Kaavl Conspiracy (45 page)

A low murmur broke out. The scene before her looked
frozen. Dehriens and Rolbanis alike stood motionless, staring
at Mentàll.

Erl Maahr stepped forward. “It is clear you’ve violated the Alliance, Mentàll. We will not honor your new treaty.”

“Oh, but you are mistaken, honorable Erl Maahr. I have not violated the Alliance. Verdnt started the war. That is regrettable. He is a traitor to both you and me.”

Verdnt stared at the Dehrien Chief. His expression was difficult to read. Was it contemptuous? Victorious?

The Dehrien Chief smoothly continued, “I have killed no one. What is more, the Alliance and the new treaty together give me complete legal power to take over Rolban.”

“We’re not honoring a treaty giving you power over Rolban!” Petr Storst roared from the Grand Staircase.

“Then perhaps you will explain to your fellow citizens why you agreed to give me that power, Petr.”

“I agreed to no such thing, Mentàll! You twist my words.” The Rolbani Chief thrust forward, struggling to descend to the Great Hall.

“Stay where you are, Petr.” Mentàll’s voice sounded deadly. “I am prepared to kill Aalicaa, Methusal, and the old man, one by one, should it prove necessary.”

“We won’t stand for this!” Barak strode forward, fists clenched. “Is this the way you win wars? Threatening the lives of women and children?” He spat in contempt. “That is what I think of you. You are not a man at all.”

Methusal felt the sudden rage that tensed her captor. “Stay where you are!” he snarled. To her surprise, the hand holding her wrists loosened for a split second. In that instant she wrenched her wrists free—a childhood defensive move, long forgotten, and yet still automatic. As was her next move.

Quicker than thought, she reached over her head and grasped Mentàll’s wide right shoulder and the sleeve of his tunic. Then she rolled her right shoulder forward, while at the same time bending forward at the waist. The noble Dehrien Chief flipped over her shoulder and landed on his back with a guttural “Ooooooph!”

Instant chaos erupted,
and Rolbanis surged down into the Great Hall.

Methusal found herself lashing a kaavl strip around the gasping Mentàll’s wrists, and another about his feet. A rush
came behind her, and then the prick of a knife. Just as suddenly
it fell away. She spun to find Behran slugging it out with a cold-faced Dehrien.

To the side, she spotted Deccia clinging to Verdnt’s back, who still held Aalicaa captive. Her good arm was wrapped around his neck, trying to choke him. Even as she watched, his grip loosened and her gritty cousin broke free and spun around to pummel him with her fists. He whipped out a knife, and Methusal gasped in horror.

The next moment seemed to pass in slow motion. Aali’s mouth formed an “O” of horror, Verdnt’s blade arched up…and then Timaeus dove in and threw his hunting blade through the teacher’s heart. Verdnt’s eyes bugged out, and he crumpled to the ground.

Aali stared in horror, and burst into tears. Deccia staggered around her instructor and pulled Aali into a hug. The hug included Timaeus, too, when he’d staggered to his feet.

Methusal felt numb. Frozen. She’d never seen anyone killed before. Even though Verdnt deserved to die for killing Renn and Liem, the finality of it—the violence of it—the ending of a life seemed too awful to comprehend.

Old Sims was free now, too; tossed aside by an unknown Dehrien. Methusal glanced around, wondering what to do next, and then she heard a hoarse shout. All of the Dehriens fled for the gate, chased by knife wielding Rolbanis. Barak led the pack.

“Out!” He roared, and others picked up the furious cry.

The hall was clear of Dehriens within seconds, except for Verdnt and the bound Dehrien Chief, who had gained his feet. Barak shoved him back onto his knees, and then pushed him down to the floor. “Spin all the pretty speeches you want,” he growled, and raised his sword. “You plotted war. Now you will die.”

Horror seized Methusal at the thought of seeing the Dehrien Chief murdered in cold blood, right before her eyes. Wasn’t Verdnt’s death enough? Hadn’t Mahre said the strongest should show the greatest mercy?

Barak lifted his sword higher, readying for the plunge.

“Barak, no! Stop,” she cried out.

Barak hesitated.

“He’s defeated. That humiliation alone will kill his pride a thousand times every day.”

“She’s right,” Erl agreed. “Throw him out. Never return, Mentàll.”

Barak hauled Mentàll to his feet, his arms still tied behind
him. The Dehrien held himself erect, holding onto his tattered pride. His smoking, furious glare seared into Methusal. He didn’t look grateful that she’d just saved his life. No. If looks alone could kill, she’d be dead right now.

She suppressed an involuntary shiver, and returned glare for glare, refusing to reveal her fear. She felt compelled to speak. “You’ve lost, Mentàll. But your life has been spared. Don’t forget the words of the Prophet, ‘Those who live by the sword…’”

“You will not instruct
me,
Methusal,” he spat.

“Can anyone instruct you? Or are you so prideful that you think you are above The One?”

“You will pay, Methusal. One day you will
pay!
” he snarled. “You can be sure of it.”

A chill slid down her spine. He hated her. And he would do what he promised, if given the chance. He’d kill her…or worse. She had earned an enemy for life. “You don’t scare me.” A blatant lie, and they both knew it.

He bared his teeth at her. “Then you are a fool.”

“Throw him out, Barak,” Erl ordered.

“If you return, we won’t treat you so kindly,” Petr said harshly. “Our guards will kill you on sight.”

Barak dragged Mentàll to the gate and gave him a mighty shove, so the Dehrien fell to his knees. Barak kicked dirt at him. “Eat dust, like the whip beast you are.”

The other Dehriens rushed to help him up, but the Dehrien Chief raised a hand, stopping them.

Standing beside Deccia, Timaeus murmured, “‘For everyone
who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.’” Methusal had never heard that saying before, but it was certainly appropriate for the situation.

Rolban’s gates clanged shut.

* * * * *

Hendra limped around the corner, toward the Rolbani mountain community. Her knee hurt more with each step. For a while now, she’d heard the screams of the wounded. Her heart bled with guilt and misery. It was all her fault. She’d waited too long. If only she had told Behran and Methusal her suspicions when they’d been in Dehre. Then none of this would have happened.

She turned the corner and saw a sight she couldn’t believe. A group of Dehriens milled around outside the gate, and a blond giant of a man lay sprawled in the dirt. Mentàll!

She almost ran forward, but stopped herself. He would not want to see her. But what if he was dead?

Hendra ran closer, ignoring the pain in her knee. Her steps slowed when she saw her cousin’s large frame shift. He climbed to his feet. He seemed to be tied up, and Tabor, his second-in-command, sawed the cords free.

Mentàll shuddered with clear fury. He lunged forward and shook the gates of Rolban with all of his considerable strength. The ancient bars actually rattled, and Hendra shrank back. Never before had she seen him lose control of his temper.

Footsteps whispered behind her, and she spun. Kitran and the Quatr-levelers had finally arrived.

The Rolbanis inside the mountain must have seen the kaavl players, too, for a giant, dark-haired man bellowed, “Back!” and poked a sword through the gate, perilously close to Mentàll’s chest. Her cousin backed up, his nostrils flaring. Rage stained his cheeks red. He flicked a glance over his shoulder and saw the newly arrived Rolbanis. Lips contorted in a vicious snarl, he took one step backward, allowing them to pass. As he did so, his gaze veered to Hendra, as if sensing her presence. His gaze clashed with hers, and Hendra trembled with what she saw there. Condemnation and fury…and dismissal. She had betrayed him. Now Mentàll hated her. He would throw her out of her home forever.

Tears gathered in her eyes. She deserved it. The Alliance was dead, and it was her fault. She should have spoken up sooner. How many people would now starve in Dehre? How many children?

Tears burned her eyes, and Hendra crossed her arms, hugging them to herself. She had lost the last member of her family. Not only that, but she had betrayed her friendship with Behran, too, by not speaking up soon enough. She was a failure to both Dehre and Rolban.

Never had she felt so alone. She did not belong with the Dehriens anymore. She glanced at the locked gate. And she
did not belong with the Rolbanis. She belonged exactly nowhere.

* * * * *

Barak hustled Kitran, Lina, and Retra inside and the gates clanged shut. The three looked stunned and confused.

“What happened?” Kitran demanded. “Hendra warned me something was wrong. We came at first light.”

Erl gave a weary head shake. “The Dehriens just tried to take Rolban by force. Thanks to some quick thinking by our young people, we were able to hold them off.”

Everyone took a deep breath and looked around, coming to grips with the battle and their sudden victory. Moans sounded from upstairs. Now to tend to the wounded, and to free the remaining captives in the dining hall. Most people turned and stumbled for the stairs. Methusal followed, but a sudden movement and expletive beyond the gates sent her spinning around.

Hands and feet now untied, the Dehrien Chief towered behind the gate, his face apoplectic. A sheaf of parchment leaves shook from his hand. “I have a treaty here, Rolban! Honor it, or start a war! Tell them, Petr and Kitran.”

Erl Maahr turned slowly, acknowledging the outburst. He glanced from Petr to Kitran. “He’s mentioned this before. What treaty is he talking about?”

Both looked uncomfortable. Petr sputtered, “He can’t be trusted. I never agreed to give him control over Rolban, whatever he says.”

“I’ll call a Council meeting,” Erl said. “Too much has happened in the last twelve hours for any of us to understand what is going on.”

“Nonsense!” Petr roared. “We owe him nothing. And contemplating his phony agreement is ridiculous! We’re not going to hand control of Rolban over to him!”

“No,” Erl agreed, “But I still want to understand what has happened. As Elder in Chief, I’m calling a Council meeting. I want you, Kitran, Methusal, Behran, Aalicaa, Deccia, Timaeus, Barak, and all the elders to meet me in the Council room in five minutes. Timaeus, go spread the word.”

“Yes, sir.” Timaeus sprinted off.

Erl Maahr turned to the livid Dehrien Chief. “We have no intention of honoring your treaty, Mentàll. But we will review it during our meeting, just to put closure on this whole incident.”

The fingers clutching the white parchment sheets convulsed. Mentàll smiled tightly. “By all means. I have Petr’s letter of authorization, too.”

Since Behran was closest to the gate, he accepted the papers from the Dehrien Chief. The look that passed from older man to younger, from Dehrien to former Dehrien could have cut through stone. Contempt was clear from Mentàll, and a grim unwillingness to back down from Behran. After a long moment, Behran turned his back on the Dehrien and gave the papers to Erl.

Methusal followed her father upstairs, and was startled to discover that she was shaking a little. She pressed her hands together to stop the trembles.

An arm squeezed suddenly around her shoulders. “You okay?” Behran’s gaze searched hers. Quick tears filled her
eyes, and she relaxed into his body, feeling some of the tension
drain away.

“Yes.” She gave a short, choked laugh. “But I can’t believ
e it’s over.”

“I know.” His voice was grim.

The two followed Erl, Petr, and the other elders into the overflowing Council room.

“A lot has happened in the last twelve hours.” Erl cast Petr a hard look. “Much needs to be explained.”

Petr looked pale. His great form crumpled into the Chief’s chair.

“Now,” Erl glanced around the packed room. Most Rolbani
s stood wedged in, shoulder to shoulder. “What are the facts?”

“Tell what you overheard, Thusa,” Behran spoke up. All attention turned to Methusal.

Behran’s arm, still tight around her shoulders, gave her a
feeling of calm and serenity, so the words fell clearly and easil
y from her lips. She told about Mentàll’s harassment, the three conversations she’d overheard, Petr’s letter of authorization, the second treaty, and discovering Verdnt to be a traitor. She never mentioned her extraordinary hearing.

“Is that true, Petr? Did you make an agreement with Mentàll without consulting this Council?” Erl’s voice sounded bleak and hard.

“I didn’t know he planned to trick us,” Petr blustered. “Maybe Methusal’s wrong. Maybe she misunderstood what
she heard. Kitran and I only wanted to put kaavl into Rolban’s
leadership. Mentàll is so advanced in kaavl that we thought he could teach us its benefits. We certainly never meant to give him real power in Rolban!”

A loud grumble accompanied this plea.

“You forget your letter of authorization,” Erl said harshly, looking up from the parchment. “This clearly states that you wanted to give Mentàll control over Rolban for three weeks while he taught you kaavl leadership. You also asked Pan to sign the second agreement.”

“Whip! And you gave him our seed grain!” Barak bellowed.
“Payment, right? That’s what the Dehrien said. Is that true?”

Petr’s face blanched. It almost matched his white beard. He said nothing.

Voice shaking, Kitran said, “I knew nothing about a letter
of authorization. Or the grain. I agreed with the second treaty, but I trusted Mentàll. I didn’t think he would try to take over Rolban.”

“Neither did I!” Petr’s bluster sounded half-hearted.

“You shouldn’t have written that letter,” Ben Amil returned angrily. “You know the elders don’t want kaavl incorporated into leadership. Conspiring against the majority vote was wrong, Petr.”

Erl raised his hand. “I’ll pass the parchments around the room. Let’s examine the documents and put an end to this whole affair.”

Behran’s warm, comforting arm dropped from Methusal’s shoulders. He moved closer to examine the parchments, too.

Apprehension flooded her again. What would happen now? What if the papers did give the Dehrien Chief legal control over Rolban? Surely her father and Petr wouldn’t give it to him!

“Why would Pan sign this thing without consulting with all of us first?” Erl muttered, after rereading a document. “I thought our relationship with the Tarst was better than this.
Would he take the word of Petr and Mentàll above all reason?”

“Papa.” He looked at Methusal, but didn’t seem to see her.

“Mentàll fooled him, just like he did Kitran and Petr. He won all of the Kaavl Games, and he’s charismatic, I guess. He’s Kaavl Master, and he convinced them he’s the best leader in the land. Not only that, but he claims he knows the secret to achieving the Ultimate level.”

Erl Maahr stilled. “Does he?”

“I don’t think so. The things he teaches seem to contradict
the
First Book of Kaavl
.”

Erl read the final parchment and passed the treaty on to Kitran. “We’ll need to go downstairs and speak to Mentàll,” he said in a quiet voice.

Fear flared. “Why, Papa?”

“The documents are legal. I need to address a few issues with the Dehrien. Now.”

“But…” Methusal and the others followed him down to the Great Hall, where Mentàll still stood outside. His demeanor looked calmer now, but Methusal wasn’t fooled.