by Ginn Hale
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."
"Your mother isn't the only one who threw you a favor, though," Kiram reminded him.
"That's true." Nestor smiled slightly. "She really was pretty, wasn't she?"
"She was," Kiram assured him.
The two of them joined the other Sagrada Academy students in the center of the arena. Elezar was the easiest to pick out in the crowd, simply because of his size. The vestiges of a bloody nose stained his upper lip and mud spattered the entire front of his shirt. Almost immediately after finding Elezar, Kiram caught sight of Javier.
He wasn't with the rest of the Sagrada students but instead he leaned up against wall of the stands with his neck craned back. He shouted something up to a group of people in a box seat on the second level. A green and yellow banner hung from the box. Fedeles was up there, along with half a dozen other very well-dressed people. None of them resembled Fedeles as much as Javier did but Kiram still guessed that they were Fedeles' family, the Quemanors. One elderly woman gazed at him with that particularly adoring expression that Kiram always associated with grandmothers. When her gaze shifted to Javier, however, her expression was one of undisguised hatred.
Fedeles bounced in his seat and appeared to be singing something. Kiram couldn't hear him over the pressing roar of hundreds of surrounding conversations. Elezar was recounting his own worst failure in a race to Nestor, but Kiram was only half listening. Every now and then a trumpet blast announced more riders and cheers went up through the crowd.
A giddy feeling of joy and relief washed through Kiram. It had been a mad ride but he had survived it. Briefly, he thought that he would do it all again just for this rush of happiness at the end. The notion was crazy, but it filled him with a strange kind of joy. Kiram thought he might be grinning as wildly as Fedeles right now.
Up in the stands, Fedeles threw a wad of black and white ribbons down at Javier and then suddenly leapt up from his seat and pointed directly at Kiram.
Kiram returned his enthusiastic wave. He received a cold stare from Fedeles' grandmother, but he hardly cared. Javier pulled the black and white ribbons from his dusty hair, then he turned and started towards Kiram. As Javier drew closer Kiram caught sight of the bloody, matted black hair dried to the right side of his face.
Suddenly Kiram's pleasure turned cold. "Are you all right?"
Javier only smiled at him.
"He took first place!" Elezar crowed. "Flat out beat Hierro Fueres this year."
"What happened to his head?" Kiram asked. Javier seemed oddly unaware of the question.
"He got clipped. His right ear is full of blood." Elezar pointed to Javier's head.
Javier nodded. "I can't hear out of my right ear. It's full of blood."
"Shouldn't he see a physician?"
"He'll be fine," Elezar responded. "It's just a graze. Bled like hell though. He looked completely bitched when I first came in. Bastard had the gall to tell me I looked bad."
Javier watched Elezar's face intently as he spoke and then nodded.
"I said you looked like shit," Javier said to Elezar and then he turned his attention back to Kiram. "I didn't hear them announce you."
"You can't hear anything, can you?"
"No, I'm fine," Javier responded.
"He can't read lips for crap either." Elezar stepped closer to Javier. "Do something about your bloody ear."
"I think it's nice and quiet like this." Javier shrugged.
Kiram saw the faintest spark flicker over Javier's right ear. It guttered out almost instantly. Another spark trembled to life only briefly and then it too went out.
Kiram frowned. It wasn't like Javier to put up with an injury, not even to annoy Elezar.
"Did Holy Father Habalan administer muerate poison to Javier?" Kiram asked Elezar.
"Of course. It's the only way to make sure he doesn't cheat during the tournament. He still took first-" The rest of Elezar's words were lost in the loud blast of a trumpet. More riders were announced. The crowds in the stands cheered as the dirty students made their way to the center of the arena. The last students seemed to be arriving nearly all at once. Few of them showed any injuries, though one young man in a Yllar uniform had clearly been bombarded with flowers. Rose petals and straw flowers were still falling out of his hair and clothes as he walked across the arena.
"Well, I did better than Ladislo," Nestor said. "He was two hundred and thirty. What about you, Elezar?"
"Thirty-three," Elezar replied proudly. "I came in right ahead of Morisio. Genimo took fortieth. He's helping Scholar Donamillo treat a first year who took a nasty fall."
"What about Atreau?" Nestor asked. "I thought he'd be here by now." Kiram hadn't thought to look for anyone but Javier but now he noticed that of all the Hellions only Atreau was unaccounted for.
"Poor bastard got completely fucked by some crazy girl who threw herself at him on the street." Elezar shook his head.
"Is he hurt?" Nestor looked suddenly worried.
"No, he kept his seat, but he was pretty much out of the race once he had some love-struck trollop in the saddle with him. He said something to Morisio about riding her hard and putting her away wet." Elezar flashed another of his crude grins.
Kiram had no idea what Elezar was referring to. He glanced askance at Javier but then realized that Javier hadn't heard any of the conversation.
"Atreau ought to show up soon," Elezar said. "Ahh, look! What did I just say? There he is."
Elezar pointed just as the trumpet sounded and Atreau was announced along with the last two other riders. Wild, feminine screams tore through the pavilion as Atreau walked past the stands. Gaudily-dressed women in the lowest row of the stands hurled flowers at him as well as kerchiefs. Kiram even thought that one woman had thrown out a pair of underpants.
"The whores do love him." Elezar shook his head.
"It's not just whores," Nestor said. "Lots of ladies write him letters."
"I imagine that the number would drop significantly if they knew they would have to spend their wedding night queuing up in line for a turn at him," Javier commented.
"So, you can hear again," Elezar said.
"Sadly, yes. It's louder than it was last year." Javier surveyed the hundreds of people in the stands, then turned to Kiram. "I'll take you around the fair after we're done here. The fi
ghting doesn't usually last past third bell. After that, actors take the arena. Ybu can see those Irabiim I was telling you about."
"All right, but I have to find the Laughing Dog-"
"Wait! What's this?" Elezar broke in on them, scowling. "We should celebrate your win at the Goldenrod."
Javier looked genuinely annoyed. "Not tonight. Master Ignacio won't allow any indulgences until after the tournament. And in any case, Kiram and Nestor can't-" The rest of Javier's reply was drowned out by the resounding noise of several trumpets blasting out a piercing melody.
"All bow before His Royal Highness Prince Sevanyo!" A man called from the pavilion entry.
A sudden, perfect silence fell over the entire gathering. An instant later the quiet rustle of cloth became a reverberation through the pavilion as hundreds of people bowed down. It struck Kiram as strange to hear such a slight noise magnified so intensely by the sheer number of people making the same motion at once.
Immediately, Javier caught his hand and pulled him down to kneel beside him. The Cadeleonians were all so much more formal than his own people. There was no nobility among the Haldiim and not even the oldest grandmother would demand that others kneel in the dirt before her.
Javier kept his face lowered, not even glancing at Kiram. But he didn't release Kiram's hand either. His skin felt icy-an effect of muerate poison. Even so it seemed singular to Javier and made Kiram very aware of how long Javier's fingers lingered, pressing against his own, and also of the precise moment when Javier released him.
It was exactly as six young men dressed in violet liveries emblazoned with the white Sagrada stallion marched into the pavilion. The gold buckles on their highly polished boots jingled like bells. Kiram stole a glance up at them. They wore dueling swords, but also carried golden bowls full of flowers, from which they scattered fistfuls of rose petals across the ground. Behind them came six mounted guards, wearing light armor and riding black chargers.
The trumpets raised a resounding note as the prince rode into the pavilion on a white stallion. Six more pages followed him on foot, carrying large gold globes, and behind them came another six mounted guards.
Kiram studied the prince. He inspired so much awe and wielded so much power. If he wished he could elevate or destroy any man, woman, or child in this pavilion. He could do it on a whim.
Kiram knew that many of his fellow students were nobles as well. In their own lands they could decide the fates of entire populaces with a few words, but at the academy they attended classes and took tests just like everyone else. They obeyed the rules of common scholars and accepted punishments for their misdeeds.
The Sagrada heir was not restrained in any such manner. He had left his academy days far behind him. Kiram thought suddenly that Javier too would leave the academy. After next year he would be free to bring hundreds of people to their knees with his mere presence. Kiram wondered if he would choose to do so.
Prince Sevanyo's pale skin and dark eyes were testaments to his close relation to both Javier and Fedeles. There was resemblance in his long build as well. But the prince was not a young man; deep lines creased his forehead and the corners of his mouth. The sharp bones of his cheeks jutted up over gaunt hollows. White streaks shot through his black hair.
As he shifted, surveying the gathered crowd, his entire body seemed to glitter. The crown on his brow shone, gold stitching flashed up and down his dark violet clothes, and dozens of cut jewels gleamed on his gloved hands.
He hardly moved, but his mount immediately drew to a halt. For a moment, the prince surveyed the bowed heads of his gathered subjects up in the stands. His expression was distant and contemplative, as if he were regarding a foreign landscape. Then his gaze shifted to the students kneeling in the arena.
Kiram quickly bowed his head, as the prince looked his way. He didn't dare to look up again.
"Ybu may rise, faithful subjects." The prince did not need to raise his voice. His words carried effortlessly through the silence.
As everyone straightened, the pages standing behind the prince opened the gold spheres they held, releasing dozens of white doves. The royal prince sat in gleaming gold and darkest violet as white wings rose all around him, ascending into the heavens. It was a startlingly beautiful image, but also obviously contrived.
"Where's a cat when you really need one?" Javier whispered. Kiram stifled his laugh. Javier smiled at him with such open affection that Kiram had to look down at his feet to keep from blushing.
"Javier Tornesal," Prince Sevanyo called out over the noise of beating wings and dove calls.
Javier stepped forward. His uniform was gray from road dust and blood and dirt clung to his hair. Still, there was something in his bearing-his utter ease-that made Kiram think he looked as regal as the prince.
He paused to allow the prince's stallion to nuzzle his bare hand. The horse clearly knew him.
Prince Sevanyo smiled at him benevolently. "Well, cousin, I understand that I am to offer you a favor, but I cannot imagine what the Duke of Rauma would want for."
"Nothing so much as the royal prince's health and happiness," Javier said.
"I am both well and greatly pleased," Prince Sevanyo said. Then the prince pulled a massive ring from his right index finger and handed it to Javier. "Attend me for a little time."
Javier inclined his head slightly.
"It would be a pleasure, but I beg for a dismissal. I have an obligation to the academy."
"The nature of this obligation?"
"This is my third year and I am required to mentor an underclassman, my prince." Pride carried through Javier's voice. Prince Sevanyo's expression showed both surprise and amusement.
"You have an underclassman?" The prince raised his dark brows. "Is the boy without human fear or an unmitigated idiot?"
"I assure you, he is no idiot," Javier replied with a pleased smile. The prince studied Javier as if he had offered him a challenging riddle.
"I must see this underclassman," Prince Sevanyo pronounced at last. "Bring him. You will both attend me."
Kiram's stomach clenched like a fist. Nestor gave a quiet gasp and Kiram looked at him.
"As you wish, my prince." Javier turned back to Kiram and beckoned him with a gesture, appearing utterly unconcerned.
For a moment Kiram felt too afraid to move. All he could think of was King Nazario, and the countless Haldiim he had murdered. But then he forced himself forward. Javier watched him intently, as if his mere gaze could draw Kiram to him.
He walked to Javier's side and bowed deeply before the resplendent prince. The prince blinked at Kiram for a moment and then laughed.
"A Haldiim! How clever." The prince swung down from his saddle and a page led his horse out of the pavilion. Just standing near the prince, Kiram was intensely aware of the dust, sweat, and grime that clung to his own body. While a rich fragrance of vanilla wafted off the prince, Kiram was sure his own scent was much more rank.
Fortunately two of the prince's pages brought basins of water and washcloths. Javier and he cleaned up quickly. The half-healed laceration running across Javier's right ear and up into his scalp stood out strongly against his clean, white skin.
"Let us take our seats," Prince Sevanyo said. For the first time he seemed to take note of the pavilion of silent onlookers. "Certainly a tournament should be getting underway in this arena."
The words released everyone from their frozen silence. The war masters called their students to attention and marched them off the arena grounds and into the low stands reserved for them. There they hurriedly stripped off their uniforms and pulled on their leather fencing armor. Master Ignacio shouted out the orders while grooms handed out blunted dueling blades.
All flurry of action and noise seemed muted and distant to Kiram. The prince's guards surrounded them and they ascended the stairs up into the stands. The pages trailed behind them.
The seats in the prince's box were padded with purple velvet. The surrounding wood walls were gilde
d and painted with images of horses and armored men in battle. As soon as the prince seated himself, a page knelt to wipe the dust from his boots, while another page brought wine and a small pastry of some kind. Javier sat beside the prince and pulled Kiram down next to him.
Not wanting to be caught staring at the prince, Kiram averted his gaze down to the arena below. First-year students from both schools assembled for the first contests. Six fencing rings had been drawn up and Kiram guessed the fights would be quick. The best of the first years would go on to challenge the second-year students.
"So how did this come about?" Prince Sevanyo asked Javier, though he indicated Kiram with his wine glass.
"This is Kiram Kir-Zaki. He won the Silver Leaf Challenge last year." Javier stretched out in his seat. "Scholar Donamillo was so impressed with him that he petitioned for Kiram to be invited to attend the Sagrada Academy. Kiram accepted and now he's my underclassman."
"I had heard that a Haldiim won the Silver Leaf, though I hadn't imagined that he would be so young. " Sevanyo studied Kiram, frowning slightly. "You are young, are you not? It's hard to tell with you Haldiim. You all look like boys."
"I am seventeen, sir-Your Highness." Kiram was horrified at his own gaffe but the prince just laughed.
"Now, why do I know the name Kir-Zaki?" the prince asked.
"His family makes the Kir-Zaki candies in Anacleto," Javier replied.
"Of course." Prince Sevanyo looked delighted. "I am told that I have them to thank for the proliferation of Grunitos throughout the kingdom."
"Yfes." Kiram tried to sound steady. "Nestor Grunito says as much himself."
"You must get Javier to eat more of those candies, then. We are in need of Tornesal heirs, you know."
"The world needs more Tornesals like it needs another great flood," Javier said.
"I would be greatly displeased if Rauma fell into my brother's hands, Javier." The prince sounded suddenly very serious. Javier nodded.
"It will not. Fedeles is my heir."
"Fedeles is not fit."
"He's improving steadily," Javier replied. "And I have no intention of dying any time soon.When I do, Rauma will pass to Fedeles' children in the Quemanor house. Your brother, the royal bishop, will not have it."
