by Ginn Hale
Snow rarely fell in Anacleto but here in the north it settled in white swaths that blanketed the entire countryside. Soon Kiram learned that it was not some passing rarity but a condition he could expect to endure for the rest of his term.
He found the icicle-laden trees and snow-covered hills beautiful, but he was not prepared for the penetrating cold of the northern winter. Even wearing two jackets under his coat could not keep the cold at bay. He slipped constantly on patches of ice.
Once, when Javier caught him, it had been so relieving that Kiram had to fight his desire to simply lean into Javier and accept his strength and warmth. But that would only lead him back to another night like the one he had endured at the Goldenrod, so he had thanked Javier and stepped away.
To his chagrin he’d fallen on his ass almost immediately afterwards. Javier hadn’t laughed but Kiram could tell he’d wanted to.
The next Sacreday, while the rest of the Hellions attended chapel, Kiram cobbled together a pair of spiked metal plates, which he strapped to the soles of his boots. The devices were not lovely, being assembled from the remains of bridles, old nails, broken forks and anything else Kiram managed to lay his hands on; but they worked. At last his feet stayed where he put them on the damnedable ice.
He bundled up in his jackets and coat and marched out to meet the Hellions as they sauntered from the chapel grounds. Other students poured out of the iron gates but the wide berth they gave the Hellions allowed Kiram to find his friends easily within the crowd.
Javier and Elezar shared some joke, Elezar roaring with laughter and Javier appearing to be amused by his own wit. Kiram marveled at the two of them standing knee-deep in snow drifts, wearing only their academy uniforms. Elezar’s jacket even hung open as if cold could not penetrate the sheer mass of his muscular body. Morisio, Atreau and Nestor followed close behind Javier and Elezar. Nestor offered Morisio and Atreau glimpses of sketches that he’d scribbled in his prayer book. Behind them Fedeles swayed and sang out the names of his favored horses as if they were holy psalms. Genimo trailed behind him, chewing something and looking bored.
As usual, Javier noticed Kiram first, meeting his gaze and saying nothing. Then Nestor waved at him. Kiram strode forward, planting his steps proudly as he walked across the icy flagstones.
“What are those on your boots?” Nestor hurried closer and Kiram happily demonstrated his new inventions.
“That’s really clever!” Nestor declared. Javier appeared more amused than impressed and Elezar just shook his head.
“You think they’ll actually keep you from falling on your skinny ass all the time?” Elezar asked.
“Hope so,” Kiram replied. “I don’t think I could fall on my ass any more than I already do now, anyway.”
“True,” Elezar agreed.
“What’s this?” Atreau stepped closer, inspecting Kiram’s boots. “You’ve made yourself crampons, Kiram.”
“I have?” Kiram asked.
“Yes. Back home in the mountains people wear them when the winter gets wet and all the roads turn to sheet ice.” Atreau studied the contraptions for a moment longer, then glanced to Kiram. “You’ve never seen a pair before?”
“No,” Kiram replied. “I had no idea.”
“I don’t think they’re normally made with forks but otherwise yours look pretty close.”
Kiram smiled at that, pleased that his design at least resembled something people really used.
“We should have him make his own skates,” Elezar suggested to Javier, but Javier shook his head.
“Let’s not. Otherwise Kiram will spend the next week in that frigid little shed and come back every night snotty from the cold and reeking of machine oil.” Javier’s gaze seemed to soften for just a moment. Then he turned from Kiram and headed towards the dormitory. The rest of the Hellions followed him like dogs in a pack and Kiram moved with them, taking up his usual position behind Javier and next to Nestor. When he felt a hand ruffle his hair, he knew it belonged to Fedeles and accepted the affection, as all the Hellions did, with good humor.
“You haven’t been ice-skating before, have you?” Nestor asked when they reached the dormitory.
“No, but I’ve read about it.” He recalled scrutinizing a small woodblock image of couple holding hands as they balanced on odd-looking shoes. “Is that where you’re all going this afternoon?”
“Indeed.” Javier glanced back at him. “That’s where we’re all going. You included.”
“Me?” Excitement and nervousness filled him. “I don’t know how to ice skate. I don’t even have the…shoes.”
“Skates,” Atreau supplied. Kiram felt a little embarrassed, because he was sure that he’d known the right word; it had just slipped his mind momentarily.
“And you do have skates, actually,” Nestor told him. “I helped Javier find a pair for you at the fair during the tournament. They’re nice. Double-lined deerskin and probably warmer than those thin boots you’re wearing now.”
And that settled that. Minutes later Nestor had retrieved his own skates and Kiram’s. The other Hellions gathered their skates as well as scarves, caps and gloves. Javier tossed Kiram a woolen cap and a pair of fur lined gloves.
Then all of them made their way through the snow-covered apple orchard. They followed the frozen stream to an open meadow where the waters pooled into a glassy pond. They weren’t the first students to arrive.
Several youths raced from one of the wooden bridges, spanning the stream to the far end of the pond and back. Groups of younger students stumbled and linked arms to spin like dancers out across the ice. Falls seemed common and were generally accompanied with shouts of surprise and laughter.
Kiram eyed the long thin blades of his ice skates as he pulled them on and laced the supple leather tight. He couldn’t imagine how anyone could balance on such a thin edge. And yet many Cadeleonians did so easily. Already Javier and Atreau had joined in on a race. Fedeles spun in amazingly fast circles and even jumped from one foot to the other, landing as easily as if he were barefoot.
Kiram watched Nestor. He shoved off from the bank of the pond and glided in a slow circle, brushing snow off the back of his pants and coat. Then Elezar pounced down from the bank onto the ice. He snatched Nestor’s cap from his head.
“Hey! Give it back!” Nestor demanded.
“Catch me and I will.” Elezar pushed off from the toe of his skate and went hurtling across the frozen surface with Nestor in dogged pursuit.
Kiram stepped gingerly out onto the ice. He felt his skate begin to slip from under him and clutched at the bank to keep from falling. Hanging there, he kicked his feet out attempting to find some kind of footing. Then he felt a firm, steadying hand against his back.
“Stop thrashing around,” Javier said. “You look like a startled colt. Relax. I won’t let you fall.”
Kiram calmed down and discovered that his stability did improve, though he didn’t trust it enough to completely release his grip on the bank.
“Good.” Javier smacked a thick clump of snow off the front of Kiram’s coat. “Now take my hand.”
“I’ll fall and you’ll just come right down on top of me,” Kiram responded.
“Only if you pull me down after you. If you start to go down, let go of me. I’m sure you shouldn’t have any trouble doing that.” There was an edge to Javier’s tone, but Kiram wasn’t sure if it sounded more bitter or amused.
“Maybe,” Kiram suggested, “I should just go back to the academy and finish up my work on the engine.”
“Come, Kiram, you know you want to learn how to do this. It’s fun and next winter you’ll be able to whip past all the first years.” Javier gazed at Kiram and it seemed that his mere physical presence drew Kiram. “Come, take my hand.”
Kiram watched the other students, spinning and racing across the ice. He did want to join them. Slowly he released his grip on the bank and accepted Javier’s hand.
He expected other students to stare, or at least m
ake some comment about the two of them skating hand in hand, but then he saw several of the first-year students offering each other similar support. Atreau swept up beside two of the clumsiest youths—one in particular seemed only able to remain upright in an odd squatting position—and pulled them along by their belts while disseminating advice on proper form.
“You have to relax.” Javier pulled him farther out from the bank. “Just push off of the ice and then allow it to slide away beneath you. If you tense up and fight it, you’ll fall.”
“I’m going to fall no matter what.” Kiram tried to emulate Javier’s fluid movements with his own jerky ones.
Javier smiled. “True, but you won’t get as badly hurt if you give into it.”
Kiram did fall numerous times, often on patches where stones and submerged reeds roughened the ice. But he always managed to release Javier and he never hurt himself badly. Between the falls, a wondrous sensation washed over him, a feeling like flying. With just a stroke of his blades he slashed across the ice and giddy delight rushed through him at the novelty of such effortless speed.
He joined Javier in several races, and when Fedeles caught his hand, Kiram allowed himself to be whisked away. Fedeles showed Kiram several tricks, spinning and jumping, which Kiram could never hope to emulate but loved watching. Where Fedeles leaped across the ice, Kiram managed to land a small hop. Still the accomplishment emboldened him.
When a game of tag started up, Kiram joined in, racing and laughing as some bulky third-year student sped by and tagged him. He managed to tag Nestor and Elezar, but was taken utterly unaware when Javier swooped up on him, moving so fast that upon contact, Javier’s momentum carried them both away. Their two bodies pressed close as they flew across the ice. Kiram felt the slight stubble of Javier’s jaw against his cheek. Javier’s hand caressed his hip. Instinctively he leaned into Javier, aching for nearness.
The response startled Javier enough to make him miss his footing. But even falling, he didn’t release Kiram. Instead he held him tighter and the two of them tumbled into a deep bank of snow. Kiram landed on top of Javier. From behind them Atreau whooped and Morisio laughed.
“Looks like Kiram took you out, Javier!”
“Looks like he did,” Javier agreed but his expression was one of triumph. Kiram pulled himself up, a confusion of emotion roiling through him. The pleasure of embracing Javier tangled up in both his fear of being caught and his embarrassment at being so easily seduced.
Kiram brushed snow from his coat and refused to look at Javier; instead he glanced up at the clear blue sky and narrowed his eyes against the slanting sun.
“I should get back to work on my project while the sun’s still up,” Kiram decided.
Nestor looked disappointed. “Can’t it wait a day?”
It could have, but Kiram simply shook his head. The weeks that he’d spent hiding from Javier’s flirtatious smiles and arousing caresses had served his steam engine well. Now it stood complete. Kiram needed only to test it and fine tune his design.
“Let him go,” Genimo called. “That steam engine isn’t going to build itself.”
Kiram didn’t remember telling anyone but Javier and Scholar Donamillo that he was building a steam engine. But then Genimo spent much of his time with Scholar Donamillo and he knew that Genimo often cranked the mechanical cures for Fedeles’ treatments. Of course he would know what Kiram was building and for what purpose.
Genimo gave Kiram a cold smile and flicked his hand as if he were shooing away a bird. “The work of a genius is never done.”
“So true.” Javier stepped up beside Kiram. “In fact I have a paper to work on myself. I might as well walk back with you, Kiram.”
“You don’t have to walk me back.”
“Damn it, we were just getting a game going!” Elezar protested. “You can’t crap out now!”
“Can and am.” Javier brushed the snow from his coat as he spoke to Elezar. “As effortless as my excellence may appear to the rest of you, I do have to put a little work into it from time to time.”
Elezar scowled. Javier ignored him and addressed Kiram. “Shall we?”
“I suppose so.”
They skated side by side across the pond and gathered their boots. But instead of trading their skates out, Javier insisted that it would be better to follow the stream up to the far bridge, where an easy path would already be beaten through the deep drifts of snow.
The surface of the frozen stream was much rougher than the pond and the two of them had to keep close to the center and one another to remain upright. Even so, falls were only narrowly missed by erratic flailing and quickly catching one another.
“This is in no way easier than walking through the snow.” Kiram wobbled and Javier pulled him close.
“No, not at all. But it’s much more fun, you have to admit.”
Kiram didn’t have to admit anything. In fact he had spent the last month fighting nearly every admission he wanted to make to Javier. But this once he relented.
“Yes,” he said. “It is.”
Once they had reached the orchard bridge and exchanged their skates for boots, he asked, “Do you really have a paper to write?”
“I do, but not until later tonight. I was thinking of taking Lunaluz out to give him a little exercise while the weather holds.” Javier smiled up at the clear sky. “Care to ride with me?”
“I took Firaj out this morning.” Kiram briefly considered joining Javier, before reminding himself that he was trying to keep from falling back into the easy trap of Javier’s company. “I really should work on the engine.” But seeing the disappointment in Javier’s face Kiram couldn’t leave it at that. “It’s not just for the Crown Challenge, the steam engine I mean. Scholar Donamillo thinks it could help him break the curse’s hold over Fedeles…It could free you both.”
Javier raised his dark brows, studying Kiram’s face intently.
“How can you care so much for me and mine and still seem to care so little, Kiram?”
“It’s not—” the words caught in his throat, only coming out in a rough whisper. “You know it’s not that I don’t care.”
If anything it was just the opposite. If he’d felt just a little less for Javier, then perhaps he could have accepted the necessity for Javier to disguise his nature with brothel orgies and eventually a wife. “But you’re Cadeleonian and a duke and we both know what that means.”
He couldn’t meet Javier’s dark gaze and instead lifted his eyes up to the pale expanse of the sky. Javier remained silent beside him.
A dark silhouette spread ragged wings as it soared overhead and for a moment Kiram thought it was another of the countless jays. But this bird was far too black. Kiram’s dread changed to delight.
“Look, a crow.” Kiram pointed and then waved.
Javier glanced from the crow to Kiram and raised a brow questioningly. Kiram supposed he did look odd waving to a passing bird as if it were an old friend.
“Alizadeh told me to befriend any crows that I saw here,” Kiram informed him.
“Ah,” Javier replied and then indulged Kiram by offering the rangy crow a brief wave.
To Kiram’s surprise the crow dived low and circled them twice before alighting on Kiram’s shoulder. Kiram stared at the glossy black beak warily. The crow gave a low clicking call that sounded almost like a laugh to Kiram. It cocked its head to study Javier with rust orange eyes.
Javier stared at the crow with an expression of surprise that Kiram had rarely seen on his face. Very slowly he extended his hand to stroke the bird’s chest. The crow indulged him for several moments, even tracing Javier’s finger with its beak once. Then it took wing again, swooping across the stream into the darkness of the surrounding orchard.
“It would seem that your new suitor has somewhere else to be,” Javier commented.
“My suitor? He seemed more taken with you than me.”
“Well, that’s certainly never going to work.” Javier flashed a wry smile
. “Not only is he obviously from a different religion but he seems the flighty type.”
“Very funny.”
“I do try.” Javier turned towards the academy and Kiram joined him. They followed one of the many ancient, crumbling stone walls that had once stood against assaulting armies.
“Will I see you at dinner?” Javier asked as they approached the stables.
“I’ll be there,” Kiram promised.
Javier accepted that with a nod. They parted at the stables. Kiram stopped off at their room to put away his and Javier’s skates and to get a new bottle of writing ink, as well as fresh quills to cut pen nibs from. He packed them up and then dashed down the stairs.
“Kiram!” A distastefully familiar voice called. He spun around to see the odd tableau of Holy Father Habalan’s plump, silk-clothed figure waddling alongside the leathery, gaunt War Master Ignacio.
“Kiram Kir-Zaki! Come here, boy. Come here.” Holy Father Habalan waved him over. Plump and plain, Habalan appeared utterly benign and yet Kiram knew he was no such thing. Kiram had to suppress a glare every time he caught sight of this man who routinely poisoned Javier and no doubt had used the shadow curse to destroy the entire Tornesal family.
Unable to bring himself to speak, Kiram simply bowed his head and stepped just a little nearer his two instructors.
“No need to be shy.” The holy father beckoned Kiram closer. “Master Ignacio and I have a question for you.”
Kiram didn’t dare ignore Master Ignacio. Only after his outing to the Goldenrod had Kiram risen from the torture of the war master’s disdain to the respite of his total disinterest.
“If you can, Underclassman Kiram, describe what you understand of God,” the holy father instructed.
“Which god do you mean?” Kiram wasn’t quite sure what the two of them were after. “The Cadeleonian God or Mirogoth Lore or—”
“No, boy,” Holy Father Habalan snapped. “Do try to follow the question. It’s really quite simple. Describe your understanding of God. The divinity of your heathen faith.”