why?” she asked her sister. “Because kaavl is a weapon of war? We’re not at war, in case Petr hasn’t noticed.”
“Thusa. Do you want to stay on his bad side? Especially now.”
Methusal sighed. “I’m sorry. But it’s so wrong! Petr loves kaavl. He’s at the Bi-level, and he wants to advance. How can he deny Aali the right to pursue it, too?”
Aali scowled, and Methusal felt sorry for her. However, she didn’t offer her cousin any more kaavl bits of wisdom.
“It seems to me,” Deccia said thoughtfully, “that we need to focus on one thing right now. Clearing your name. How can we do it?”
Her twin’s staunch support comforted her. “I want to try to break into the ore mine.”
Deccia gasped. “No. You’ll be arrested.”
“I have to try. I think the thief left my necklace in there. The mine is somehow tied into Renn’s death and the ore thefts. I need to figure out who has access to the mine. If I can’t break in, probably no one can. That means only someone with authorized access could have left my necklace inside. Renn’s murderer would be on that list.”
A frown still worried Deccia’s brow, but she said, “How can I help?”
Methusal leaned closer, “Do you know where the mine is?”
Aali leaned in, too. She whispered, “I do.”
Both Methusal and Deccia stared at her. Methusal spoke first. “How?”
A smug smile curved her lips. “Practicing kaavl. It’s easy to follow those guards. They’re not careful at all. Plus, I know all the passageways in this old mountain.”
“Can you show me where it is?”
“I could draw you a map. It’d be hard for two of us to get far without being noticed. Even though we could both easily get through the first door into the ore mine hall, after that, more passages branch off. Guards are posted at three different places in the halls.”
“Oh. Behran said there was only one guard.” Actually, he had said no such thing, Methusal realized. She’d misinterpreted his statement.
“One guards the door to the actual mine,” Aali agreed. “You can’t get past him.”
A new thought entered her mind. “Who are the guards? Maybe I could ask them who has access to the ore deposits.”
“Good idea. But I only know one, besides Renn. I sneaked past the middle one and didn’t see his face.”
Methusal waited. “Who’s the one you saw?”
Aali cast a sly glance at Deccia. “Timaeus. He guards when he’s not messengering.”
“I never knew that.” Deccia flushed. “I’ve seen him guard the entrance gate, but…”
In a sing-song voice, Aali lilted, “You looove him.”
“Aali, will you give me a map later?”
“Sure. And a key to the first door. You’ll need that. Luckily I know where my father keeps it.”
“Is there a guard on the first door?”
“Not anymore. Barak asked for more workers a while back. They probably think they have enough guards inside the hall, so they don’t guard the door with the lock.”
The brightness of the sun through the roof portals told them it was time to go. The three cleared their places, and Aali scampered off to her class.
“You know, Thusa, you never did say why you haven’t chosen a job yet. Is it because of kaavl?”
Methusal dumped her dirty dishes into the proper tub, now piled high with plates. “It seems silly now, especially since I may not be able to play at all.”
Her sister waited, her green eyes concerned.
Methusal bit her lip. “I don’t want a job to cut into my practice time. I’ve finally made the Tri-level, Deccia. I only have one chance to beat Behran. Is it selfish to want to focus on that? It probably is. It’s just that I’ve practiced so hard, for so long… If I can’t keep practicing hard, I’ll lose. And I can’t stand to think he’d win. I know that’s selfish. But I’m sick of him looking down on me. I don’t want it anymore.”
“Why don’t…”
“If I get an internship, I’d have to start work now. I want to wait until after the Game to start, that’s all.”
“Maybe they’d let you wait…”
“Sims needs help now. So does Barak. And look at you. You’re already working for Verdnt.”
“Part-time. Stop worrying. Just decide. I’m sure your supervisor will give you time to practice today and tomorrow.”
Deccia’s logic made sense. But even if her new supervisor did give her the time, she’d still have to practice inside, thanks to Petr. Practicing the hardest skills of integrating short and long distance kaavl while running would prove impossible.
Once out in the hall, they veered left and headed down the passageway where classes were held. When they slipped inside the classroom, Methusal noticed that Timaeus sat in the back of the class. Deccia noticed him, too, if her soft, indrawn breath was any indication. Erl had probably delayed the message to Dehre for an hour, so the runner could attend class. Timaeus, as well as all of the graduating students, was required to attend a general review class before graduation in two weeks. It was supposed to ensure that they hadn’t forgotten any of the basic math, reading, and writing skills they had learned over the last ten years. Of course they hadn’t, and usually little was accomplished in the class.
But this morning Methusal had a question for their teacher. It had been simmering in her brain ever since her parents’ fight last night. “I’ve heard about the Alliance. Will you tell us more about it?” Her teacher, Maxmil Verdnt, was on the Council, as was every man over the age of thirty. Plus, of course, he was running for Chief. So he should know all of the details.
Verdnt’s eyebrows shot up. Usually, the only time he could capture Methusal’s attention was when they discussed kaavl.
“I’m glad you brought that up.” He reached into the cubbyhole beneath the black slate writing board. “It’s an important issue. And one that will soon affect all of our lives.”
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.
