Lord of the White Hell Book 2

by Ginn Hale

  “Would it make you feel any better to know that I’ve been seeing someone else?”

  “Who? You’ve only been back a day.” Majdi frowned at Kiram. “Not Vashir?”

  “No, not anyone here.” Kiram said.

  “Who then? Not one of those Cadeleonians?”

  Kiram simply took the lamp back from his brother and led on to their house.

  “Not the plump one you wrote about, is it?” Majdi guessed. “Or the one with a child’s mind? You haven’t taken up with a simpleton, have you?”

  Kiram laughed but refused to confirm or deny anything.

  The rest of the evening passed pleasantly enough. Kiram described the clothes he’d seen Cadeleonian nobles wearing and admired samples of beautifully dyed silks. Later he drank a little mulled wine with his father while the two of them tinkered with the pump his father was building.

  When he retired to his bed, he slept heavily. He dreamed of dark troubling forms and then of a warm, strong body lying beside his own. He woke in the pale chill of dawn with an intense awareness of Javier’s absence.

  Fortunately, he was not given time or freedom to brood on his loneliness. His father claimed him most of the day to assist in grinding down the gears for a clockwork fountain that had been commissioned by a Cadeleonian spice merchant. The work absorbed Kiram and soothed his restless thoughts. By the time he took his lunch, his muscles were loose and tired from lifting and filing metal and his mind bristled with dozens of minute measurements he’d taken with his father’s fine steel calipers.

  He joined Dauhd, shopping in the markets after lunch. Once he thought he glimpsed Musni, his trousers slung low and his muscular chest bare, grappling with another man in the shadows of a doorway. Dauhd quickly called Kiram’s attention to the newly printed broadsheet containing the announcement of Nestor’s imminent wedding. Kiram entertained her, and later his mother, by explaining the circumstances of the marriage. By the end his mother seemed to have taken a liking to Nestor for his loyalty.

  Garlands of flowers arrived and the entire family and house staff worked through the evening, hanging them in the ballroom and hallways in preparation for the following night’s dance.

  The next day distant relatives arrived early. As a dutiful, youngest son, Kiram greeted them and thanked them for the gifts they brought. He found himself answering the same questions again and again, describing the rigors of Cadeleonian battle training as well as the horrors of their dismal winter meals. His aunts laughed while his cousins looked on with expressions ranging from amusement to jealousy.

  Then merchants and council women arrived with their eligible nephews and sons in tow. Kiram’s throat began to feel dry and he grew tired of repeating Javier’s name when asked who he had roomed with.

  More than once Kiram slipped away to the courtyard gardens to escape the attention, but as evening approached, the sky darkened and a downpour of rain drove him back inside.

  By that time, musicians had set up in the ballroom and the guests seemed happy to eat from the banquet tables and mix with one another. They were all well dressed but not in Cadeleonian fashion. None of them powdered their hair black, nor did they sprinkle their bodies with gold dust. Both men and women wore strings of beads in their braided hair and most of the children sported crowns of brilliant paper flowers. Many of the younger men, Kiram included, wore short, ornate vests which left their arms and a slim line of their abdomens bare. Most women wore longer vests over their full trousers and sported large earrings.

  Kiram noted that more than a few eligible sons were already enjoying each other’s company despite their parents’ frowns. Among them Kiram caught sight of Vashir, flirting with the Lif-Zibhan twins. Hashiem Kir-Naham smiled at Kiram from across the room and though Kiram returned his smile, he did not make his way closer to the man.

  As the first strains of a familiar song sounded Kiram hurried to the polished dance floor. He linked his little fingers with dancers on either side of him. In moments two long lines were formed and then the music roared out.

  Kiram rushed and skipped through the quick steps as the lines crossed and circled. He turned, clapped hands, turned again and almost clapped his palms into his little nephew’s forehead. The boy hopped up to slap Kiram’s palms and the both laughed and rushed on to the next steps. The musicians doubled the tempo. Kiram and his fellow dancers rushed to keep up, nearly tripping over each other’s feet and missing half the claps. Older men and women looking on laughed, as did most of the dancers.

  By the time the first dance ended Kiram and his nephew were giggling at each other’s harried performances. In the line across from them Dauhd and a young man in a Civic Guard uniform slapped each other on the back in congratulation, both of them having kept perfect time.

  Several dancers left the floor to find food and drinks at one of the long banquet tables or to lounge in the comfort of the Cadeleonian-style couches and chairs, but Kiram danced on. He loved the speed and rhythm, the heat and excitement. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it until now. As the tunes changed Kiram reeled and spun through familiar steps. To his joy someone brought out a set of six red twig brooms. While elderly couples and groups of children held the brooms, Kiram and his fellow dancers leaped over them and wriggled under them. As often as not they got swatted across their butts.

  Majdi howled and played up the indignity as did Siamak. Kiram however remained intent upon passing through the brooms unscathed. His fellow dancers bowed out after a few whacks but Kiram leaped and dodged the brooms. Soon his giggling nieces chased him with wooden spoons and Majdi yelled encouragements. He managed three passes perfectly unscathed before his sister Dauhd lunged in and smacked a broom into his buttocks. Kiram did her the compliment of yelping and falling to the floor. His nieces and nephew threw themselves on top of him, attempting to pin him with their tiny hands. Kiram feigned resistance until Dauhd placed her broom on his chest and proclaimed her triumph.

  By the time Kiram got to his feet everyone in the ballroom was laughing, even the musicians. Hashiem Kir-Naham stepped to Kiram’s side and offered him a glass of mulled honey wine.

  “You’re quite quick,” Hashiem commented.

  “Thank you,” Kiram replied. He didn’t know what else to say to the other man. He sipped his wine.

  “Have you ever danced Cadeleonian style?”

  “No, I’ve seen it done but never had the chance myself.”

  “I’ll speak to the musicians.” Hashiem touched his hand as if reassuring him. “Cadeleonian pair dancing has been quite popular lately, so I’m sure they’ll know a few songs.”

  “There’s no need to do that,” Kiram said but Hashiem just smiled at him in an indulgent manner and then strode across the room to where the brilliantly-dressed musicians stood.

  Just past the musicians Kiram caught sight of the young boy who kept watch at the front gate in the evening. Rainwater dribbled off his oiled hood and his expression was one of anxiety.

  “Master Kiram!” the boy shouted and the entire ballroom went suddenly quiet. “There’s a man at the gate and he’s demanding to see you and he doesn’t have an invitation and he won’t go away!”

  Kiram heard more than one voice hiss Musni’s name. Kiram glanced to his mother and noted her scowl as well as his father’s deep frown. Majdi just shook his head at Kiram.

  “I’ll take care of this,” Kiram said, hoping that somehow everyone would return to the festivities and ignore him while he talked to Musni.

  As Kiram strode out of the ballroom he heard footsteps behind him and knew that members of his family as well as curious guests followed him. He refused to look back. He borrowed the boy’s lamp and rain cloak, then rushed out into the downpour, leaving a pack of witnesses peering after him from the doorway.

  As he passed the reflecting pool, Kiram thought he made out a shadow moving near the gate. He wasn’t sure but he called out anyway.

  “I’m sorry that I didn’t give you an invitation. I just assume
d that the gate boy—” Kiram suddenly forgot everything he had been about to say as he drew closer to the iron gate. Behind the bars the imposing form of a cloaked Cadeleonian mounted on a huge, white stallion rose like a monument.

  Chapter Nine

  “Javier?” Kiram asked, though he recognized that sharp profile even through the rain and shadows.

  “Indeed, though apparently I don’t have an invitation to show for it.”

  Kiram rushed to the gate and hauled it open. At once Javier swung down from Lunaluz’s back and led his mount into the courtyard. Light from Kiram’s lamp flashed over Javier’s hooded cloak, dark and slick with rain. Stubble darkened the hard line of his jaw and stray strands of wet hair hung across his face. He shoved his hair back. He smiled warmly at Kiram and moved forward as if he would embrace him, but then his eyes narrowed at the dozen curious faces staring out from the Kir-Zaki doorway.

  “We’re having a celebration,” Kiram told Javier, but the information didn’t seem to ease him. “It’s all right. They’re friends and family and they’ll be delighted to meet you. Come in.”

  “I can’t leave Lunaluz out here.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” Kiram called to one of the house servants and directed the man take Lunaluz to Mother Kir-Mahoud’s stables, giving the man a fistful of silver coins to ensure that Lunaluz would be well fed and closely attended. Javier hesitantly handed Lunaluz’s reins to the servant.

  “Mother Kir-Mahoud’s stables are the best in the Haldiim district. Cadeleonians always keep their mounts there,” Kiram assured Javier. “Lunaluz will be treated like a prince, I promise.”

  Javier simply nodded.

  “Now come out of this rain or we’ll both end up getting soaked.” Kiram reached to take Javier’s arm but Javier quickly shoved his hands beneath his cloak, watching the crowd at the door warily. Kiram realized that it didn’t matter to Javier that they were in a Haldiim district. He still wouldn’t be seen publicly taking Kiram’s hand.

  Inside the house, Kiram’s mother greeted Javier warmly. Javier bowed, but still towered over her. Siamak immediately ordered a warm bath for Javier and Majdi went to find him a suitable change of clothes. Dauhd just stared at Javier as if he’d descended from the heavens in a fiery chariot. And she wasn’t alone. Several other guests peered out from the ballroom to watch Javier and whisper about him in hushed tones.

  Listening to them, Kiram was intensely aware of their assumptions of Javier’s inability to understand Haldiim. Two younger women murmured about his thick thighs and wet, clinging pants. One of Kiram’s aunts thought he looked as pale as a drowned corpse and he smelled like an animal. Several others agreed with her. Vashir came forward to comment that Javier might be an animal worth taking out for a ride.

  “I doubt very much that you’d find a bridle that suited me, sir,” Javier replied in Cadeleonian and his hand fell lightly over the hilt of his sheathed sword. Vashir flushed but then laughed.

  “Very true.” Vashir’s Cadeleonian was heavily accented. “Kiram had not said that you were a master of so many tongues.”

  More than a few people glared at Kiram and his aunt pinched him on his back. Hard.

  To Kiram’s relief, his mother’s unflappable secretary Fiez arrived. She tossed a towel to Kiram and then escorted Javier to his awaiting bath. Kiram almost followed them but decided that it would be too intimate an action. Instead he toweled his hair and followed the rest of the guests back into the ballroom.

  The night blooming flowers woven through the garlands had opened fully and their perfume suffused the air. Sweet oil flames blazed gold and red from prism lamps and cast a warm glow over the embroidered seats, the flower-strewn banquet tables and the polished dance floor. Kiram took in the room and the faces of his guests and relations. He hoped that Javier would find it as welcoming and lovely a sight as he did.

  “Javier Tornesal, the Duke of Rauma, has arrived,” Kiram’s mother announced to the few people who did not already know. She looked very pleased as the entire room filled with speculation and awed discussions of how well connected the Kir-Zakis had become.

  “You could have mentioned that he spoke Haldiim!” Vashir muttered to Kiram.

  “I didn’t know anyone would be meeting him tonight,” Kiram replied. “And he doesn’t speak it all that well. But he understands a lot more than you’d expect.”

  “Obviously. Now he probably thinks I was slandering his birth.” Vashir shook his head. “You’ll explain that I meant what I said as a sexual overture, not a racial comment, won’t you?”

  “No.” Kiram replied, laughing. “How could a man making sexual overtures to another man be better to a Cadeleonian?”

  “Well, at least it would mean that I found him handsome.”

  “He’s not easily offended. Don’t worry.” Kiram handed his used towel to a house servant and then retreated to a banquet table to warm himself with a cup of mulled honey wine.

  Vashir followed him as did Hashiem and Dauhd. Kiram glanced to his sister and she offered him an encouraging smile. Kiram had no doubt that many of the wealthy mothers longed to ask him about Javier’s presence but their need to maintain the appearance of worldliness restrained them from pursuing him. Though many watched Kiram over the rims of their wine glasses and some sent their sons to the table to refill their plates and make a few inquiries.

  “I had no idea that the duke had been invited,” Hashiem commented. Kiram took a drink of wine to buy himself a moment to think of a response. He didn’t want to undermine his mother’s impromtu claim.

  “We didn’t know if he would be able to find the time to come or not, so we didn’t announce it.” Dauhd helped herself to a fresh strawberry from one of the silver bowls.

  Across the room the musicians struck up a merry melody and dozens of youths and children rushed out to have their turn on the dance floor. Kiram watched them absently, smiling from time to time at some comment his sister or Hashiem made.

  Vashir excused himself when it became apparent that Kiram was not going to offer up any amusing gossip about Javier. The Lif-Zibhan twins looked far more appreciative of his attention. Kiram hardly noticed his departure. All he could think of was that Javier was here with him in Anacleto. A breathless happiness filled Kiram’s chest.

  “He came alone?” Hashiem asked. “That’s odd, isn’t it? A duke traveling without guards or any escort.”

  Kiram started to tell him that Javier commanded the white hell and went where he pleased as he pleased, but then Javier himself stepped into the room.

  His glossy, black hair stood out in sharp contrast to his pale, freshly shaven face. Majdi had given him the finest Haldiim clothes to wear and, though they did not drape loosely as they would have on a Haldiim youth, they suited Javier’s long body quite well. The short gold vest displayed his broad shoulders, muscular arms, and lean abdomen appealingly. The red silk trousers hung on his slim hips and clung to the thick curves of his thighs. He stood in the doorway with an expression of uncertainty that Kiram had never seen on his face before. Kiram went to him at once before anyone else swooped in.

  “What’s the occasion for the party?” Javier asked quietly.

  “My homecoming, actually,” Kiram replied. He saw his mother start towards them with several influential council women beside her. “Let’s join the dancing. Otherwise you’re going to end up cornered by a flock of mothers intent upon discussing import taxes.”

  “You mean the Haldiim trade tax?” Javier asked as he followed Kiram to the dance floor.

  “No idea,” Kiram responded. “I always flee before they can inform me.”

  Javier smiled at this, looking far more at ease than he had earlier.

  “What kind of dance is this?” Javier asked.

  “It’s called the red hands dance,” Kiram said. “You just join one of the lines and clap the hands of the person across from you and then cross to the other side but two places down the line.”

  Javier frowned.

/>   “Come on, it’s fun and easy to pick up,” Kiram assured him. “It’s certainly nothing as tricky as ice skating.”

  Javier joined the dancers in the left line. Kiram joined those on the right. The girl next to Javier blinked nervously at him but the speed of the dance didn’t allow for gaping. Javier picked up the simple steps easily. As the tempo of the dance increased, so did missed claps, collisions and embarrassed laughter. In the midst of the giddy chaos, Javier’s mistakes were hardly notable.

  Each time they passed, Kiram could see him relaxing into the movements more and more. His straight, squared stance gave way to loose strides and easy grace. His smile took on that familiar edge of arrogance and of course he began to show off. He added quick flourishes to the line crosses and bowed to the little girls who clapped his hands.

  “How long does this go on?” Javier asked as he and Kiram rushed together to clap hands.

  “One more pass at double time,” Kiram replied. Then they both ran to their new partners, clapped hands and dashed off again. By the end of the dance Kiram’s palms were hot and tingling. Javier’s pale hands blazed red from all the slapping. He held them up and grinned at Kiram.

  “Red hands dance,” Javier said.

  Kiram led him to the heavily laden banquet table where Javier sampled a few dishes cautiously and accepted a cup of warm mulled wine with a relieved expression. Kiram wanted to ask him what he thought of the vivid red pepper eggs but he didn’t get the opportunity. Almost at once they were surrounded by Haldiim men and women, who all desired to be introduced to Javier and to engage him in discourse of some kind. Kiram made the introductions, perhaps a little more curtly than he should have, and Javier pretended to grasp almost nothing of the Haldiim tongue.

  Soon several mothers realized that Kiram could serve as the ideal translator. So over and over, Kiram explained that Javier would be staying in Anacleto to attend Nestor Grunito’s wedding and that he had never been to the Haldiim section of the city before, but that he found it charming so far. No, Javier didn’t have any trade partners in the Haldiim district. Yes, he found Haldiim clothing comfortable. No, he hadn’t been to the cloth market yet. Yes, he loved Kir-Zaki candies.