Lord of the White Hell Book One

Chapter Five

Fedeles rushed ahead of them, opening doors and singing the names of horses triumphantly.

When they reached their room, Fedeles lingered outside the open door and then at last scampered away.

"Is he going to be all right?" Kiram asked as Javier lowered him to his own bed.

"Fedeles? He'll be fine. He's got his room all to himself tonight and he's gotten out of his treatments for another day."

"But I think something's wrong." It hurt his entire face to speak. The gash in his cheek throbbed and his head ached. "This afternoon he asked me to help him."

"He gets that way when he misses his treatments. He hates them, but if he goes more than a month between treatments he becomes agitated and then delusional. He starts seeing things and hearing things that aren't there."

"He said something about someone hurting Firaj, I think." The earlier conversation seemed muddled and confused as he tried to recall it. Kiram sagged back into his mattress. A dizzy, whirling sensation engulfed him each time he closed his eyes.

"Here." Javier lifted his head and propped a pillow under him. His hands felt warm. "Don't fall asleep just yet, all right?"

"Why not?"

"Well, I've got you talking to me for the first time in two weeks. I'd rather it not end too quickly." Javier left briefly, then returned to Kiram's bedside with the basin of water and a washcloth. "You really don't know the first thing about fighting, do you?"

"I know that a quick fist is the first sign of a slow wit."

This elicited a laugh from Javier. Very gently, he washed the blood from Kiram's nose and mouth. Kiram hissed in pain as Javier began to clean the cut across his left cheek.

Javier leaned closer, examining the wound. "This is really deep. Did he catch you with his signet ring?"

Kiram clenched his teeth as Javier continued to clean the cut. "He used his riding crop."

"He cropped you? God, he's a shit." Javier rinsed the blood out of the washcloth. "Maybe I should have killed him after all."

"I'm glad you didn't."

"Really?" Javier pressed the damp washcloth lightly against Kiram's cheek.

"Murder is a profane act." Kiram found it distracting to have Javier so near him. His attention kept straying to the faint shadow of stubble along Javier's jaw and the woody scent of his skin. "It would have injured your soul to kill him when he begged you for mercy."

"I have no soul to injure," Javier replied easily.

"Yes you do." Kiram couldn't help his annoyance. He was so tired of way Cadeleonian beliefs stripped the soul from anyone or anything they pleased. "Every living thing has a soul. Trees, birds, dogs, cats. Even demons-and I don't believe that you are one-but even if you were, you would still have a soul. You aren't a piece of furniture or a rock, you're just an egotist and maybe a bit of a flirt-I haven't decided yet. But you definitely have a soul."

"I'm not sure if I should be offended or comforted by that pronouncement of yours."

"You should just believe me," Kiram said and he realized that the pain was making him short tempered. Still, he added, "I'm sorry, but in this matter your religion is simply wrong."

"And you say I'm an egotist." Javier's smile widened. It wasn't the same smile that Kiram had seen him give Genimo in the stable. There was nothing sharp or cruel about his countenance now. His touch was gentle, almost caressing.

"You'll have a scar from this, I think." Javier poured salve from a glass jar and worked it between his fingers.

"It won't be my first." Kiram tried to sound casual about it. His mother was going to be horrified when she saw it. "I have another scar."

"One other?" Carefully Javier spread the warmed salve over Kiram's wounded cheek. It smelled astringent but dulled the pain almost immediately. For an instant Kiram wondered at the lucky coincidence that Javier would have such a salve ready at hand. Then he remembered the countless nicks and grazes that had scored Javier's pale body, the raw red scar that ran up his wrist, and the huge curling crest burned into his right shoulder. Obviously the life he led required such a salve, if not something much stronger.

"I'm a scholar from a good home," Kiram responded. "How many scars could I possibly have gotten?"

"Well, one obviously." Javier glanced over Kiram's body curiously. "Somewhere."

"Here." Kiram offered his right hand for Javier's inspection. Javier gently spread Kiram's fingers apart then explored the tender expanses of his palm and wrist. The sensation made Kiram's entire body feel suddenly too warm.

"Are you talking about this little white line along the inside of your thumb?"

"Yes. I got it making candy with my mother. I cut my thumb while snipping taffy." Kiram felt a little embarrassed, but he had only been six years old.

"And that's really the only other scar you have?" Javier pushed the sleeve of Kiram's shirt up, inspecting the dark skin of his arm.

"I wouldn't have dared to get another," Kiram replied, but he was only half thinking about the conversation. "My mother made such a huge scene of just this one."

Javier seemed to come to some decision. "You should get out of this shirt. There's blood all down the front."

Kiram didn't move to stop Javier as he began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Your mother would hate to see this, I imagine." Javier paused, his hand resting over the last three buttons of Kiram's shirt, radiating warmth across Kiram's stomach. "All those letters you've been writing, they're to her, aren't they?"

Kiram nodded. Not only had the pain in his cheek faded but also he felt strangely languid. He wondered what had been in the salve that Javier had treated him with.

"And the rest of your family?" Javier looked almost troubled. "You're close with them?"

"Very. The letters are for the whole family," Kiram said, "but Mother loves to read them aloud. Whenever my brother Majdi writes she reads his letters at the evening meal and asks what people would like her to write back. Now I guess she's reading my letters, though I still haven't received a response."

As he spoke Kiram could see a kind of uneasiness come over Javier. He withdrew his hand from Kiram's stomach and straightened as if to rise from the bedside.

"What about your family?" Kiram grasped desperately for anything to say, just to keep Javier there beside him.

"Fedeles is all of the family I have left. There's Fedeles' father, but he isn't from the Tornesal bloodline."

"Just Fedeles?" Kiram couldn't imagine having only one cousin. He had over a dozen.

"We're a cursed lineage. Of course we've had our fair share of drunken idiots who rode off cliffs in the night as well. It certainly saves me the trouble of purchasing too many New Year gifts."

"I'm sorry." Kiram couldn't think of anything else to say. The thought of being so alone seemed heartbreaking to him.

Javier gave a flinty laugh.

"Be sorry for Fedeles if you must, but don't waste your pity on my account." Javier strode back to his bed and began pulling off his boots. "I control the white hell and rule Rauma. It's all worked out beautifully for me."

"Do you miss them?" Kiram asked.

"No," Javier replied but Kiram didn't believe him. The answer was too fast and too flat.

Javier set his boots aside and glanced back to Kiram. "Do you think you might be able to walk yet?"

"I don't know." The change of subject took Kiram a little off guard but he respected it.

"You should probably give it a try. See if you can make it down the hall to the toilet before the night warden gets up to our floor. It's going to hurt like hell when you first try to piss but do it anyway." Javier busied himself with the silver buttons of his jacket. "If there's blood, call me right away. I'll take you down to Scholar Donamillo and he'll treat you."

Kiram made the trip to the toilet and was relieved to discover his body still functioned properly. When he returned to the room, he found Javier had already washed and gone to bed. Only one oil lamp remained lighted. Kiram washed himself quickly and returned to his own bed.

"Good night," Kiram whispered to Javier.

"Good night," Javier replied softly. After a moment of silence he added, "Thank you for looking after Fedeles."

"It wasn't-" Kiram couldn't say that it wasn't any trouble. It had been. It had gotten him in the first fight of his life, but oddly he didn't regret it.

"It's just what friends do for each other," Kiram said at last.

"I suppose it is."

Kiram waited for him to add something more but there was only silence and the darkness of the night.