gasped softly. “How awful! Don’t they have a wall, or any protection?”
“One wall is partway done. Word is, Tarst is giving them access to their pack beasts and their lower timberline. That’s all in exchange for half the logs the Dehriens harvest, plus wild beast oil.”
The oil glands of the wild beasts produced a pure, nonsmoking flame for Rolban’s lamps, too. The slow burning oil was highly prized, and difficult to obtain, because Rolbani hunters hated to hunt the dangerous wild beasts.
Methusal said, “Does Dehre already have an Alliance with Tarst?”
“If they do, it’s informal. It’s probably like the arrangement we have with Tarst now. But Dehre’s main need is food. I think that’s the reason why Mentàll is pushing so hard for the Alliance with Rolban. With Tarst, too.”
Methusal wondered if Rolban had enough food to trade away to their potential allies. From her brief stop in the supply room two days ago, provisions looked low.
Deccia at last spoke quietly, “Mentàll Solboshn is their Chief?”
When Timaeus smiled at her, a faint blush crept up her cheeks. “Yes. He’s coming here tomorrow. In fact,” he glanced upward at the pale sunlight streaming through the ceiling cracks, “I need to ask Erl if he has another missive ready for Dehre. If I leave now, I can be back with Mentàll’s response by tonight.”
He stood, and Behran did, too. “I need to get to work,” he explained. Both cleared their places at the table and with a word of farewell, left the girls.
Aali fluttered her eyelashes at Deccia. “Oh my, ” she said in a breathy voice. “Timaeus can run all the way to Dehre and back in one day! ” With a dramatic hand to her forehead, she pretended to swoon.
Deccia rolled her eyes. “Finish your breakfast. It’s almost time for class.”
“But he’s so strong and dashing, ” Aali gasped. “Don’t you just want…”
“Aali!” Red colored Deccia’s face, and she cast a furtive glance at the archway through which Timaeus had exited. “Stop it.”
With a grin, Aali spooned up a glob of cereal. “You love him. You know you do.” Her voice was smug, as only a thirteen-year-old’s could be. Boys weren’t anything to waste time on, as far as she was concerned.
Deccia didn’t answer, but a frown pulled at her brows.
“He smiled at you,” Methusal encouraged.
“Maybe he loves you,” Aali suggested. Sing-song, she said, “Deccia and Timaeus, strolling down the hall…”
Deccia swatted her arm.
“Ouch!” Aali grinned, and slurped tagma juice.
“You know Father doesn’t like it when you do that.”
“Father isn’t here.” But she whipped an uncertain glance over her shoulder. Her next sip was quiet.
Deccia changed the subject. “Thusa, have you decided on your job yet?”
“No.”
“Old Sims needs a new assistant.”
Aalicaa pulled a gruesome face, doubtless remembering poor Renn.
“I know.” A weight settled in Methusal’s heart as she thought about Renn’s death again. Not to mention the threat of prison and possible execution hanging over her own head. Even so, she would decide on a job today, even though she’d rather continue to put it off. Barak was becoming impatient, and she didn’t want his volatile temper unleashed upon her. She could only handle so many problems at one time.
“Everyone else decided months ago. What’s taking you so long?” Deccia asked gently.
“I’ve had a lot on my mind.”
“You mean all you’ve cared about is making the Tri-level. Now you have your chance to beat Behran.”
Unexpected tears stung Methusal’s eyes. She blinked them back. “If I get to play.”
“What do you mean?”
Apparently, Deccia hadn’t heard the full story. Methusal explained Petr’s threat to throw her out of the Kaavl Games.
“I’m so sorry.” Deccia looked shocked.
“Father is so mean!”
“Thusa, that’s horrible. I’ll speak to him, and try to make him see reason.”
“Thank you. But we both