Lord of the White Hell Book One lotwh-1 (5 page)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why not?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm glad you didn't."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Javier gave a flinty laugh.

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

"Do you miss them?" Kiram asked.

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

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

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

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

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

"Good night," Kiram whispered to Javier.

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

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

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

"I suppose it is."

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

T
he next morning Kiram felt better and most of the swelling in his nose and groin had diminished. Still, Genimo's crop had more than left a mark. Even in the crowded din of the dining hall other students gawked as Kiram passed by. Several snickered behind his back but none of the other students met Kiram's gaze directly. And only one of them kicked his leg out to trip him as he walked past.

He took his usual seat between Fedeles and Nestor.

Nestor only glanced up over the rims of his delicate glasses and then returned his attention to the inky figures on the page in front of him. "You look awful."

"I know." Kiram's entire face ached as he moved his mouth. The gash across his cheek had closed to a thick scab, while his upper lip was bruised to a dark purple and swollen.

Once bowls of morning porridge and pots of bitterly over-brewed tea were distributed, Kiram attempted to engage breakfast. It hurt to open his mouth wide and he wasn't sure that this sticky, beige mass was worth the effort but he soon discovered that hunger mitigated discomfort. He swallowed a spoonful of the bland porridge. Both Nestor and Fedeles had already finished their servings.

Fedeles flipped through the yellowed pages of a tattered book. The black-printed letters were overwritten with hundreds of scrawling notes and weird little symbols. Fedeles turned the book upside down and then right side up again. His hair was a wild tangle and his clothes looked unkempt as always, but Kiram thought he seemed more clear-eyed and aware of his surroundings than usual. He met Kiram's gaze, and for the first time he didn't seem to be looking through a dreamy haze.

"Eat up," Fedeles whispered.

Nestor sketched absentmindedly. The figures filling his sheet of parchment trailed off into loops of ink and then were engulfed in newer drawings. All around them students only half dressed in their blue linen uniforms chatted and laughed. Some of them exchanged class notes while others tossed banned dice. Their voices formed waves of noise, which crashed through the silence of Kiram's two companions.

"Is something wrong, Nestor?" Kiram asked at last.

"You shouldn't have put up such a fight," Nestor whispered. "Especially not against Upperclassman Javier. He could have really hurt you. Ladislo says that if you just close your eyes and take it, it's not so bad. Fighting won't do you any good."

"What are you talking about?" Kiram asked.

Nestor's pale face flushed deep red.

"Ladislo gets bent because he's little," Fedeles murmured. "A little pony. Pretty little pony."

"You know, they say that if your upperclassman gets bloody-minded and horny, there isn't much you can do. It's best not to put up a fight. Unless you have an older brother or something." Nestor scowled at his empty porridge bowl. "Upperclassman Atreau leaves me alone but I'm not. pretty like you."

"I'm not pretty."

"Yes, you are," Nestor cut him off. "There's no point arguing about it. Obviously you're too pretty for Javier to resist."

"Resist? Javier didn't do anything to me." Kiram suddenly realized what Nestor was implying. "He certainly didn't force his attentions upon me."

"Didn't he?" Nestor asked, his expression lifting for the first time all morning. "I thought…you know, because you're Haldiim and pretty.and who's going to say no to Javier Tornesal?"

"It was nothing like that." Kiram needed to stop the direction of Nestor's thoughts. He himself didn't want to think too much about the vulnerability of his position with Javier. It led him too quickly into confusion, remembering Javier's gentle touch and at the same time his cynical smile and those white sparks skipping between his fingers. "I got into a fight with Upperclassman Genimo last night."

"You didn't win, did you?" Nestor looked strangely hopeful.

"I wish," Kiram said. "No, Javier took care of Genimo."

Nestor's eyes went wide. "Did he kill him?"

"No, he didn't even hurt him. He just scared him. And Genimo deserved what he got." Kiram scanned the rows of students crammed in around the long wooden tables, searching for Javier. He had not seen him since last night. This morning when Kiram had first woken, he'd discovered Javier already gone. Only the faintest hint of the woody scent of his soap lingered in the washroom and the tub had been perfectly dry. Kiram guessed that Javier must have woken very early, perhaps even before sunrise.

"You haven't seen him, have you?" Kiram asked.

"Genimo?" Nestor asked. "Not this morning. He's probably hiding from Javier."

"I was thinking of Javier, actually." Kiram took another taste of his porridge. It wasn't so bad. He supposed that if he got hungry enough he might even begin to appreciate its paste-like qualities. He imagined that his mother would have sieved it to make some kind of edible glue for one of her sugar bouquets. His uncle might have used it for a medicinal plaster.

"Chapel," Fedeles announced.

Kiram looked at him, unsure of what had prompted the statement.

"Javier's taking his penance in chapel," Fedeles clarified. He looked and sounded so reasonable that it surprised Kiram. Nestor also took note, squinting at Fedeles over the rims of his glasses. Then Fedeles' sober expression melted into a wide smile. He stroked one of the heavily defaced pages of his book. "Lunaluz. Ghosts are looking for him."

"Well, ahm, actually Fedeles is probably right." Nestor sounded as if he couldn't quite believe what he was saying. "Not about ghosts, but about Javier being at chapel. If he did assault another student, then he's probably submitting himself for penance."

"What do you mean, penance?"

"We all have to submit to chapel punishments when we sin." Nestor pulled a distasteful scowl. "But Javier, being hell-branded, is much more vigilant than the rest of us. Ever since that groom was killed he's taken penance weekly. My brother Elezar says that the punishments keep the white hell from growing stronger."

"What kind punishments are they?" Kiram disliked the sound of all this.

He couldn't help but think of the filthy, bleeding Cadeleonian penitents who whipped themselves outside the churches of Anacleto during the week they called Our Savior's Misery. Once, when he had still been a child, he had witnessed two zealous penitents lashing each other's genitals with wire whips. His mother had clamped her hand over his eyes but he had already seen flesh ripping away in fatty globs. Droplets of blood and gore had spattered the sleeve of his shirt. For weeks after that Kiram had woken, shouting and thrashing from violent dreams.

"Sometimes Holy Father Habalan orders bleedings, sometimes caning," Nestor said blandly. "It all depends on the sin and the circumstances. No matter what he'll give Javier muerate poison to keep the demon in him weak throughout the physical punishments."

The porridge in Kiram's mouth suddenly felt too thick and sticky. He forced himself to swallow it, and then shoved his bowl aside.

"He shouldn't be punished for defending me from Genimo." Kiram started to his feet but Nestor caught his arm and pulled him back down to the bench.

"He could have called one of the scholars over if he had wanted to," Nestor said. "He knew what he was getting himself into. You'll only embarrass him if you go running in and make a scene like some girl. It'll make both you and Javier look. strange."

"But no one should have to suffer for doing the right thing."

At this, Nestor just rolled his eyes. "You're making too much of the penance. Javier does it all the time. We all do. Only crybabies like Ladislo make a production of it. If Javier really did protect you, then respect his decision and don't embarrass him. It'll be for your own good."

"How can his pain be for my good?"

"It's not a bad thing to have the whole academy know that your upperclassman will take his responsibility to protect you seriously. You know, before you got here, Atreau got into an outright brawl with the Helio twins on my account and he had to do a full week of penance for it. But after that everyone in the school knew that Atreau wouldn't just stand by and let certain things happen to me."

"What about your brother? Wouldn't he protect you?"

"Oh, of course." Nestor grinned. "Elezar just about killed Cocuyo Helio for spitting on me. You can tell the twins apart now because Elezar broke Cocuyo's cheekbone and it didn't heal quite straight."

Kiram involuntarily searched the dining hall for the whip- thin Helio twins. Nestor was right; Cocuyo's right cheek was slightly too flat to be a perfect match to his brother Enevir's jutting features.

"But that's not my point," Nestor went on. "I'm not rooming with my brothers, and they won't always be able to protect me, especially if the king sends me to serve in a neighbor's lands. But now everyone knows that even if I'm away from my family Atreau will defend me. And more importantly for Atreau, everyone knows that the Grunito family is allied with him now. So now he's got Elezar and Timoteo both on his side in a fight."

"Yes, but it's not going to do Javier any good to have everyone know that he's allied with the Kir-Zaki family. No one here even knows my family."

"Kir-Zaki of Kir-Zaki Candies? Everyone eats them." Nestor rolled his eyes as if Kiram were thick as a pillar. "But, yes, you're right that Javier doesn't need allies. But you do. You can bet that all the bullies and bastards in the academy-especially the twins-have been waiting for someone to do something to you to see if Javier would ignore you or if he would do his duty. Now everyone knows that suffering penance isn't going to keep Javier from protecting you."

"But wasn't rescuing me enough? Doesn't that prove that he'll defend me?" Kiram challenged.

"No." Nestor frowned at him intently. "The penance is the most important part. It shows everyone that he's serious. You know, it's almost like a kind of ceremony. It proves the strength of his conviction. It shows everyone that he doesn't care how much he may suffer, he'll still beat the crap out of anyone who threatens you."

"I guess I understand that," Kiram admitted, though he thought the entire matter sounded brutal and primitive. "But I don't like the idea of someone else being whipped on my account."

"Don't worry about that. Javier is tough. He'll probably just shrug the penance off. Father Habalan isn't all that harsh anyway." Nestor lowered his voice. "My mother hits a lot harder."

Kiram smiled at that.

He wondered if Nestor was right about the penance. Maybe he was overreacting. If all the Cadeleonians accepted penance regularly, they couldn't all be enduring hideous whippings.

"I'm more worried about you and me right now." Nestor carefully cleaned the small lenses of his spectacles and then replaced them on his nose. "I imagine we're both going to have to keep clear of Genimo from now on. He's the type to hold a grudge."

"Do you think Fedeles is in danger, then? Isn't Genimo his upperclassman?" Kiram asked.

Fedeles just gave an oddly amused snort.

"Genimo would have to be suicidal to do anything to Fedeles. Javier would flat out kill him. He's said as much." Nestor lowered his voice slightly. "Don't tell anyone I said so but Genimo is Fedeles' nanny really. He has to keep track of him, give him baths, brush his hair, and make sure he gets to Scholar Donamillo for his treatments."

"Rats chew him up if he's mean." Fedeles picked up Kiram's bowl and pushed it back to him. "Eat up, skinny."

Nestor eyed Fedeles almost suspiciously. "You're making more sense than usual, Fedeles."

"It's a curse," Fedeles muttered. He didn't look up from his book.

"Well," Nestor went on, "Fedeles is right about you needing to eat. You and I are both on Master Ignacio's double training list. Elezar posted it this morning and told me. We're going to have two extra hours of war arts starting today and going on until the autumn tournament."

"Two extra hours?" All thought of Javier and his penance suddenly dissipated. "That's insane! Not only will it kill me, but there's no point. It's not as if I'll ever have to don armor and defend my holdings."

"No, but you will have to don armor and defend your honor in the autumn tournament." Nestor's tone was deeply resigned. "Trust me, you do not want to be beaten by a bunch of first-year underclassmen from the Yillar Academy."

"But not me," Kiram protested. "Surely Master Ignacio can't expect me to compete."

"I think he does, actually," Nestor replied. "He expects everyone to compete. More is the pity for both our sorry asses."

For the third time, Fedeles grinned and told Kiram, "Eat up."

Kiram obeyed almost numbly. Who in their right mind would send him out to compete on the tourney field? There had to be some kind of mistake. And yet deep inside himself Kiram felt a terrible certainty growing. Master Ignacio wasn't going to let him get out of the tournament just because he was utterly unsuited to battle. The lanky war master simply wasn't that reasonable.

An hour later, when he and Nestor took their second tier seats in the circular lecture hall for mathematics, Kiram's fear was confirmed. Scholar Blasio beckoned them down to him and informed them that they were to report to Master Ignacio. Though he paused midway through to frown at Kiram's beaten condition.

"I got into a fight with Upperclassman Genimo," Kiram explained. He had considered lying but he wasn't practiced at deception and he doubted that both Javier and Genimo would tell the same lie that he would. "I didn't start it."

"No, of course not. Javier said that you got caught in the middle of an altercation between himself and Genimo, but I had no idea that you had been so directly involved." Scholar Blasio winced as his gaze moved over the scab on Kiram's cheek. "A little extra training in war arts might not be such a bad idea. It couldn't hurt for a young man such as yourself to learn a little self-defense."

"But I'll fall behind in mathematics," Kiram argued.

"I very much doubt that you could ever fall behind in mathematics, Kiram." Scholar Blasio offered him a sympathetic smile. "And you will only miss my class on the odd days. Even days the two of you will be excused from fine art."