Ginn Hale - Lord of the White Hell book Two

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.