Kaavl Conspiracy (27 page)

Behran, as usual, cut straight to the point. “I saw Goric two times on the course; at the beginning, and at the end. Both times were near the finishing plateau. I didn’t hear or see him anywhere else on the course. And I didn’t see him reach the far bluffs.”

“That’s a serious charge.” Kitran’s brow lowered. “I hope you have proof, or you’ll both be disciplined for slander.”

“Behran hasn’t slandered,” Methusal said. “He just reported what he saw and what he didn’t see.”

“All right. What did you see, Methusal?” Warning darkened his tone.

Methusal heaved a breath. Carefully, she explained how she had tracked systems of movement during the game. By that proof, Goric had hidden at the beginning of the race. “Also, like Behran, I only saw him at the beginning and end of the race. I never saw him reach the bluffs. I’d like to know if anyone saw that.”

“You’re telling me that you can track five systems of movement simultaneously.”

“Not exactly.” Methusal wasn’t sure why, but she still didn’t want anyone to know about her unusual kaavl skills—that she could hear clearly at all distances, and carry with hearing, too. For one thing, Behran was still a potential competitor. For another, Kitran might be one day, too. “I can track three systems at a time—sometimes. And I can track from one to another pretty fast.” She didn’t mention that she could have heard Goric reach the far bluff even if she’d still remained at the beginning of the course.

Kitran’s eyes narrowed. Did he suspect her unusual abilities? Had she let too much slip?

“So you’re saying there’s no chance he slipped by you, and ran out of range while you captured Daltha?”

She could say “none,” but that would sound arrogant, and it would feed Kitran’s suspicions. Instead, she said, “Unlikely. Especially since Behran didn’t see or hear him, either. And Behran was further along the course at that time.”

Kitran’s frown deepened. “I don’t like this. I don’t like unfounded accusations, and I don’t like questioning the final ruling of the game.”

“Maybe in the future we should station a judge at the far bluffs. Each person might need to grab a halfway kaavl strip, too. Then we’ll be sure this never happens again.”

“You haven’t established that it
has
happened!” Kitran exploded. “You’ve brought me no proof—just conjecture. Behran, I’d like to speak to Methusal alone.”

“Thank you, Behran.” Methusal watched him exit.

Kitran had visibly reigned in his temper during the small amount of time it took for Behran to close the door. Anger still simmered in his dark eyes, however, and Methusal felt uneasy.

“Methusal, you walk the edge too often. You’re accused of thefts and murder, you daydream in class, disobey Petr, and get thrown into prison. Again and again I’ve stood up for you. And now you’re accusing another player of cheating. Why should I side with you again?”

Put that way, she did sound pretty awful. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a problem,” she said in a small voice. “I was wrong to daydream, and disobey Petr. I’ve told you that before. But I didn’t kill Renn. Surely you know that.”

“I believe it, for good or bad. Maybe that’s the problem, Methusal, I believe too much in your kaavl abilities, and I’m blind to your lack of discipline.”

“Then why did you let me play in the Games?”

“I thought you’d learned your lesson. Now I’m not so sure.”

Despair pricked at her. “Is it wrong to stand up for myself? Is it wrong to want justice? Petr has already convicted me in his mind. So has Liem. And I’m convinced Goric won unfairly. I won’t take it lying down. I’ve learned that if I don’t stand up for myself, no one else will.”

Amusement flickered. “And there’s the fire.” He shook his head. “Of course it’s not wrong to stand up for yourself. As far as kaavl, you could be great, Methusal. If only you’d learn how to harness your emotions and your talent. One day, your kaavl could far outshine almost anyone on the planet.”

Astonished, she said, “You really believe that?”

“I’m not the only one. Who do you think convinced Petr to release you from prison, just so he could watch you in the Kaavl Games?”

“Who?”

“Mentàll Solboshn.”

“
No.
” Disbelief gripped her.

“Yes. While he was here, I told him all about your kaavl abilities—at least the skills you’ve told me about.” Kitran smiled a little, and Methusal knew then that he suspected her hidden kaavl talents. “He wanted to see for himself if it was true.”

“Why?”

“Maybe to see his future competition? Or maybe because he was curious.”

Methusal believed the curiosity part. She didn’t think the Dehrien Chief would ever condescend to consider her an equal threat on any playing field.

“So that’s the pressure Petr meant.” It disturbed her to know that the Dehrien had been instrumental in both her release from jail and her participation in the Tri-level. She didn’t believe he’d helped her out of the kindness of his heart. No. She didn’t trust the Dehrien one handbreadth. From the little she knew about him, she guessed his every move was calculated. Calculated to benefit only himself.

“I’m sorry I didn’t meet your expectations,” she told Kitran.

“You performed well.”

Boldly, she asked, “Did you see Goric run the course, or reach the far bluffs?”

He frowned. “No. I thought he’d been captured at the beginning. Then, when I saw him sprinting for the finish, I realized he must have slipped through the course under cover of the bushes.”

“I want the truth to come out,” Methusal said. “If Goric beat me, then fine. But if he didn’t, I want the second place spot. I want to go to the Inter-Community Games, and I want to be able to advance to the Bi-level next year if I progress well.”

“I know you do.” Kitran pressed his fingertips together. He fell silent for a while. “All right, Methusal. One last time, I’ll take your side. You and Goric will face off against each other tomorrow afternoon. Same conditions. Winner earns the right to second place, and a trip to the Inter-Community Games.”

“Kitran!” She leaped for joy. “Thank you so much!”

“Keep it quiet to prevent gossip. Behran will help judge. I’ll station him at the bluffs.”

“Okay.”

“Noon sharp, during lunch,” he ordered. “And I’ll okay it with Petr.”

Methusal couldn’t believe her good luck. A match-off with Goric! What could be better? She’d tell Behran later that evening.

* * * * *

Methusal sailed through the rest of the day in a sunny mood. Now, if only she could beat Goric. And if only she could convince Petr that she was innocent. She had a plan for tonight that just might accomplish that goal.

Her good mood only faltered when she entered the dining room that evening and saw Matron Olgith in the kitchen. Doing triple duty today. The evening supervisor must be sick.

As she feared, the meal displayed the characteristic lack of imagination that was Matron Olgith’s hallmark. Meat baked until all the juices ran dry, and a thick, porridge-like side dish that was mixed with cut up logne leaves. It looked tough and tasteless, and quickly lived up to the expectation.

“Ugh!” Methusal wrinkled her nose after tasting the porridge. She wished Matron Olgith wasn’t Petr’s aunt. Otherwise, she’d have lost the important kitchen supervisor job long ago.

Erl sat beside his daughter. “Be grateful, Methusal. At least we have food to eat.”

She could argue that usually it was edible. But she held her tongue and ate quietly, listening with half an ear to her parents’ low conversation. Erl seemed to be trying to placate Hanuh, who looked quietly troubled.

“I know, Erl. I just feel on edge, like something dreadful is about to happen.”

Hanuh’s words made Methusal remember being poked in the back this morning, and almost falling down the stairs. Surely it had been an accident. And yet her mother had had the premonition that she would be in danger. Was it coming true now? Was someone trying to kill her?

“Maybe you should go to bed early tonight,” Erl told Hanuh. “Get some rest.”

Behran slid in across from Methusal. “I forgot to ask you. Did you talk to Deccia?” His voice was low. “How is she doing?”

“Okay. Petr’s punishing her as an example to Aali.”

Behran shook his head. “Poor kid.”

Methusal’s eyes narrowed at the “kid” reference, since she was Deccia’s exact age, but chose to ignore the remark. Instead, she told him about her rematch with Goric. “Kitran wants you to help judge. Noon sharp.”

“So you convinced him to help you.” Behran looked amused.

“Why are you smirking?”

“You have him wrapped around your little finger.”

“Excuse me?” She raised an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting Kitran has inappropriate feelings for me?”

“No. I’m suggesting you’re his favorite student, and you can get away with murder. Not literally,” he added hastily, when she glared.

Methusal swallowed back a retort. Kitran was right. She definitely
needed to work on discipline and controlling her temper.

After chewing on gristly meat for a few moments, she told him, “I think Deccia and Aali were on the right track last night. Do you know if the Dehrien runner, Ludst Lst, came today?”

“I saw him. He left about noon.”

And he might hang around outside until later tonight, waiting for the thief to drop more stolen items into the ravine.

She smiled. “Good.”

Eyes narrowed, Behran leaned toward her. “What are you plotting?”

Her grin widened. Finally, she might get her life back and catch Renn’s murderer at the same time. “The thief might strike again tonight.”

“Okay. And that’s important because…” Behran continued to eye her suspiciously.

Another person would be a definite help. She leaned forward and whispered, “I’ll tell you after supper. Downstairs, in the Great Hall.”

“All right.” He had to be satisfied with that.

They fell silent, quickly stuffing the tasteless porridge into their mouths, but Methusal continued to try to work out the finer points of her plan.

Her parents left a little later. Both were frowning now.

“Look!” Behran signaled for her attention.

Methusal glanced over and spotted Deccia sitting at the Storst table with Aalicaa and Petr. So, she wasn’t banished to her room any longer. That was good news, at least. A few tables over, Sims caught her attention. He was sitting at a table all by himself.

Surely he didn’t always eat alone. The idea disturbed her. Why hadn’t she noticed before? Maybe she should invite him to eat at their table.

* * * * *

Perched on the edge of a wooden recliner downstairs, Methusal waited impatiently for Behran to arrive. The sooner they set her plan in motion, the better. Maybe tonight they’d catch the thief.

Where could Behran be? Feeling fidgety, she leaped to her feet and paced the length of the long, deserted hall.

“Thusa!” The hiss came from behind her.

By now she was so agitated that she grabbed Behran by the sleeve and pulled him into the middle of the hall. No one would overhear them there—if indeed someone was hiding nearby. Although that was unlikely, it seemed foolish to take chances.

“What is it?” Behran sounded impatient. His tone both surprised and irritated her. “Hurry up, Thusa. I don’t have time for childish pranks.”

Childish pranks! Her cheeks flamed. “Maybe I don’t need your help after all!” Why did he always act like such a whip? Just when she’d thought they were getting along. And he had made her lose her temper again.

“All right!” he said, hastily catching her arm before she spun on her heel. “Tell me. I’m listening.”

She frowned. “I hope you’re serious, because this is not a game.”

“Okay.”

“Here’s my plan. I think the thief will steal something tonight—especially since he wasn’t able to last night.”

“Maybe.”

“So,” she went on, ignoring his dampening tone, “we need to lay a trap like Deccia and Aali did last night. Only we’ll split up and cover more ground than they did. I’ll hide in the garment room, and you can cover the kitchen.”

“How will you see the thief? He might blow out the lights in the hall again. And the garment room will be dark.”

“I don’t know. I’ll work that out.”

“What if the thief catches you? Remember, he’s probably the murderer, too. If he’s cornered, he might kill you. And besides that, how long are we supposed to keep watch? I have to go to work in the morning.”

Methusal felt a swell of irritation at his nitpicking. “
I’ll
wait all night if I have to. Why did you come down here, if all you want to do is criticize?”

A short silence elapsed. “I’m worried, Thusa. Maybe Petr’s right. This is dangerous. You could get hurt.”

His concern mollified her. “My life is already in danger. I could be executed, remember. Please, Behran will you help? I need to find Renn’s killer.”

“Promise to be careful. Hanuh must have a knife in the garment room. Grab one for protection.”

“You do the same.”

They decided that Behran would position himself in the dining room after lights out, but Methusal would go hide now, since the garment room was already closed for the evening.

“Good luck,” Behran said at the top of the stairs. “And be careful,” he muttered softly. Concern darkened his eyes.

“I will.” She smiled. “Good luck to you, too.”

The back halls were deserted, so Methusal was able to slip unnoticed into the dark garment room. Carefully, she made her way to the far back corner, where bits of leather dangled over several tables, ready to be sewn together in the morning. The thief wouldn’t steal these long, narrow pieces, she reasoned. Instead, he’d probably steal the freshly cured apte pelts hanging to dry on the wall near the door. They were small and easily hidden, but provided a lot of leather.

She found a knife on the work table and crouched in the corner under the largest table, partly shielded by strips of dangling leather. Even if the lamp was lit, the thief probably wouldn’t spot her.