Authors: Jennette Green
“Looks like I’ve caught the mysterious food burglar.” Behran’s voice, a shade of its old mocking tone, sent her spinning around. She almost choked on the food sliding down her throat. For a moment, she didn’t know what to say. They had barely spoken for several days. And his first words were annoying, as usual.
“I’m getting a snack. What are you doing here, Behran?” Defend and attack. Not much had changed. Strangely, though, she was glad they were speaking again.
He shrugged. “I’m hungry.”
Methusal approached the ledge that separated them. “Have a meat strip.”
“Thanks.” Accepting it, his gaze returned to her. His face was partly in the shadows, and his eyes were dark and unreadable. Silent seconds ticked by.
Feeling uncomfortable, Methusal crossed her arms. “Well?”
“Well, what?” The dancing shadows revealed a quirked brow.
“You’re staring at me. Why?”
He bit off a corner of the meat strip. “You okay now?”
“With what?”
“Losing to me and Goric.”
“I can accept losing to you. You’re really good.” It was the truth. Behran deserved her respect. “But I don’t understand how Goric got by us both. I never saw him reach the bluff.”
“Neither did I.”
“Where did you capture your two people?”
“The first one was halfway to the bluffs, and the second was a little further on.”
Three systems of movement had remained after Methusal had caught Daltha at the start of the course. “He hid on the plains, right in the beginning.” She gritted her teeth.
“Can you prove it?”
“Of course not.”
“Why do you think he hid?”
Although Methusal didn’t want to tell Behran about her unusual kaavl abilities, she could say a little. “I was tracking sounds of movement. Two sound systems stopped when I captured Daltha. Daltha was one. Goric must have been the other. After that, three remained—you, and the two people you captured later on.”
“Maybe you missed him.”
“You, too?”
“It is pretty suspicious,” he agreed. “Goric’s been at the Tri-level for all of the three years he’s lived here. He’s okay, but he’s not terrific.”
Tentatively, she asked, “Do you think he cheated?”
“It’s possible.”
“Would you go to Kitran with me and tell him the facts we do know?”
“Yes. If you’ll forgive all the rude comments I’ve given you over the last five years.”
Methusal went very still. She met his steady blue gaze. “I will. But only if you’ll forgive me, too.”
“Done.”
She smiled. “Truce, then.”
“Teasing isn’t the same as being rude, you know.”
“So that’s what you call it now?”
He grinned, but did not reply. After a moment he said, “If Goric is expelled, you’d go to the Inter-Community Games.”
“If Petr let me.”
“I’m surprised he hasn’t found another suspect yet.”
“I don’t think he’s looking for one. He has that note and the bloody knife, and apparently that’s all the proof he needs.”
“Pretty cynical. Have you found any new clues?”
“Yesterday I found a list Renn wrote…” Methusal stopped. All of a sudden, the tantalizing facts that kept slipping out of reach snapped into place. She breathed, “Renn didn’t write that note!”
“The note Petr found in your compartment?” Behran guessed.
“Yes.” Methusal couldn’t believe she’d missed the truth staring her in the face this whole time. “He couldn’t have written the note Petr found in my compartment. I’m surprised I didn’t notice it sooner.” She returned to the first topic. “Anyway, like I said, yesterday I found a list Renn wrote. Sims verified that it is Renn’s writing. But here’s what’s strange. The zero in the date on the note is completely different than the zero on the list!”
“Is that important?”
“Renn always wrote his zeroes with a slash through them. The note didn’t have a slash through the zero. And the note’s writing…it’s just not right. It’s smaller and cramped, like someone was trying to copy Renn’s handwriting. Renn’s handwriting is taller and more angular.”
“Show Petr. See what he says.”
“I’ll take Sims with me.” Methusal wanted a witness, and also someone to corroborate her facts. Excitement swelled within her. And better yet, hope.
“If Petr agrees you’re innocent, and if Goric is disqualified, then you can go to the Kaavl Games!”
Methusal shook her head. “I’m afraid to believe it. I’m afraid to hope.”
“Do you feel like you’re ready for it, if you can go?”
“I’ll need more practice. But I think so. What about you?”
Behran nodded. “I wish we knew more about the competition.”
“They’re at the Tri-level,” she pointed out. “If they were much better, they’d compete at the Bi-level, according to the
First Book of Kaavl
.” Mahre had laid out strict guidelines regarding the placement of contenders. A student was judged
according to his or her abilities. No one was allowed to compete
at an inappropriate skill level.
“True.”
Talking about the Bi-level reminded Methusal of Kitran’s new kaavl ideas. Cautiously, she said, “Do you plan to advance to the second level? You’re almost qualified now.”
An unexpected pause followed her query, as if Behran was giving serious thought to her question. Finally, he said, “I don’t know.”
Surprised, she said, “Why not?”
“I don’t know if I have what it takes.”
“What do you mean?”
He shrugged, and his face turned slightly, so the faint light revealed the troubled look in his eyes. “I’ve seen the future. And I’m not sure I like it.”
“How so?”
He leaned forward, so his elbows rested on the counter between them. Quietly, he said, “By the future, I mean Kitran. I could never be like him.”
Finally, Methusal understood. She and Behran were having the same doubts about climbing the kaavl ladder.
Time to be candid. “I can’t control my emotions like that, either. And I don’t want to.”
Behran’s brows flew up. “Then you know what I’m talking about?”
“Yes. But I don’t understand one thing—the
Book of Kaavl
doesn’t tell us to use emotional energy to improve in kaavl.”
“The
first
book doesn’t.”
“That’s the only book we have.”
“I know, but Kitran thinks he knows how to make that final jump to the Ultimate level—by using the power of emotion. He thinks it’s a key factor to quickly reach the second and first levels, too.”
“How do you know all of this?”
“He told me. He’s trying to achieve the Ultimate level right now.” Behran inclined closer. “And he’s discussed it with kaavl leaders in the other communities. They all agree with him.”
Methusal knew that Kitran stayed in close contact with other kaavl instructors—he had once been a messenger, and now kept up old friendships. He’d also become acquainted with Mentàll during that time. But she did wonder how Behran had learned all of this information. “Why did he tell you this?”
“I told him my doubts about advancing.”
Methusal’s mouth fell open. “Really? You mean you told him to his
face
you don’t want to be like him?”
A grin flashed in the shadowy light. “Not exactly. I used tact. That’s when he told me his philosophy.”
“So it’s only a theory?” Relief flooded her.
Behran nodded.
Could it be true, though? Was Kitran right about how to reach the fabled Ultimate level? Complete self-control, using every scrap of emotion to focus into kaavl, not to mention feeling no emotion…
Behran straightened. “I don’t think he wants this to become general knowledge yet. He wants to prove it first.”
Methusal wondered how Kitran could ever prove it. If the
Second Book of Kaavl
was destroyed, how could they ever know if it was the true path to the Ultimate level? But if it
wasn’t
destroyed… What a gift to kaavl that would be. And, she realized, what a source of power it could be for those communities which chose leaders based on kaavl abilities. With that book, someone could conceivably stay in power forever.
“I won’t say anything,” she promised. But it seemed clear that she wouldn’t be able to climb to higher kaavl levels unless she focused her emotional energy like Kitran taught. He believed his theory was the only way to advance, so he wouldn’t allow anyone to pass who didn’t practice it.
Behran interrupted her troubled thoughts. “I’m supposed
to blow out the lights downstairs. Want to help?”
“Sure.” Methusal was more than happy to move on to a new subject. Her favorite occupation was creating a problem in her otherwise focused life. And that was the crux of her dilemma. Because for the last five years, kaavl had been her only focus in life.
“Let’s start with the lamps nearest the gate,” Behran suggested a few moments later, when they reached the Great Hall.
That made sense. By extinguishing the lights in order—farthest away to nearest—they wouldn’t have to retreat from the hall in total darkness.
“I’ll do the left side,” she offered.
A strong, cool night breeze swept through the cave. It swirled and eddied, and caused the flames to flicker against the rough stone walls. Ahead the shining, crisscrossed bars of the gates were etched in silver against the black night. The huge ceremonial sword had been thrust sideways through the center—a warning to past and present enemies. Methusal imagined the wild beasts roaming beyond, and a shiver slipped down her spine.
The faint moan of the wind grew louder as she drew closer to the gates. Quickly, she blew out the first lamp. The noise was eerie, and sounded exactly like someone whimpering in pain.
Turning, Methusal bumped her way behind the dark recliners to the next lamp, but an unexpected obstruction in her path made her trip. She clutched at the wall but that didn’t help, and she sprawled with an undignified “Ooof!” just beyond the huddled person. And a person it was, hunched over and knees drawn to their chin, and apparently the source of the whimpering. The person did not look up, even after that rude jostling.
“Are you okay?” Behran had already finished dousing the lights on his side of the cave.
“Someone’s here! Hurt, I think.” Methusal paid no attention to her bruised elbows and knees and sat up, peering at the unknown soul, who was shrouded in shadows. In a heartbeat, Behran knelt by her side.
“Who is it?”
Methusal touched the person’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”
The sobs grew louder.
“Should we call a doctor?” Behran sounded worried.
“No!” the figure choked out.
Methusal knew that voice. “Deccia?”
The sobs came even harder.
“Deccia, what’s wrong?”
“Oh, Thusa!” her sister wailed. Methusal hugged her tight.
“What happened?”
Deccia’s sobs slowly quieted and she pulled away, visibly trying to collect herself. “I’m okay,” she gulped.
“What happened?” Behran said.
Deccia turned to Methusal, and whispered, “Father won’t let me see Timaeus again!”
“What?” Methusal was confused. “Did something happen? Did Timaeus ask you out?”
“Not…not officially.” Deccia sniffed, and wiped her eyes. “But he’s going to Tarst tomorrow. Remember?”
“Yes.”
“Well, he asked if I would spend the afternoon with him when he gets back. We were going to hi….hike!” Fresh tears erupted. “But Father found out. I don’t know how.”
Instant indignation bubbled. “He
forbade
you to see Timaeus?”
“No. That was later.”
This wasn’t making much sense. “So what exactly happened?”
Deccia pushed a shaky hand across her eyes. “This didn’t start off about Timaeus at all. It’s about the thief, and what we were talking about earlier—about Renn’s list of stolen things. I saw…”
“Wait!” Behran interrupted. “What list? And what about Renn?”
Methusal explained, “He wrote a list of every item that’s been stolen in Rolban. He might have been investigating the thefts before he was murdered.
“Really.” This idea seemed to take him by surprise, for he fell silent.
“Go on,” Methusal urged her twin. “What happened tonight? Did you see something suspicious?”
“Yes. But Father found Aali and me hiding in the garment
room and demanded to know what we were doing. I said we were trying to catch the thief.”
Methusal was surprised. She’d been planning on staking out the garment room tonight. Deccia and Aali had beaten her to it. “I’m sure he loved that.”
“Oh yes,” Deccia murmured bitterly. “But I couldn’t lie.”
“I know. What happened then?”
“Before or after Father caught us?” An uncharacteristic edge bit through her voice.
“Before. Did you see the thief?”
“Almost. Aali convinced me that if the thief planned to steal again, it would be from the garment room. That hall is deserted at night. No one would see him stealing, like they would if he tried to sneak out of the kitchen.”
“And it couldn’t be the supply room, since that has a lock now,” Methusal agreed. “Too bad we don’t have another lock for the garment room.”
“Right.” Deccia drew a deep breath. “And I had a strange hunch that something would happen tonight. So Aali and I hid in the garment room, and
someone came in!”
“Who?” Behran said.
“We couldn’t tell. It was too dark—we think he blew out several lights in the hall. We saw his dark silhouette, and then he slipped into the room. He left the door open a crack so he could see—and it was a man, like you said, Thusa, because he was big—but we couldn’t make out his face at all. Then we heard footsteps in the hall, and the man ran and hid in one of the dressing chambers. That’s when Father came in—maybe he saw the door ajar and wondered about it. He lit the lamp and that’s when he saw us, hidden behind the garment bins.” For a second, Deccia’s tone sounded dryly morose.
“He stared at us like he couldn’t believe his eyes. Then, without saying a word, he dragged us out and marched us back to our compartment. I tried to tell him what we’d seen, but he wouldn’t listen. He shouted that I’m supposed to be a role model…” gulping sobs came again, “and how I can’t see Timaeus again until I prove I can act like an adult.”