Ginn Hale - Lord of the White Hell Book One

"Are you thinking of King Nazario?" Javier glanced over his shoulder at Kiram. "That was a long time ago."

"It was, but things haven't changed so much. Even now if a Cadeleonian is well connected he can accuse any Haldiim of cursing his fields and have the Haldiim stripped of his property and imprisoned."

The gate locked with another deep click. Javier turned to face Kiram. He looked thoughtful but not offended. "That's true, but these days, even in northern counties, there has to be a trial."

"Of course. But all the evidence is just gossip about evil glances and angry insults. If it were a trial over a robbery, the judges would at least know what theft was or how it occurred. But no one even tries to question what a curse really is. How does it function? Can one be created by pure chance or does it require will and direction? People hear the words, curse or demon or devil and they simply throw aside all their powers of logic and reason."

"And you think reason can be applied to a curse?"

"Yfes." Kiram forced himself to meet Javier's dark gaze. "Without reason there is only fear and folly."

"Well spoken." To Kiram's surprise Javier's smile was genuinely warm. "That from Bishop Seferino, wasn't it?"

Kiram nodded.

Javier said, "He's an excellent source for closing quotes. I used him for a speech last week, in fact."

He strolled between the beds of summer vegetables and Kiram followed alongside him. Yfellow light glowed from the windows of the dormitory and Kiram could hear the faint sounds of some student practicing scales on a harpsichord.

"The law must not fall across the back of the common man as a flail, having no purpose but to punish," Javier recited smoothly. "Instead, it should enfold him as a cloak, which comforts and keeps the cruelest elements at bay."

Kiram glanced to Javier. He looked so relaxed. It was hard to believe that less than an hour ago he had been lying like a corpse in his arms.

"I've never heard that quote before," Kiram said at last.

"It's one of Bishop Seferino's more obscure statements." Javier smiled and Kiram could see that he was pleased with himself. "I found it in a treatise called Concerning Natural and Unnatural Ardor. A little more racy than the bishop's more popular works but not without its charms. I should lend it to you sometime."

"I'd like that," Kiram replied.

Javier reached out and casually brushed his hand through a curl of Kiram's hair. His fingertips just traced the curve of Kiram's neck. The sensation rushed over Kiram, making his breath catch and his heartbeat quicken.

"Leaves in your hair," Javier said. "Those curls of yours really hold onto things, don't they? They're like gold vines."

Kiram flushed and looked down at the beds of pumpkins and squash.

"I should get it cut," Kiram said.

"No, this length suits you. Lends you an air of a creature that has not yet been tamed. I'm sure Master Ignacio hates it." When Kiram glanced up to see his expression he realized that Javier wasn't even looking at him. Instead, his eyes focused on the dormitory.

Three windows on the first floor had been propped open. The oil lamps inside lit the room perfectly. It had to be one of the kitchens. Large tables stretched across one wall, while two big ovens occupied another. Two men pulled racks of small pastries from the ovens and spread them across wire racks to cool.

The smell of butter and warm bread wafted on the air and slowly curled around Kiram.

"I'm starving," Javier said.

"We could ask for something for you to eat. I'm sure they'd understand if they knew you missed dinner."

"I'd rather not have to tell my sad story to a room full of servants. Particularly not ones who will just panic at the sight of me and then spend the whole night washing down all the vegetation with blessed waters to purge it of my demonic influence." Javier gestured at the bowing vines of dark green gourds. "Who knows what accursed dishes could arise if the squash were infected by a hellfire?"

"You know," Kiram said, "sometimes you don't sound like you believe in the white hell yourself."

"Oh, I believe, but I also know it can't be caught like a cold. It takes much more than that." Javier returned his gaze to the kitchen windows. "They're putting pies out on the sill to cool. Surely that is a sign from heaven."

"I doubt it."

"Of course you do. You doubt everything." Javier turned back to Kiram and gave him a look of serious consideration. "But I think if you truly searched your heart, you would find that you want me to have one of those pies as much as I want me to have one."

Kiram had to suppress a laugh at Javier's mocking tone of piety. He really did sound like some priest. He even held his hands up in just the perfect manner.

"Fine," Kiram agreed, "but if we're caught."

"I will take full responsibility," Javier assured him. "You just curl up like a little pill bug and roll under a cabbage or something."

"I'm sure no one would take the slightest note of that."

"Probably not if they saw me first," Javier murmured. "All right. Once I get close to the window, the light will make me too easy to see. I'll have to stay down below the line of the window, so I won't be able to see what the cooks are doing. You'll need to watch them for me. When they both have their backs to the window, give me the sign to advance." Javier glanced to Kiram and clearly saw his confusion. "Hold your right hand up at a right angle to your body."

Kiram held his right arm out.

"Just like that." Javier gave him a pleased smile. "If they start to turn then warn me with your left hand. Got it?"

"Right hand: advance. Left hand: retreat."

"Good. I'm counting on you."

"But wait, if you will be able see me from the window, won't the cooks be able to do the same?"

"They won't be looking for you. People almost never see what they're not expecting."

Before Kiram could point out the flaw in that logic, Javier was away.

For a man as tall as he was, Javier folded himself down into a surprisingly low crouch. As he moved, his dark form melted into the silhouettes of rosemary shrubs and chamomile flowers. He slunk across the grounds and slid against the wall of the dormitory. He crouched just below an open windowsill like a cat beneath a birdbath.

Kiram watched the cooks inside the kitchen intently. For a while he felt that they might never turn their backs to the windows at the same time. He wondered if their behavior could be purposeful, a defense intended to keep pilfering students at bay. Maybe the pies were placed out on the windowsill as some kind of trap?

Surges of nervous energy played through his muscles, preparing him for sudden flight.

Thinking reasonably, Kiram could see that the men were simply assembling ingredients. He'd watched his mother's cook often enough to recognize the hurried movements from one cupboard to another. A minute later both cooks had heaps of flour, dry goods, and a large bowl of eggs gathered on the long work table. Both of them turned their backs to Kiram as they mixed and kneaded large masses of dough.

Kiram lifted his right arm immediately, expecting Javier to spring into action at once, but apparently Javier shared none of his nervous urgency. Very slowly, Javier snaked his bandaged left arm up over the edge of the windowsill into the blazing lamplight. His long fingers curled rim of a pie tin and slid it off the sill in a single fluid movement.

Kiram waited for Javier to bolt back to his side. Instead, Javier reached up and took a second pie. Kiram stared at Javier in disbelief. The cooks were sure to notice two entire pies missing.

One of the cooks turned and wiped his face with the back of his hand. Kiram instantly lifted his left hand and Javier stilled. The cook sneezed and snuffled and then turned back to rolling out long sheets of dough.