Lord of the White Hell Book 2

by Ginn Hale

  “I’m glad you’re here,” Kiram whispered.

  “I am as well.” Javier didn’t open his eyes and his expression seemed soft and sweet, almost as if he were dreaming.

  Chapter Ten

  For the first time in many days, Kiram woke to the familiar sensation of the hot weight of Javier’s thigh flopped over his own and for a moment he thought he was back at school. Then the perfume of adhil bread and butter permeated the air and he could hear his mother and Siamak discussing something about sugar out in the courtyard.

  He opened his eyes and gazed up at the ceiling of his own bedroom in Anacleto, a good place made better by the fact that Javier had come to him. The man lay sprawled across the bed, utterly bereft of the inhibition that restrained him while awake. As Kiram shifted, Javier’s long fingers gripped his hip and Javier pushed his face into Kiram’s shoulder but didn’t open his eyes.

  Briefly Kiram toyed with the idea of waking Javier with a kiss or something better. But the continuing sound of his mother’s voice deadened Kiram’s arousal.

  Javier probably needed the sleep anyway.

  So Kiram decided to use the time to write to Scholar Donamillo about his mechanical cure.

  Carefully, he disentangled himself from Javier. After relieving himself in the water closet, he sat down at his desk and composed a letter inquiring after Fedeles’ health and happiness as well as the prayers Donamillo used for his mechanical cures. While he waited for the ink to dry, Kiram came across a note he’d left for himself fully two days ago.

  He needed to request an extension for his entry into the Crown Challenge. Only a brief explanation was required and yet Kiram hesitated. He wanted to win the challenge and he had no doubt that his engine would, but for the first time he found himself wary of where success would lead him.

  An appointment to the royal court in Cieloalta inevitably awaited the winner. Prince Sevanyo had said as much, but he had also spoken of an arranged marriage with a Cadeleonian girl and religious conversion. The prospect of either gripped Kiram with dread.

  The ink dried on his pen nib and he dipped it in the inkwell again. The royal court offered him recognition and money. As a Haldiim son he would need his own income if he ever wished to claim his independence and do something rash like refuse to marry a pharmacist or decide to travel to Yuan.

  He wrote the letter quickly and neatly, went to wash and dress, and by the time he returned the ink had dried. He folded both letters and sealed them with green wax and a gold thread.

  Outside a loud clang sounded from Kiram’s father’s workshop. Javier bolted upright on the bed, his eyes wide and his breath coming fast.

  “Just noisy mechanism,” Kiram reassured him. “Father’s working on the pump for a fountain.”

  “I should have been up by now anyway.” Javier wiped his hands over his face and pushed his hair back. He glanced curiously around the room, seeming to search for something.

  “Water closet is the second door on the left down the hall,” Kiram offered.

  “Thanks.” Javier rose and started for the door, then paused in front of Kiram’s bookshelf, plainly surveying the titles. Half were textbooks but many of the remaining volumes displayed provocative titles, such as, The Passionate Adventurer, Among the Untamed Men of Mirogoth and Yuan: Kingdom of Blood and Desire.

  “Untamed Men, hmm?” Javier read the Haldiim words carefully.

  Kiram swiveled in his seat to meet Javier’s teasing expression. “It wasn’t really my sort of thing but it might suit you. You can borrow it if you like.”

  “I might take you up on it.” Javier selected Yuan: Kingdom of Blood and Desire.

  Kiram watched him leafing through the pages. The morning light lent a glow to his naked skin and accentuated the sharp planes of his lean muscles as he moved. The dark contrast of Javier’s black body hair drew Kiram’s eyes down from Javier’s chest, past his hard stomach, to his groin. Kiram marveled at how pale Javier’s skin was, even there. His own genitals were deep bronze. Then he realized he was ogling and lifted his eyes to find Javier grinning at him.

  “Perhaps The Unshaven Men of Cadeleon should be among your books,” Javier suggested. Kiram felt a flush rise across his cheeks. He considered surprising that smug grin off of Javier by tossing him back onto the bed, but he knew from the noise downstairs that it was already too late in the day.

  “Not unless you’re interested in the sequel: Interrupted By My Nosy Sister,” Kiram replied. As if on cue Dauhd called from the floor below, announcing that breakfast would be in the sunroom.

  Javier shrugged then found the trousers that he’d worn the night before and pulled them on. While he went to the water closet Kiram hurried downstairs and located more of Majdi’s clothes as well as a basin of hot shaving water. When he returned to his room he found Javier once again flipping through the book.

  “Clothes and hot water,” Kiram announced.

  Javier borrowed Kiram’s razor and soap while teasing Kiram about owning either when he sported only wisps of fine blond hair for a beard.

  “Lady Grunito could grow a fuller beard, I think,” Javier observed.

  “That might reflect more poorly on the lady than me,” Kiram returned.

  “True, and I can’t say anything bad about her. She’s always been good to me and I have to respect anyone who has the patience to raise Elezar.” Javier rinsed the razor and then dressed.

  As he did, Kiram found himself once again admiring the way the Haldiim trousers clung to Javier’s legs and how the vest displayed his broad chest and strong arms. Kiram reached out to straighten the vest and let his hands linger on Javier’s chest just slightly longer than necessary. Javier stepped closer.

  “Eat now or starve!” Dauhd shouted from the other side of the door.

  Kiram and Javier both started at the sudden intrusion, but then they rushed to breakfast. Life at the Sagrada Academy had cultivated in them an urgent drive to dine before a hall of ravenous youths devoured everything. They passed Dauhd on the stairs; Kiram shimmied ahead of her and Javier launched himself onto the handrail and slid down. Kiram sprinted down the stairs to keep up.

  And suddenly it was a race, with both of them bumping and shoving through the arched doorways and laughing at each other. Kiram possessed two definite advantages: he knew the layout of his own house and he was a better sprinter. But Javier wasn’t afraid to throw an elbow or trip up Kiram’s footing. At last the two of them came tumbling into the sunroom, gasping and laughing.

  Majdi and Kiram’s father frowned at them from their seats at the low table. Javier immediately drew back from Kiram and straightened. Kiram remained splayed across the floor pillows. Morning light poured from the spring garden and threw pools of color across the room. A splash of gold glowed through Kiram’s father’s wild, white hair.

  “Good morning, Lord Tornesal,” Kiram’s father greeted Javier.

  “A very good morning to you as well, Master Kir-Zaki and Master Kir-Zaki.” Javier inclined his head towards Kiram’s father and then Majdi.

  “We did away with formalities last night.” Majdi flicked his hand as if waving an insect aside. “It’s still just Majdi and my father is called Shukri. Mum’s given name is Hikmat, but maybe you should stick to Mother Kir-Zaki with her.”

  “Of course,” Javier replied. “Please feel free to call me Javier.”

  “Javier,” Kiram’s father said the name experimentally and with a strong accent. “Please join us to eating this meal.” A smudge of machine oil darkened his father’s forehead. Before Kiram could mention it, Dauhd entered the room and gave an exasperated sigh.

  “Dad, you’re supposed to wash up before a meal.” Dauhd sat down next to him and wiped his forehead clean with a cloth napkin from the table.

  “I did, my dear.” Kiram’s father held up his clean, callused hands. Dauhd shook her head. Majdi poured tea into several cups and passed them around the table.

  “Sit here,” Kiram gestured for Javier to take a seat o
n the pillow next to his own. Javier joined him, folding his legs as Kiram did, though it was clearly not natural to him.

  The dishes on the table were simple and fragrant. Steaming rounds of adhil bread lay heaped on a tray. Lamb, yoghurt, almonds and several thick sauces filled silver bowls. Kiram watched Javier as he studied the silver dish brimming with fahl, a green-black fermented wheat paste. Kiram disliked fahl, but Majdi relished its bodily smell and creamy texture.

  “You have to try it,” Majdi told Javier.

  “But you don’t have to like it,” Kiram put in.

  “Definitely an acquired taste,” Dauhd said. She snatched a round of adhil bread and splashed yoghurt and then rounds of cucumber on to it. Kiram’s father topped his bread with a saffron sauce and lamb while Majdi smeared grotesque amounts of fahl over his. Kiram took two adhil rounds and handed one to Javier. Kiram flavored his with saffron sauce like his father and then piled on the strips of lamb meat. Javier followed his example.

  “Aren’t Mother and Siamak joining us?” Kiram asked the question in Cadeleonian so that Javier wouldn’t be left out of the conversation.

  “They ate hours ago,” Majdi replied. “They both got up early to fight about those meringues again.”

  “Cadeleonian meringues?” Javier asked.

  “Just the ones,” Majdi replied around a mouthful of food.

  “Siamak wants to sell them. Mum doesn’t,” Dauhd explained. “It’s the same argument every wedding season.” Dauhd smiled at Javier, and Kiram could see that her infatuation with him had not faded. “I suppose there are fights like that in your family as well?”

  “No, not really,” Javier replied.

  Kiram could see both his sister readying another innocent question about Javier’s family and Javier steeling himself against the inevitable necessity of telling her that they were all dead, a revelation that would no doubt make for awkward and pitying conversation during the rest of the meal.

  “They’re not candymakers,” Kiram commented and Javier offered him a quick relieved smile. “So, what about the gymnasium? Mum wrote that it was being repaired?”

  “Yes!” Kiram’s father brightened as he recognized the Cadeleonian word. “All new plumbing and a boiler! Mother Kir-Nusrat wants a new clock as well, something modern and dynamic, and I mentioned the steam work you’ve been doing and she seemed very interested. The hillock near the archery range struck me as the best position because of the new water—”

  “Father, in Cadeleonian!” Dauhd cut him off. “So that Lord Tornesal can understand.”

  “No, it’s all right,” Javier assured her in very carefully phrased Haldiim. “I think I understood most of it—at least as much as I ever understand when it comes to Kiram’s mechanisms.”

  “You and the rest of us,” Majdi said. “How are you liking the food?”

  “It’s good,” Javier replied.

  “Ready for a challenge, then?” Majdi nudged the dish of fahl towards Javier.

  “Always,” Javier replied.

  Kiram shook his head and handed Javier another round of adhil bread. Majdi and Javier both slathered their bread with fahl. Majdi rolled his bread and took a large bite. Javier bit into his bread more tentatively. He chewed with a look of intense concentration and then swallowed.

  “So?” Majdi asked.

  “I may have discovered one of the defenses you Haldiim used to drive the Cadeleonians from your famous wall,” Javier replied.

  Majdi laughed and clapped Javier on the back. Kiram handed him a cup of tea and Javier downed it in a fast gulp.

  “Not bad for a first-timer,” Majdi told Javier. “My navigator spilled his lunch first time I fed fahl to him.”

  “That’s not something to be proud of,” Dauhd said.

  “Their mother likes it as well,” Kiram’s father told Javier. He wrinkled his nose.

  Kiram refilled Javier’s tea and then his own. As breakfast continued the conversation shifted back and forth between Haldiim and Cadeleonian. The subject ranged from water pumps to Mirogoth ships, the forests of Rauma and at last settled upon a list of the many Haldiim sites Kiram ought to show to Javier.

  Between servings of lamb and almonds, Javier returned to his roll of adhil bread and fahl, taking careful bites. By the end of the meal, he’d finished it and had even added a small dollop of fahl to some of his lamb.

  “I can’t believe that you’re eating more of it,” Kiram murmured.

  “The taste was a little strange at first but it’s growing on me.” Javier downed the last of his lamb. “Reminds me a little of a very blue cheese.”

  “Reminds me of dirty foreskin,” Majdi whispered. Kiram almost choked on his tea and Javier went scarlet.

  “What did he say?” Dauhd demanded.

  “You don’t want to know.” Kiram’s father tossed a sprig of mint at Majdi. “You chew on that to clean your mouth out. You’re not at sea now, you know.”

  “Sorry. I meant no offense,” Majdi told Javier in clear Cadeleonian, then he jammed the mint into his mouth and chewed it obediently.

  “No offense taken,” Javier assured him. Kiram found it amazing how quickly he regained his composure. Then Javier leaned closer to Majdi and whispered, “There’s definitely a hint of foreskin, but I thought it had more of the smell of balls.”

  Majdi’s brows shot up then. Grinning, he handed a sprig of mint to Javier. Javier took it and chewed it with a look of pride. It was just like him to want to be allied with the offensive rather than the offended, Kiram thought.

  Kiram knew that Javier had impressed Majdi at least a little, when after breakfast Majdi brought down a red leather coat that he’d won off a Mirogoth captain and offered it to Javier to wear while his clothes were being laundered and dried.

  The coat fit Javier and lent him a striking, exotic air especially in combination with the fine Haldiim vest and trousers and the Cadeleonian boots and sword he wore.

  People gawked as Kiram and Javier walked across the Ammej Bridge. The fiery colors of Javier’s clothes matched the scarlet beams of the bridge well. As he gazed out at passing merchants and reed riverboats, excitement seemed to illuminate his features. Kiram wished suddenly that he possessed a little of Nestor’s skill so that he could capture this moment and somehow hold Javier in this beautiful, exhilarated instant.

  But the iridescent flash of a knife dancer’s wares caught Javier’s eye and he was off. The entire Haldiim district seemed to excite and fascinate him. He grinned at the red doves, ran his hands over the glassy tiles of mosaic walls and raced along the riverbank, chasing a painted, paper hawk kite as it swirled on the wind. Kiram dashed alongside him; from time to time he answered a question or provided a little history but mostly he let Javier’s enthusiasm envelop him and show him how strange and wonderful his own home could be.

  They passed the Circle of Red Oaks and for a moment Javier went still and silent, studying the dense vines and ancient trees.

  “It’s different than I imagined,” Javier said. “Much bigger. Darker too, like the Mirogoth forests.”

  Kiram nodded. “My sisters always claimed it was full of monsters and wild beasts.”

  “And is it?” Javier asked with an arched brow.

  “Maybe some foxes or weasels.” Kiram shrugged. “But I couldn’t say for sure. Only Bahiim go there most of the year.”

  “Your uncle’s partner, Alizadeh, would know, wouldn’t he?” Javier asked.

  “He probably knows everything about that place,” Kiram replied.

  “Do you think we could see him?” Javier asked.

  Kiram couldn’t imagine that the Circle of Red Oaks could be all that interesting to talk about, but then he was sure that wasn’t really what Javier wanted to discuss with Alizadeh.

  “We’ll visit them for lunch,” Kiram assured Javier.

  They moved to the open market where musicians played for coins and vendors sold spring mint, salt, tea and dozens of different grains. Kiram pointed out the grinder he an
d his father had designed. Javier commented that he probably ought to hire Kiram to design a few for him back in Rauma. Before either of them could think further about it, the glittering rows of charm vendors attracted Javier’s attention.

  “I’ve read about the charms they sell here,” Javier commented. “All damned, according to Holy Father Habalan, of course.”

  Kiram replied, “All the best things are.”

  Javier grinned at that.

  They bought a few trinkets in the charm market: two clay luck whistles and a badly stamped copper talisman depicting what looked like a three legged piglet, which Javier found hilarious for reasons he could not explain.

  At Mother Kir-Mahoud’s stables, Javier looked in on Lunaluz and Kiram found himself missing Firaj. Cadeleonian merchants came and went with their mounts but few Haldiim used the stables since to most Haldiim horsemanship still smacked of a lurid Irabiim lifestyle.

  While Javier exercised Lunaluz in the small arena, Kiram strolled ahead to the Civic Gymnasium. The green lawn of the archery range still dominated the grounds, but the decrepit shelters that Kiram remembered crouching under during rainstorms were now arching pavilions. A dozen young men in the black uniforms of the Civic Guards fired arrows into straw targets at one end of the range while several wealthy husbands lounged with their bows and quivers, waiting their turns.

  The stone dancing circles remained open to the elements, but they had been expanded and new glazed tiles surrounded them. A group of twenty boys and girls stretched along with their instructor in one of the largest circles. Even from across the grounds Kiram could hear the children laugh at each other as the tried to lift their supple little legs up over their heads.

  The oddly square mass of a Cadeleonian-style bathhouse rose up beside the ancient, domed training hall. Inside Kiram caught a glimpse of the huge new boiler. He supposed that public baths were better than no baths at all. When Kiram had trained here many of the poorer Haldiim who came to train for their civic duty had no facilities available to them other than the river.

  He strolled across the green lawn to the narrow lanes of the runners’ track.