Ginn Hale - Lord of the White Hell Book One

"Do you think Fedeles is in danger, then? Isn't Genimo his upperclassman?" Kiram asked.

Fedeles just gave an oddly amused snort.

"Genimo would have to be suicidal to do anything to Fedeles. Javier would flat out kill him. He's said as much." Nestor lowered his voice slightly. "Don't tell anyone I said so but Genimo is Fedeles' nanny really. He has to keep track of him, give him baths, brush his hair, and make sure he gets to Scholar Donamillo for his treatments."

"Rats chew him up if he's mean." Fedeles picked up Kiram's bowl and pushed it back to him. "Eat up, skinny."

Nestor eyed Fedeles almost suspiciously. "You're making more sense than usual, Fedeles."

"It's a curse," Fedeles muttered. He didn't look up from his book.

"Well," Nestor went on, "Fedeles is right about you needing to eat. You and I are both on Master Ignacio's double training list. Elezar posted it this morning and told me. We're going to have two extra hours of war arts starting today and going on until the autumn tournament."

"Two extra hours?" All thought of Javier and his penance suddenly dissipated. "That's insane! Not only will it kill me, but there's no point. It's not as if I'll ever have to don armor and defend my holdings."

"No, but you will have to don armor and defend your honor in the autumn tournament." Nestor's tone was deeply resigned. "Trust me, you do not want to be beaten by a bunch of first-year underclassmen from the Yillar Academy."

"But not me," Kiram protested. "Surely Master Ignacio can't expect me to compete."

"I think he does, actually," Nestor replied. "He expects everyone to compete. More is the pity for both our sorry asses."

For the third time, Fedeles grinned and told Kiram, "Eat up."

Kiram obeyed almost numbly. Who in their right mind would send him out to compete on the tourney field? There had to be some kind of mistake. And yet deep inside himself Kiram felt a terrible certainty growing. Master Ignacio wasn't going to let him get out of the tournament just because he was utterly unsuited to battle. The lanky war master simply wasn't that reasonable.

An hour later, when he and Nestor took their second tier seats in the circular lecture hall for mathematics, Kiram's fear was confirmed. Scholar Blasio beckoned them down to him and informed them that they were to report to Master Ignacio. Though he paused midway through to frown at Kiram's beaten condition.

"I got into a fight with Upperclassman Genimo," Kiram explained. He had considered lying but he wasn't practiced at deception and he doubted that both Javier and Genimo would tell the same lie that he would. "I didn't start it."

"No, of course not. Javier said that you got caught in the middle of an altercation between himself and Genimo, but I had no idea that you had been so directly involved." Scholar Blasio winced as his gaze moved over the scab on Kiram's cheek. "A little extra training in war arts might not be such a bad idea. It couldn't hurt for a young man such as yourself to learn a little self-defense."

"But I'll fall behind in mathematics," Kiram argued.

"I very much doubt that you could ever fall behind in mathematics, Kiram." Scholar Blasio offered him a sympathetic smile. "And you will only miss my class on the odd days. Even days the two of you will be excused from fine art."

At this Nestor's expression crumpled. Kiram saw a brief amusement flicker over Scholar Blasio's freckled face. "It will only be for a few months and you'll both be happy for the extra practice come the week of the autumn tournament."

"Certainly some students must be excused from participating in the tournament." Kiram lowered his voice, as three other second-year students entered the lecture room and took their seats.

"Fedeles doesn't compete, but his is a very rare case. Barring broken legs, high fevers, or black pox, I couldn't imagine Master Ignacio excusing either of you. You're both healthy young men. Though." Scholar Blasio cocked his head just slightly and studied Kiram. "There is a possibility that Scholar Donamillo could request that you be excused, since you're already spending your free hours working on the Crown Challenge."

"What about Nestor?" Kiram asked quickly. "He's been. helping me."

"I have," Nestor agreed, though his response sounded almost as much like a question as a statement.

Scholar Blasio shook his head. "I doubt that Scholar Donamillo will believe Nestor's assistance is that necessary to your work, but you could always ask. He should be attending the infirmary now, so why don't the two of you ask him?"

"Yes, sir." Kiram nodded respectfully as did Nestor. They both pretended not to hear the derisive comments of the other students as they left the lecture room.

As they walked along the vaulted hall towards the infirmary, Nestor forced a smile. "At least you may have a way out."

"No, it's either both of us or neither." Kiram had decided. In the past two weeks Nestor had offered him his sketches, advice, and support. He wouldn't abandon him to endure Master Ignacio's merciless tutelage alone.

"Really?" Nestor looked truly touched.

"Absolutely."

"Let's hope Scholar Donamillo excuses us both, then."

A strange, howling noise cut through Kiram's agreement. Kiram stopped in his tracks. The howl stretched out, echoing through the hall. A deep grinding sound, like the deep rumble of an eyestone crushing through wheat, rose over the cry.

"What was that?" Kiram asked Nestor.

"Probably one of Scholar Donamillo's mechanical cures." Nestor pretended to shudder. "Sounds like he's testing it on some poor dog, doesn't it?"

Kiram nodded. He had only ever seen mechanical cures as diagrams on theater flyers or in paintings outside circus tents. His uncle disparaged them utterly, but Kiram had always been curious. The sound of this one was terrible, and Kiram couldn't help but feel a pang of pity for the poor animal trapped within its iron grasp.

As they came closer to the infirmary the howling cries faded to soft little gasps. The grinding of iron gears only grew louder. When they reached the huge, double doors of the infirmary, Kiram knocked but there was no response.

"I doubt that Scholar Donamillo heard that," Nestor shouted over the grinding roar.

Kiram raised his hand to pound on the door but then suddenly the heavy mechanical noise stopped. The following silence was so complete that it startled Kiram a little. Then peals of dreamy laughter and singsong syllables drifted through the infirmary doors. Kiram recognized Fedeles' voice at once and realized that he must have been the howling creature. Doubtless it was the treatment that both Genimo and Javier had mentioned.

Kiram had to step back as one of the infirmary doors swung open. To Kiram's horror, Genimo stepped out of the infirmary and leaned against the door, propping it open. When he caught sight of Kiram he looked like he might spit on him but then seemed to think better of it.

Scholar Donamillo stepped through the open door, leading Fedeles by one arm. He frowned at the sight of Kiram and Nestor.

"You're here for your injuries?" Scholar Donamillo asked Kiram.

"No, sir. But Scholar Blasio said that we should speak to you."

"In a moment, then." Scholar Donamillo returned his attention to Genimo.

"Fedeles is still weak. You'll need to keep a close watch over him for another hour or so."

Genimo nodded. Kiram studied his cheek for any sign of their altercation, but his blow hadn't left a mark. Only the purple bruise on Genimo's forehead attested to his involvement in the previous night's fight. Though Kiram was sure that if Genimo's sleeve were rolled back there would be bite marks.

Fedeles seemed unaware of any of them. He swayed, as if listening to a melody no one else could hear, smiling serenely and gazing at the far wall as if it were a vision of encompassing beauty.