Lord of the White Hell Book One

Chapter Ten

Panic bolted through Kiram, scattering his thoughts in a dozen different directions. A stream of blood still trickled down from Javier's wrist. Kiram had no idea what to do.

Only the memory of his physician uncle's battlefield stories gave Kiram any direction. He whipped off his jacket and dropped down beside Javier. As he wrapped the sleeve of his jacket around Javier's arm he noticed that there were already bandages swathing his wrist. Javier's dark red blood soaked through them.

Kiram knotted the sleeve of his jacket just above Javier's elbow and twisted it tight to form a tourniquet. He should have used some kind of stick to twist the knot even tighter. Kiram was sure his uncle had mentioned using a stick, but Kiram didn't dare let go of the jacket now. He held the thin cloth in place, applying pressure to the wound.

His uncle always said to apply pressure. Kiram wracked his memory for anything else. Raise the limb above the body; slow the flow of blood from the heart to the wound. Kiram lifted Javier's limp arm up onto his lap.

This was what his uncle would have done, wasn't it? Kiram couldn't remember his uncle ever saying he'd used a jacket sleeve for a tourniquet.

Nor had he ever mentioned how hot fresh blood felt or how pungent it smelled. He had not told Kiram that a man's mouth could turn ice blue from blood loss or that his taut muscles would loosen and hang like slabs of cold meat. Javier's chest didn't rise or fall.

Kiram felt suddenly, sickeningly sure that Javier was dead. Something between a wail and a sob clenched Kiram's throat but he couldn't get the sound out. He couldn't even pull in a breath. Every muscle of his body seemed to clench and shake.

Then Javier opened his eyes. He looked at Kiram and forced a slow smile, as if his own death were a joke.

"Well, if it isn't Kiram Kir-Zaki. What are you doing here?"

"I came to find you." Kiram could barely gather his thoughts to speak. He was relieved that Javier was alive but almost unable to credit it. "Ybu were-you looked like you were dead."

"Yfes, I do that from time to time." Javier's laugh emerged as a dry rasp. He closed his eyes and, as if it took all his concentration, drew in a slow breath.

Faint color returned to Javier's lips, though his skin still felt cold. A living tension slowly spread through the muscles of Javier's body.

Blood clung to Kiram's fingers like hide-glue. He tried to wipe his hands on his pants but they wouldn't come clean. "There's so much blood."

"Muerate poison keeps wounds open. It can be a little messy."

"You weren't moving." Kiram found the quaver in his own voice disturbing. He shouldn't have been this upset. Javier was alive and he seemed to be recovering his strength. But the thought of his death, the sensation of his limp body, and heat of his blood had been burned into Kiram's mind. Never in his life had he been so close to someone dying. It had seemed so immense and terrible and he had been so utterly helpless to stop it. Now he couldn't believe that Javier was alive, staring up at him and carrying on a conversation as if this were a trivial matter.

"I think Scholar Donamillo must have administered a little too much of the poison before Holy Father Habalan bled me." Javier sounded disinterested. "I can't feel my left hand."

"I tied a tourniquet around your elbow to slow the bleeding," Kiram said. For the first time he noticed little tremors moving beneath the blood-soaked bandages. Then he saw a tiny white spark skip over the mass of cloth.

"Take it off, will you? I don't think it's doing any good now." Javier tried to sit up but then slumped back down against Kiram's thighs, muttering, "Damn."

Kiram worked the knots loose and slowly unwrapped his jacket from around Javier's elbow. He watched Javier's wrist closely, fearing a sudden gush of blood. Instead more white sparks danced through the bandages. Javier's fingers twitched minutely.

"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?"

"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."

"Do you think you're rested enough to make it to our room?" Kiram asked.

"I've been fine for a while. I was just stalling for time to remember where I put our pies."

Kiram laughed, mostly out of relief to hear a note of humor return to Javier's voice.

Once they located the pies, the two of them raced through the narrow tower halls to their room.

They washed their hands and faces together but Kiram left the bathroom when Javier began to strip off his clothes. While Javier bathed Kiram found a knife and sliced his pie into quarters. When he made an experimental slice in the pie Javier had been carrying he discovered that it was filled with cherries. If they shared, they'd both have a decent meal.

Javier returned from the bathroom wearing his dark blue dressing robe. He looked exhausted but clean. He brushed a wet lock of his black hair back from his face and Kiram caught a glimpse of his left wrist. The wound had closed, leaving that same raw red scar that Kiram remembered seeing the very first day he had met Javier. If he did regular penance then that wound must have been opened over and over again. It must never really heal. Disgust curled through Kiram at the sheer barbarity of the Cadeleonians, but he hid it when Javier pulled a chair up to Kiram's desk in order to inspect the pies.

"We're going to have to eat with our hands, you know," Javier said after a moment.

Kiram shrugged.

They ate messily, sitting side by side, grabbing handfuls of pie and licking gravy and cherry filling from their fingers. Kiram's mother would have been horrified. Actually he couldn't think of many civilized people who wouldn't have been appalled at the sight of the two of them.

When Javier leaned over and sucked a blob of cherry off of Kiram's thumb the action seemed innocent and indecent at once.

"How do I taste, Lord Tornesal?"

"I think I would need another sample to form an opinion."

There was a moment, with Javier so close, that Kiram almost leaned into him, almost kissed his mouth.

Then the night warden's voice boomed through the quiet hallway. He pounded on the door and both Javier and Kiram bolted apart.

The warden pushed the door open and peered in. Kiram shouted out a little too loudly in response to his name. Javier simply rolled his eyes and glared at the old man.

"Lights out," the night warden snapped, then slammed the door closed.

Kiram's heart hammered. What had he nearly done?

He was no longer in the Haldiim district of Anacleto. He wasn't in the company of the young men he had grown up with. He was in the very midst of a Cadeleonian institution with a man who he hardly knew and certainly didn't trust.

He wanted to believe that Javier felt something for him, that Javier was somehow immune to the hatred and prejudice of his society, but he couldn't be sure. From what he did know of Javier, he would be as likely to laugh at Kiram as to kiss him. Either way he would probably confess everything when he attended chapel. That could get Kiram thrown out of the academy or worse, put on trial for corrupting a Cadeleonian.

Kiram stood quickly. "I should wash my hands."

Javier stared at him for a moment and then simply bowed his head.

"Scrub hard and use lots of cold water. You don't want the cleaning women wondering how your sheets got so sticky," Javier called after him.

When Kiram returned from his bath, Javier was already in his own bed, feigning sleep. Kiram wished him goodnight but wasn't surprised when Javier said nothing in response.