by Ginn Hale
Kiram laughed and wiped his face. Javier threw his arm around Kiram and pulled him down into a kiss.
"You are too good at that, Kiram," Javier whispered. "I feel like a novice compared to you."
"Well, they do say that the best way to learn is practice and instruction," Kiram replied.
"Yes, well, I need a little of both." Javier rolled onto his side and traced the line of Kiram's chest down to his hips. Kiram leaned back into the pillows.
That night and many after it they nearly missed dinner. When they did arrive, Kiram's lips were still tender and the taste of Javier's flesh lingered in his mouth. Despite their fatigue, an eager lust overcame them both as soon as they were in their room alone.
Kiram expected his desire for Javier would wane as the winter months passed, but instead it seemed to grow. During the New Year celebration they slipped away between the scholars' speeches and returned with sticky hands. Twice they went riding through the orchard and pleasured each other against the bare apple trees. It was dangerous and yet they couldn't seem to stop themselves.
In part Kiram understood that desperation drove them. Once spring arrived the academy year would be at an end. Kiram would return to Anacleto, and Javier would go to Rauma. If they met again it would not be until midsummer and by then Kiram had no idea of how much would have changed between them. The few weeks left became precious. But they passed all too soon.
The snows melted and red crocus flowers pushed up through newly exposed soil. Icicles crashed down from the eaves of the dormitory like thunder strikes. In the infirmary, Kiram's engine stood complete though not yet linked to Scholar Donamillo's mechanical cure. All around Kiram students chattered about their families and homes. Nestor calculated the days until he would see Riossa again.
"Six days to Anacleto if the weather holds and none of the roads have washed out." Nestor scowled at the wet ground. "As many as eighteen if the mountain snows melt all at once."
Kiram nodded but he was hardly listening. Already private coaches had arrived at the academy; among them stood a glossy carriage with the black Tornesal sun emblazoned upon it. Javier would leave within the hour, once his luggage was loaded. They'd already wished each other farewell as best they could with both Nestor and Elezar standing beside them.
"No point in you riding alone, is there?" Nestor's question slowly penetrated Kiram's distraction.
"What?"
"Well, we're all three going to Anacleto. We might as well share a carriage."
"You mean you, me and Elezar?"
"Sure," Nestor replied. "It seems lonely, you staying here an extra night just to ride all that way alone."
Kiram agreed to leave today with Nestor and Elezar. Then at least he wouldn't have to return to his and Javier's room, knowing that Javier would not join him.
Briefly he wondered what Fedeles felt, remaining all year at the academy, maintaining his treatments while all the other students returned to their homes.
If he felt hurt or lonely, none of it showed when he came to see Kiram off. Fedeles sang and danced beside Kiram. After Kiram's belongings had been packed onto the red Grunito carriage, Fedeles hugged him fiercely.
"Don't forget Firaj," Fedeles told him.
"I won't" Kiram reassured him. He wished that he could bring Fedeles with him and remove him from Holy Father Habalan's grasp. But Scholar Donamillo's mechanical cures offered Fedeles far greater protection than Kiram's company could. "You'll look after him while I'm gone, won't you?"
Fedeles nodded but his expression was distant and dreamy. A moment later he dashed away to the Tornesal carriage, singing out a gibberish of students' names and dance steps as he went. Kiram took his seat beside Nestor and across from Elezar. He glanced out the small window and caught sight of Javier.
Kiram's pulse quickened. He prayed desperately that Javier would stride across the grounds to the carriage. If only he would ask to come along to Anacleto or offer to take Kiram to Rauma…
But he did not move. He remained at a distance, watching with an expression of studied indifference. Even when the carriage pulled away, Javier remained where he stood. As they passed through the academy gates Kiram lost sight of him.
Chapter Seven
After eight days of cramped travel Kiram was thrilled to catch site of Anacleto. The port city rose up from the sea like a white wave of limestone, granite, marble and gold. Square, towering Cadeleonian architecture dominated the northern streets. Churches with gilded steeples shot up between the immense houses of merchants and noblemen. But even here in the most conservative section of the city, Kiram caught sight of Haldiim patterns on men's vests and brilliantly feathered hats in the latest fashion, inspired by the princes of Yuan.
Heavy accents and foreign words mingled with the shouts of Cadeleonian street hawkers and wagon drivers. Amongst the tight press of carts, carriages, pedestrians and horsemen Kiram spied tattooed sailors and red-haired Mirogoths. Wood smoke, animal sweat and rich spices perfumed the air but never blotted out the moist, salty tang of the crashing sea.
"There!" Nestor jabbed his finger against the window, pointing to a massive limestone wall and the thick clusters of cherry blossoms that bowed over it. "That's our house!" His face flushed with joy and he beamed at Kiram. Across from them, Elezar straightened and peered out the window. He smiled but without Nestor's wild enthusiasm. Then again, why would he? Elezar didn't have a lover awaiting him.
Their carriage turned up a narrow street. Immediately the wrought iron gates swung open and they rode past the great lawn with its flowering trees to the entry of the massive marble Grunito house. Red-enameled statues of bulls stood at either side of the stairs and ivory tusks curved like giant horns over the red doorway.
Footmen in crimson liveries ran ahead of the carriage, and even before it had drawn to a halt, people flooded out of the house. Lady Grunito, dressed in a pinstriped gold gown, led the throng of beefy boys and youths. At a glance Kiram knew that these had to be Nestor and Elezar's brothers. One tall, comparatively gaunt young man wore a holy collar and Kiram guessed he was the eldest brother, Timoteo. The other eight boys appeared younger than Nestor. They pushed and bounced off each other like fat puppies.
Then Riossa broke out from the group and rushed down the stairs. Nestor bolted from the carriage, narrowly missed a spill as he hit the mud, and then rushed to Riossa. He swept her up in his arms and kissed her as though he were the hero of some ancient epic poem returning home after twenty years lost at sea. Kiram strongly suspected that Atreau had served as an example and instructor of the technique. Riossa melted into his embrace.
At the top of the stairs, Lady Grunito simply shook her head and Kiram was amused to see her exact expression and gesture mirrored by Elezar, who remained in the carriage seat opposite him. Then the pack of plump young boys pelted down the stairs to embrace and tease Nestor. They squealed and laughed as Nestor grabbed them and pinched their noses. Footmen hurried past the scene to unload baggage from the carriage.
Elezar glanced to Kiram. "Will you stay with us or shall I send the carriage on to your family house?"
"I think I should see my family as soon as possible." Witnessing the warmth of Nestor's return home had made Kiram feel the absence of his own family with sudden intensity.
Elezar gave an understanding nod by way of saying farewell. He exited the carriage with an easy bound. At once his little brothers hurled themselves at him and Elezar swung two of them up off the ground tucking one under each arm, while a rotund child clamped onto his leg and rode his foot.
As Elezar directed the coachman on his way, Nestor shouted, "Kiram, I'll visit soon!"
Then the carriage carried him back out into the crowded streets of Anacleto. As they traveled south, stately marble facades gave way to plaster walls and cramped winding lanes. Buildings leaned into each other; print shops shared walls with taverns, dancehalls and teahouses. Street vendors dressed in gaudy coats shouted and crooned to the dense afternoon crowds. One woman d
anced in a full skirt while twirling long strings of glass beads. Another simply waved skewers of peppered meat, allowing the strong aroma to advertise her wares. Between them, boys hawked the newest printings of sheet music and broadsheets.
As the carriage bounced over the wooden planks of the Black Moon Bridge, Kiram's heartbeat quickened. He'd crossed this bridge countless times with hardly a thought but now every one of the two hundred and forty beams registered as an increment closer to home.
Across the bridge a huge limestone wall loomed up, marking the boundary of the Haldiim district of the city.
Bored Haldiim sentries stood guard at the top of the wall and two older Haldiim men, dressed in the black uniforms of Civic Guards, lounged at the gates. They waved wagons and carriages through without concern. Kiram smiled, remembering his own turn up on the wall two years earlier. At the time he'd thought that he would never have a use for all the archery practice. He'd complained to his father about the exhausting labor of it. If only he had known what the Sagrada Academy had held in store for him.
As he passed through the massive wood and iron gates the entire world changed. The architecture flowed and curved with color. Brilliant vitreous tiles glittered across domed roofs; floral mosaics glimmered from walls and arches. Almond trees abounded along the red cobbled streets. Their clustering, white blossoms nearly obscuring the ribbons and simple lamps that hung from their branches.
In every direction that Kiram looked he met dark Haldiim faces. Men and women dressed in long vests and bright coats. Most of the men wore wide-legged trousers, while the women often wore skirts over their thinner trousers. Haldiim voices rang out and the scents of mint, lemon and cinnamon filled the air. Red-dyed doves cooed from their nests. Kiram felt as if the very atmosphere was somehow warmer and more welcoming.
He passed the goat market, the common gardens and then the rough outcropping of seeming wilderness where the Bahiim met in the Circle of Red Oaks. Before he had traveled through other towns and cities Kiram had never realized how strange this place was: untamed forest engulfing four city blocks. Carpets of spring flowers spread around thick walls of thorn brambles and weedgrapes. Above the riot of plant life towered ancient gnarled oaks.
When they'd been children Kiram's sister Dauhd had terrified him with stories of boys abandoned in the shadowy wilderness and how savage creatures lurking in the verdant underbrush devoured them. But now the grove only made him think of Alizadeh. Kiram touched his medallion and felt safe.
The Wahdi River flowed just past the Circle of Red Oaks. Dozens of small bridges throughout the Haldiim district spanned the fast rolling waters. None were as beautiful nor as extravagant as the bright red Ammej Bridge. Thousands of stylized flames were carved into its arching timbers, which were painted a multitude of scarlet shades and inlaid with lustrous amber. It rose like a spectacle of fire over dark waters, and most importantly, it emptied directly onto Gold Street where the Kir-Zaki house stood.
Kiram pressed his face to the window staring as the high, tiled walls that surrounded his home drew closer. The sweet fragrance of perfume and candy saturated the air. The house gates stood open, as they always did on business days, to allow deliverymen and merchants to come and go with ease. As a rule some peddler or hopeful candymaker was always waiting in the courtyard for an opportunity to meet with his mother.
But the large crowd today surprised Kiram. Groups of people stood under the flowering almond trees and leaned against the mosaiced walls of the reflecting pool. Some sat on brightly painted boxes advertising their wares. Others carried small display cases or covered sampling trays. Fruit sellers, paper makers, butchers, cheese vendors and, oddly, several troupes of musicians filled the steps in front of the gold entry doors. House servants moved between them, taking down names in their ledgers or offering clay cups of warm, spiced tea.
Kiram could only remember this many merchants gathering in their courtyard once before and that had been for his grandmother's funeral. Sudden fear gripped Kiram. Could something have happened to his mother or father? One of his sisters? Had his brother Majdi finally drowned at sea like his grandmother always claimed he would? He hardly waited for the carriage to draw to a stop before he leapt out and charged into the courtyard.
"Fiez!" Kiram called to his mother's secretary, recognizing her by her short hair and large, silver hoop earrings. The slim woman turned and her white curly hair bounced around her face. Shock showed in her expression as she took Kiram in.
"Kiram!" Fiez went to him and took his hand. "We weren't expecting you for another two days."
"Why are all these people here?" Kiram hardly heard Fiez's words. Across the courtyard he thought he caught a glimpse of his sister Dauhd. Neither his mother nor his father were anywhere to be seen. His mind raced with terrible scenarios-both of them taken in a carriage wreck or by fever. "Has something happened?"
"Not yet. It was meant to be a surprise for you." Fiez sighed and shook her head. "Well, you did look surprised. Oh, your mother is going to be so annoyed."
"What do you mean?"
"We're preparing to celebrate your return home," Fiez said. An instant later Kiram's sister Dauhd rushed across the courtyard and pulled him into a hug. Kiram returned the embrace, though somewhat awkwardly. She felt smaller than she had been, almost delicate in his arms. Had he grown so used to the company of men? Perhaps he had simply grown. His shirt did feel tight, now that he thought about it.
"Kiram." Dauhd pulled back a little and smiled up at him. "I can't believe what a wretch you are. Your carriage shouldn't have brought you back until the end of the week."
"I didn't wait for the carriage mother sent. I rode back with Nestor and Elezar Grunito," Kiram explained.
"Nestor and Elezar? You're on first names with the Grunito lords now?" Dauhd raised her fine blonde brows. Both she and Kiram had inherited their father's sharp features and wicked expressions.
"Jealous?" Kiram asked. "I roomed with the Duke of Rauma, you know."
"Yes, we all know." Dauhd rolled her eyes. "Mother wouldn't stop bragging about it all summer."
Fiez nodded in confirmation. "I should inform your mother that you're here, Kiram. She'll want to see you in the sunroom most likely. It's the only quiet place in the house right now. She'll be relieved to see that you're in good health, though she'll be annoyed that she paid for a carriage for nothing."
"It wasn't for nothing. The other one is bringing back my spare machine parts for father to put to use."
"No doubt that will certainly comfort her." Fiez disappeared through the crowd of merchants and performers.
"I can't believe this is all for me," Kiram said.
"Neither can I," Dauhd replied. "But Mother has to show you off. After all you're the first Haldiim to attend the Sagrada Academy and you spoke with Prince Sevanyo himself. Ever since Rafie told her about that she's made sure every mother in the entire district knows." Dauhd glanced past Kiram. "Is that the Grunito carriage?"
He looked back to where the carriage driver and footmen waited patiently for instructions, then guiltily nodded. He'd been so worried about his family that he'd utterly forgotten them.
In a moment Dauhd had two servants unloading Kiram's luggage. She made sure that both the carriage driver and the footman received a generous tip before sending them back to the Grunito house.
"I hate to look stingy in front of Cadeleonians," Dauhd commented. "I'm probably overcompensating for Auntie Easham. Did I mention that she's here to attend your homecoming?" Again Dauhd's pale eyebrows rose. "And she brought Vashir with her."
"Oh no." Kiram could feel the blood draining from his face. Alizadeh's cousin, Easham, never failed to bring up the prospect of a match between Kiram and her own wild Bahiim son, Vashir.
"Oh yes." Dauhd grinned gleefully at his response. "You two make a handsome couple! Him, long haired and ranting about the wisdom of the trees. You, trying to find a hole deep enough to hide in."
"It's not funny," Kiram told her.
"Oh, but it will be." Dauhd led Kiram into the house through the side doors of the kitchen. Fruit, vegetables, flowers and cheeses filled the scullery tables. Pots of sauces and soups bubbled away over every one of the four cooking fires. From the kitchen they went to the sunroom, where afternoon light gleamed across the high polish of the pale elm walls. Costly panes of stained glass framed the view of the small holy garden beyond. Embroidered pillows littered the floor. Both the room and the garden were refreshingly quiet. Kiram dropped down onto a floor pillow in a pool of sun.
Dauhd sat beside the low tea table and propped an orange pillow against her back.
"You know, Vashir isn't the only one who has come to court you," Dauhd informed him.
"I don't even care. I'm just happy to be home." Kiram closed his eyes against the bright sunlight. His skin felt as if it were drinking in the warmth. The hard knots that days of riding in a cramped carriage had left in the muscles of his back and legs melted away. It had been so long since he'd been this comfortable.
Suddenly he wondered where Javier was right now. Was he alone in some drafty mansion? Was he enduring yet another regimen of penance?
"Every mother in the city is digging up a son or nephew to meet you now that you're keeping company with dukes and princes," Dauhd said, interrupting Kiram's thoughts.
"Now that I'm keeping company with dukes and princes who is to say I'll settle for just some mother's son?" Kiram spoke lightly but his heart ached at how close his words were to the truth. None of them would ever compare to Javier.
"I told Mother you wouldn't have any of them." Light laughter softened Dauhd's tone. "Still, if I were you, I wouldn't hold much hope for Musni either. I mean, if that's what you're thinking."
"It's not," Kiram assured her.
"Good, because I don't want a prick snatch for a brother. He's married now, you know."
"I know." Kiram drew in deep breaths and listened, reac- quainting his senses with the scents and noise of his home. The soft patter of footsteps across wooden floorboards grew louder and Kiram looked up in time to see his mother at the door. His father came in just behind her. Kiram's eldest sister Siamak and his bachelor elder brother Majdi both arrived soon after.