Lord of the White Hell Book One lotwh-1

by Ginn Hale

  "They ought to mind their own business."

  "If people did that then I wouldn't need to keep my hands to myself, would I?" Javier pushed a curl of Kiram's hair back from his face. Kiram flushed and he could tell from Javier's smile that this was the response Javier had wanted. "They were saying Master Ignacio laid you out flat."

  "I never hit the ground." Kiram wasn't sure why it mattered but it did.

  Javier caught his arm and gently led him toward the window. He frowned as he studied the left side of Kiram's cheek and jaw.

  "Looks like it hurt some," Javier said.

  "Yfeah, some." Kiram didn't want to complain about an injury to Javier. "I didn't make a scene on purpose. I just. I don't know, did something that made Firaj think I wanted him to perform this strange backwards prance."

  "Motesdo steps," Javier supplied. "Not too many horses know them."

  "Well, Firaj does. And he was pretty proud of it too, but then the next thing I knew Master Ignacio was furious with me. When I tried to explain that I hadn't done it on purpose he hit me."

  "That's not like Master Ignacio," Javier said.

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "It's not like him to lose control in front of an entire class." Javier seemed to disregard the challenge in Kiram's tone. "What else did he say?"

  "I don't know," Kiram replied. He pulled out of Javier's grip and returned to the shelf to put his wrench away. "He just ranted about how his teachings were the ways of the greatest Cadeleonian men and that he didn't care if I was a Haldiim genius, I still had to respect him."

  Kiram glanced back to Javier. He seemed to be assessing Kiram.

  "How bad is your riding?" Javier asked at last.

  "What does that have to do with anything?"

  "Aside from the fact that the whole matter took place during a riding class, and was provoked by your riding? Oh nothing. I'm just making conversation." Javier shook his head at Kiram. "I think Master Ignacio must be really agitated about you riding in the tournament race. I can't see any other reason that he'd lash out like that."

  "Not just because he's a jackass, perhaps?" Kiram suggested.

  "He's never struck a student out of sheer rage before."

  "Maybe that's because he's never had a Haldiim student before." Kiram gave Javier a challenging look. Javier didn't reply and Kiram could see that the thought troubled him. Master Ignacio was important to Javier, as few other people were. Suddenly Kiram did not want to tear down Javier's hero.

  "I'm a terrible rider," Kiram admitted. "I'm easily the worst in the entire class. If Firaj weren't such a well-trained horse I would probably have already been trampled."

  "It's not the horses, is it? Do they frighten you?"

  "It's not fear, just inexperience. I'd never ridden a horse before I got to the academy."

  "Never?" Javier looked genuinely startled at this revelation.

  "No, never."

  Javier was quiet for a few minutes, simply staring at the shafts of light that cut across the floor of the shed.

  "We're going to have to do something about that," Javier said at last. Then he straightened and started for the door.

  "Wait, Javier?" Kiram called to him and he turned back.

  "What is it?"

  "I.I was wondering if you'd be back up in the room before the last bell?" Kiram hoped that the pleading feeling in him didn't carry through to his words. Javier bowed his head, so that his dark hair hid his eyes.

  "No, I'll stay away. You don't have to hide down here in this shed." He turned back and opened the door. Kiram had enough time to tell him that he didn't want him to stay away, to tell Javier that he'd missed his company and even his arrogant humor.

  But he said nothing, because it was the only wise thing to do, for both their sakes.

  He watched as Javier stepped outside and the door fell closed behind him.

  Chapter Fifteen

  When Javier shook him awake early the next morning, Kiram wasn't ready to greet the day. His eyes clenched closed. He rolled over and Javier jabbed him in the back.

  "Up," Javier said firmly. "Get up."

  "No," Kiram moaned. "First bell hasn't rung yet."

  "We aren't going to lounge around waiting for the bells. You have a riding lesson. So get up." Javier's hand slipped under Kiram's blankets. His fingers caressed Kiram's shoulder and then closed around Kiram's nipple. The sensation was delicious at first but then Javier pinched him harder. Kiram jerked upright and shoved Javier back.

  "Fine, damn it!" Kiram was so groggy he almost fell out of the bed. "I'm getting up. Damn you, you-I can't even think of a Cadeleonian obscenity that's filthy enough for you, right now."

  "Khivash?" Javier suggested.

  Kiram pulled his eyes all the way open and regarded Javier. Not only did he look annoyingly refreshed and well dressed but now he was speaking Haldiim. It hadn't been just a dream the previous night.

  "Where did you learn that word?" Kiram demanded.

  "I must have picked it up somewhere or other." He offered Kiram a smug little smile.

  "It was in Calixto's diary, wasn't it?" Kiram slowly staggered up out of the bed. Faint predawn light filtered in through the windows.

  "His friend Yassin was the last Haldiim anywhere near this area for centuries, I'm sure." Kiram scrubbed at his eyes trying to get the sleep out of them.

  "You're correct in your first deduction but wrong in your second." Javier tossed Kiram his riding clothes. They hadn't been washed yet and the pungent odors of sweat, horses, and saddle leather wafted up.

  "Wait a moment," Kiram said as Javier's comment slowly sank in. "There are other Haldiim here?" Kiram wondered if they would sell him some adhil bread or spiced lamb. It would almost be worth putting on these rank clothes and enduring a morning ride, if he could eat lamb ground with cinnamon served with thick yogurt.

  "A troupe of Haldiim performers travel this far north for the autumn tournament. They tell fortunes, sell charms, and pretty much steal anything they can get their hands on. They're none too friendly, nor too clean, either. I doubt they'd know what to do with a nice boy like you."

  "Do they keep crows?" Kiram asked.

  Javier nodded.

  "They sound like Irabiim, not Haldiim." Kiram wasn't surprised that Javier didn't seem to recognize the name. Few Cadeleonians understood that the descendants of Jhahiim were not one group but more than a dozen separate tribes. Generally, Cadeleonians referred to them all as Haldiim, a practice that infuriated Kiram's mother.

  "The Irabiim tribe broke off from the Haldiim a long time ago," Kiram told Javier. "They're much more nomadic than we are. A lot of them are thieves and worse. My grandmother used to say that the Irabiim bring trouble to a town and leave the Haldiim to settle it."

  "She might have had something there. Last year there was a huge fight between several of them and some of our grooms over a missing horse."

  Suddenly Kiram thought of the dead groom and Fedeles' comment about Haldiim murderers. He doubted that Fedeles knew the difference between Haldiim and Irabiim either.

  Kiram asked, "Was Victaro Irdad involved in this fight?"

  "Who told you about Victaro?"

  "I saw his grave. Fedeles told me Haldiim murdered him. Do you think he could have meant the Irabiim?"

  "I doubt it. Victaro was killed during the spring break. The Irabiim-am I saying that correctly?" Kiram nodded and Javier continued, "The Irabiim had been gone since autumn. They would have been several counties away."

  Kiram frowned in disappointment at the loss of a neat solution.

  "You probably shouldn't tell anyone else about what Fedeles said," Javier told him.

  "Why not?" Kiram stripped off his nightshirt and tossed it back onto the bed. He didn't miss the way Javier gazed at his naked body.

  "You said it yourself earlier. Most people are just looking for an excuse to act on their prejudices. An accusation of murder against the Irabiim might be all it takes to get them killed. They
may be dirty but I don't think they should be blamed for Victaro's murder, do you?"

  "No, of course not." Kiram staggered to the bathroom and washed his face. He scrubbed at his teeth with a paste of pumice and clove oil then spat it out. "I just can't figure out why Fedeles would tell me that."

  Javier walked to the doorway of the bathroom. "I don't know. He says a lot of things but they can't all be taken seriously."

  "I know." Kiram accepted the shirt Javier handed him. It was cleaner than the pants. "But I don't think everything he says should be dismissed either. Someone really did kill that groom."

  "Nestor can't have failed to inform you about the culprit," Javier said.

  "He told me. Everyone thinks you did it." Kiram looked directly into Javier's face. He saw the momentary hurt in Javier's expression and then that almost challenging look of amusement returned.

  "If I did, he wouldn't be the first man I've killed."

  "You didn't kill him," Kiram replied flatly. He walked past Javier to the dresser and retrieved his stockings.

  "You'll want to wear your riding boots," Javier told him. Kiram grabbed them. He sat down on his bed to pull the tight leather boots on. Javier studied him for a moment.

  "How do you know I didn't kill Victaro?" Javier asked at last.

  "Just consider yourself as a criminal. What kind of crimes do you commit and how do you commit them?"

  Javier frowned in puzzlement, which pleased Kiram, so he continued with his analysis.

  "You don't seem like the kind of man who would leave a lot of evidence. When you were just stealing a pie you still took care not to get caught. It just doesn't seem in your nature that you'd be so messy or so willing to let everyone think you had killed Victaro if you really had."

  "So, you're saying that the fact that I won't deny killing Victaro means I didn't do it? That doesn't strike me as the most indisputable of arguments I've ever encountered," Javier replied.

  "No, but it doesn't make me wrong either. You didn't kill him. You're taking the blame because you know that your title will shield you from prosecution. That means that not only do you know the killer's identity but that it's someone whom you wish to protect."

  Javier gazed down to his hands, frowning, and Kiram knew he had to be right. He could only think of one person whom Javier would protect so staunchly. Javier defended him so fiercely that he had free run of the entire academy. But allowing him to murder a groom? Kiram didn't know if he could believe that either.

  The purely intellectual aspect of Kiram wanted to force the subject, to corner Javier and make him to admit what he knew. But a deeper, wiser instinct kept him quiet. He didn't think he was ready just yet to know what Javier was truly capable of doing to protect his cousin.

  And for all he knew Fedeles had acted in his own self- defense, if the groom really had assaulted him…Kiram just didn't know and for the first time in his life he thought he might not have the right to ask. This wasn't a philosophical curiosity, or a mathematical problem; it was Javier's and Fedeles' private lives.

  Javier made the choice for him. He strode to the wardrobe and tossed Kiram a heavy jacket. "The sun's hardly up. It's going to be cold outside."

  Kiram followed Javier down through the dormitory and across the grounds to the stables.

  Outside, the air was cool and only faint rays of sunlight passed through the surrounding orchards. Deep blue shadows stretched across the cobblestone walkways and pooled in the recesses of the buildings. Kiram expected the grounds to be deserted but dozens of servants clogged the paths and scurried between the buildings. Scullery boys dashed from the gardens with baskets of vegetables, while housemen hauled buckets of water from the well to the dormitory. Smoke already pumped up from the smithy. And in the distant shadows of the woods Kiram thought he spied the figure of a groundskeeper returning from his hunt with sacks of dead rabbits, or perhaps quail.

  In the stable, the grooms hauled fresh hay to the stalls, changing out feed and water, and leading horses to the farrier. They kept clear of Javier as he strode through the stable. Kiram noticed that many of the grooms watched Javier's approach with intense fear. After he passed by they shot hateful glances at his back.

  If Javier noticed any of this, he gave no indication. He walked through the stable as if he had the building all to himself. Kiram followed him, suppressing his apprehension at the thought of so many grooms glaring at his back.

  At last, Javier stopped in front of a stall. Almost immediately Firaj poked his big black head over the door. His ears pricked up slightly and Kiram hoped it was a sign of the horse's interest, not annoyance.

  Javier held out the back of his hand and Firaj drew in a deep snort and then sighed out a soft, pleased noise.

  "Today I thought we'd take a slow walk around the academy grounds." Javier's voice was so soothingly gentle that Kiram suspected he was addressing the horse as much as him. "Does that sound all right to you?"

  "I guess…I've only ridden in the arena."

  "After three months Firaj is probably bored with that routine."

  "Horses get bored?" Kiram couldn't imagine an animal that was content to stand in a pasture grazing for hours on end being bored by anything.

  "Of course." Javier stroked Firaj's cheek. "They feel as much as any man does and they aren't above playing pranks to alleviate their tedium."

  "You don't think Firaj pranced backwards just because he was bored, do you?"

  "I don't know, but I think he might enjoy something new so long as it isn't too startling." Javier glanced back at Kiram and smiled. "He's a little like you that way, I think."

  Kiram was sure that if it hadn't been so early he would have had a retort, but as it was he just rolled his eyes at Javier.

  Javier showed him how to saddle and bridle Firaj. Previously the grooms had always done this for him. Kiram hadn't thought it took so much work. Somehow he'd imagined that the grooms just tossed the saddles on the horses' backs and buckled them up and everything was ready. Instead he discovered that he had to work slowly, warming the bit in his hands and tightening the girth incrementally so that neither device caused Firaj undue irritation.

  "You have to show him that you'll be good to him, or he won't trust you to direct him. Though that doesn't mean letting him get away with anything he likes." Javier gave Kiram a meaningful glance.

  "I'm not a horse," Kiram responded.

  "Of course not," Javier replied but then he smiled. "Though there are similarities between horses and men."

  Kiram pulled the girth another notch tighter. Firaj seemed to hardly notice. He had given himself up completely to Javier's firm strokes and scratches. He brought his head down happily to accept the bridle when Javier slipped it over his nose and buckled it behind his head.

  "A mount must acknowledge that the rider is in charge, first and foremost." Javier sounded a little more serious. "There are any number of ways to convince a horse of that. The fastest is to simply beat him when he resists. But that tends to produce a mount without courage. He will run for you but only because he's afraid not to. If he comes up against something he fears more than you then he will disobey. Fear only goes so far. If you're going to ask something truly difficult of him, like carrying you into battle or taking a blind leap, then he can't just fear you. He has to trust you and love you."

  "I don't think Firaj trusts, fears, or loves me," Kiram said.

  "No, probably not. He's just met you. I think you still have to teach him to respect you." Javier checked the girth and then handed the horse's reins to Kiram. "Why don't you lead him out?"

  "How do I do make him trust me?" Kiram asked Javier as they walked through the stable.

  "Be kind but firm with him. Stop him when he goes too far. Just don't let him take advantage of you." Javier glanced at Kiram. "Treat him the same way you treat me. You'll do just fine."

  "Very funny."

  Once they were outside, Kiram swung up into Firaj's saddle. He was happy that he had mastered this one
aspect of riding if none other. He could mount and dismount smoothly.

  "So, where to now?" Kiram asked.

  "We'll follow the orchard trail. I'll walk alongside you."

  In the orchard, the branches of the apple trees hung low with fruit. Kiram could hear the stream far ahead. A brilliant blue jay screeched at them as they passed. Kiram watched as the bird flitted from one tree to the next and then it disappeared back into the shadows of the orchard.

  "The jays in Anacleto aren't nearly so bright," Kiram commented. "Their heads are completely black, so they look like they've all singed their faces from looking down chimneys. My grandmother used to call them soot-beaked spies." Kiram had expected this ride to be more of an ordeal, like the lessons he took with Master Ignacio. But Javier seemed content to simply stride along as if he were taking a morning stroll.

  "The jays in Rauma are blue like these, but much bigger and louder. I've never liked jays. Might be one of the reasons I'm not so fond of the color blue either," Javier commented.

  "You must get pretty sick of these uniforms then." Kiram glanced down at Javier. "What color do you like?"

  Javier looked back up at him. His expression seemed so relaxed that Kiram wondered if he might still be a little sleepy.

  "I like gold and yellow," Javier said. "Your hair is almost exactly the perfect color."

  Kiram wasn't prepared for such an artless compliment from Javier. Somehow it touched him more deeply than any of Javier's innuendos. He felt his cheeks flushing a bright red.

  This once Javier didn't gloat over Kiram's reaction. He seemed more concerned with Kiram's riding.

  "Try to sit up a little straighter," Javier said. "If you hunch like that your back will take a pounding. It'll really hurt after a long race."

  "I'm not going to be racing.am I?"

  "This year you'll only be in the opening competition, but next year, who knows? Either way you'll be more comfortable if you straighten a little more. That's it." Javier studied him for a moment. "You've got decent posture for someone who's never ridden before."