Lord of the White Hell book Two

Chapter Four

Faint morning light illuminated the bruises mottling Kiram's shoulder. Pain flared through his muscles as he rolled his arm experimentally. He'd run harder last night than he'd ever moved in his life and now his entire body ached. Fortunately, the previous months of tournament training had familiarized Kiram with his own discomfort enough that he could classify his injuries as nothing more than strains and scratches.

Javier knelt beside the bed and inspected the cut on Kiram's calf, his touch gentle but not tentative. "It doesn't look bad but you're definitely going to have another scar."

"Mother will be thrilled."

"By spring it will have faded and she'll be happy just to see you." Javier smiled as he rebandaged Kiram's leg. "The mark on your cheek has already faded rather handsomely."

Kiram laughed at the idea of any scar being handsome. It was such a Cadeleonian thought. Though Javier was right about it fading. The scar Genimo had left on his cheek was little more than a faint crescent. Only when his face colored with either rage or desire did it to stand out noticeably. However, the dueling scar that glared up from his forearm remained red and tender.

Still, none of his few scars could rival the brand on Javier's shoulder, nor the big white stroke that bisected Elezar's thigh. Certainly by the standards of the Hellions his scars might be handsome.

He doubted that relative comparison would offer his mother much consolation, but then he realized that it didn't really matter. He wasn't a child to be kept safe in her candy kitchen any longer, though only he and Alizadeh seemed capable of recognizing that.

"So," Javier said softly. "How are you this morning?"

"Sore, but really happy just to be here," Kiram admitted. Javier nodded slowly, thoughtfully. Kiram felt the tension in his fingers change just slightly. He extended his hand along the curve of Kiram's knee with cautious intent, stroking him softly, gentling him as he would have coaxed a nervous young stallion.

"I'm glad that you're here as well," Javier said. "I hope you'll stay with me."

Kiram knew that Javier was talking about more than just this morning but he didn't allow himself to think beyond his present happiness. Nothing had changed. Javier was still a Cadeleonian and a nobleman who one day might very well abandon Kiram for a mistress or a wife. But after last night, Kiram was no longer willing to sacrifice the pleasure of the moment for fear of a loss the future might bring. Not when there was a good chance that he wouldn't live long enough to see it come about.

Desire welled up in him as Javier's long fingers traced the tender hollow of his knee and then slowly followed the muscles of his thigh. Kiram felt his cheeks growing hot and he knew that the crescent scar on his cheek probably stood out like a pale moon. Kiram pulled the blankets back. "We have time before first bell."

Kiram lingered longer and worked Javier more skillfully than the previous night. In the pale morning light he reveled in the details of Javier, both the vulnerability of his arched, naked body and the power of his hard, tensed muscles. He loved the feel of Javier's strong hands, his tender lips and the prickle of his dark stubble. Kiram wanted more but restrained himself. The academy was not the place for either of them to be so exposed nor did the morning offer them much time.

As it was they had to rush, washing together in the tub, and then throwing their clothes on while racing down the stairs to get down to breakfast before the holy father and scholars arrived.

After gulping down sausages and oatcakes Kiram ventured out to his work shed. Both Javier and Nestor joined him. The light of day offered Kiram no illusion as to the state of his engine. The casings were cracked, the pistons bent and broken. The smell of spilled oil hung in the cold air and a blood stain colored the floor. Kiram didn't know if it was his own blood or Fedeles'. A tight knot of anxiety clenched through Kiram's chest and again he suppressed the urge to abandon the engine.

"Anything we can help with?" Nestor asked.

Kiram fought back his fear. He stole a glance to Javier and took comfort in the brief, salacious smile he received. Kiram studied the completed, ruined engine one last time, then said, "You can help me dismantle it. Most of the parts will have to be newly forged, so the metal will need to be melted down before being recast."

Javier and Nestor made surprisingly quick work of labor that would have exhausted Kiram alone. Kiram laughed at the beaten, deformed nuts that Nestor deemed to have a nice girlish shape and the bolts he referred to as 'big fellows'.

After they finished hauling the scrap to the blacksmith, who grumbled at the disappointment of having his own work destroyed as well, Javier and Nestor returned to their classes. Kiram took advantage of the fact that he'd been excused from his morning classes to visit Scholar Donamillo in the infirmary.

Happily, Donamillo immediately suggested that Kiram should continue his mechanical work in the infirmary storage space near Donamillo's own mechanical cures.

"It's a bit of a mess at the moment," Donamillo apologized, but Kiram felt elated at the prospect of escaping his cold, isolated work shed. Kiram set to work at once clearing the cluttered area.

Scholar Donamillo tried to assure Kiram that he didn't have to put himself out while he was still so weak from last night's attack, but Kiram would have none of it.

"I'm more than happy to do it since I have the morning free."

Scholar Donamillo reluctantly agreed, though he hovered close while Kiram dragged out heaps of papers and wooden crates filled with aged tomes and arcane talismans. Kiram imagined that the scholar's private rooms must be packed with medical devices and assorted books overflowing their shelves and piling in small towers from the floor.

Kiram hefted a stack of thin, leather-bound books that had been buried under a case of surgical clamps. One of the books caught Kiram's attention immediately, in that it was bound as many old Haldiim texts used to be, along the top and not the left.

"Is this Haldiim?" Kiram wiped the dust off the tattered book cover, exposing stained leather and small decorative stitching.

"Yes." The scholar's thin lips curved up in a faint smile. He removed the volume and gently leafed through its pages. Kiram caught glimpses of hand drawn diagrams and scribbled notes. Suddenly, with a rush of amazement, Kiram recognized one of the images.

"That's Yassin's Constellation of the Dog." Awe softened Kiram's voice to a whisper.

"It is."

"Then, this is Yassin's notebook?" Kiram desperately desired to hold the book in his own hands and read through it.

"One of the few remaining. I found it when I was a student. Holy Father Habalan was scouring all heretical writings from the library. I couldn't bear to see it destroyed so I stole it from his rooms. I should see that it finds a safer home than this." Scholar Donamillo carefully tucked the small book into his coat pocket.

As he watched the book disappear, disappointment cut through Kiram. "May I-"

"Scholar," a student called from the wide doorway of the infirmary. Kiram saw that it was Genimo. "I've brought more needles up from the smith."

"Very good." Scholar Donamillo went and took the little wooden boxes.

Genimo glanced to Kiram. "Here to visit Fedeles?"

Kiram hadn't realized that Fedeles was with them in the infirmary. A terrible instinctive fear shot through him. Blood drained from his face and he couldn't bring himself to speak. The shadows in the room seemed suddenly sinister and deep.

"Is he still sleeping?" Genimo didn't seem to notice Kiram's choked silence. He walked to a bed near the far wall where a silent form lay under thick blankets. "Fedeles, I know you're awake. Why so quiet?"

The figure burrowed deeper under the bedclothes as if trying to hide. When Genimo peeled the covering back, Fedeles issued a pathetic animal whimper and curled into a ball. Kiram's fear dissipated in the face of sympathy.

"Let him alone." Kiram took the blanket from Genimo and laid it back down over Fedeles. He wasn't to blame for the curse and he had suffered far more than Kiram because of it.

Genimo rolled his eyes. "Going to sing him a lullaby too?"

"Do you have to be an utter ass at all times?" Kiram snapped. Genimo scowled at him but appeared to have no retort.

Kiram turned his attention back to Fedeles. Despite his leering grin, his face was streaked with tears. When he lifted his hand to wipe at his eyes Kiram caught sight of fresh stitches running along his wrist.

Kiram gently caught his hand. "When did this happen?"

"Firaj. Firaj. Run away. I'm bad, bad, bad. I can't stop it." Fedeles' expression contorted and then he began to recite the names of other horses, urging each of them to run away.

"He cut himself." Genimo scowled at Fedeles. "Last night with one of my dueling knives. Scholar Donamillo sewed him up quickly enough."

"Does Javier know?" Kiram asked. Fedeles had gone quiet, shoving his face down into the mattress.

"Of course he knows. He told me to keep it in our circle. So don't go blabbing, all right?"

"Who would I tell?"

Genimo shrugged as if to imply that Kiram's motivations were some incomprehensible mystery, then went to help Scholar Donamillo file away the tomes that Kiram had cleared out from beside the mechanical cures. Part of Kiram wanted to join them, in hopes of getting another chance at Yassin's notebook, but ogling ancient equations seemed less important than comforting Fedeles right now. He'd have other chances at Scholar Donamillo's library while he was rebuilding the engine.

Very gently, Kiram smoothed Fedeles' hair back from his face. Fedeles looked up at him with an expression of mute sorrow.

"I know you aren't to blame," Kiram quietly told him.

Fedeles relaxed, leaning into Kiram's touch in the same way that Firaj did when he wanted reassurance.

Kiram said, "It's going to be all right, I promise. I'll find a way to help you."

Fedeles closed his eyes and soon he fell asleep. In rare moments of peace such as this, Kiram could see how closely Fedeles resembled Javier. He wondered what Fedeles had been like before the curse had twisted his mind. Then he wondered what might be left of him if he were ever to be freed of it.

Kiram caught himself then. It would not be a matter of if Fedeles were freed but when. His engine might have been broken but it would be rebuilt. He also reassured himself that Alizadeh was gleaning precious information through Kiram's weekly ritual of lighting his lotus medallion. Perhaps last night's attack had even provided Alizadeh with a vital clue. That thought alone reassured him.

The bells rang and Kiram pulled the blankets over Fedeles' exposed shoulder before heading towards the stables for his riding class. Master Ignacio had not excused him from his lessons. Kiram supposed a man would have to be dead to have the war master give him a day off.

His trip was cut short by Javier, who caught him outside the infirmary.

"You forgot your riding gloves." Javier held them up but didn't proffer them to Kiram. Instead he glanced to the infirmary doors. "Did you see Fedeles?" Javier asked and Kiram heard the second, unasked question in his tone.

"Yes, I told him what happened wasn't his fault. I think that helped him. He's sleeping now."

The anxious tension seemed to melt from Javier. "Thank you"

"It's the truth."

"I know but that's a hard thing to remember after last night."

"Last night wasn't all bad." Kiram took his gloves from Javier's hand. He allowed his fingertips to brush across Javier's bare palm, which elicited a smooth, sensual smile.

"Not bad at all," Javier agreed.

They walked together to the stables. They didn't hold hands or even stand too close but Kiram felt warmth and intimacy in Javier's lingering gaze. They discussed a translation of a Yuan prince's travel diary that Javier had just discovered in the library and thought Kiram would find amusing.

"The man's supposed to be a worldly authority but just from his descriptions of Anacleto and Rauma you can tell he's never left Yuan. It's hilarious." Javier tossed Kiram his riding gloves in an easy manner. "He says that the Cadeleonian men have a ritual of brotherhood, wherein they take hammers to each other's poorly protected bodies and after much pounding choose the one man left standing to be the leader of their now nearly crippled group."

"So, he met Elezar, then?"

"Maybe one of his ancestors," Javier replied. "The thing dates back a hundred years or so."

"Does he mention the Haldiim?"

"Oh yes, he does your people the honor of many an inaccurate and even impossible depiction. Did you know that you are all born as women and only develop into men when fed red meat boiled in goats' milk?"

"Really?" Kiram snorted.

"He includes a recipe."

"I have to read this."

"I'll bring it up to our room. We can go through it together tonight," Javier said, then added, "Good luck riding."

Javier left Kiram feeling so giddy at the prospect of being together in their room again that he nearly forgot that he and Firaj needed to arrive at the arena punctually or face Master Ignacio's wrath.

Throughout the riding lesson, fellow second-year students who caught Kiram's eye gave him short approving nods. He heard Ollivar whisper something about facing down a bear to two other boys. Master Ignacio ordered them to silence and glared at Kiram. Oddly the master's scowling countenance no longer frightened him. Last night he had faced something so truly terrifying that no scholar, no matter how disapproving or stern, could compare. The shadow curse had been like a nightmare come to life, insubstantial and murderous at once: darkness that killed with the ease of a passing shadow.

Master Ignacio was a man-strong and brutal-but no more than that. His very physicality implied weakness of some kind. He could be exhausted; he could be injured. Studying him now, all his snarls and shouts, Kiram thought that a skilled swordsman would be wise to exploit the war master's quick temper to draw him out, make him overreach.

Not that Kiram was a skilled swordsman. Reminding himself of that, he averted his gaze from the war master's face and concentrated on the lesson. Firaj responded to the commands that Master Ignacio shouted across the arena and Kiram moved with his mount. He felt a certain pleasure at the thought that he was learning nearly as much from his horse as he was from the war master.

After Kiram had brushed Firaj down and spent a few minutes making much of the old gelding, he followed Nestor out of the stables.

Flecks of snow drifted lazily from the white afternoon sky.

Javier waited outside, apparently unperturbed by the cold, a dusting of snowflakes in his dark hair. "You certainly look smug, Kiram."

"He does, doesn't he?" Nestor agreed.

"I'm just relieved to be able to enjoy the day," Kiram replied. "And I'm looking forward to this evening."

Javier and he shared the briefest smile before Javier slyly averted his eyes.

"I'm not." Nestor gave the dormitory a particularly condemning glare. "Have you noticed what's been coming out of the kitchen lately? There's been no fresh meat in weeks and now even the sausages are beginning to look like cabbage and oats. It's going to be nothing but cabbage for the rest of the winter, I know it."

"Don't abandon all hope just yet, young Grunito" Javier looked more pleased with himself than usual as he spoke. "Supply wagons just arrived, and not only did it look like they were weighted down with sides of beef, but there were mail deliveries as well. Probably the last of the year."

"Anything from my mother?" Kiram asked.

"As always," Javier replied. He glanced to Nestor. "Are you game to help haul the damn thing up the stairs?"

"For more of those marzipan pears I'd haul the crate all the way to Anacleto." Nestor's face flushed with a strange excitement that bordered on lust.

The three of them muscled the creaking, wooden crate up the stairs to the tower room. Despite the dozens of other students gawking at them from the staircase, Nestor strode into Javier's room as if it were no different from any other room in the dormitory.

"Are you sure you should let them all see that?" Concern tinged Javier's voice. "If the holy father finds out you've been in here, you could end up spending your whole dinner reciting the prayer of Our Immaculate Father."

"If Kiram can face down a bear, then I figure I can manage the holy father," Nestor replied.

"I didn't really face down a bear so much as run away from it," Kiram corrected.

"You still faced it. You just had the good sense to run away right after that" Nestor shrugged. "In any case Holy Father Habalan wouldn't miss his own supper just to watch me pray."

"True enough," Javier agreed.

With the bulk of Kiram's tools now up in the room with them, they made short work of prying the crate open. As always they discovered bags of candies nestled amongst the packages Kiram's mother had sent. Javier found a silk satchel of hard toffee tucked between two bright winter scarves. Kiram handed out the foil- gilded almonds he found atop a sheaf of writing papers. Nestor sniffed out the marzipan pears before Kiram even had the small box open. Kiram handed the candies over to Nestor and then lifted out a pair of lined leather gloves. A note from his sister Siamak wished him warmth and thanked him for the Solstice gifts he'd sent, even though she hadn't been able to resist the temptation to open them early.

Alizadeh had sent a book of Bahiim texts to Javier and a silver quill pen for Kiram and a short note with a Solstice blessing that mentioned neither his meeting with the Circle of Red Oaks nor replied to any of Kiram's letters. Rafie had enclosed a variety of powdered medicines in case Kiram or any of his friends fell ill. Like his husband he wrote no letter, just enclosed a packet of instructions.

Nestor sniffed one of the dry poultices and wrinkled his nose. "I think I'd have to be dying to take that."

"The instructions say-" Javier paused, concentrating on Rafie's looping Haldiim script. "-it's to be mixed with wine-no, wait not wine. An alcohol that's stronger than wine."

"You can read that?" Nestor gazed at Javier in surprise. Kiram didn't bother to express his own curiosity anymore. Javier would never tell him just where or how he had developed his grasp of the Haldiim language.

"I've picked a little up from Kiram." Javier didn't look up from the paper but went on reading slowly. "Mix with a strong alcohol to produce a plaster. Apply it to a wound to keep it from turning foul."

"Smells foul enough on its own." Nestor returned the bag to the small chest with the other poultices.

Then came the thick sheaf of papers from Kiram's mother recounting news of his family and friends. They seemed to all be doing well. His older brother Majdi would be back from sea this spring. Both his sisters were helping his mother keep up with the Solstice candy orders and his father had managed to go another season without setting his workshop on fire.

Musni and his wife were both in good health; though, Kiram's mother added with distinct disapproval, Musni had been seen in the company of street snakes more than once in the past few months.

Hashiem Kir-Naham-Kiram couldn't help but notice the extra flourishes with which his mother wrote the man's name- was doing good business at his mother's pharmacy and had asked after Kiram on three separate occasions. He had even been so thoughtful as to send a Solstice gift along in this very package.

Kiram sat back on his bed, feeling suddenly fatigued and more aware of the ache in his calf than he had been all day. He tried to imagine what his mother would make of Javier as a prospective suitor for her son. A hell-branded Cadeleonian nobleman with a penchant for sleight of hand and a group of friends who were little more than highborn ruffians. He certainly would never be an obedient pharmacist's son.

Noticing Kiram's attention, Javier asked, "Something wrong?"

"I'm just feeling a little done in. My leg's started to hurt some."

"Shall we try your uncle's plaster?" Javier asked.

"We don't have any alcohol, do we?"

"Atreau does. Under his bed," Nestor offered. "Helps to warm girls up when they sneak up to his room."

"Your upperclassman is certainly prepared for all occasions, isn't he?" Kiram laughed and then shook his head. "Thanks, but I'll be fine so long as I get off my feet for a little while."

"All right, you lie there and Javier and I will open up your boxes for you."

Kiram nodded his agreement and the two of them set to work while Kiram lay across his bed on his stomach, watching. Javier's choice of box yielded two wheels of cheese, a box of dried sugar fish and then three bottles of writing ink. Nestor's face lit up when he open up a box of candied fruit, all decorated and arranged to look like a lover's garland. A small card fell from the box and Javier picked it up. He frowned as he read it silently.

"This is beautiful!" Nestor drew in a deep breath of the fragrant garland. Even from where he lay Kiram could smell the mixture of spiced candy and citrus fruit.

"What's the card say?" Nestor asked Javier.

"Don't know. I couldn't read the handwriting," Javier replied with a shrug. He handed the card to Kiram and Kiram tried not to feel mortified as his eyes fell across the words:

Most beloved youth, I pray that I do not offend in sending something so simple to someone so much more delectable. I await your return as the tulip longs to penetrate the warm earth of spring.

Ever your admirer,

Hashiem Kir-Naham

Kiram could hardly believe that the polite older man he remembered had written this to him. He wondered what his mother must have told the pharmacist about him.

"It-it's from a friend of my mother's and she hopes that I will share the candied fruit with all my new friends here at the academy." Kiram crumpled the note quickly.

"Really? That's damn sweet of the lady." Nestor eyed the brilliant red cherries and translucent orange curls of candied tangerine peel in a lascivious manner.

From behind Nestor, Javier gave the garland an irritated glower. "Sweets from the sweet, no doubt."

Kiram forced a laugh. What must Javier have thought, reading that note? The low ring of afternoon bells broke Kiram's thoughts.

Nestor straightened reflexively at the sound. "Time for class already." He glanced to Kiram. "Have you got your paper done for history?"

Kiram nodded, then asked, "You?"

"Not so much," Nestor admitted. "There are a few holes between page one and three. Most of page two really isn't worked out."

"Well, give me what you have and I'll work on it during art"

"Thanks so much, Kiram. You're my academic salvation." Nestor bounded to his feet and, with a look of relief, started digging through of his sheaf of drawings. Kiram rose more gingerly. Still, a sharp pang flared through his calf when he placed his weight on it and he flinched. Javier came to him immediately, wrapping his arm around Kiram's waist to hold him steady.

"Are you sure you shouldn't just take the afternoon off and rest?" Javier asked.

For a moment Kiram allowed himself to enjoy the strength of Javier's embrace.

Then Nestor turned back, three crumpled pages of disordered script in hand. "You do look flushed, Kiram. Are you getting a fever?"

"I'm fine. I just stood up too quickly." Kiram pulled away and Javier released him with a mechanical pat on the back. Kiram limped down the stairs to fine art class.