Summary:
Kiram Kir-Zaki may be considered a mechanist prodigy among his own people, but when he becomes the first Haldiim ever admitted to the prestigious Sagrada Academy, he is thrown into a world where power, superstition and swordplay outweigh even the most scholarly of achievements. But when the intimidation from his Cadeleonian classmates turns bloody, Kiram unexpectedly finds himself befriended by Javier Tornesal, the leader of a group of cardsharps, duelists and lotharios who call themselves Hellions. However Javier is a dangerous friend to have. Wielder of the White Hell and sole heir of a dukedom, he is surrounded by rumors of forbidden seductions, murder and damnation. His enemies are many and any one of his secrets could not only end his life but Kiram’s as well.
Summary:
Kiram fought his family and Cadeleonian bigots to remain in the Sagrada Academy to prove himself as a mechanist and to dispel the deadly shadow curse that threatens to destroy his upperclassman, Javier Tornesal.
But when his efforts provoke retaliation, Kiram’s family and home are endangered. Both Kiram and Javier risk everything in a desperate gambit to combat the curse.
But they never imagined their battle would come so soon, or that it would be led by the one person they trust most of all.
Lord of the White Hell #1
Chapter One
Kiram woke as the carriage jolted against the rough cobblestones of the country road.
After six days of sleepless travel he couldn't believe that he had dozed off today of all days. He frowned at the creased front of his white linen shirt and tucked a loose edge back into his dark pants. His curly blonde hair was always a wild mess after he had slept on it. He tried to smooth it with his hand, feeling the tight spirals spring back as his fingers brushed over them.
His book, Modern Mechanism, lay on the carriage floor. Dozens of strips of paper protruded from between the pages, displaying Kiram's notes and diagrams. He retrieved the book, straightened his notes, and carefully wrapped the book in the remains of his parchment and tucked it into the wide pocket of his new Cadeleonian wool coat.
Kiram had packed very little clothing and only a few of his favorite books. Tools and crated machine parts filled most of the space in the carriage. Many heavier crates groaned against the ropes securing them to the roof of the carriage. The driver had charged Kiram's mother twice the normal fare because of the weight, but she had been proud to pay it. Those heavy, oily pieces of metal had won Kiram the right to attend Academy Sagrada.
No full-blooded Haldiim had ever before been accepted into the school, and a century had passed since the half- blood Yassin Lif-Harun studied there.
Lif-Harun's formulas had altered the very heavens. A statue of the man stood in the Royal Park. Kiram's father had already pointed out the spot where he thought Kiram's own statue would one day stand. If his parents had been allowed to, they would have sent another half-dozen carriages filled with praise dancers and red-dyed doves to announce their youngest son's arrival. Fortunately the school permitted only one carriage per student.
The carriage struck another bump and Kiram shoved the stack of rocking crates back against the carriage wall. Sunlight streamed in through the red carriage curtains, filling the space with a warm glow. The dark wood radiated a late afternoon heat. The brown coat he'd worn for the trip over the mountains felt sweltering hot now and smelled of his sweat. Kiram stripped it off and stretched his long legs as best he could in the cramped confines.
He couldn't be far from the Academy Sagrada now. Maybe an hour, possibly less.
He pulled the curtains aside and gazed out at the walls of wild, green forest that arched over the road. There was a flash of brilliant blue wings as a flock of jays took flight from the overhanging branches. He thought he caught a glimpse of something white moving fast between the trunks of trees but he lost sight of it as the road turned away.
As he rode further, the dense brambles and towering oak trees gave way to groomed hedges and open fields divided by low stone walls. A flock of white ducks waddled along the roadside, tended by a young, bored-looking boy.
Far across a fallow field, Kiram spied a horse and rider. The horse was brilliant white in the bright sun and rider's skin seemed almost as pale as the horse's hide. His black hair stood out in sharp contrast, as did his deep blue Academy Sagrada uniform.
Kiram doubted that his own uniform, well made as it was, would look so good on him. He wondered if the rider was an upperclassman or even an instructor. Kiram stared in amazement as the lean man urged his horse ahead and the two of them seemed to fly over the stone wall then raced across the road and through the opposite field.
He didn't spare a glance for Kiram's carriage, the herder boy, or even the flock of now startled ducks. A few moments later both the horse and rider were little more than a distant haze. Kiram tried to keep track of the rider's blue jacket, but eventually he lost sight of it amongst the fields of blooming sunflowers.
Kiram felt his pulse surging through his body. This was exactly what the academy promised for his future, such fearless prowess, such determination and beauty. Perhaps even adventure.
Kiram had been patient for days but suddenly he felt as though this slow, creaking carriage would never reach its destination and he needed to be at the academy now. Desire and excitement coursed through him like a physical pang.
As the carriage rolled up to the heavy stone walls that surrounded the academy, Kiram gripped the latch of the carriage door. He hardly took in the fortress-like towers of the main building or the chapel's brilliant blue spire. He stared at cobblestone paths and green lawn of the grounds, searching for his fellow classmates. Several boys dressed in academy blue strolled toward the chapel, but none of them captured Kiram's attention the way that single rider had.
The carriage jerked to a halt, and Kiram slipped slightly forward, his hand pulling the door latch. Instantly the carriage door sprang open and he spilled out onto the muddy ground in front of the stable. He struggled up to his feet to see two older men in gray scholars' robes gaping at him. Just behind them, leading his brilliant white horse by its reins, stood the rider.
"I'm fine!" Kiram announced, though no one had asked. "I just…the door opened and I wasn't looking…"
Kiram could feel his face flushing bright red. Not even his dark skin could hide such an intense blush. He regained his feet quickly but to his horror the rider's expression shifted from slight concern to amusement. His handsome smile somehow made Kiram's humiliation far worse. He glared at the rider and then dove back into the cover of the carriage to retrieve his coat.
When he turned back the rider had disappeared into the stables. The two scholars hurried to Kiram's side. They were both typical Cadeleonians, pale skinned and thickly built with brown hair and eyes.
One of them was older, probably in his late forties with shots of gray scattered through his close-cropped hair. The other scholar wasn't more than a decade past Kiram's own age, perhaps twenty-seven. He wore his hair a little long and his cheeks were dappled with freckles.
"I'm Blasio Urracon," the younger scholar introduced himself, "and this is my honored brother, Scholar Donamillo Urracon."
Kiram bowed to both men. Cadeleonian names often sounded odd to him, so he made special note of their pronunciation. Many Cadeleonians found Haldiim informality rude and so Kiram was careful to use proper titles as he addressed his new teachers.
"Scholar Blasio and Scholar Donamillo, it is an honor to meet you. I'm Kiram Kir-Zaki, your humble student."
Scholar Blasio smiled at Kiram's politeness. "It's a pleasure to meet you at last. Javier was just saying that he'd seen your carriage so we came to greet you." Scholar Blasio gestured back towards the stable where the rider had been standing. He frowned at the empty spot. "I suppose he's brushing down his horse. We're short a stable hand at the moment-"
"It's no matter," the older brother, Scholar Donamillo, cut in. "Kiram will be formally introduced to staff and students at dinner tonight."
Scholar Donamillo's tone was much more reserved than Scholar Blasio's, and his expression stern. Kiram couldn't help but think that the older man had taken a quick dislike to him. Probably because he was supposed to be a gifted thinker and he'd just fallen out of a carriage onto his face.
Scholar Donamillo looked a little past Kiram to the crates stacked atop and inside the carriage. "Are all of these yours?"
"Yes, sir. They're the components I've fabricated for the Crown Challenge."
Scholar Blasio grinned. "You brought them all the way from Anacleto? What dedication. That's fabulous!"
Kiram warmed to Scholar Blasio for his enthusiasm but he also noted Scholar Donamillo's expression of disapproval.
"I'll have the groundsmen unpack these," Scholar Donamillo stated. "I suppose that one of the tack sheds can be spared to provide a workshop for the project. No doubt it will take a great deal of space."
"Thank you, sir." Kiram bowed again to the older man. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience."
"Yes, it's good that you realize that this does inconvenience us. It is not common to accept a new student directly into the second-year courses, much less accommodate his individual studies." Strangely Scholar Donamillo's stern expression seemed to soften as he looked over the wooden crates. "I can only hope that you will prove to be the mechanist genius your teachers claim you are."
The label 'genius' brought a second flush to Kiram's cheeks and also a gnawing anxiety to the pit of his stomach. At seventeen, most of his achievements were still built upon his father's innovations. This would be the first time he would have to rise to a challenge alone.
"I will do my utmost to win the Crown Challenge in the academy's name," Kiram assured Scholar Donamillo. The older man offered him a slight smile in return. He reached out and brushed a clump of mud off Kiram's shirt.
"No doubt you will want a bath after your long journey. Scholar Blasio will take you up to your room."
"Yes, sir." Kiram snatched up his coat and his gray trunk and followed Scholar Blasio across the lush, green lawn to the three-story stone building that dominated the grounds.
"This is the dormitory. First-year students are all housed on the first floor of the west wing, in the old armory room." Scholar Blasio pointed to where the west wing jutted out from the main building. The windows were barred. "With everyone in a single room the night wardens can keep them out of trouble more easily."
Kiram was glad that he hadn't been forced to come as a first-year student. He couldn't imagine sleeping while crammed in a single room with a hundred noisy Cadeleonian boys. The smell alone would have driven him mad.
"Second and third years are housed together on the second floor. Those young men who stand to inherit titles, of course, stay on for a fourth year of Lord's Law. They each have private rooms on the third floor."
"What about the watchtowers?" Kiram gazed up at the two jutting towers that rose up from the third floor.
"The west tower is used for storage and the east one is for special cases." Scholar Blasio looked a little uncomfortable. "Let's go in, shall we?"
Inside, the building was dim and cool. Crests of Cadeleonian noble families, all woven in academy blue, decorated the walls. The royal crest of the Sagrada family was inlayed in gold over all the doors. Scholar Blasio led him past a statue of a rearing stallion, through a huge dining hall, and then up a massive staircase.
"Four of the lecture halls are located on the first floor, the rest are in the east wing," Scholar Blasio told Kiram as they walked up the stairs. "The dining hall and common library are directly below us."
"Everything seems so heavy and huge," Kiram commented. "It looks a little like a fortress."
"It used to be one. Three hundred years ago, during the first Sagrada dynasty, this was one of their great strongholds. After the Restoration the reinstated Sagrada king turned the fortress over to one of his favored vassals to train young lords in the arts of war and law. Of course, things have changed since then but we have not forgotten our history. In fact, it's right under our feet." Scholar Blasio paused on the stairs and pointed back down to a radiant, black design that spread across the stones of the floor below them.
"That is exactly the spot where one hundred years ago Calixto Tornesal opened the mouth of the white hell and defeated the Mirogoth invaders."
Kiram studied the fine web of black cracks. He didn't believe in the white hell or any of the other Cadeleonian hells but the sight of the burned, pitted stones still gave him pause. Standing in an ancient fortress, with a scholar relating the story and pointing out its exact site, it seemed almost plausible that a Cadeleonian nobleman had traded his soul for the power to drive back an invading army.
Even so, Kiram couldn't credit it. A soul could not be given up any more than joy or kindness could be bottled and sold at market. Only in death could the soul leave the flesh.
Kiram glanced to Scholar Blasio, searching his face for some sign that he was joking, but his expression was serious.
"Calixto's descendants still hold the pact of the white hell." Scholar Blasio looked meaningfully at Kiram.
Kiram wasn't sure if he should respond with reverence or revulsion. At last he decided to simply be honest. "In Haldiim tradition we don't believe that people are condemned to hells. We believe that in death all creatures pass through a shajdi and then are reborn in a new form."
Seeing Scholar Blasio's furrowed brow, Kiram continued, "Most modern Haldiim, like my family, don't give much credence to the tales of shajdis hidden in sacred forests or the Bahiim who opened them and claimed power over life and death. If shajdi ever did exist, it was in the ancient past, and they have gone now. But really, most of us understand such stories as metaphors for the balance of birth and death."
Only the very religious Bahiim took shajdis as literal gates between life and death, and the last thing Kiram wanted was to be taken for a superstitious ascetic who'd spend hours talking to trees.
"Really?" Scholar Blasio cocked his head slightly. "So, you aren't afraid of the hells?"
"No, as I said, we don't believe in hells. Shajdi make for amusing stories, though."
Scholar Blasio gazed intently at Kiram, studying his face. "So you wouldn't be afraid of a man who had been hell-branded? Who had the gate to a hell burning within him?"
Kiram simply shrugged. "I suppose not."
"It wouldn't worry you at all to, say, sleep in a room with him?" Scholar Blasio sounded almost incredulous.
"So long as he wasn't insane or sick with black pox I wouldn't be afraid to sleep in a room with any man," Kiram replied. It wasn't entirely true-certainly he wouldn't want to sleep in a room with a thief or murder or, honestly, a man who stank terribly.
"Well, that's good to know. Your room is on the third floor, in the east tower." Scholar Blasio continued up the stairs. Kiram followed him in quick strides. "It's away from the other rooms so it will be quiet enough for you to study, and unlike the other rooms, it's very spacious."
Kiram thought he knew where all of this was leading and decided to just get to the point, instead of having Scholar Blasio nervously list the amenities of his living arrangements when he'd already stated the east tower was reserved for special cases.
"You want me to room with one of these hell-branded men? A descendant of the Tornesal line?"
"You don't have much choice," Scholar Blasio admitted at last. "The other upperclassmen have refused to room with a Haldiim. They have no objection to you schooling here, but sleeping in the same room, when their souls are unprotected, is out of the question. However, since Javier's spiritual state is already.compromised, he risks nothing in sharing a room with you."
Kiram wanted to demand what exactly it was that these people imagined he was going to do to them in their sleep but then his thoughts stopped short as he registered the name Javier and remembered the dark, sardonic eyes of the rider.
"Javier? The man with the white stallion?"
"Yes, Javier Tornesal, Duke of Rauma. He will be your upperclassman."
Lord of the White Hell #2
Chapter One
Kiram stared with red-rimmed eyes out at the fields lining the road to the Sagrada Academy. Only desiccated sunflower stalks and tracks of broken soil remained from the harvest. ^e land looked as ragged as he felt and the dark confines of the Tornesal carriage offered him no more rest than his sumptuous bed had the night before. Despite exhaustion, hard liquor and hours spent wandering unknown streets, sleep had eluded him. Just as it evaded his restless mind now.
Outside, blue jays flashed their brilliant wings from a stand of apple trees; red leaves fell as the birds took to the air and swept past the creaking luggage carriage. Kiram shuddered at the sight of them and the scabbed gash in his forearm throbbed as if pulsing with poison. A week ago he could have found the birds a lovely distraction on such a cold fall morning. He might have delighted in their graceful flight and taken little note of how closely the flock followed the steady course of this single carriage.
Now he knew their chase betrayed a malevolent intent. ^ey flew as portents of the shadow curse, spies for the man who controlled it.
Slumped across the seat opposite Kiram, Fedeles Quemanor groaned and twitched, his peaceful doze turning fitful as the jays circled overhead. He gave a strained gasp and rolled his head from beneath his arm. Kiram glanced to Fedeles' face but for an instant he saw only Javier in those sharp, troubled features.
A longing so intense that it felt like pain shot through Kiram. He rubbed his tired eyes. He couldn't afford to think of Javier. What had been between them was over. ^ey had both destroyed it last night.
^is morning Javier had hardly met his gaze and offered no response when Kiram greeted him at the breakfast table. Instead he'd risen, abandoning his meal, wished Fedeles good day, and departed for the Sagrada Academy. Less than an hour later the dour staff of the Tornesal townhouse had efficiently packed Kiram and Fedeles into this musty carriage as if they were just two more pieces of Javier's luggage. While Fedeles dozed, Kiram deliberately turned his gaze from the trunks and leather chests emblazoned with Javier's family crest and tried to set his mind to other subjects.
But the strong physical resemblance between Javier and Fedeles roused all the thoughts Kiram had wished to forget. The stench of debauchery seemed to drift from the leather carriage seats. How could it be that those minutes he longed most to forget could burn in his memory with such painful detail?
Fedeles' legs shifted, brushing briefly against Kiram's calf and the contact offered Kiram a strange kind of comfort.
Both Javier and Fedeles were long-limbed, pale-skinned young men who sported ink black hair and handsome features. Ms morning the random shadows of luggage and Kiram's own exhaustion cast a harder line to Fedeles' jaw and lent an arrogant curve to his lips. ^e bulk of his new velvet coat offered the illusion of Javier's angular musculature to Fedeles' thinner frame.
The two of them could easily have passed for brothers, even twins. It was no wonder that some gossips whispered of scandalous relations between their parents. But Kiram knew Fedeles deserved better from him than to be seen as some proxy for his cousin, so he shifted his leg away.
Suddenly Fedeles jerked upright. With consciousness, much of his likeness to Javier fled. His dark eyes flashed wide as his mouth twitched between grimaces and grins. He caught Kiram's hand in his long fingers and Kiram couldn't help but note the power of his grip. Nearly as crushing as Javier's had been last night.
"They want to kill him, Kiri," Fedeles whispered. "The birds-" He cut himself short as a jay dived past the carriage window. The color drained entirely from Fedeles' face, leaving his mouth pale as chalk.
"I won't let them harm you, Fedeles," Kiram assured him. Fedeles shook his head as a violent shudder passed through his body. A wild, manic grin jerked across his lips but his eyes remained wide and terrified.
"Look here, Fedeles." Kiram lifted his lotus medallion from beneath the collar of his shirt and held it out. Even in the dim light of the closed carriage the gold surface glowed. Sacred Bahiim symbols gleamed as if throwing off their own light. Kiram hoped that, if nothing else, the medallion might distract Fedeles from his own fear.
Fedeles stared at the medallion like a fascinated crow.
"My uncle's partner is a Bahiim, a Haldiim holy man. He gave this to me. The lotus is a sign of powerful protection among my people, you know."
According to Alizadeh this medallion was more than that. It served as Alizadeh's spyglass, offering him the chance to detect the inner workings of the shadow curse and perhaps even to identify the man who controlled it. As Kiram held the medallion up now, he hoped that it would catch some hint of the dark magic that directed the jays in their pursuit of Fedeles.
The medallion swung on its chain as the carriage bounced over rough cobblestones. Light glinted off its polished surface. Then, without warning or seeming reason, the jays suddenly broke off from their chase. With a few harsh calls they fled into the thick woods that encircled the Sagrada Academy.
As he watched them go, Fedeles' expression lit with joy and he threw his arms around Kiram, crushing the air from him in his fierce embrace. Then Fedeles released him to press his face against the window and glare in the direction that the jays had fled.
"Stay away. Stay away. Stay away," Fedeles whispered as if reciting a holy chant. Then he dropped back into his seat.
"Good riddance." Kiram too felt better with the birds out of sight. He wondered if perhaps now he might steal a few moments of sleep. But when he closed his eyes his thoughts churned with the sour memory of writhing whores and Javier's proud glower.
Kiram straightened up, awake again.
Across from him, Fedeles hummed a bright tune. Now and then he moved his legs and tapped his toes against the floor of the carriage, keeping perfect time. After a few minutes he patted Kiram's knee.
"Dancing, Kiri," Fedeles informed him.
Kiram smiled. He didn't know why, but out of everyone at the Sagrada Academy only Fedeles seemed to know the Haldiim diminutive of his name.
"We'll dance a quaressa." Fedeles continued sweeping his feet in graceful motions across the carriage floor. "Left foot out and back, out and kick." Fedeles demonstrated and then looked expectantly at Kiram's motionless feet.
Though Kiram realized what Fedeles wanted, he still felt a moment of resistance; the bitterness of last night clung to him. But Fedeles was the last person he could blame for any of his troubles with Javier. So Kiram emulated the motions while Fedeles beamed with approval.
"Now right foot." Fedeles again demonstrated the dance step and Kiram copied him.
Laughing and grinning, Fedeles led him through the footwork of an entire quaressa. Last night Kiram had been so hurt and repulsed that he'd imagined he would never again find anything Cadeleonian charming. But this morning his sense of adventure seemed to have returned.
And in his own way, Fedeles was wonderful company, because for all his madness, he accepted Kiram without judgment and right now Kiram appreciated that more than anything.
"Again, again!" Fedeles crowed. Kiram obliged, mirroring Fedeles' steps and kicks from his own seat.
Leather trunks creaked and the carriage bounced beneath their weight. More than once Kiram misstepped, knocking knees and ankles with Fedeles, but Fedeles laughed it off. Kiram quickly improved. By the fourth time, their steps were almost perfectly synchronized. Fedeles sang out the names of his favorite horses, calling often for Kiram's black gelding, Firaj. Then he delightedly crowed for Javier's white stallion, Lunaluz.
Out of the corner of his eye Kiram thought he did catch a flash of white through the dense forest lining the road. Reflex- ively he looked and then felt the drop of disappointment as he discovered only a stand of white-barked birches growing among the dark woods.
The carriage rattled around another bend and the vast fortress of the Sagrada Academy loomed ahead of them. The heavy stonework of the main building dominated the grounds, rising three stories and thrusting its two watchtowers even higher. Kiram took in the whitewashed expanses of stables and sparring house without regard but scowled at the cerulean roof and gold steeple of the chapel.
Alizadeh and Rafie had only referred to the man controlling the shadow curse as the 'man on the hill' but it seemed obvious that if anyone at the Sagrada Academy would gladly plot murder and torture at the behest of the royal bishop it would be Holy Father Habalan.
Then Kiram wondered just how many jays sheltered among the gnarled oaks and fruit trees on the chapel grounds. Two of the birds perched in the branches of a tall pear tree. As the carriage rattled past Kiram was certain that the birds returned his gaze with calculating stares.
Suddenly Kiram remembered the merciless way that the flocks of blue jays had attacked and ravaged Nakiesh's sisters. Not even their own deaths had deterred the jays' assault.
Kiram looked away from the chapel and caught sight of familiar faces among the students gathered at the stables. A sense of something like safety returned to him. Fedeles leaned back into his seat and closed his eyes.
When the carriage drew to a halt, both Kiram and Fedeles bounded out to greet the waiting Grunito brothers. Nestor welcomed them with a toothy smile while Elezar simply used his massive frame to deflect other giddy students from crashing into their friendly exchange.
Kiram noted the brighter color of Genimo's auburn hair as he ducked past Elezar. Kiram and he exchanged cool, indifferent gazes but said nothing to each other as Genimo sauntered to Fedeles' side.
Kiram searched the throng of Cadeleonian students, grooms and house servants. They surrounded him in a sea of straight brown hair, dark eyes and light, freckled skin; their builds ranged from short, brawny grooms to the mountain of muscle that was Elezar Grunito-all of them quite the opposite of Kiram's slim Haldiim build, light eyes, dark skin and curling blond hair. Javier was not among them. His absence made Kiram anxious and uncertain of what to expect when he did arrive.
"Are we the last of the Hellions?" Kiram had to raise his voice to be heard over all the surrounding shouts and greetings.
"Most of the rest have gone up to the dormitories," Nestor replied and then he yawned widely. Kiram wasn't sure if it was just the hard morning light but Nestor looked nearly as tired as Kiram felt. His plump, pink cheeks seemed hollow and his small gold spectacles couldn't quite hide the shadows beneath his eyes. Nestor had encountered his own romantic troubles last night, Kiram thought, but he didn't want to ask about them in front of everyone.
Housemen in gray liveries slipped past Kiram and Fedeles, hauling away the luggage. Grooms saw to the horses and carriage.
One of the whip-thin Helio twins alighted from a different carriage and his friends greeted him, asking about his brother in hushed voices. Kiram peered past them, still searching.
"Javier's at chapel," Elezar informed him. "How any man can stand to attend morning and afternoon service is beyond me."
"I thought he might be," Kiram replied. All at once he didn't know what more to say. He'd seen too much of his fellow Hellions' passions last night. Now he couldn't quite meet Elezar's hawkish gaze.
"I should see Fedeles to the infirmary." Genimo stepped past Kiram, leading Fedeles by the hand as if he were a child. Fedeles smiled, but Kiram could see him pulling away from Genimo's grip.
"Fedeles can stay with me," Kiram offered. A pained expression flickered across Genimo's narrow features.
"He needs to see Scholar Donamillo for his treatment, but I'd be happy to turn him over to you afterward." Genimo didn't meet Kiram's eyes but instead stole a quick glance to small scar on Kiram's cheek. "Unless Javier objects."
"Why on earth would he?" Kiram responded, though it occurred to him that Javier could refuse just to spite him. Javier could be cruel when angered and as far as Kiram could tell, right now he was furious. Still, Kiram doubted that Javier would be so petty as to use Fedeles like some pawn.
Kiram felt briefly frustrated with himself for being too attached to Javier to think poorly of him even after last night. It would have been much simpler if he could dislike Javier, or failing that, just forget about him.
"If the two of you are going to stand around wondering why Javier does anything he does, Fedeles is never going to get to his treatment," Elezar commented.
Genimo scowled at Elezar, then turned his attention back to Fedeles.
"Come, Fedeles." Genimo pulled Fedeles along while Fedeles stumbled and dragged his feet behind him. There was nothing Kiram could do for him and he knew Scholar Donamillo's treatments were the best hope Fedeles had for survival until someone could find a way to break the curse. Still, Kiram wished that Fedeles didn't dread them so much.
"We'd best clear out from in front of the stables as well," Nestor said as another carriage rolled up.
The three of them took a wandering path towards the main building. Dry golden blades of autumn grass crunched beneath their shoes as they crossed the lawn and Kiram noted that dark rose hips now dotted the potted roses. Many of the apple trees sported bare branches while a litter of yellow leaves lay across the ground. Despite the bright sunlight a chill hung in the air and filled the deep shadows of the main building.
"Summer seems over all at once," Kiram commented.
"True, but there's plenty of ripe apples now." Nestor's broad smile brightened his face despite the dark circles beneath his brown eyes. "And with the autumn tournament over, you and I won't be spending every waking hour in battle practice."
That would be a relief, Kiram decided.
Nestor seemed surprisingly cheerful, given the trouble he'd been in the previous night. Riossa's lonely, hapless arrival at the Grunito house must have worked out.
"Well," Kiram glanced to Nestor, "aren't you going to tell me what happened after I left your mother's party?"
"The dolt got himself engaged," Elezar said in disgust.
At this Nestor smiled quite proudly. "There wasn't anything else to do. I couldn't let Riossa just take a fall, not that she wasn't willing to. She would-"
"She duped you, that's what she did," Elezar interrupted.
Nestor scowled at him. "You weren't there and you have no idea what went on."
Kiram thought this was the first time he'd ever seen Nestor take a stand against his older brother. Elezar didn't seem to appreciate his little brother's newfound sense of independence.
"All I need to know is that you're a fool. That girl fucked you over." Elezar stopped suddenly, catching sight of a figure far across the lawn. Kiram followed his gaze and realized that they were both watching Javier's broad back and long legs as he strode from the chapel towards the stables.
"I'm going to check up on Javier," Elezar announced. "Either of you coming?"
"Maybe later." Kiram hoped the response sounded casual.
"Later," Nestor agreed.
Elezar shrugged as if he couldn't account for their tastes and then hurried after his friend.
"Thank God," Nestor said as soon as Elezar was out of earshot. "He's been badgering me all day."
"Well, it is surprising that you're engaged. You've only known Riossa a week."
"Honestly, Kiram, there wasn't anything else I could have done. And it wasn't like Elezar makes it sound. Riossa didn't come in alone to the Grunito house to cause a scandal. She'd been by herself outside the townhouse for nearly two hours waiting for her sister to join her. She only came inside to try and have a carriage summoned so that she could return to her father's house. But the footman saw her invitation and escorted her into the ballroom."
Kiram frowned at this. He was almost certain that Cade- leonian girls from good families were not supposed to be left alone for hours on end. "So, why did the sister leave Riossa waiting?"
Nestor lowered his voice. "Because she was having an affair with the carriage driver, apparently, and picked last night to run off with him. She told her husband that she was taking Riossa to the celebration so he wouldn't wonder why she was gone. Then she told Riossa that she'd forgotten something and left Riossa outside the townhouse while she took the family carriage and fled."
"Sounds like a rotten sister."
"Yes, and it wasn't as if anyone knew what had happened right away either. At first my mother was thinking the sister intentionally left Riossa so that Riossa could get her claws in me." Nestor rolled his eyes. "As if she would need to do something like that. She's beautiful and funny and smart."
"And a good kisser," Kiram added. "If my source is to be trusted."
"Yeah, she's that too." Nestor grinned.
"So if your mother thought this was all a trick, how did you end up engaged?"
"Riossa's father is an ass. He half lost his mind when he found out about Riossa's sister. He started screaming at Riossa for allowing her sister to ruin their family name-right in front of everyone. And then he told Riossa that he was sending her to the Inanicia Convent, and when she said she wouldn't go, he struck her!" Just recounting the event, Nestor flushed with anger. "He knocked her to the floor right in front of me. What was I supposed to do?"
Kiram wondered what he would have done in such a situa- tion-certainly not get engaged to the girl. He kept his thoughts to himself.
Nestor continued heatedly, "I told him that if he ever laid a hand on her again that I'd hit him so hard he'd be talking out his crapper."
"Did you really say crapper?"
"I know I should have said asshole, but my mom was right there," Nestor explained sheepishly. "Then I proposed. I guess marrying me sounded a lot better then being sent to a convent."
"So…there'll be a wedding?" Kiram could not have imagined Nestor's engagement would be so dramatic. Perhaps having a black-haired, romantic adventurer like Atreau for an upperclass- man had affected Nestor more than Kiram had realized.
"Not until spring, but in the meantime my mom's taken Riossa into her care. She's not happy about the marriage but she was proud that I wouldn't let some bastard treat his daughter so badly."
"Not many men would step up like that." Kiram nodded. "I wouldn't have."
"Well, to be honest, I should have stepped up sooner.you know, right after we first.dallied. But she didn't say anything about it so I let it alone too."
"Dallied?" Kiram didn't understand the Cadeleonian term at first but then he realized what Nestor meant. "Nestor, you » didn't"
"How'd you think I knew so much about kissing her?" Then suddenly Nestor became serious. "You won't tell any of this to Javier or Elezar or any of the others, will you?"
"No," Kiram assured Nestor. "Though they'd hardly have the right to judge."
"But they would," Nestor said. "They'd treat Riossa like she was one of those tarts at the Goldenrod and I couldn't stand for that."
"Don't worry," Kiram assured him. "I won't say a word."
As they made their way past the clusters of first-year students lounging on the steps, Nestor whispered a full confession. While he rhapsodized about slipping his hand inside Riossa's bodice and touching her breasts, Kiram realized that Nestor hadn't gotten much farther with Riossa than a few furtive gropes in a fair tent-certainly not far enough to make marriage a necessity. Still, his face flushed and his expression grew ecstatic as he described the stolen moments.
Kiram resisted comparing those brief intimacies to the ones he had shared with Javier. He said, "You're quite taken with Riossa, aren't you?"
"Honestly, I never thought I'd meet a girl who wouldn't seem a little dull, but when I'm with her, we talk and laugh and I don't even notice the time passing. She's not like other girls at all. She tells great jokes and she draws really well and she knows law better than I do."
Kiram didn't tell Nestor that she sounded like any one of a multitude of Haldiim girls he knew. He'd read enough Cadeleonian literature to know that such traits were not encouraged among Cadeleonian women.
Nestor and he parted ways on the stairs where Nestor saluted him before disappearing into his room to attend his upperclass- man's hangover.
Kiram continued climbing up to the room he and Javier shared in the east watchtower. As he crossed the threshold, a feeling of deep sadness washed over him. Javier had obviously already been here; a discarded jacket hung on the back of his chair and one of his dusty boots peeked from the shadows beneath his bed.
Fresh incantations decorated the floor, new dark ink scrawled over faded red symbols.
Kiram wondered if it would do either of them any good if he went to Javier now. But he didn't know what he would say and Elezar would be there in any case. And he certainly wasn't about to get down on his knees and beg as Javier had demanded. The memory of Javier's pronouncement sent a flare of anger through the melancholy of Kiram's thoughts.
"Kivhash to Javier," Kiram swore in his native Haldiim. He had other ways to occupy his time and other reasons-better reasons-to be at the Sagrada Academy.
Kiram swung his tool bag over his shoulder and left. When he reached his shed, he was pleased to discover that the workmen had raised a section of the roof as he had requested. There would now be enough space to test his steam engine without it tearing through the ceiling supports.
Autumn chill filled the dim interior of the shed. He lit his sweet oil lamp and opened the window shutters, allowing bright afternoon light to pour in. Sunlight and heavy work soon warmed him. The familiar smell of machine oil and the weight of cast iron in his hands soothed him. Steadily, he assembled his secondary steam chamber, taking careful measurements, rechecking his work and making corrections for the pieces he would need forged to create the condensation chamber.
In his mind he could see it already assembled and he didn't suppress his satisfied grin. His situation now might be a wreck of frustration, worry and confusion, but this mechanism would not fail him. It would work as nothing else in his life seemed to: precisely as he planned.
A knock at the shed door interrupted Kiram's thoughts.
"It's unlocked." Kiram wrote down a final measurement, then looked up to see Scholar Donamillo peering in through the doorway. Kiram offered him a welcoming smile. As Donamillo gazed intently at the half-assembled steam engine, afternoon light struck the side of his face catching the thick streaks of gray in his dull brown hair and etching the deep wrinkles that edged his appreciative expression. Not since Kiram's father had another man gazed at Kiram's work with such an expression of delight and curiosity.
"I wanted to make sure your arm wasn't hurting you." Scholar Donamillo didn't pull his eyes from the towering mechanism. Kiram could see him trying to guess at the purpose of unassembled pipes and valves.
"My arm only hurts when I think about it." Kiram pulled back the sleeve of his shirt, allowing Donamillo to see the thick scab that traced his forearm.
"It looks good. I'm glad." Scholar Donamillo's attention returned almost at once to Kiram's mechanism. Slowly Donamillo circled the engine. He cocked his head in curiosity at the mount where the cooling chamber would rest.
Kiram couldn't keep himself from explaining the entire thing to Scholar Donamillo. Months ago, when he had describing his innovations to Javier, he had felt that Javier was humoring him, listening without much understanding or any real concern. Scholar Donamillo smiled in genuine delight when Kiram described the energy the cooling chamber would save and, after examining Kiram's diagrams, he offered several suggestions to rebuild a troubling valve.
"In my early work with the mechanical cures I came across a similar problem. The heat of constant friction distorted a number of my base plates. A few even melted." Scholar Donamillo's sheepish look at this admission gave Kiram a strong impression what Donamillo must have been like as a young man: both intense and shy. He leaned closer to Kiram and asked quietly, "Do you mind if I take a few measurements of my own? I want to ensure that the crank on Fedeles' mechanical cure will be compatible with your engine."
"Please do" Pride filled Kiram. He knew that his creation might not just win the Crown Challenge but would also aid Scholar Donamillo's work to save Fedeles.
While Scholar Donamillo measured the pistons, Kiram continued his own work, comfortable with the quiet mumbling of another inventor. More than once, as his thoughts drifted, he forgot that he was not once again in his father's workshop. Then fourth bell sounded and Scholar Donamillo excused himself.
Kiram himself had done as much as he could until his new parts were forged. He rewrote his order for the blacksmith in neat, clear print.
Nestor arrived and invited Kiram to join him for a ride, which Kiram accepted with pleasure. At some point during the months of morning lessons with Javier, riding had transformed from a fearful trial to a source of comfort. Now Kiram stroked Firaj's neck and felt the tension in his own body relax into the big gelding's even gait. Nestor and he discussed their upcoming history papers and the new class schedule now that the tournament was over. From time to time Nestor lapsed into some reverie about Riossa. She smelled like flowers; she could burp the entire alphabet. The things that attracted Nestor mystified Kiram.
Tentatively, Nestor asked about Kiram's visit to the Goldenrod last night. As Kiram described the gaudy rooms and the numerous naked women, he tried not to let his revulsion carry through. Still, he couldn't manage any enthusiasm and he guessed that was telling enough.
"Not the place for you?" Nestor casually brushed a yellow leaf from his roan stallion's mane.
"No," Kiram admitted. The pungent, sweet scent of fallen apples drifted on the cool air and Firaj briefly snuffled at the ground to locate an overripe fruit. Kiram indulged him.
"To be honest," Nestor said quietly, "it doesn't sound all that appealing to me either. I mean, who wants to have sex with a bunch of other men in the room-especially my brother?"
Kiram laughed at that.
They returned just before the first of the evening bells rang. After brushing down their horses and rinsing themselves in the icy water of the stable troughs, Kiram and Nestor rushed to dinner. Shouldering past the crowds of first and second-year students thronging the lower tables, they took their places at the Hellions' table. Atreau and Morisio had already claimed their seats and Atreau offered them an offhanded greeting as they dropped down onto the wooden benches. Kiram felt a slight flush spread across his cheeks, meeting Atreau's gaze and remembering the other man's drunken rutting. Fortunately Kiram's dark complexion disguised the worst of his blush and Atreau's attention quickly shifted as other Hellions arrived for dinner.
Kiram glanced to the empty space reserved for Javier. His longing to see Javier felt as sharp as hunger but also edged with dread. Javier could turn cruel easily.
When Elezar arrived a few minutes later, Kiram considered asking him if Javier had seemed to be in a bad mood but resisted. Instead, he peered around as the dining hall filled with students. In the past week, Kiram had almost forgotten the heat and smell of so many young men gathering in one room. When Kiram happened to take a deep breath, he realized that the pungent scent of horses and sweat saturated his jacket and trousers, making him as much of an odorous offender as any of the grubby first-year boys who sat wiping their noses on the backs of their shirtsleeves.
Javier arrived just before the teachers and Holy Father Habalan. He strode between the rows of tables with a handsome and arrogant expression of assurance. The jacket he wore glinted with silver threads and his black hair gleamed. His trousers were perfectly cut, accentuating the hard muscles of his long legs. Kiram could hardly look away. When he smiled, the warmth of his expression lent an alluring softness to his sharp features, though there remained a wicked gleam in his eyes.
He knew, Kiram realized. He knew exactly how good he looked and how the sight of him would affect Kiram.
And suddenly Kiram felt very worried. He had been prepared for Javier's most biting remarks, even secretly hoped for them, so that he could just hate Javier and be done. Now he had no idea how he could inure himself to Javier's charms.
And Javier did not relent throughout the meal. He was unerringly funny and pleasant. He didn't lavish his attention upon Kiram, rather, he complimented Kiram's work as his squire in an easy, offhanded manner. He bantered with Morisio and Elezar and very casually allowed one of his long legs to brush against Kiram's calf. A spark of sharp desire flickered through Kiram's body at the small contact.
It required nearly all of Kiram's attention to ignore Javier's appealing presence. The food hardly made any impression upon Kiram and more than once he had to ask Nestor to repeat himself.
"You seem a little distracted this evening, Kiram," Nestor commented at last.
Javier gave him a knowing smile. Kiram could feel a flush rising but he refused to acknowledge it.
"I've been thinking about Scholar Donamillo's mechanical cures," Kiram replied.
A vexed expression flickered across Javier's face.
"They're fascinating, aren't they?" Morisio commented. "I've been studying them myself. I even built a few miniatures but powering them is the real trick."
Morisio went on and Kiram tried to concentrate on his freckled face, but the light sensation of Javier's calf against his own obsessed him. He could feel the warmth of Javier's skin radiating through his stockings and he remembered the weight of Javier's bare body against his own and the heat of his mouth. Kiram hardly heard Morisio's continuing ruminations on the key to Scholar Donamillo's unprecedented success. "I can't help but wonder if there isn't something more than pure mechanism behind it."
At this Genimo darted a glance to Kiram and Kiram realized that Genimo already knew that Scholar Donamillo used blessings and spells as well as mechanically-generated power for the cure that protected Fedeles. The knowledge that only he and Genimo shared the scholar's secret lent an uncomfortable sense of fraternity to his normally cold regard of Genimo.
"I can't help but wonder if you realize that no one cares a pig's tit about Scholar Donamillo's mechanisms," Elezar told Morisio. In response, Morisio just threw a hunk of bread at him. Elezar leaned back and caught it in his mouth.
"If your fortunes ever fail, no doubt you'll have a place in some circus," Javier told Elezar.
"You're one to talk." Elezar tossed a golden plum at Javier. Javier caught the plum and spun it on the tip of his finger. Then he rolled it between his hands. White sparks of light flickered between his fingers and suddenly the plum appeared to vanish. All conversation at the table quieted as the Hellions watched in fascination.
Javier held out his empty hands, displaying his palms, then with a flourish he reached across the table and caught Kiram's hand in a gentle grip. A conspirator's warmth flashed in his smile. As he pulled his hand back, Kiram felt the plum drop from the cuff of Javier's sleeve into his palm. Hellions hooted and clapped at the seemingly magical reappearance. Students at other tables gawked.
Kiram couldn't help but be delighted-not just with Javier's ingenuity but also at being included in the sleight of hand. He had no doubt that Javier had conceived the gesture hoping that it would charm him but the knowledge did nothing to diminish Kiram's pleasure.
Elezar's demand for another plum brought normalcy back to the table. Atreau needed notes from Holy Father Habalan's lecture on the conquest of the Labaran Dynasty. Genimo offered his. Elezar complained about Nestor's engagement and Nestor grumbled responses.
Kiram ate the sweet, tender plum and wondered with a terrible sinking dread whether his resistance or Javier's persistence would fail first. He wished he could feel happy at the prospect of either.
Chapter One
Kiram woke as the carriage jolted against the rough cobblestones of the country road.
After six days of sleepless travel he couldn't believe that he had dozed off today of all days. He frowned at the creased front of his white linen shirt and tucked a loose edge back into his dark pants. His curly blonde hair was always a wild mess after he had slept on it. He tried to smooth it with his hand, feeling the tight spirals spring back as his fingers brushed over them.
His book, Modern Mechanism, lay on the carriage floor. Dozens of strips of paper protruded from between the pages, displaying Kiram's notes and diagrams. He retrieved the book, straightened his notes, and carefully wrapped the book in the remains of his parchment and tucked it into the wide pocket of his new Cadeleonian wool coat.
Kiram had packed very little clothing and only a few of his favorite books. Tools and crated machine parts filled most of the space in the carriage. Many heavier crates groaned against the ropes securing them to the roof of the carriage. The driver had charged Kiram's mother twice the normal fare because of the weight, but she had been proud to pay it. Those heavy, oily pieces of metal had won Kiram the right to attend Academy Sagrada.
No full-blooded Haldiim had ever before been accepted into the school, and a century had passed since the half- blood Yassin Lif-Harun studied there.
Lif-Harun's formulas had altered the very heavens. A statue of the man stood in the Royal Park. Kiram's father had already pointed out the spot where he thought Kiram's own statue would one day stand. If his parents had been allowed to, they would have sent another half-dozen carriages filled with praise dancers and red-dyed doves to announce their youngest son's arrival. Fortunately the school permitted only one carriage per student.
The carriage struck another bump and Kiram shoved the stack of rocking crates back against the carriage wall. Sunlight streamed in through the red carriage curtains, filling the space with a warm glow. The dark wood radiated a late afternoon heat. The brown coat he'd worn for the trip over the mountains felt sweltering hot now and smelled of his sweat. Kiram stripped it off and stretched his long legs as best he could in the cramped confines.
He couldn't be far from the Academy Sagrada now. Maybe an hour, possibly less.
He pulled the curtains aside and gazed out at the walls of wild, green forest that arched over the road. There was a flash of brilliant blue wings as a flock of jays took flight from the overhanging branches. He thought he caught a glimpse of something white moving fast between the trunks of trees but he lost sight of it as the road turned away.
As he rode further, the dense brambles and towering oak trees gave way to groomed hedges and open fields divided by low stone walls. A flock of white ducks waddled along the roadside, tended by a young, bored-looking boy.
Far across a fallow field, Kiram spied a horse and rider. The horse was brilliant white in the bright sun and rider's skin seemed almost as pale as the horse's hide. His black hair stood out in sharp contrast, as did his deep blue Academy Sagrada uniform.
Kiram doubted that his own uniform, well made as it was, would look so good on him. He wondered if the rider was an upperclassman or even an instructor. Kiram stared in amazement as the lean man urged his horse ahead and the two of them seemed to fly over the stone wall then raced across the road and through the opposite field.
He didn't spare a glance for Kiram's carriage, the herder boy, or even the flock of now startled ducks. A few moments later both the horse and rider were little more than a distant haze. Kiram tried to keep track of the rider's blue jacket, but eventually he lost sight of it amongst the fields of blooming sunflowers.
Kiram felt his pulse surging through his body. This was exactly what the academy promised for his future, such fearless prowess, such determination and beauty. Perhaps even adventure.
Kiram had been patient for days but suddenly he felt as though this slow, creaking carriage would never reach its destination and he needed to be at the academy now. Desire and excitement coursed through him like a physical pang.
As the carriage rolled up to the heavy stone walls that surrounded the academy, Kiram gripped the latch of the carriage door. He hardly took in the fortress-like towers of the main building or the chapel's brilliant blue spire. He stared at cobblestone paths and green lawn of the grounds, searching for his fellow classmates. Several boys dressed in academy blue strolled toward the chapel, but none of them captured Kiram's attention the way that single rider had.
The carriage jerked to a halt, and Kiram slipped slightly forward, his hand pulling the door latch. Instantly the carriage door sprang open and he spilled out onto the muddy ground in front of the stable. He struggled up to his feet to see two older men in gray scholars' robes gaping at him. Just behind them, leading his brilliant white horse by its reins, stood the rider.
"I'm fine!" Kiram announced, though no one had asked. "I just…the door opened and I wasn't looking…"
Kiram could feel his face flushing bright red. Not even his dark skin could hide such an intense blush. He regained his feet quickly but to his horror the rider's expression shifted from slight concern to amusement. His handsome smile somehow made Kiram's humiliation far worse. He glared at the rider and then dove back into the cover of the carriage to retrieve his coat.
When he turned back the rider had disappeared into the stables. The two scholars hurried to Kiram's side. They were both typical Cadeleonians, pale skinned and thickly built with brown hair and eyes.
One of them was older, probably in his late forties with shots of gray scattered through his close-cropped hair. The other scholar wasn't more than a decade past Kiram's own age, perhaps twenty-seven. He wore his hair a little long and his cheeks were dappled with freckles.
"I'm Blasio Urracon," the younger scholar introduced himself, "and this is my honored brother, Scholar Donamillo Urracon."
Kiram bowed to both men. Cadeleonian names often sounded odd to him, so he made special note of their pronunciation. Many Cadeleonians found Haldiim informality rude and so Kiram was careful to use proper titles as he addressed his new teachers.
"Scholar Blasio and Scholar Donamillo, it is an honor to meet you. I'm Kiram Kir-Zaki, your humble student."
Scholar Blasio smiled at Kiram's politeness. "It's a pleasure to meet you at last. Javier was just saying that he'd seen your carriage so we came to greet you." Scholar Blasio gestured back towards the stable where the rider had been standing. He frowned at the empty spot. "I suppose he's brushing down his horse. We're short a stable hand at the moment-"
"It's no matter," the older brother, Scholar Donamillo, cut in. "Kiram will be formally introduced to staff and students at dinner tonight."
Scholar Donamillo's tone was much more reserved than Scholar Blasio's, and his expression stern. Kiram couldn't help but think that the older man had taken a quick dislike to him. Probably because he was supposed to be a gifted thinker and he'd just fallen out of a carriage onto his face.
Scholar Donamillo looked a little past Kiram to the crates stacked atop and inside the carriage. "Are all of these yours?"
"Yes, sir. They're the components I've fabricated for the Crown Challenge."
Scholar Blasio grinned. "You brought them all the way from Anacleto? What dedication. That's fabulous!"
Kiram warmed to Scholar Blasio for his enthusiasm but he also noted Scholar Donamillo's expression of disapproval.
"I'll have the groundsmen unpack these," Scholar Donamillo stated. "I suppose that one of the tack sheds can be spared to provide a workshop for the project. No doubt it will take a great deal of space."
"Thank you, sir." Kiram bowed again to the older man. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience."
"Yes, it's good that you realize that this does inconvenience us. It is not common to accept a new student directly into the second-year courses, much less accommodate his individual studies." Strangely Scholar Donamillo's stern expression seemed to soften as he looked over the wooden crates. "I can only hope that you will prove to be the mechanist genius your teachers claim you are."
The label 'genius' brought a second flush to Kiram's cheeks and also a gnawing anxiety to the pit of his stomach. At seventeen, most of his achievements were still built upon his father's innovations. This would be the first time he would have to rise to a challenge alone.
"I will do my utmost to win the Crown Challenge in the academy's name," Kiram assured Scholar Donamillo. The older man offered him a slight smile in return. He reached out and brushed a clump of mud off Kiram's shirt.
"No doubt you will want a bath after your long journey. Scholar Blasio will take you up to your room."
"Yes, sir." Kiram snatched up his coat and his gray trunk and followed Scholar Blasio across the lush, green lawn to the three-story stone building that dominated the grounds.
"This is the dormitory. First-year students are all housed on the first floor of the west wing, in the old armory room." Scholar Blasio pointed to where the west wing jutted out from the main building. The windows were barred. "With everyone in a single room the night wardens can keep them out of trouble more easily."
Kiram was glad that he hadn't been forced to come as a first-year student. He couldn't imagine sleeping while crammed in a single room with a hundred noisy Cadeleonian boys. The smell alone would have driven him mad.
"Second and third years are housed together on the second floor. Those young men who stand to inherit titles, of course, stay on for a fourth year of Lord's Law. They each have private rooms on the third floor."
"What about the watchtowers?" Kiram gazed up at the two jutting towers that rose up from the third floor.
"The west tower is used for storage and the east one is for special cases." Scholar Blasio looked a little uncomfortable. "Let's go in, shall we?"
Inside, the building was dim and cool. Crests of Cadeleonian noble families, all woven in academy blue, decorated the walls. The royal crest of the Sagrada family was inlayed in gold over all the doors. Scholar Blasio led him past a statue of a rearing stallion, through a huge dining hall, and then up a massive staircase.
"Four of the lecture halls are located on the first floor, the rest are in the east wing," Scholar Blasio told Kiram as they walked up the stairs. "The dining hall and common library are directly below us."
"Everything seems so heavy and huge," Kiram commented. "It looks a little like a fortress."
"It used to be one. Three hundred years ago, during the first Sagrada dynasty, this was one of their great strongholds. After the Restoration the reinstated Sagrada king turned the fortress over to one of his favored vassals to train young lords in the arts of war and law. Of course, things have changed since then but we have not forgotten our history. In fact, it's right under our feet." Scholar Blasio paused on the stairs and pointed back down to a radiant, black design that spread across the stones of the floor below them.
"That is exactly the spot where one hundred years ago Calixto Tornesal opened the mouth of the white hell and defeated the Mirogoth invaders."
Kiram studied the fine web of black cracks. He didn't believe in the white hell or any of the other Cadeleonian hells but the sight of the burned, pitted stones still gave him pause. Standing in an ancient fortress, with a scholar relating the story and pointing out its exact site, it seemed almost plausible that a Cadeleonian nobleman had traded his soul for the power to drive back an invading army.
Even so, Kiram couldn't credit it. A soul could not be given up any more than joy or kindness could be bottled and sold at market. Only in death could the soul leave the flesh.
Kiram glanced to Scholar Blasio, searching his face for some sign that he was joking, but his expression was serious.
"Calixto's descendants still hold the pact of the white hell." Scholar Blasio looked meaningfully at Kiram.
Kiram wasn't sure if he should respond with reverence or revulsion. At last he decided to simply be honest. "In Haldiim tradition we don't believe that people are condemned to hells. We believe that in death all creatures pass through a shajdi and then are reborn in a new form."
Seeing Scholar Blasio's furrowed brow, Kiram continued, "Most modern Haldiim, like my family, don't give much credence to the tales of shajdis hidden in sacred forests or the Bahiim who opened them and claimed power over life and death. If shajdi ever did exist, it was in the ancient past, and they have gone now. But really, most of us understand such stories as metaphors for the balance of birth and death."
Only the very religious Bahiim took shajdis as literal gates between life and death, and the last thing Kiram wanted was to be taken for a superstitious ascetic who'd spend hours talking to trees.
"Really?" Scholar Blasio cocked his head slightly. "So, you aren't afraid of the hells?"
"No, as I said, we don't believe in hells. Shajdi make for amusing stories, though."
Scholar Blasio gazed intently at Kiram, studying his face. "So you wouldn't be afraid of a man who had been hell-branded? Who had the gate to a hell burning within him?"
Kiram simply shrugged. "I suppose not."
"It wouldn't worry you at all to, say, sleep in a room with him?" Scholar Blasio sounded almost incredulous.
"So long as he wasn't insane or sick with black pox I wouldn't be afraid to sleep in a room with any man," Kiram replied. It wasn't entirely true-certainly he wouldn't want to sleep in a room with a thief or murder or, honestly, a man who stank terribly.
"Well, that's good to know. Your room is on the third floor, in the east tower." Scholar Blasio continued up the stairs. Kiram followed him in quick strides. "It's away from the other rooms so it will be quiet enough for you to study, and unlike the other rooms, it's very spacious."
Kiram thought he knew where all of this was leading and decided to just get to the point, instead of having Scholar Blasio nervously list the amenities of his living arrangements when he'd already stated the east tower was reserved for special cases.
"You want me to room with one of these hell-branded men? A descendant of the Tornesal line?"
"You don't have much choice," Scholar Blasio admitted at last. "The other upperclassmen have refused to room with a Haldiim. They have no objection to you schooling here, but sleeping in the same room, when their souls are unprotected, is out of the question. However, since Javier's spiritual state is already.compromised, he risks nothing in sharing a room with you."
Kiram wanted to demand what exactly it was that these people imagined he was going to do to them in their sleep but then his thoughts stopped short as he registered the name Javier and remembered the dark, sardonic eyes of the rider.
"Javier? The man with the white stallion?"
"Yes, Javier Tornesal, Duke of Rauma. He will be your upperclassman."
Chapter One
Kiram stared with red-rimmed eyes out at the fields lining the road to the Sagrada Academy. Only desiccated sunflower stalks and tracks of broken soil remained from the harvest. ^e land looked as ragged as he felt and the dark confines of the Tornesal carriage offered him no more rest than his sumptuous bed had the night before. Despite exhaustion, hard liquor and hours spent wandering unknown streets, sleep had eluded him. Just as it evaded his restless mind now.
Outside, blue jays flashed their brilliant wings from a stand of apple trees; red leaves fell as the birds took to the air and swept past the creaking luggage carriage. Kiram shuddered at the sight of them and the scabbed gash in his forearm throbbed as if pulsing with poison. A week ago he could have found the birds a lovely distraction on such a cold fall morning. He might have delighted in their graceful flight and taken little note of how closely the flock followed the steady course of this single carriage.
Now he knew their chase betrayed a malevolent intent. ^ey flew as portents of the shadow curse, spies for the man who controlled it.
Slumped across the seat opposite Kiram, Fedeles Quemanor groaned and twitched, his peaceful doze turning fitful as the jays circled overhead. He gave a strained gasp and rolled his head from beneath his arm. Kiram glanced to Fedeles' face but for an instant he saw only Javier in those sharp, troubled features.
A longing so intense that it felt like pain shot through Kiram. He rubbed his tired eyes. He couldn't afford to think of Javier. What had been between them was over. ^ey had both destroyed it last night.
^is morning Javier had hardly met his gaze and offered no response when Kiram greeted him at the breakfast table. Instead he'd risen, abandoning his meal, wished Fedeles good day, and departed for the Sagrada Academy. Less than an hour later the dour staff of the Tornesal townhouse had efficiently packed Kiram and Fedeles into this musty carriage as if they were just two more pieces of Javier's luggage. While Fedeles dozed, Kiram deliberately turned his gaze from the trunks and leather chests emblazoned with Javier's family crest and tried to set his mind to other subjects.
But the strong physical resemblance between Javier and Fedeles roused all the thoughts Kiram had wished to forget. The stench of debauchery seemed to drift from the leather carriage seats. How could it be that those minutes he longed most to forget could burn in his memory with such painful detail?
Fedeles' legs shifted, brushing briefly against Kiram's calf and the contact offered Kiram a strange kind of comfort.
Both Javier and Fedeles were long-limbed, pale-skinned young men who sported ink black hair and handsome features. Ms morning the random shadows of luggage and Kiram's own exhaustion cast a harder line to Fedeles' jaw and lent an arrogant curve to his lips. ^e bulk of his new velvet coat offered the illusion of Javier's angular musculature to Fedeles' thinner frame.
The two of them could easily have passed for brothers, even twins. It was no wonder that some gossips whispered of scandalous relations between their parents. But Kiram knew Fedeles deserved better from him than to be seen as some proxy for his cousin, so he shifted his leg away.
Suddenly Fedeles jerked upright. With consciousness, much of his likeness to Javier fled. His dark eyes flashed wide as his mouth twitched between grimaces and grins. He caught Kiram's hand in his long fingers and Kiram couldn't help but note the power of his grip. Nearly as crushing as Javier's had been last night.
"They want to kill him, Kiri," Fedeles whispered. "The birds-" He cut himself short as a jay dived past the carriage window. The color drained entirely from Fedeles' face, leaving his mouth pale as chalk.
"I won't let them harm you, Fedeles," Kiram assured him. Fedeles shook his head as a violent shudder passed through his body. A wild, manic grin jerked across his lips but his eyes remained wide and terrified.
"Look here, Fedeles." Kiram lifted his lotus medallion from beneath the collar of his shirt and held it out. Even in the dim light of the closed carriage the gold surface glowed. Sacred Bahiim symbols gleamed as if throwing off their own light. Kiram hoped that, if nothing else, the medallion might distract Fedeles from his own fear.
Fedeles stared at the medallion like a fascinated crow.
"My uncle's partner is a Bahiim, a Haldiim holy man. He gave this to me. The lotus is a sign of powerful protection among my people, you know."
According to Alizadeh this medallion was more than that. It served as Alizadeh's spyglass, offering him the chance to detect the inner workings of the shadow curse and perhaps even to identify the man who controlled it. As Kiram held the medallion up now, he hoped that it would catch some hint of the dark magic that directed the jays in their pursuit of Fedeles.
The medallion swung on its chain as the carriage bounced over rough cobblestones. Light glinted off its polished surface. Then, without warning or seeming reason, the jays suddenly broke off from their chase. With a few harsh calls they fled into the thick woods that encircled the Sagrada Academy.
As he watched them go, Fedeles' expression lit with joy and he threw his arms around Kiram, crushing the air from him in his fierce embrace. Then Fedeles released him to press his face against the window and glare in the direction that the jays had fled.
"Stay away. Stay away. Stay away," Fedeles whispered as if reciting a holy chant. Then he dropped back into his seat.
"Good riddance." Kiram too felt better with the birds out of sight. He wondered if perhaps now he might steal a few moments of sleep. But when he closed his eyes his thoughts churned with the sour memory of writhing whores and Javier's proud glower.
Kiram straightened up, awake again.
Across from him, Fedeles hummed a bright tune. Now and then he moved his legs and tapped his toes against the floor of the carriage, keeping perfect time. After a few minutes he patted Kiram's knee.
"Dancing, Kiri," Fedeles informed him.
Kiram smiled. He didn't know why, but out of everyone at the Sagrada Academy only Fedeles seemed to know the Haldiim diminutive of his name.
"We'll dance a quaressa." Fedeles continued sweeping his feet in graceful motions across the carriage floor. "Left foot out and back, out and kick." Fedeles demonstrated and then looked expectantly at Kiram's motionless feet.
Though Kiram realized what Fedeles wanted, he still felt a moment of resistance; the bitterness of last night clung to him. But Fedeles was the last person he could blame for any of his troubles with Javier. So Kiram emulated the motions while Fedeles beamed with approval.
"Now right foot." Fedeles again demonstrated the dance step and Kiram copied him.
Laughing and grinning, Fedeles led him through the footwork of an entire quaressa. Last night Kiram had been so hurt and repulsed that he'd imagined he would never again find anything Cadeleonian charming. But this morning his sense of adventure seemed to have returned.
And in his own way, Fedeles was wonderful company, because for all his madness, he accepted Kiram without judgment and right now Kiram appreciated that more than anything.
"Again, again!" Fedeles crowed. Kiram obliged, mirroring Fedeles' steps and kicks from his own seat.
Leather trunks creaked and the carriage bounced beneath their weight. More than once Kiram misstepped, knocking knees and ankles with Fedeles, but Fedeles laughed it off. Kiram quickly improved. By the fourth time, their steps were almost perfectly synchronized. Fedeles sang out the names of his favorite horses, calling often for Kiram's black gelding, Firaj. Then he delightedly crowed for Javier's white stallion, Lunaluz.
Out of the corner of his eye Kiram thought he did catch a flash of white through the dense forest lining the road. Reflex- ively he looked and then felt the drop of disappointment as he discovered only a stand of white-barked birches growing among the dark woods.
The carriage rattled around another bend and the vast fortress of the Sagrada Academy loomed ahead of them. The heavy stonework of the main building dominated the grounds, rising three stories and thrusting its two watchtowers even higher. Kiram took in the whitewashed expanses of stables and sparring house without regard but scowled at the cerulean roof and gold steeple of the chapel.
Alizadeh and Rafie had only referred to the man controlling the shadow curse as the 'man on the hill' but it seemed obvious that if anyone at the Sagrada Academy would gladly plot murder and torture at the behest of the royal bishop it would be Holy Father Habalan.
Then Kiram wondered just how many jays sheltered among the gnarled oaks and fruit trees on the chapel grounds. Two of the birds perched in the branches of a tall pear tree. As the carriage rattled past Kiram was certain that the birds returned his gaze with calculating stares.
Suddenly Kiram remembered the merciless way that the flocks of blue jays had attacked and ravaged Nakiesh's sisters. Not even their own deaths had deterred the jays' assault.
Kiram looked away from the chapel and caught sight of familiar faces among the students gathered at the stables. A sense of something like safety returned to him. Fedeles leaned back into his seat and closed his eyes.
When the carriage drew to a halt, both Kiram and Fedeles bounded out to greet the waiting Grunito brothers. Nestor welcomed them with a toothy smile while Elezar simply used his massive frame to deflect other giddy students from crashing into their friendly exchange.
Kiram noted the brighter color of Genimo's auburn hair as he ducked past Elezar. Kiram and he exchanged cool, indifferent gazes but said nothing to each other as Genimo sauntered to Fedeles' side.
Kiram searched the throng of Cadeleonian students, grooms and house servants. They surrounded him in a sea of straight brown hair, dark eyes and light, freckled skin; their builds ranged from short, brawny grooms to the mountain of muscle that was Elezar Grunito-all of them quite the opposite of Kiram's slim Haldiim build, light eyes, dark skin and curling blond hair. Javier was not among them. His absence made Kiram anxious and uncertain of what to expect when he did arrive.
"Are we the last of the Hellions?" Kiram had to raise his voice to be heard over all the surrounding shouts and greetings.
"Most of the rest have gone up to the dormitories," Nestor replied and then he yawned widely. Kiram wasn't sure if it was just the hard morning light but Nestor looked nearly as tired as Kiram felt. His plump, pink cheeks seemed hollow and his small gold spectacles couldn't quite hide the shadows beneath his eyes. Nestor had encountered his own romantic troubles last night, Kiram thought, but he didn't want to ask about them in front of everyone.
Housemen in gray liveries slipped past Kiram and Fedeles, hauling away the luggage. Grooms saw to the horses and carriage.
One of the whip-thin Helio twins alighted from a different carriage and his friends greeted him, asking about his brother in hushed voices. Kiram peered past them, still searching.
"Javier's at chapel," Elezar informed him. "How any man can stand to attend morning and afternoon service is beyond me."
"I thought he might be," Kiram replied. All at once he didn't know what more to say. He'd seen too much of his fellow Hellions' passions last night. Now he couldn't quite meet Elezar's hawkish gaze.
"I should see Fedeles to the infirmary." Genimo stepped past Kiram, leading Fedeles by the hand as if he were a child. Fedeles smiled, but Kiram could see him pulling away from Genimo's grip.
"Fedeles can stay with me," Kiram offered. A pained expression flickered across Genimo's narrow features.
"He needs to see Scholar Donamillo for his treatment, but I'd be happy to turn him over to you afterward." Genimo didn't meet Kiram's eyes but instead stole a quick glance to small scar on Kiram's cheek. "Unless Javier objects."
"Why on earth would he?" Kiram responded, though it occurred to him that Javier could refuse just to spite him. Javier could be cruel when angered and as far as Kiram could tell, right now he was furious. Still, Kiram doubted that Javier would be so petty as to use Fedeles like some pawn.
Kiram felt briefly frustrated with himself for being too attached to Javier to think poorly of him even after last night. It would have been much simpler if he could dislike Javier, or failing that, just forget about him.
"If the two of you are going to stand around wondering why Javier does anything he does, Fedeles is never going to get to his treatment," Elezar commented.
Genimo scowled at Elezar, then turned his attention back to Fedeles.
"Come, Fedeles." Genimo pulled Fedeles along while Fedeles stumbled and dragged his feet behind him. There was nothing Kiram could do for him and he knew Scholar Donamillo's treatments were the best hope Fedeles had for survival until someone could find a way to break the curse. Still, Kiram wished that Fedeles didn't dread them so much.
"We'd best clear out from in front of the stables as well," Nestor said as another carriage rolled up.
The three of them took a wandering path towards the main building. Dry golden blades of autumn grass crunched beneath their shoes as they crossed the lawn and Kiram noted that dark rose hips now dotted the potted roses. Many of the apple trees sported bare branches while a litter of yellow leaves lay across the ground. Despite the bright sunlight a chill hung in the air and filled the deep shadows of the main building.
"Summer seems over all at once," Kiram commented.
"True, but there's plenty of ripe apples now." Nestor's broad smile brightened his face despite the dark circles beneath his brown eyes. "And with the autumn tournament over, you and I won't be spending every waking hour in battle practice."
That would be a relief, Kiram decided.
Nestor seemed surprisingly cheerful, given the trouble he'd been in the previous night. Riossa's lonely, hapless arrival at the Grunito house must have worked out.
"Well," Kiram glanced to Nestor, "aren't you going to tell me what happened after I left your mother's party?"
"The dolt got himself engaged," Elezar said in disgust.
At this Nestor smiled quite proudly. "There wasn't anything else to do. I couldn't let Riossa just take a fall, not that she wasn't willing to. She would-"
"She duped you, that's what she did," Elezar interrupted.
Nestor scowled at him. "You weren't there and you have no idea what went on."
Kiram thought this was the first time he'd ever seen Nestor take a stand against his older brother. Elezar didn't seem to appreciate his little brother's newfound sense of independence.
"All I need to know is that you're a fool. That girl fucked you over." Elezar stopped suddenly, catching sight of a figure far across the lawn. Kiram followed his gaze and realized that they were both watching Javier's broad back and long legs as he strode from the chapel towards the stables.
"I'm going to check up on Javier," Elezar announced. "Either of you coming?"
"Maybe later." Kiram hoped the response sounded casual.
"Later," Nestor agreed.
Elezar shrugged as if he couldn't account for their tastes and then hurried after his friend.
"Thank God," Nestor said as soon as Elezar was out of earshot. "He's been badgering me all day."
"Well, it is surprising that you're engaged. You've only known Riossa a week."
"Honestly, Kiram, there wasn't anything else I could have done. And it wasn't like Elezar makes it sound. Riossa didn't come in alone to the Grunito house to cause a scandal. She'd been by herself outside the townhouse for nearly two hours waiting for her sister to join her. She only came inside to try and have a carriage summoned so that she could return to her father's house. But the footman saw her invitation and escorted her into the ballroom."
Kiram frowned at this. He was almost certain that Cade- leonian girls from good families were not supposed to be left alone for hours on end. "So, why did the sister leave Riossa waiting?"
Nestor lowered his voice. "Because she was having an affair with the carriage driver, apparently, and picked last night to run off with him. She told her husband that she was taking Riossa to the celebration so he wouldn't wonder why she was gone. Then she told Riossa that she'd forgotten something and left Riossa outside the townhouse while she took the family carriage and fled."
"Sounds like a rotten sister."
"Yes, and it wasn't as if anyone knew what had happened right away either. At first my mother was thinking the sister intentionally left Riossa so that Riossa could get her claws in me." Nestor rolled his eyes. "As if she would need to do something like that. She's beautiful and funny and smart."
"And a good kisser," Kiram added. "If my source is to be trusted."
"Yeah, she's that too." Nestor grinned.
"So if your mother thought this was all a trick, how did you end up engaged?"
"Riossa's father is an ass. He half lost his mind when he found out about Riossa's sister. He started screaming at Riossa for allowing her sister to ruin their family name-right in front of everyone. And then he told Riossa that he was sending her to the Inanicia Convent, and when she said she wouldn't go, he struck her!" Just recounting the event, Nestor flushed with anger. "He knocked her to the floor right in front of me. What was I supposed to do?"
Kiram wondered what he would have done in such a situa- tion-certainly not get engaged to the girl. He kept his thoughts to himself.
Nestor continued heatedly, "I told him that if he ever laid a hand on her again that I'd hit him so hard he'd be talking out his crapper."
"Did you really say crapper?"
"I know I should have said asshole, but my mom was right there," Nestor explained sheepishly. "Then I proposed. I guess marrying me sounded a lot better then being sent to a convent."
"So…there'll be a wedding?" Kiram could not have imagined Nestor's engagement would be so dramatic. Perhaps having a black-haired, romantic adventurer like Atreau for an upperclass- man had affected Nestor more than Kiram had realized.
"Not until spring, but in the meantime my mom's taken Riossa into her care. She's not happy about the marriage but she was proud that I wouldn't let some bastard treat his daughter so badly."
"Not many men would step up like that." Kiram nodded. "I wouldn't have."
"Well, to be honest, I should have stepped up sooner.you know, right after we first.dallied. But she didn't say anything about it so I let it alone too."
"Dallied?" Kiram didn't understand the Cadeleonian term at first but then he realized what Nestor meant. "Nestor, you » didn't"
"How'd you think I knew so much about kissing her?" Then suddenly Nestor became serious. "You won't tell any of this to Javier or Elezar or any of the others, will you?"
"No," Kiram assured Nestor. "Though they'd hardly have the right to judge."
"But they would," Nestor said. "They'd treat Riossa like she was one of those tarts at the Goldenrod and I couldn't stand for that."
"Don't worry," Kiram assured him. "I won't say a word."
As they made their way past the clusters of first-year students lounging on the steps, Nestor whispered a full confession. While he rhapsodized about slipping his hand inside Riossa's bodice and touching her breasts, Kiram realized that Nestor hadn't gotten much farther with Riossa than a few furtive gropes in a fair tent-certainly not far enough to make marriage a necessity. Still, his face flushed and his expression grew ecstatic as he described the stolen moments.
Kiram resisted comparing those brief intimacies to the ones he had shared with Javier. He said, "You're quite taken with Riossa, aren't you?"
"Honestly, I never thought I'd meet a girl who wouldn't seem a little dull, but when I'm with her, we talk and laugh and I don't even notice the time passing. She's not like other girls at all. She tells great jokes and she draws really well and she knows law better than I do."
Kiram didn't tell Nestor that she sounded like any one of a multitude of Haldiim girls he knew. He'd read enough Cadeleonian literature to know that such traits were not encouraged among Cadeleonian women.
Nestor and he parted ways on the stairs where Nestor saluted him before disappearing into his room to attend his upperclass- man's hangover.
Kiram continued climbing up to the room he and Javier shared in the east watchtower. As he crossed the threshold, a feeling of deep sadness washed over him. Javier had obviously already been here; a discarded jacket hung on the back of his chair and one of his dusty boots peeked from the shadows beneath his bed.
Fresh incantations decorated the floor, new dark ink scrawled over faded red symbols.
Kiram wondered if it would do either of them any good if he went to Javier now. But he didn't know what he would say and Elezar would be there in any case. And he certainly wasn't about to get down on his knees and beg as Javier had demanded. The memory of Javier's pronouncement sent a flare of anger through the melancholy of Kiram's thoughts.
"Kivhash to Javier," Kiram swore in his native Haldiim. He had other ways to occupy his time and other reasons-better reasons-to be at the Sagrada Academy.
Kiram swung his tool bag over his shoulder and left. When he reached his shed, he was pleased to discover that the workmen had raised a section of the roof as he had requested. There would now be enough space to test his steam engine without it tearing through the ceiling supports.
Autumn chill filled the dim interior of the shed. He lit his sweet oil lamp and opened the window shutters, allowing bright afternoon light to pour in. Sunlight and heavy work soon warmed him. The familiar smell of machine oil and the weight of cast iron in his hands soothed him. Steadily, he assembled his secondary steam chamber, taking careful measurements, rechecking his work and making corrections for the pieces he would need forged to create the condensation chamber.
In his mind he could see it already assembled and he didn't suppress his satisfied grin. His situation now might be a wreck of frustration, worry and confusion, but this mechanism would not fail him. It would work as nothing else in his life seemed to: precisely as he planned.
A knock at the shed door interrupted Kiram's thoughts.
"It's unlocked." Kiram wrote down a final measurement, then looked up to see Scholar Donamillo peering in through the doorway. Kiram offered him a welcoming smile. As Donamillo gazed intently at the half-assembled steam engine, afternoon light struck the side of his face catching the thick streaks of gray in his dull brown hair and etching the deep wrinkles that edged his appreciative expression. Not since Kiram's father had another man gazed at Kiram's work with such an expression of delight and curiosity.
"I wanted to make sure your arm wasn't hurting you." Scholar Donamillo didn't pull his eyes from the towering mechanism. Kiram could see him trying to guess at the purpose of unassembled pipes and valves.
"My arm only hurts when I think about it." Kiram pulled back the sleeve of his shirt, allowing Donamillo to see the thick scab that traced his forearm.
"It looks good. I'm glad." Scholar Donamillo's attention returned almost at once to Kiram's mechanism. Slowly Donamillo circled the engine. He cocked his head in curiosity at the mount where the cooling chamber would rest.
Kiram couldn't keep himself from explaining the entire thing to Scholar Donamillo. Months ago, when he had describing his innovations to Javier, he had felt that Javier was humoring him, listening without much understanding or any real concern. Scholar Donamillo smiled in genuine delight when Kiram described the energy the cooling chamber would save and, after examining Kiram's diagrams, he offered several suggestions to rebuild a troubling valve.
"In my early work with the mechanical cures I came across a similar problem. The heat of constant friction distorted a number of my base plates. A few even melted." Scholar Donamillo's sheepish look at this admission gave Kiram a strong impression what Donamillo must have been like as a young man: both intense and shy. He leaned closer to Kiram and asked quietly, "Do you mind if I take a few measurements of my own? I want to ensure that the crank on Fedeles' mechanical cure will be compatible with your engine."
"Please do" Pride filled Kiram. He knew that his creation might not just win the Crown Challenge but would also aid Scholar Donamillo's work to save Fedeles.
While Scholar Donamillo measured the pistons, Kiram continued his own work, comfortable with the quiet mumbling of another inventor. More than once, as his thoughts drifted, he forgot that he was not once again in his father's workshop. Then fourth bell sounded and Scholar Donamillo excused himself.
Kiram himself had done as much as he could until his new parts were forged. He rewrote his order for the blacksmith in neat, clear print.
Nestor arrived and invited Kiram to join him for a ride, which Kiram accepted with pleasure. At some point during the months of morning lessons with Javier, riding had transformed from a fearful trial to a source of comfort. Now Kiram stroked Firaj's neck and felt the tension in his own body relax into the big gelding's even gait. Nestor and he discussed their upcoming history papers and the new class schedule now that the tournament was over. From time to time Nestor lapsed into some reverie about Riossa. She smelled like flowers; she could burp the entire alphabet. The things that attracted Nestor mystified Kiram.
Tentatively, Nestor asked about Kiram's visit to the Goldenrod last night. As Kiram described the gaudy rooms and the numerous naked women, he tried not to let his revulsion carry through. Still, he couldn't manage any enthusiasm and he guessed that was telling enough.
"Not the place for you?" Nestor casually brushed a yellow leaf from his roan stallion's mane.
"No," Kiram admitted. The pungent, sweet scent of fallen apples drifted on the cool air and Firaj briefly snuffled at the ground to locate an overripe fruit. Kiram indulged him.
"To be honest," Nestor said quietly, "it doesn't sound all that appealing to me either. I mean, who wants to have sex with a bunch of other men in the room-especially my brother?"
Kiram laughed at that.
They returned just before the first of the evening bells rang. After brushing down their horses and rinsing themselves in the icy water of the stable troughs, Kiram and Nestor rushed to dinner. Shouldering past the crowds of first and second-year students thronging the lower tables, they took their places at the Hellions' table. Atreau and Morisio had already claimed their seats and Atreau offered them an offhanded greeting as they dropped down onto the wooden benches. Kiram felt a slight flush spread across his cheeks, meeting Atreau's gaze and remembering the other man's drunken rutting. Fortunately Kiram's dark complexion disguised the worst of his blush and Atreau's attention quickly shifted as other Hellions arrived for dinner.
Kiram glanced to the empty space reserved for Javier. His longing to see Javier felt as sharp as hunger but also edged with dread. Javier could turn cruel easily.
When Elezar arrived a few minutes later, Kiram considered asking him if Javier had seemed to be in a bad mood but resisted. Instead, he peered around as the dining hall filled with students. In the past week, Kiram had almost forgotten the heat and smell of so many young men gathering in one room. When Kiram happened to take a deep breath, he realized that the pungent scent of horses and sweat saturated his jacket and trousers, making him as much of an odorous offender as any of the grubby first-year boys who sat wiping their noses on the backs of their shirtsleeves.
Javier arrived just before the teachers and Holy Father Habalan. He strode between the rows of tables with a handsome and arrogant expression of assurance. The jacket he wore glinted with silver threads and his black hair gleamed. His trousers were perfectly cut, accentuating the hard muscles of his long legs. Kiram could hardly look away. When he smiled, the warmth of his expression lent an alluring softness to his sharp features, though there remained a wicked gleam in his eyes.
He knew, Kiram realized. He knew exactly how good he looked and how the sight of him would affect Kiram.
And suddenly Kiram felt very worried. He had been prepared for Javier's most biting remarks, even secretly hoped for them, so that he could just hate Javier and be done. Now he had no idea how he could inure himself to Javier's charms.
And Javier did not relent throughout the meal. He was unerringly funny and pleasant. He didn't lavish his attention upon Kiram, rather, he complimented Kiram's work as his squire in an easy, offhanded manner. He bantered with Morisio and Elezar and very casually allowed one of his long legs to brush against Kiram's calf. A spark of sharp desire flickered through Kiram's body at the small contact.
It required nearly all of Kiram's attention to ignore Javier's appealing presence. The food hardly made any impression upon Kiram and more than once he had to ask Nestor to repeat himself.
"You seem a little distracted this evening, Kiram," Nestor commented at last.
Javier gave him a knowing smile. Kiram could feel a flush rising but he refused to acknowledge it.
"I've been thinking about Scholar Donamillo's mechanical cures," Kiram replied.
A vexed expression flickered across Javier's face.
"They're fascinating, aren't they?" Morisio commented. "I've been studying them myself. I even built a few miniatures but powering them is the real trick."
Morisio went on and Kiram tried to concentrate on his freckled face, but the light sensation of Javier's calf against his own obsessed him. He could feel the warmth of Javier's skin radiating through his stockings and he remembered the weight of Javier's bare body against his own and the heat of his mouth. Kiram hardly heard Morisio's continuing ruminations on the key to Scholar Donamillo's unprecedented success. "I can't help but wonder if there isn't something more than pure mechanism behind it."
At this Genimo darted a glance to Kiram and Kiram realized that Genimo already knew that Scholar Donamillo used blessings and spells as well as mechanically-generated power for the cure that protected Fedeles. The knowledge that only he and Genimo shared the scholar's secret lent an uncomfortable sense of fraternity to his normally cold regard of Genimo.
"I can't help but wonder if you realize that no one cares a pig's tit about Scholar Donamillo's mechanisms," Elezar told Morisio. In response, Morisio just threw a hunk of bread at him. Elezar leaned back and caught it in his mouth.
"If your fortunes ever fail, no doubt you'll have a place in some circus," Javier told Elezar.
"You're one to talk." Elezar tossed a golden plum at Javier. Javier caught the plum and spun it on the tip of his finger. Then he rolled it between his hands. White sparks of light flickered between his fingers and suddenly the plum appeared to vanish. All conversation at the table quieted as the Hellions watched in fascination.
Javier held out his empty hands, displaying his palms, then with a flourish he reached across the table and caught Kiram's hand in a gentle grip. A conspirator's warmth flashed in his smile. As he pulled his hand back, Kiram felt the plum drop from the cuff of Javier's sleeve into his palm. Hellions hooted and clapped at the seemingly magical reappearance. Students at other tables gawked.
Kiram couldn't help but be delighted-not just with Javier's ingenuity but also at being included in the sleight of hand. He had no doubt that Javier had conceived the gesture hoping that it would charm him but the knowledge did nothing to diminish Kiram's pleasure.
Elezar's demand for another plum brought normalcy back to the table. Atreau needed notes from Holy Father Habalan's lecture on the conquest of the Labaran Dynasty. Genimo offered his. Elezar complained about Nestor's engagement and Nestor grumbled responses.
Kiram ate the sweet, tender plum and wondered with a terrible sinking dread whether his resistance or Javier's persistence would fail first. He wished he could feel happy at the prospect of either.
Author Bio:
Ginn Hale resides in the Pacific Northwest with her lovely wife and wayward cats. She is an award-winning author of science fiction and fantasy, as well as an avid coffee-drinker.
iTUNES / SMASHWORDS / KOBO
EMAIL: ginn@ginnhale.com
Lord of the White Hell #1
B&N / KOBO / SMASHWORDS
Lord of the White Hell #2
B&N / KOBO / SMASHWORDS
