Lord of the White Hell Book One

Chapter Seven

As they walked along the vaulted hall towards the infirmary, Nestor forced a smile. "At least you may have a way out."

"No, it's either both of us or neither." Kiram had decided. In the past two weeks Nestor had offered him his sketches, advice, and support. He wouldn't abandon him to endure Master Ignacio's merciless tutelage alone.

"Really?" Nestor looked truly touched.

"Absolutely."

"Let's hope Scholar Donamillo excuses us both, then."

A strange, howling noise cut through Kiram's agreement. Kiram stopped in his tracks. The howl stretched out, echoing through the hall. A deep grinding sound, like the deep rumble of an eyestone crushing through wheat, rose over the cry.

"What was that?" Kiram asked Nestor.

"Probably one of Scholar Donamillo's mechanical cures." Nestor pretended to shudder. "Sounds like he's testing it on some poor dog, doesn't it?"

Kiram nodded. He had only ever seen mechanical cures as diagrams on theater flyers or in paintings outside circus tents. His uncle disparaged them utterly, but Kiram had always been curious. The sound of this one was terrible, and Kiram couldn't help but feel a pang of pity for the poor animal trapped within its iron grasp.

As they came closer to the infirmary the howling cries faded to soft little gasps. The grinding of iron gears only grew louder. When they reached the huge, double doors of the infirmary, Kiram knocked but there was no response.

"I doubt that Scholar Donamillo heard that," Nestor shouted over the grinding roar.

Kiram raised his hand to pound on the door but then suddenly the heavy mechanical noise stopped. The following silence was so complete that it startled Kiram a little. Then peals of dreamy laughter and singsong syllables drifted through the infirmary doors. Kiram recognized Fedeles' voice at once and realized that he must have been the howling creature. Doubtless it was the treatment that both Genimo and Javier had mentioned.

Kiram had to step back as one of the infirmary doors swung open. To Kiram's horror, Genimo stepped out of the infirmary and leaned against the door, propping it open. When he caught sight of Kiram he looked like he might spit on him but then seemed to think better of it.

Scholar Donamillo stepped through the open door, leading Fedeles by one arm. He frowned at the sight of Kiram and Nestor.

"You're here for your injuries?" Scholar Donamillo asked Kiram.

"No, sir. But Scholar Blasio said that we should speak to you."

"In a moment, then." Scholar Donamillo returned his attention to Genimo.

"Fedeles is still weak. You'll need to keep a close watch over him for another hour or so."

Genimo nodded. Kiram studied his cheek for any sign of their altercation, but his blow hadn't left a mark. Only the purple bruise on Genimo's forehead attested to his involvement in the previous night's fight. Though Kiram was sure that if Genimo's sleeve were rolled back there would be bite marks.

Fedeles seemed unaware of any of them. He swayed, as if listening to a melody no one else could hear, smiling serenely and gazing at the far wall as if it were a vision of encompassing beauty.

"Come, Fedeles." Genimo caught one of Fedeles' hands and led him out of Scholar Donamillo's grip as if he were taking a dance partner. He placed one of his hands against Fedeles' back, steadying him.

"I'll send word to Scholar Habalan that you should be excused from his class this afternoon," Scholar Donamillo told Genimo.

"Thank you, sir." Genimo politely bowed to Scholar Donamillo and then led Fedeles down the hall and up the stairs. Kiram watched them go, unsure of what to think. The night before Genimo had threatened and terrified Fedeles, and now he was leading Fedeles like a doting uncle tending an invalid child.

"So, Scholar Blasio sent you?" Scholar Donamillo prompted.

"Yes." Kiram quickly turned his attention back to Scholar Donamillo's severe gaze. After two weeks of classes with the scholar, Kiram no longer found his expressions daunting. From time to time he even thought he caught glimpses of affection crossing the older man's face.

Nestor, on the other hand, was not one of Scholar Donamillo's favorite students. He bowed his head and kept his distance.

"Scholar Blasio said that we should speak to you about being excused from the additional war arts training because I'm already spending most of my free time-" Kiram would have gone on but Donamillo cut him off with a shake of his head.

"Unfortunately this morning when I put the question to Master Ignacio, he would not allow the exemption. Apparently he has already made arrangements for your training. Upperclassmen have been pulled from their free hours to tutor the two of you." Scholar Donamillo studied Kiram's cheek for a moment. "Did anyone treat that?"

"Upperclassman Javier applied a salve to it last night," Kiram replied. He wished he had known what exactly the salve was. He guessed that Scholar Donamillo did because he nodded approvingly.

"It looks clean, but if it should become red or painful come to see me." For an instant an almost sly look flickered over Scholar Donamillo's hard features. "I wouldn't want all the practice of war arts to cause you to develop a fever in the injury. That could keep you from practice for quite a while."

"Ahm. Yes, sir." Kiram wasn't quite sure of how to interpret Scholar Donamillo's words. It sounded like he was telling Kiram to pretend that his injury was worse than it was. In fact, Kiram was almost positive that was Scholar Donamillo's meaning. But it would also mean lying to Master Ignacio, the prospect of which terrified Kiram.

"You had both best report to Master Ignacio now." As Scholar Donamillo stepped back into the infirmary, Kiram caught a brief glimpse of huge iron supports curving like the ribs of a globe around a sphere of milky glass. Golden lights flickered from within the mechanism, then died away. Then the door fell closed.

"They are going to wipe the floor with us," Nestor groaned.

"What are you talking about?" Kiram asked, still thinking about the majesty of the mechanism he'd glimpsed. "Who are you talking about?"

"The upperclassmen." Nestor looked at Kiram as if there could have been no other answer. "Scholar Donamillo just said that Master Ignacio had pulled them out of their free hours just to tutor us. They are going to be furious!"

"You don't think that they'd actually hurt us, though?" Even as Kiram asked the question he realized that hurting the two of them was bound to be part of their training. No doubt the more Kiram or Nestor annoyed any given upperclassman, the more often he would seize on the opportunity to train them a little too hard.

"We are bent over a barrel," Nestor said flatly.

Kiram simply nodded. The two of them made their way from the main building to the dark low structure of the sparring house like condemned prisoners.