Lord of the White Hell Book One lotwh-1 (9 page)

"Of course. But all the evidence is just gossip about evil glances and angry insults. If it were a trial over a robbery, the judges would at least know what theft was or how it occurred. But no one even tries to question what a curse really is. How does it function? Can one be created by pure chance or does it require will and direction? People hear the words, curse or demon or devil and they simply throw aside all their powers of logic and reason."

"And you think reason can be applied to a curse?"

"Yfes." Kiram forced himself to meet Javier's dark gaze. "Without reason there is only fear and folly."

"Well spoken." To Kiram's surprise Javier's smile was genuinely warm. "That from Bishop Seferino, wasn't it?"

Kiram nodded.

Javier said, "He's an excellent source for closing quotes. I used him for a speech last week, in fact."

He strolled between the beds of summer vegetables and Kiram followed alongside him. Yfellow light glowed from the windows of the dormitory and Kiram could hear the faint sounds of some student practicing scales on a harpsichord.

"The law must not fall across the back of the common man as a flail, having no purpose but to punish," Javier recited smoothly. "Instead, it should enfold him as a cloak, which comforts and keeps the cruelest elements at bay."

Kiram glanced to Javier. He looked so relaxed. It was hard to believe that less than an hour ago he had been lying like a corpse in his arms.

"I've never heard that quote before," Kiram said at last.

"It's one of Bishop Seferino's more obscure statements." Javier smiled and Kiram could see that he was pleased with himself. "I found it in a treatise called Concerning Natural and Unnatural Ardor. A little more racy than the bishop's more popular works but not without its charms. I should lend it to you sometime."

"I'd like that," Kiram replied.

Javier reached out and casually brushed his hand through a curl of Kiram's hair. His fingertips just traced the curve of Kiram's neck. The sensation rushed over Kiram, making his breath catch and his heartbeat quicken.

"Leaves in your hair," Javier said. "Those curls of yours really hold onto things, don't they? They're like gold vines."

Kiram flushed and looked down at the beds of pumpkins and squash.

"I should get it cut," Kiram said.

"No, this length suits you. Lends you an air of a creature that has not yet been tamed. I'm sure Master Ignacio hates it." When Kiram glanced up to see his expression he realized that Javier wasn't even looking at him. Instead, his eyes focused on the dormitory.

Three windows on the first floor had been propped open. The oil lamps inside lit the room perfectly. It had to be one of the kitchens. Large tables stretched across one wall, while two big ovens occupied another. Two men pulled racks of small pastries from the ovens and spread them across wire racks to cool.

The smell of butter and warm bread wafted on the air and slowly curled around Kiram.

"I'm starving," Javier said.

"We could ask for something for you to eat. I'm sure they'd understand if they knew you missed dinner."

"I'd rather not have to tell my sad story to a room full of servants. Particularly not ones who will just panic at the sight of me and then spend the whole night washing down all the vegetation with blessed waters to purge it of my demonic influence." Javier gestured at the bowing vines of dark green gourds. "Who knows what accursed dishes could arise if the squash were infected by a hellfire?"

"You know," Kiram said, "sometimes you don't sound like you believe in the white hell yourself."

"Oh, I believe, but I also know it can't be caught like a cold. It takes much more than that." Javier returned his gaze to the kitchen windows. "They're putting pies out on the sill to cool. Surely that is a sign from heaven."

"I doubt it."

"Of course you do. You doubt everything." Javier turned back to Kiram and gave him a look of serious consideration. "But I think if you truly searched your heart, you would find that you want me to have one of those pies as much as I want me to have one."

Kiram had to suppress a laugh at Javier's mocking tone of piety. He really did sound like some priest. He even held his hands up in just the perfect manner.

"Fine," Kiram agreed, "but if we're caught."

"I will take full responsibility," Javier assured him. "You just curl up like a little pill bug and roll under a cabbage or something."

"I'm sure no one would take the slightest note of that."

"Probably not if they saw me first," Javier murmured. "All right. Once I get close to the window, the light will make me too easy to see. I'll have to stay down below the line of the window, so I won't be able to see what the cooks are doing. You'll need to watch them for me. When they both have their backs to the window, give me the sign to advance." Javier glanced to Kiram and clearly saw his confusion. "Hold your right hand up at a right angle to your body."

Kiram held his right arm out.

"Just like that." Javier gave him a pleased smile. "If they start to turn then warn me with your left hand. Got it?"

"Right hand: advance. Left hand: retreat."

"Good. I'm counting on you."

"But wait, if you will be able see me from the window, won't the cooks be able to do the same?"

"They won't be looking for you. People almost never see what they're not expecting."

Before Kiram could point out the flaw in that logic, Javier was away.

For a man as tall as he was, Javier folded himself down into a surprisingly low crouch. As he moved, his dark form melted into the silhouettes of rosemary shrubs and chamomile flowers. He slunk across the grounds and slid against the wall of the dormitory. He crouched just below an open windowsill like a cat beneath a birdbath.

Kiram watched the cooks inside the kitchen intently. For a while he felt that they might never turn their backs to the windows at the same time. He wondered if their behavior could be purposeful, a defense intended to keep pilfering students at bay. Maybe the pies were placed out on the windowsill as some kind of trap?

Surges of nervous energy played through his muscles, preparing him for sudden flight.

Thinking reasonably, Kiram could see that the men were simply assembling ingredients. He'd watched his mother's cook often enough to recognize the hurried movements from one cupboard to another. A minute later both cooks had heaps of flour, dry goods, and a large bowl of eggs gathered on the long work table. Both of them turned their backs to Kiram as they mixed and kneaded large masses of dough.

Kiram lifted his right arm immediately, expecting Javier to spring into action at once, but apparently Javier shared none of his nervous urgency. Very slowly, Javier snaked his bandaged left arm up over the edge of the windowsill into the blazing lamplight. His long fingers curled rim of a pie tin and slid it off the sill in a single fluid movement.

Kiram waited for Javier to bolt back to his side. Instead, Javier reached up and took a second pie. Kiram stared at Javier in disbelief. The cooks were sure to notice two entire pies missing.

One of the cooks turned and wiped his face with the back of his hand. Kiram instantly lifted his left hand and Javier stilled. The cook sneezed and snuffled and then turned back to rolling out long sheets of dough.

Kiram raised his right hand. He squinted hard into the darkness and then almost shouted out when Javier suddenly rose up from the shadows of the pumpkin leaves just beside him.

"Here, this one is yours." Javier held out one of the pies. "The tin is still hot so use the cuff of your jacket to hold it."

"I didn't want one," Kiram said, but he still took the pie carefully. Even with his jacket protecting his hand, the metal was almost too hot to hold.

"The pulley lift is just a little further. Come on." Javier started towards a small shed built up against the west wall of the dormitory.

The savory scent of meat and mushrooms rose up off the pie. He'd never been served anything this nice in the dining hall, nor could he imagine the cooks making enough meat pies to satisfy a hundred hungry students. He wondered if the pies had been intended for the scholars or the war master.

If so, Kiram sincerely hoped that he was stealing Master Ignacio's breakfast.

Once inside the shed, Kiram realized that it had no roof. Instead, a series of pulleys and heavy chains dangled down from the third floor.

"There's a trap door up there. Scholar Donamillo has the staff haul his mechanisms up there with this." Javier sat down, carefully placing his pie to his right side. He gave the pulley chains a tired look. "How strong are you feeling?"

"I doubt I could haul us both." Kiram paused as he studied the pulleys more closely as well as the shadowy shapes of gears, high above him. "You ass. This is a gear lift. An infant could haul us up so long as the counterweight was properly set. Is it?"

Javier sighed. "Yes. I should have known you'd know what it was right away."

"Of course." Kiram set his own pie down beside Javier's and then located counterweight release. He couldn't see them clearly in the gloom but his hands knew them by feel.

"I helped my father build two gear lifts when I was fifteen." Kiram gently eased the release open. The hand crank turned smoothly. Someone took good care of the mechanism. The chains whirred as the counterweight slowly descended, causing floor beneath them to rise. The lift was surprisingly quiet and Kiram couldn't help but admire its creator. He wished that he had a lamp so that he could examine its engineering more closely. He glanced back to Javier. "How heavy is the counterweight?"

"Heavy. I've cranked it back up by myself before, but it's damn hard work."

"It shouldn't be. A gear lift this well built shouldn't be hard to reset," Kiram thought aloud. "Are you sure you had it in the correct gear when you cranked the counterweight back up?"

"I believe that my ignorance about the lift even possessing different gears is all the answer you need," Javier confessed and Kiram smiled at his honesty.

They rose to the underside of an overhang below the third floor of the dormitory. Javier worked the trapdoor above them open. He hefted himself up into the darkness inside the dormitory. A second later he lowered an iron rung ladder. Kiram handed up the pies and then climbed blindly up into the pitch blackness. The floor beneath him felt like solid stone. The stagnant air smelled of machine oil.

He heard Javier close the trap door. Then a flicker of pure white light flashed up, momentarily illuminating Javier's raised left hand as well as the rows of machinery surrounding them. The light died and then flared back up, flickering across several huge, faceted, glass spheres. Slowly, the light in Javier's hand steadied to a dim, undulating flame.

They were in a windowless store room. Most of the space was neatly packed with the pieces of mechanical cures. They looked old and broken down. Spatters of rust etched the arching iron ribs. Many of the glass panes that made up the enormous spheres looked chipped. Some were blackened, as if coated with soot. Kiram could barely discern the shadows of the leather harnesses and wires hanging inside the spheres.

"The counterweight is here." Javier held his hand over the lift gears mounted in the store room floor. His expression was intent and Kiram imagined that it took a great deal of his concentration to maintain the even glowing light that danced over his palm.

Kiram worked quickly, shifting the gears and then cranking the counterweight back up into its housing.

"Done," Kiram said at last.

"Good." Javier crouched down at the heavy iron base of one of the mechanical cures and the light in his hand guttered out. Total blackness enveloped Kiram again.

"Are you all right?" Kiram asked.

"Fine," Javier replied. "Just catching my breath."

Kiram sat down to wait. A minute passed and the silence began to worry Kiram. He wondered if Javier really was well. Could he have collapsed again?

"Javier?"

"Yfes?" Javier's voice was strong and relaxed. Kiram felt foolish for worrying. "What is it?" Javier asked after a moment.

"Oh," Kiram said, and then a genuine curiosity came to him. "I was just wondering if you've ever been in one of these mechanical cures?"

"Once. My first year here Scholar Donamillo wanted to test one on me."

"What was it like?" Kiram couldn't imagine being strapped into one of the huge contraptions. As much as he loved mechanisms the mechanical cures unnerved him.

"It was much like a catastrophe," Javier sounded amused. "Scholar Donamillo buckled me into the harness and closed the orb and then just when he had cranked the handle fast enough to begin building a current the glass blew out. It blackened and shattered. Then the iron supports broke apart. I think the remains are up here somewhere."

"You weren't hurt?"

"Not badly. But I'd rather not ever do it again."

Kiram couldn't help but remember Fedeles' howls and the mechanical cure in the infirmary.

"What do you think it does to him?" Kiram asked and then he realized that Javier couldn't know who he was talking about. "I mean Fedeles. How does the mechanical cure help him?"

Javier said nothing for a long while and Kiram realized that the subject was probably too close for Javier to talk about. He wished he could take the question back.

"It eases his suffering a little." Javier's voice was soft and humorless. "The treatments exchange one kind of madness for another. He isn't terrified or screaming after the treatments but he isn't well either. The mechanical cure makes him happy, but it can't lift the curse. Holy Father Habalan is certain that it's helping to protect him from being consumed, though, so I suppose it's worth it."

"He was cursed? Nest-someone said that the white hell attacked him."

"People say a lot of things. But they don't know shit about the white hell or the Tornesal curse. They don't know shit!" Javier almost spat the last word.

"I'm sorry. It's none of my business. I shouldn't have asked-"

"No, it's not your fault. People start rumors. They know we Tornesals are linked to the white hell by our bloodline and so they assume that it is the cause of all our infamy and misfortune. But it wasn't the white hell that attacked Fedeles or killed my father. The white hell is in me and I would have known if it had touched either of them. Something else attacked them. I don't know what, but I've felt it. I." Javier was silent for several moments, then sighed heavily. "I'm too hungry and tired to talk about this, that's what I am."