by Ginn Hale
Kiram flopped back on the bed and gazed up at the gleaming gold blessings above him. “I’ll worry about tomorrow when it comes. Tonight, it’s just us.”
All the tension drained from Javier’s careful expression and he smiled an easy, seductive smile.
“Let’s make the night last long then.” Javier rose from the bed and then returned with a jar of sweet oil. He rested it on the bedside table as if leaving its use to Kiram’s discretion. Javier’s generosity and trust touched Kiram deeply. He could hardly believe that at one time he’d felt too unsure of Javier to share his body with him. Now it was all he wanted. Just the thought of taking Javier deep within himself, feeling him so close, sent a shock of longing through Kiram’s body.
“You’re far too formally dressed for this occasion,” Kiram informed him.
“Indeed?” Javier arched a brow and smiled. “Shall I call for a valet?”
“I think it would be wisest if you learned to live with my untrained services.” Kiram slid the opulent jacket from Javier’s shoulders. He stripped away Javier’s silver raiment, taking care with the costly clothes at first but then growing more desperate as Javier kissed and caressed him throughout the ministrations. Kiram gave a soft groan as Javier’s hands slid under his nightshirt and skimmed over his loins.
“I’m never going to get these stockings off you at this rate.” Kiram laughed breathlessly.
Javier simply grinned.
At last Kiram tossed aside the silver-threaded stockings, leaving Javier beautifully naked. Together they fell back on to the embroidered pillows and made the night last as if another might not come.
Chapter Twenty-One
In terms of representing Cadeleonian family life, Javier’s desolate townhouse in Zanconda had in no way prepared Kiram for the exuberance, noise and population of the Grunito household. Here the multitude of relations and houseguests who had gathered for Nestor’s wedding stirred up gangs of playful young children and excited the indulged dogs. The prim Cadeleonian social restraint that Kiram had grown to expect seemed banished.
At breakfast a veritable pack of lanky hounds bounded beneath the huge table, licking people’s fingers, sniffing their crotches, and gobbling up any morsels that the younger boys and Lord Grunito secreted to them. Nestor waved wildly at Kiram from the far end of the table and tossed him a hard candy before Lady Grunito called for a prayer.
Even the piety of the breakfast prayer eroded considerably in the face of a howling lapdog, the loudly misspoken words of Lord Grunito’s deaf mother, and peals of half-suppressed laughter. Cheers and whoops closed the morning prayer and brought several of the dogs out from under the table, barking in excitement. Servants deftly skirted the hounds, heaping the table with meats and breads that Kiram would never have encountered in a Haldiim house.
Far down the table Kiram caught Javier’s gaze and held it for a moment before forcing himself to look away. Atreau and Morisio were both seated to Javier’s left while Elezar commanded the seat on his right. Nestor sat just past Elezar. He winked at Kiram.
In a way it was like they were still at the academy. Only this morning instead of getting to sit with the Hellions, Kiram had been directed by Lady Grunito to a gilded chair between Timoteo and Riossa. Lord Grunito loomed across from him, a giant of a man made even more terrifying by a twisted, scarred face and a weirdly wide-eyed smile.
The wiry dog that had howled through the breakfast prayer stood proudly on Lord Grunito’s lap and from time to time Lord Grunito let the creature eat from his hand. When he noticed Kiram watching him, he winked at Kiram just as Nestor had earlier. Kiram tried not to stare at Lord Grunito as the big man piled his plate high with eggs and sausage. The brutal scar that deformed the right side of his head seemed so at odds with his constant smiles and unrestrained childlike laughter.
It soon became obvious from various comments and Riossa’s whispered conversation that long ago Lord Grunito had suffered a terrible blow to his skull in a tournament and had never fully recovered. For the last two decades Lady Grunito had maintained the order of the household while her husband remained as rambunctious and giddy as one of her young sons. Kiram thought he could now see why Nestor and Elezar were so tolerant of Fedeles.
Lady Grunito watched Kiram from beside her husband.
“It is so lovely to have you for a visit at last, Kiram.” She smiled just a little at him as if she was not quite sure of what to make of his sudden appearance. “You must promise to stay as long as you can.”
“It would be a pleasure,” Kiram answered, though his time in the Haldiim district had dulled his sense of proper Cadeleonian conduct. Then he quickly added, “Thank you so much for your generous hospitality.”
Lady Grunito nodded as if he’d just given the proper response to a quiz. “You slept well, I hope?”
“Very well, thank you,” Kiram assured her.
“Very good.” She glanced at his empty plate and gave a little shake of her head. “But you certainly must eat a little more.”
Then she rang a small gold bell and instantly servants paraded in from the kitchen with second helpings of sausages, kidneys, bacon, sweetbreads, eggs, toast and golden fruit, which turned out to be pickled lemons.
Kiram accepted a second serving of sausage as well as a wedge of pickled lemon from a strikingly blond servant. He nearly thanked the young man in Haldiim before catching himself. The words came like a reflex when he laid eyes on another Haldiim.
Somehow he had failed to imagine that poorer Haldiim men and women would accept work as maids, cooks and footmen outside of the Haldiim district. The young, blond table servant was not alone on the staff. Of course work was work, whether it was for Mother Kir-Zaki or Lady Grunito.
Watching them all and noticing their whispered Haldiim words, Kiram couldn’t help but think of his own home and feel an ache at the thought that he might never return there.
“Most have converted or are the children of converts,” Timoteo said, noting Kiram’s gaze. “Mother feels it’s important to help them find steady work since often they are shunned in their prior communities.”
“Very kind of her,” Kiram replied. He could not bring any warmth to his voice, thinking of how isolated those servants must feel being so cut off from their families and homes.
“It is of the utmost importance to welcome those who come willingly to the true God and salvation.” Timoteo studied Kiram as if he were already making plans for his future position in their house.
“Watch out, Kiram,” Javier called out from down the table. “Timoteo is recruiting choirboys for his chapel.”
Beside him Elezar snorted and then shouted, “Watch out, Tim, Kiram can’t sing to save his life!”
They both burst into laughter, as did Morisio and Atreau. Lord Grunito looked confused but then simply began laughing with the others. Lady Grunito ignored them all and continued her discussion with an older Cadeleonian gentleman.
Timoteo’s gaunt face flushed. He glared at the clot of Hellions at the far end of the table before returning his attention to Kiram. But Kiram didn’t want to discuss conversion or how well an unwanted Haldiim son would be treated by Lady Grunito—certainly not with this man.
“We don’t have any sausages like this in the Haldiim district,” Kiram said before Timoteo could get a word out. “They’re quite delicious.”
To Kiram’s relief Riossa responded, telling him that she too had been surprised by the unusual spices and that she’d since discovered that it was a special recipe a Mirogoth cook made just for the Grunito household. Timoteo scowled in a way that made Kiram think that the cook had not been converted. Or maybe Timoteo just didn’t like the sausages. Either way he soon excused himself to prepare his sermon for the morning chapel service. Riossa and Kiram briefly shared a look of relief after his departure.
After breakfast most of the Cadeleonians departed for the Grunitos’ private chapel to hear Timoteo and receive blessings. Nestor rushed to Kiram and, to Kiram’s shock
, embraced him.
“About time you came and stayed with us! I’m so pleased you’ll be here for my wedding tomorrow.” Nestor released Kiram but continued to grin. “You are on my team for charades tonight.”
“All right,” Kiram agreed, though he had no idea what it would involve. It just felt good to be genuinely welcomed.
“You’ll love it,” Nestor told him. “Oh and I want you to pose for me. I’m working on a painting with Riossa and I want you in it.”
“Nestor!” Lady Grunito called.
“I have to attend chapel but afterward I am going to give you a full tour of the grounds. I owe you for taking me everywhere in the Haldiim district.” Nestor glanced over his shoulder at his mother and father. “I have to go.”
Through the crowd of Cadeleonians Kiram heard Javier decline an invitation to chapel, claiming that he didn’t want to burden Timoteo with the difficulty of his personal absolution during a short service as it would take so much time from others in attendance.
“I see my salvation as requiring at least three days and nights of uninterrupted torture—at least for the priest involved.” Kiram caught a glimpse of Javier’s wicked smile and the shocked expression of a Cadeleonian noblewoman.
Kiram didn’t hear the woman’s response but he recognized Elezar’s shout of derisive laughter. No one else broached the subject with Javier.
After the others had filed across the verdant courtyard into the ornate chapel, Javier took Kiram riding. They leisurely followed a little dirt trail through the small park that the Grunitos retained for their sport.
Kiram rode a young piebald gelding called Verano. At first the new mount made him nervous, but the animal was gentle and good natured and Kiram soon grew used to its jaunty gait.
A crow flew overhead and they both watched it. The black wings looked like a spill of ink against the pale morning sky.
“How are you today?” Javier asked him.
“Better,” Kiram decided. “You?”
Javier studied him with a slow, alluring smile. “After last night I’m very good indeed.”
“Ah, well, last night you were excellent,” Kiram responded just to see Javier’s proud smile.
The crow circled them and called out two piercing cries before it swept far beyond Kiram’s sight. Kiram glanced to Javier and saw concern dim his sensual radiance. “There’s been trouble at the Circle of Red Oaks apparently.”
“Did that crow just tell you that?” Kiram asked in a whisper. Javier laughed and gazed at him with amused affection.
“It can happen.” Kiram defended. “Alizadeh spoke to me once through a flock of crows.”
“Oh, I have no doubt that Alizadeh can speak through many forms when he needs to, but yesterday a note seemed sufficient.” Javier’s smile faded as he went on, “The Bahiim are fighting him. Many of them want to extinguish the White Tree again.”
“What?” Kiram stared at Javier in disbelief. “But once it was ignited they were obligated to return to their duties.”
“That was Alizadeh’s belief, but it seems he failed to consider that many of the Bahiim might feel that their duty is to lock the shajdis away a second time.” A cynical amusement sounded in Javier’s voice. “It’s so much easier to relinquish power rather than accept responsibility, you know.”
“But the shadow curse nearly took over the circle. Don’t they realize that?”
“You’d think so, since most of them were there,” Javier replied.
“They can’t just ignore that!”
“Maybe they can,” Javier replied. “It’s amazing what some people will choose to do.”
“But that’s idiotic.” The idea of the Bahiim turning their backs on the majesty of the White Tree and on the threat of the shadow curse infuriated him and not just because they were abandoning Javier’s hope for help.
“The curse won’t go away just because they wish it would!” Both horses flicked their ears at Kiram’s harsh tone.
“I know.” Javier patted Lunaluz’s neck soothingly. “But obviously none of this is mine or yours to decide.”
Javier’s calm resignation annoyed Kiram but he kept his peace while the two of them rode further. Two more crows passed overhead. Kiram watched them, thinking of the night he’d run for his life from the shadow curse. He couldn’t imagine how anyone could in good conscience allow something like the shadow curse to continue to torture and hunt.
“What do they think they’re going to do when the shadow curse comes for them personally?” Kiram asked.
“I don’t know.” Javier simply shook his head. “Alizadeh just wrote to warn me to stay away and keep a low profile for a week or so. He’ll send word when it’s right to come forward.”
Javier reined Lunaluz to a halt as they reached a clearing full of spring flowers and outlined by tall oaks. Kiram heard the distant melody of a prayer being sung and realized that they were very near the Grunito family’s chapel. Javier swung down from his saddle and freed his stallion to sample the young shoots of grass.
“This is where I usually come to practice the lessons Alizadeh has taught me.” Javier indicated one tall, old oak. “What do you think?”
“It’s beautiful,” Kiram replied. Swaths of wildflowers bloomed between the trees and bright gold butterflies flitted through the air. But Kiram’s mind wasn’t really on the view. “Does Alizadeh think he can convince the other Bahiim to support him?”
“I don’t know,” Javier answered mildly.
Kiram frowned at the idea of the Bahiim rejecting Alizadeh’s arguments. He wished there was something he could do. “Can they be so deluded that they think the White Tree will ignite on its own the next time the shadow curse returns?”
Javier simply gave him a tired smile. “I’ve pretty much told you everything Alizadeh wrote to me. Would you like me to make some answers up? Or I could attempt to interview a squirrel or something, if you’d like.”
Kiram sighed. He supposed it was pointless to rail against the Bahiim to Javier. He swung down from Verano’s back and allowed the gelding to graze alongside Lunaluz. “We’re on our own again, aren’t we?”
“For now it would seem so.” Javier strolled between the trees and Kiram walked beside him. “I don’t suppose Scholar Donamillo has written back to you?”
“No, but in his last letter Scholar Blasio mentioned that Scholar Donamillo has been quite ill.” Kiram didn’t like to think of how bad the sickness must be for the scholar not to respond to his letter.
“It’s not likely to have been his treatments, then…” Javier commented.
“What do you mean?”
Javier sighed as if defeated. “Supposedly Fedeles has fully recovered his senses.”
“Elezar mentioned something about that. It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” Kiram started to smile but Javier’s grim expression warned him that the news was not cause for jubilation.
“It should be,” Javier said carefully. “But it seems that he’s accused me of being responsible for his madness both to Lord Quemanor and before the royal bishop, Prince Nugalo.”
“Fedeles wouldn’t…” Kiram began but realized that he couldn’t really know what Fedeles would do. He would never have imagined Fedeles tearing apart his steam engine either and yet he had. Although that had been the shadow curse, not Fedeles.
And suddenly a terrible thought occurred to him. What if Scholar Donamillo had been too ill to treat Fedeles? What if the curse’s hold over him had grown? “When did this happen?”
“There were rumors for a while,” Javier replied. “But three weeks ago Prince Sevanyo was in attendance for Lord Quemanor’s complaint before the royal bishop. Fedeles gave a personal testimony.”
“Fedeles spoke?” All Kiram could imagine was Fedeles singing out the names of beloved horses.
“He was quite eloquent, apparently. The bishop was horrified enough by his descriptions of the black magic I practiced against him to dispatch a troop of his men to bring me to stand trial.” Javier
scowled. “Luckily, only Prince Sevanyo knew I hadn’t returned to Rauma. He sent me a warning.”
“And all of this began a month ago?”
“So it would seem.”
A month ago would have been at the start of Scholar Donamillo’s illness. Kiram felt suddenly foolish for all the time he’d wasted in the last few weeks. If only he’d known he might have done something.
A nervous fear prickled through him. The bishop’s men could be well on their way by now. If they were swift they would reach Anacleto any day. “You should have said something sooner.”
“It wouldn’t have changed anything if I had. I didn’t know anything for certain until I received Prince Sevanyo’s letter.” Javier shrugged. “Anyway I thought Elezar was already causing enough of a panic. He demanded that Morisio and Atreau swear loyalty to me, you know.”
“I know,” Kiram replied. “I promised to stand with you as well.”
“Did you?” Javier’s calm expression wavered and for an instant Kiram thought he saw fear in his face. Then Javier stepped into the shadows of a towering oak tree. He leaned back against the gnarled trunk. “I won’t let it come to that.”
“It might not be your choice.”
Javier gave him a hard look. His fingers gripped the rough bark of the tree. Kiram knew he didn’t want to talk about this but they were too far in to stop now. Kiram couldn’t be like Javier and simply wait to see what fate awaited him; he needed to have a plan. “So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do. But the one thing I’m certain of is that Fedeles wouldn’t betray me of his own will. Something has happened to him.”
“It has to be Father Habalan’s doing,” Kiram decided. “He’s using the shadow curse to control Fedeles just like he used it to make Fedeles destroy my steam—”
“Someone is using the shadow curse.” Javier cut Kiram off. “But I don’t think it’s Habalan. Now more than ever.”
“It has to be him.”
“Habalan knows next to nothing anything about the Bahiim ways...certainly not enough to create and control a shadow curse,” Javier said. “The more I’ve studied under Alizadeh, the more certain I’ve become that the man on the hill isn’t Habalan.”