by Ginn Hale
“You’re not supposed to be on chapel grounds,” Javier said as if he had just realized where they were.
“No one said anything about the grounds, just the chapel.” Kiram folded his jacket, to hide the bloody sleeve. His hands still trembled. He wished he could make them stop.
“I’m not certain that the holy father would be sympathetic to that argument. And honestly, as exciting as this illicit meeting in the garden is, I think it might be getting a little late.” Javier frowned up through the branches of the pear tree at the darkening sky. “We should get back to the dormitory.”
“You need to see a physician. Scholar Donamillo—”
Javier shook his head. “Scholar Donamillo is hardly as entertaining as you are.”
“Entertaining?” The word was an utter anathema to everything that Kiram felt. “I thought you were dying.”
“Really?” Javier gave Kiram one of his sensual, mocking smiles. “Were you scared for me?”
“Of course I was, you ferret-faced moron!”
“Ferret-faced? Such harsh language on holy ground, Kiram.”
“How can you laugh?” Kiram hissed. “I thought you were going to die. I was terrified for you and you—you’re just an utter pig.”
Kiram was horrified to feel tears welling up in his eyes. His vision blurred. He stood quickly and turned his back so that Javier would not see.
“Kiram,” Javier said gently, as if he were addressing a child. “I’m sorry.”
“No, you aren’t.” Kiram wiped his face angrily. “You’re amused. You think it’s all just some huge joke. But it’s not. You were ice cold and there was so much blood and I—I really thought—I—” Kiram hated the way his voice broke. He sucked in a deep breath of air and refused to look at Javier. He didn’t think he could bear the sight of another of his satirical grins.
“Obviously you’re just fine now.” Kiram kept his tone as cold as he could. “So I’ll be going.”
“Don’t,” Javier said, but Kiram didn’t stop. He stormed through the trees as if he didn’t care who saw him. He wouldn’t let Javier laugh at him creeping from shadow to shadow.
The sweet scent of night jasmine floated over Kiram as he followed the winding path through the grounds. The air felt thick, like it might rain soon. Deep shadows filled the overhanging branches of fruit trees but thin rays of light still shone through the wrought iron bars of the gate. Kiram pulled it open.
“Kiram, damn it, slow down!” Javier’s voice was closer than Kiram expected and far more strained. Despite himself, Kiram turned back.
Javier stood a few feet away, leaning heavily against the thin trunk of a plum tree. His breathing came in slow deep gasps. A sheen of sweat covered his face.
“You left your coat.” Javier gripped the stained blue jacket in his right hand.
“I can’t believe you.” Kiram returned to Javier. “You can barely walk.”
“I could manage a hell of a crawl, though.” Javier closed his eyes and bowed his head back against the smooth trunk of the tree. “Will you just put up with me, Kiram? I need your help.”
“You’re an ass,” Kiram said, but he couldn’t summon any real anger. Javier already had his sympathy. It embarrassed Kiram to be so easily won back. “Fine, but I’m just repaying you for what you did yesterday.”
He ducked under Javier’s right arm, taking half of his weight. Javier leaned against him. The scent of blood overpowered the jasmine in the air. He wrapped his arm around Javier’s waist and helped him out through the gate.
“I’m taking you to the infirmary,” Kiram said flatly.
“Please don’t,” Javier whispered, and there was nothing seductive or laughing in his tone. He sounded so desolate that it reminded Kiram of Fedeles. “I don’t think I could endure Scholar Donamillo tinkering with me like I’m one of his mechanisms. Not today.” He bowed his head against Kiram’s neck.
“You need a physician.”
“I don’t, I swear. I’ve done this a thousand times. I just need time. The white hell will heal me.” Javier straightened a little as if to prove that he was already recovering. Kiram could feel the strain trembling through Javier’s muscles.
“Fine, we’ll go to our room. But if you haven’t recovered your strength by the time the warden calls last roll I’m going to summon Scholar Donamillo up to see you.”
Through the twilight Kiram picked out the distant shapes of several students lounging in front of the dormitory. Farther across the grounds he thought he could see the shadows of riders returning to the stables. He thought he recognized Elezar among them.
At the sight of the riders, Javier changed course, so that he was facing into the deep shadows of the school orchards. “We can circle around to the back of the dormitory. There’s a pulley lift near the scullery. We can use it to get up to the tower rooms without climbing the stairs.”
“Why don’t I just go get Elezar?” Kiram suggested.
“No.” Javier shook his head. “I don’t want the other students to see me like this. Not even Elezar.”
Kiram studied the footpath that skirted the perimeter of the orchard and then disappeared behind the dormitory. Remnants of an old wall jutted up in places and Kiram supposed Javier could rest against one of them if he needed to.
Kiram took as much of Javier’s weight as he could and they walked slowly. Kiram heard calls echoing through the trees and Javier told him it was a red owl calling for its mate.
As they moved on, Kiram felt heat returning to Javier’s body. By the time they had reached the cider shed, Javier was standing straight and moving easily. He kept his arm wrapped around Kiram, and Kiram held his waist, feeling the muscles of his hips flex and relax beneath his fingers.
“So what kind of bow do you use?” Javier’s tone was unconcerned and Kiram thought that the question had probably been chosen simply for the sake of conversation. It still surprised Kiram slightly, if only because it seemed like days since he had told Javier that he practiced archery.
“My favorite is a short compound bow that my uncle Rafie brought back from the Yuan kingdom.”
“Yuan?” Javier’s brows lifted. “That’s a long way to travel for a bow.”
“His partner is a Bahiim.” As always Kiram felt a twinge of embarrassment at the disclosure that his uncle’s partner was a religious zealot who talked to trees, but then he realized that Javier probably didn’t know much, if anything, about the Bahiim. “They traveled a lot when they were both younger. Now they’ve settled down in Anacleto.”
They passed between the shadows of overhanging tree branches and shafts of dull gold sunlight. When the warm light fell across him, Javier’s white skin looked as if it had been gilded.
“What kind of business does he do? Your uncle, I mean?”
“He’s a physician.”
“So, he and his business partner traveled to Yuan just to practice medicine?” Javier raised a black brow; his expression was slightly teasing. “You’re sure they weren’t smuggling Sueno root?”
“I’m sure.” Kiram smiled at the thought of his fastidious uncle Rafie keeping company with smugglers and addicts. He’d be scrubbing them down in hot baths in a matter of minutes. “My grandmother would probably have been happier if Uncle Rafie had chosen to follow a smuggler to Yuan. At least the rest of the family wouldn’t have thought she raised a religious fanatic.”
“So they went as missionaries?”
“Not exactly. They were invited by a merchant’s family to lift a curse from the household.” Kiram sighed, knowing that he would have to explain. “His partner, Alizadeh, is a Bahiim, a priest of the old church. The Bahiim battle curses and put ghosts to rest and I don’t know…talk to trees and things like that. My parents think Alizadeh’s a lunatic, but he’s always been kind to me and he’s quite charming.”
Javier stared at Kiram as if he couldn’t quite put all of Kiram’s words together in any way that made sense.
“So, this man, Alizadeh, your uncle
’s…”
“Partner,” Kiram provided. It was the word Haldiim always used when speaking in the company of Cadeleonians. It sounded businesslike and Cadeleonians easily accepted two men uniting their houses if it was for the sake of profit.
“His partner,” Javier repeated, “is a kind of exorcist?”
Kiram shrugged. “Something like that.”
“A Bahiim.” Javier seemed to consider this for a few moments, then he asked, “So when he went to Yuan, did he lift the curse?” Javier’s casual level of interest seemed to have risen.
“There was none,” Kiram replied. “A store of grain had gone foul and mistakenly been used to make a medical poultice. My uncle figured it out, destroyed the poultice, treated the victims, and that was that.”
They reached the iron gate enclosing the low beds of the kitchen garden. Javier placed his bloodstained left hand against the lock. Kiram heard a slight crackling noise then the solid clunk of a bolt sliding back.
“You don’t believe in curses, do you?” Javier shrugged out of Kiram’s grasp and pushed the gate open. Kiram felt strangely aware of where Javier’s body had pressed against his own and the absence felt wrong.
“I believe in the possibility of curses,” Kiram allowed. “But it seems like there are usually better explanations for why things go wrong.”
“Fouled grain or just plain bad luck?”
Kiram nodded cautiously. Something in Javier’s tone put him on edge. It was the seriousness of it, Kiram realized.
Javier closed the garden gate behind them and laid his hand up against the lock again. This time Kiram saw white sparks skip from his fingers to the metal.
“It’s not as though I don’t believe in powers,” Kiram said quickly. The last few weeks living with Javier had led him to believe in shajdi powers more than he ever had before. But meeting Javier hadn’t stopped Kiram from applying reason. “When it comes to things like curses and deviltry, people make accusations too easily. They use curses to justify their prejudices.”
“Are you thinking of King Nazario?” Javier glanced over his shoulder at Kiram. “That was a long time ago.”
“It was, but things haven’t changed so much. Even now if a Cadeleonian is well connected he can accuse any Haldiim of cursing his fields and have the Haldiim stripped of his property and imprisoned.”
The gate locked with another deep click. Javier turned to face Kiram. He looked thoughtful but not offended. “That’s true, but these days, even in northern counties, there has to be a trial.”
“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?”
“Yes.” 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. Yellow 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?”
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“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.
