Ginn Hale - Lord of the White Hell book Two

Kiram nodded, though the answer was not what he would have wanted. He drank more of his tea. Above him the sky deepened to a rich blue and the setting sun dimmed to a faint yellow streak.

"If the Bahiim really did have the powers of the shajdis back in ancient times, then how did Nazario and his priests ever manage to capture any of them?" Kiram would never have considered the question before-when he still believed the Bahiim to be eccentric storytellers-but now he had seen a shajdi and felt its fire.

Alizadeh studied his teacup for so long that Kiram thought he might not give an answer.

"Bahiim magic is not the only magic in this world," Alizadeh said at last. "But ours is the deepest and the most long lived.. Even so, it does not make us immune to betrayal or arrogance or even love. Nazario used all he could against us. At first he tricked secrets out of young Bahiim who were prone to brag after they had defeated, his priests or Mirogoth witches. Other Bahiim, he bribed with the wealth and ease that so rarely accompanies a Bahiim's life of spiritual battle. And the last of us he defeated simply by taking those people whom we loved, as captives." For a moment, Alizadeh looked old and deeply sad. "No matter how great a power we wield, we are all still human and we each have our weaknesses. Nazario's real genius was in knowing that."

"It was long ago, love." Rafie placed his hand on Alizadeh's.

"Always look to your weaknesses, Kiram, and to those of your enemies," Alizadeh advised him.

Kiram nodded, though he wasn't really sure which of his weaknesses he should be concerned about. He knew he was demanding and suspected that he was a little spoiled and maybe that he had a tendency to discredit opinions that he did not hold. To that end, he added, "Javier doesn't think Holy Father Habalan controls the curse."

"I suppose he thinks the curse is divine retribution for his terrible sin," Rafie murmured.

"No, he just doesn't think Habalan has the intelligence or cunning to kill the entire Tornesal family without being caught," Kiram said hotly, instantly ready to defend Javier. "I just thought I should tell you what he thinks. Javier has done enough penance to know the holy father well and he's been living with this curse his entire life."

"Who does Javier think is controlling the shadow curse?" Alizadeh asked.

"He doesn't know." Kiram hung his head.

"Well, really, it could be anyone," Rafie said. "Even someone you've never seen. Some groom at the academy with a secret lineage and a claim to the Tornesal line. We've seen it happen before."

Alizadeh cocked his head thoughtfully. "True, but a shadow curse requires very exact knowledge and spiritual training. I still favor the holy father."

Kiram nodded his agreement.

A brassy bell chimed and Kiram realized that someone had come to the door. Rafie rose to see who had come calling and a moment later he returned with Kiram's brother Majdi. He held a small oil lamp and waved Kiram over to him. One look at Majdi told Kiram that he was here to escort him home.

Kiram quickly wished Alizadeh and Rafie a good evening. Out on the street Majdi handed the lamp to Kiram.

"Do you think we could stop by the quill shop? I want to buy some papers for letters."

"Not tonight. Mum needs your wisdom back at home." Majdi smirked. "Apparently she's arranged for several esteemed, business colleagues to meet you and discuss Cadeleonian tastes."

"What am I supposed to know about it?" Kiram complained, still feeling the emotion of his conversation with Rafie and Alizadeh.

"Nothing," Majdi assured him. "She just wants them all to see that her son has attended the Sagrada Academy and knows all the most important Cadeleonian nobles. She used to have a little dog she showed off the same way."

"By sending it to the Sagrada Academy?"

Majdi laughed out loud at this. "It was a little runty thing, sort of ugly, but she loved it and it was pretty clever. So she was always having the dog perform tricks and the like. You know, so that other people could see why she loved it so much."

Kiram wasn't sure if he should be touched or insulted at being compared to a clever, ugly and beloved dog. The two of them walked along the dusky streets.

"Kiram!" A man called from the shadows of a nearby house. The man held up a lamp and Kiram recognized him at once.

"Musni!" Kiram smiled at the sight of him, though an instant later he thought he probably shouldn't have, judging from Majdi's frown.

Musni bounded across the street, his lamp swinging wildly and scattering shadows as if they were startled birds.

"Kiram! Well met." Musni threw an arm around Kiram, embracing him. Kiram returned the hug, but it was awkward, with both of them holding burning lamps. Drops of flaming oil fell and sizzled at their feet.

"You look good," Kiram said and it was the truth. Even in the dim lamp light, Kiram could see that the last few months had only added to the muscular swell of Musni's chest and deepened his complexion to healthy bronze. The pale ringlets of his hair flashed like gold as the flames of the lamps flickered. His smile was so inviting and his touch so welcome that Kiram could almost ignore the broad band of gold on Musni's right forefinger. But the bracelet adorning his wrist was another matter.

The sight-what it meant-made Kiram's chest ache. He tried to keep smiling but he felt suddenly cold.

"I should congratulate you." Kiram indicated the bracelet. "A father already?"

Musni seemed to blanch. "We should go somewhere and… talk."

"He's needed at home." Majdi shouldered his way between the two of them.

"My mother," Kiram said by way of explanation. "You know how she is."

Musni nodded.

"There's going to be a party for my return," Kiram added quickly as Majdi took the lamp from him and began to walk away. "The day after tomorrow. Come, will you?"

"I'll try to make it," Musni replied.

Kiram turned and ran to catch up with his brother.

"Welcome back!" Musni shouted after him.

Kiram watched over his shoulder as Musni and his lamp fell back into the darkness of the narrow streets and walled houses.

"He's married, now," Majdi said.

"And a father, I know," Kiram replied. "But he's also my friend."

Majdi sighed heavily. "Sometimes you're so smart that it makes you stupid."

"What's that supposed, to mean?"

"Just what I said," Majdi replied. "You're so smart and so used to being right that you can't recognize when you're wrong about something."

"But you can?" Kiram asked.

"About this? Yes. I've been around a lot longer than you and I've seen this kind of thing before. I know about men like Musni."

Kiram frowned at his brother. His expression was hard and closed, almost Cadeleonian in its control. The two of them passed the empty square of the flower market and then began up Gold Street. Above them the slim crescent of the moon looked faint and fragile.

"So what do you know that I don't?" Kiram asked at last. Majdi stopped beside one of the flowering almond trees. He reached up and picked a cluster of the white blossoms.

"It's not his wife or even his child that worries me, though I'll deny it if you tell Mum as much. I know plenty of sailors who have an abundance of both and still take men as their lovers." Majdi rolled the flowers between his fingers, then tossed them into the gutter. "Musni's not like them. He's angry about the choice he's made and he won't take responsibility for it. So now he's rebelling, keeping company with street snakes in smoke alleys and getting into fights. He's made some poor decisions and I just wouldn't want to see you mixed up in his mistakes. That's all."

"I won't get mixed up," Kiram assured his brother, but Majdi still didn't look happy.

"I'm not a fool, Kiram. Musni's handsome enough to make me prick up and notice him and you two were lovers. You aren't likely to keep away from him."