Lord of the White Hell Book One lotwh-1 (17 page)

At home his sisters, Siamak and Dauhd, were attempting to entice his mother to offer Cadeleonian cookies in the candy shop. His father was still tinkering with designs for mechanical birds. Most of them were very pretty and few of them could remain airborne for more than a few moments. Several had crashed into the henhouse and the cook was eyeing Kiram's father with annoyance.

Kiram smiled at his mother's obvious affection for his father despite his eccentricities. He was disappointed to find that the questions he had written to his uncle's husband had gone unanswered. Both his uncle Rafie and Alizadeh were traveling. She didn't expect them back until midwinter, weather permitting.

Kiram glanced down to the stack of books in front of him and then to Javier.

"She says she sent the books you asked about," Kiram said. "Though she doesn't want you to think that we're all so superstitious as these Bahiim writings would make you think."

Javier looked pleased and Nestor squinted at the books.

"What do they say? I can't read them at all," Nestor complained.

"This one is called Red Blossoms from a Fallen Tree and this one is A Beast Cries in the Sacred Heart of the Night and the last is called A Longing That My Bones Will Remember." Kiram pointed out each of the books as he spoke. "They're poems written by two famous Bahiim mystics. They talk quite a lot about the sacredness of all aspects of life, even those that seem base and animalistic."

Kiram hadn't read any of the books all the way through but he knew the more famous poems, as most Haldiim did. They were quite old and Kiram could only guess that Javier had gotten the titles from Calixto's diary.

"Thank her for me, will you?" Javier picked up the three books and took them to his desk. Kiram nodded and continued to skim the gossip from Anacleto. There was news of his friend Musni. Kiram took it in with a sense of loss, frowning at the letter.

"What's wrong?" Nestor asked.

"What?" Kiram looked up at him. "Nothing. Nothing at all. It's just that one of my close friends has decided to marry a girl." Kiram realized how this sounded and quickly added, "I liked her as well, so I'm happy for him but sad about the marriage."

"Did he know you fancied her?" Nestor asked.

"Yes, he knew." Kiram accepted a slice of sausage from Nestor. It was spicy and tasted of juniper and cloves. For a moment he couldn't keep from wondering whether Musni would have refused to marry if he hadn't left for the academy. He sighed again, realizing that he would have left even if he had known that he would lose Musni.

"Not much of a friend if you ask me," Nestor grumbled. "It's pretty low to steal a man's girl while he's gone away to school."

"He didn't steal her," Kiram replied. Nestor handed him a piece of cheese. He ate it and felt better. He couldn't have cared that much about Musni, he supposed, if a slice of sausage and a bite of cheese could console him so easily.

"She liked him and he comes from a poor family, so taking a wife is a good choice for him. Her mother owns two mills. Musni will be well taken care of."

"Still doesn't make it right," Nestor said, frowning.

Kiram shrugged. He glanced down to the box and realized that he'd missed a satchel. He opened it and discovered his favorite taffy, packed with mint leaves. He shared a piece with Nestor and then turned to offer one to Javier.

He didn't know why, but Javier's expression seemed almost stricken. Then he gave Kiram a quick smile.

"You have an entirely different life waiting for you back in Anacleto, don't you?" Javier accepted the taffy but didn't eat it.

"We all have other lives outside of the academy," Kiram replied.

"Not really." Nestor's expression turned thoughtful. "Not like you do. I never considered it before, but all of us Cadeleonians are going to be dealing with each other like this for the rest of our lives. Not with upperclassmen and all that but we do the same things here as we do at home, eat the same food, know the same people. You come from an entirely different place." Nestor spoke as if this idea just occurred to him and he found it somehow troubling. "When you're done with academy you're not just going to disappear back behind the Haldiim wall to your other life, are you?"

"I have to go home sometime."

"But you're going to write to me and come visit and invite me to visit you, aren't you? My family house is in Anacleto, less than an hour from the Haldiim district."

"Of course." Kiram smiled at Nestor. "After a few days back at my mother's house I'll be desperate to get out. I'll be visiting you everyday. Honestly, escaping from home was half of why I came here in the first place. I wanted to see something new and meet different people."

"Well, you've certainly met different people, I'll bet!" Relief rang through Nestor's voice. "And you've ridden horses and learned to fence, and you're going to win dozens of ribbons in the tournament. When that girl sees you she's going to break down in tears because she missed her chance at you."

Kiram laughed at the thought of any girl crying over him, much less Musni's new wife. Briefly Kiram wondered what would happen when they were both back in Anacleto. If he ever did find a husband, how would he introduce the man to Nestor?

Nestor nodded happily. "You won't care because by then you will have had your fill of women from the Goldenrod and half of them will be writing you love letters the way they write to Atreau."

"Yes," Javier said tiredly. "It will be a glorious future for all. But for now I think we ought to go down for dinner."

"The bell hasn't-" Nestor began but then the seventh bell sounded from the chapel.

The three of them joined the flood of other students filing down to the dining room and Kiram's brief, troubled thoughts of his future were forgotten as the smell of beef and fresh bread beckoned him.

W
hen the day of the tournament finally arrived, the students at the academy rose early and ate quickly before mounting up and riding in a tight procession into the town of Zancoda. Nervous excitement pervaded the air, and neither Kiram nor Nestor was immune. As Kiram reined Firaj alongside Nestor's mount he noted the pink flush of Nestor's cheeks and felt certain that anyone close at hand could hear the pounding of his own heart.

Students from the Yillar Academy would be approaching from the opposite direction. Once the two great schools of Cadeleon had converged in Zancoda's center, the race to the gold pavilion would begin.

Kiram hadn't known what to expect beyond that, but he certainly hadn't imagined anything like the spectacle surrounding him. Crowds of people lined the road even far outside of town. As they entered the city gates the display amazed him. When he had last passed through Zancoda on his way to the Sagrada Academy the town had struck him as dull and colorless. The buildings were old and the stonework had been weathered to a lifeless gray. The few inhabitants he had seen from his carriage had looked as pallid and plain as their surroundings.

But now brilliant blue banners and vibrant green flags hung from the balconies. Flags emblazoned with colorful crests of noble families were waved from poles and chapel bells rang out wildly over the shouts and cheers of the gathered crowds.

Men and boys thronged the streets, cheering as the academy students rode past. Every so often Kiram spotted an older matronly woman amidst the crowd holding a young child on her hip and helping the child wave. Kiram often waved back. Younger women, with their dark hair still braided and held up in combs, threw flowers and perfumed kerchiefs from overhanging balconies. Groups of onlookers stared out from open windows. Everyone, regardless of age or sex, wore bright paper flowers pinned to their clothes or waved shimmering ribbons.

Kiram could not believe the sheer number of people who had come out just to watch the students of the Sagrada Academy ride two abreast through the streets. The inns appeared to be bursting with visitors, all waving from windows or leaning out on the steps. Some onlookers had even positioned themselves up on the roofs.

From time to time, especially where the streets were narrow and the crowds were close, Kiram would feel a small hand reach out and touch him or Firaj. He realized that parents were holding out their children as if the passing riders were lucky stones to rub. At first he feared that an excited grasping child would spook Firaj or cause him to strike out with one of his hooves, but Firaj remained calm. At times he seemed to enjoy the attention. Even when a youth stumbled out and collided with his hindquarters, Firaj only released a hard snort and stamped once in warning. The youth scurried back into the crowd.

"There are even more people here this year than last year!" Nestor shouted over the noise of the crowd. "The stands around the tournament arena are going to be packed!"

"They can't all be from around here," Kiram yelled, surprised at how little impact his voice made upon the turbulent roar of so many other voices.

"No." Nestor shook his head. "Merchants and nobles from all over the country come to see the autumn tournament. Even the princes come. This year the heir himself is supposed to attend."

Kiram couldn't help but feel a slight dread at the mention of a royal Sagrada. Though Nazario Sagrada's atrocities were long past, it was still Kiram's first association with the name "Sagrada". If he won the Crown Challenge he would have to attempt to change that. He would be expected to demonstrate his mechanism to the king and entertain the royal family with its many uses. He couldn't be brooding over the infamous impaler while cheerfully serving the man's descendants.

Then a downpour of pink rose petals from the balcony above distracted him. A white kerchief, embroidered with yellow butterflies, fluttered down and landed across Nestor's arm. Nestor flushed bright red and clutched the token. Kiram joined him in gawking up at the shy Cadeleonian girls on the balcony.

"Might be the one with the butterfly combs in her hair," Kiram shouted to Nestor.

"Do you think?" Nestor peered at the girl and she ducked quickly back into the shadows of a bright blue banner. "She was pretty, wasn't she?"

"I think so," Kiram replied, though he hadn't really seen much of her, but she had certainly possessed the deep curves and lustrous dark hair that Cadeleonian men seemed to desire.

"It smells like jasmine." Nestor carefully tucked the kerchief into his riding glove. "Not too much further to the town center. You ready?"

"Not at all. I'm terrified."

"Me too."

Under other circumstances Kiram thought he would have found it funny that both he and Nestor were screaming out their fears. But now the irony of the situation didn't amuse him. He was too nervous about the race that was to come, once they met the Yillar students at the town center.

The students of both schools would circle the city fountain once and then race madly down six narrow avenues out of the town and to the tournament grounds. The first student to reach the gold pavilion would receive a favor directly from the Sagrada prince.

Countless bets had been placed within the academy and in the town as well, Kiram imagined. Both the Helio twins were thought to be contenders, as was Javier.

Apparently Javier had finished second last year, only a neck behind Hierro Fueres of the Yllar Academy. Elezar had placed a huge wager on Javier and made it clear that he would personally take it badly if any other rider from the Sagrada Academy cost him his money.

Kiram had no illusions about his own chances of winning. He hoped only to survive. He clenched his fists around Firaj's reins. Last night Elezar had recounted stories of students who had taken terrible falls in the race from the fountain. He'd described young men being trampled by their own horses, or becoming tangled in their stirrups and being dragged against the hard cobblestones of the street.

Kiram's thoughts were so focused on his possible impending death that for an instant he failed to register the familiar voice calling his name from the surrounding crowd.

"Hey! Kiri! Kiram Kir-Zaki!"

Kiram turned slightly in his saddle and was shocked to recognize his uncle Rafie waving from the midst of dozens of pale Cadeleonians. The sight sent a thrill of joy through him.

Despite Rafie's elegant Cadeleonian clothes he stood out starkly from the rest of the crowd. His slim Haldiim build and smooth skin lent him the appearance of a tall youth but his close-cropped hair was nearly white and deep smile lines etched the corners of his mouth. Days of summer travel had deepened the natural cinnamon tone of his skin to a rich walnut color, making his pale blue eyes seem to blaze in contrast.

Rafie ducked between two big Cadeleonian men, slipped through the crowd with fast graceful twists, and was soon jogging alongside Firaj.

"We're staying at the Laughing Dog!" Rafie called to him in Haldiim. "We'll see you this evening. Take care!" Rafie tossed a small bundle into Kiram's lap, then ducked back into the relative shelter of the crowd.

"Who was that?" Nestor called out.

"My uncle Rafie." Kiram clumsily opened the satchel with one hand. Inside he found a Bahiim lotus medallion on a fine gold chain.

"He came all this way to see you in the tournament?" Nestor looked happy. "That's nice."

Kiram nodded. He guessed that Alizadeh was here as well and had probably blessed the medallion personally. Kiram pulled the chain over his head. The weight of the medallion felt amazingly comforting.

Chapel bells boomed over the streets in double time, and Kiram realized that the riders at the front of the procession must have arrived at the city center. A few moments later he and Nestor rode into the huge square with a massive fountain at its center that featured a sculpture of three stallions rearing up in the spray. Carved across the base of the fountain were the words: Faith, Honor, and Strength.

A church rose up on one side of the square, and ranks of Yllar students, dressed in deep green uniforms, gathered there. Kiram guessed that there were nearly two hundred of them, forming a veritable wall of armed men and glossy warhorses. A gnawing anxiety clutched at his stomach and he had to look away from them.

The last students from both schools filed into the square. Like Kiram and Nestor, they each took their positions as they had drilled countless times in the months earlier.

Master Ignacio rode his stallion from the front of the Sagrada Academy ranks to the fountain where he met the war master of the Yllar Academy. Ignacio was the younger of the two and far more serious in appearance. The Yillar war master was plump with a big white beard. He smiled like an indulgent grandfather at Master Ignacio's grim salute and returned the gesture as if it were nothing more than a wave.

Once the salutes of engagement were exchanged, riders from both schools surged into action all around Kiram.

"Good luck!" Nestor shouted, and then his roan stallion lunged ahead into the fray of riders and horses.

First-year riders forced their way forward and suddenly strangers surrounded Kiram. One rider attempted to force Kiram into the wall of a guild building. Firaj snorted angrily and sprang ahead. Kiram clung to his reins. He lost sight of Nestor. Then suddenly Yllar riders surged up from behind him. Kiram spurred Firaj forward to keep from being trampled in their charge.

Though Kiram had hated every moment he had spent with Master Ignacio, he was suddenly glad for the practice. Without it he would already have fallen.

Now his heart pounded madly in his chest but he urged Firaj ahead faster and the big gelding responded. His hands shook, but he kept his grip on his reins and focused himself on staying in his saddle.

Somewhere in the crush of uniforms and horses, Kiram heard shouts of pain and animal screams. Firaj bounded between two other horses and a big student in Yllar green swore at Kiram and swung his riding crop. Firaj suddenly bared his teeth at the man's mount and the other horse reared back, nearly throwing its rider. Firaj and Kiram raced ahead.

Kiram completed his circle of the fountain just behind the bulk of other riders and took the nearest of the six avenues leading out of the town. Stone buildings rose up on either side of him like walls and dust churned up from the street in choking clouds. From the balconies above, spectators screamed other men's names and hurled flowers.

Suddenly the closeness of the crowd and the constant downpour of flower petals became unbearable. Kiram swatted rose blossoms away from his face as if they were flies. He couldn't slow, much less stop, without being trampled by the riders behind him. They drove Kiram ahead faster but could not pass him. The street was too narrow. All of them raced to escape the confines of the town walls and tight streets.

The sight of harvested fields and wide open tracts of fallow land came as an overwhelming relief.

Even in the fields there were spectators. Groups of young boys sat atop stone walls and waved. Milkmaids and farmers leaned against fences watching. Ahead, an entire fairground of tents and bright flags spilled out from behind a huge yellow pavilion.

The open field allowed him the space to slow. Other riders urged their mounts ahead and Kiram let them pass. Firaj seemed to hate the sight of another horse racing past him and each time another rider sped by, he made an attempt to give chase. Kiram always reined him back to a reasonable pace.

He just wanted to reach the gold pavilion in one piece; he had no interest in risking his life to be counted among the finest riders, though he could tell that Firaj would have liked to be among the finest horses.

As he neared the huge gold pavilion Kiram caught sight of Nestor, racing across the field on his roan stallion. Kiram slowed Firaj further to allow Nestor to catch up.

Kiram waved. But Nestor didn't respond and Kiram guessed it was because Nestor couldn't see him. He'd obviously lost his spectacles somewhere earlier in the race.

However as they both drew closer to the gold pavilion, Nestor squinted at him and then waved ecstatically. Kiram rode up next to him. Nestor's face was streaked with road dust and the bridge of his nose appeared to be bruised.

He shouted, "It's madness this year!" by way of greeting.

Then they both passed beneath the yellow silk ropes decorating the entry to the tournament grounds and they were done. Grooms wearing blue armbands took their horses and told them what place they had taken in the race. Kiram was the hundred and forty-eighth rider. Nestor was the hundred and forty-ninth.

"I don't see why anyone keeps count after fifth, except to embarrass us," Nestor commented. Kiram wondered briefly how Javier had fared in the race. He hurried after Nestor into the gold pavilion.

Inside, sunlight glowed through the luminous yellow silk walls, lending a gold cast to the hundreds of onlookers gathered in the wooden stands. The center of the silk tent, however, was open and hard morning light poured down over the dirt floor of the arena, illuminating every detail of the filthy students gathered there.

Two men with silver horns blew out sharp notes as Kiram and Nestor walked in. A young man shouted both their names. When Nestor was announced a roar of cheers went up from the stands and Kiram realized that most of Nestor's family had to be here. The Grunito crest of a red bull on a blue field hung from ten raised box seats where dozens of big Cadeleonians waved and shouted out Nestor's name. A tall woman with shoulders as broad as Kiram's and a nose like a hawk's beak hurled a bouquet of red and blue ribbons to Nestor. It slapped into Nestor's chest and he gripped it tightly. His dirty cheeks took on an embarrassed flush.

"God save me," Nestor whispered as he squinted up at the box seats. "I'm never going to hear the end of this. I come in one hundred and forty-ninth and then get a bouquet from my mother."

"It's not so bad." Kiram said. "There are plenty of riders behind us."

"Yes, but my mother isn't going to throw them bouquets."