Ginn Hale - Lord of the White Hell Book One

"Damn it," Scholar Blasio muttered.

Kiram helped him gather the papers. Scholar Blasio seemed embarrassed. He turned to the bookshelf against the far wall and picked up a heavy, wooden bookend that he plunked on top of the papers and as if some gust had been to blame for the earlier fall. The bookend had been beautifully carved into the shape of a dove.

"I suppose I'm just trying to warn you," Scholar Blasio said at last. "It may seem exciting to drink and fight and be one of those kinds of young men, but I hope it doesn't come at a cost to you. I hope you don't feel like you have to behave that way just to fit in with them."

"No, sir, I haven't been out drinking with them and the only fighting I'm doing is in Master Ignacio's class." Kiram was only half thinking about the conversation; instead he was observing the bookend. It strongly resembled the carvings Fedeles had shown to him.

"I'm not so good at fighting that I would engage in a brawl as recreation," Kiram added. He was rewarded with a smile from Scholar Blasio.

"No, you're no Elezar Grunito. You're not like any of the young ruffians in that group. I know that Master Ignacio would have it otherwise. More than likely he'll exert as much pressure as he can to reshape you into the kind of brute that he can impress. But you should know that outside of the academy there are quite a few thinking men who do not share Master Ignacio's values."

It struck Kiram suddenly that Scholar Blasio was probably speaking from his own experience as a student at the academy. Scholar Blasio wasn't really that much older than Kiram. Master Ignacio could well have been one of his instructors. Kiram couldn't imagine Scholar Blasio excelling in Master Ignacio's classes or commanding much respect from his fellow students.

For an instant Kiram thought that there was even a kind of resemblance between Scholar Blasio's nervous, awkward interactions and the uneasy exchanges Ladislo attempted from time to time. Kiram chose not to consider the comparison too closely.

"When I was a student here I had my brother to confide in," Scholar Blasio said. "I just want you to know that if you need it, I will always make time to talk with you."

"Thank you, Scholar Blasio." Kiram did feel touched by Blasio's offer, though he doubted that Scholar Blasio would remain so friendly if Kiram described the details of the dream that had been distracting him all day.

A silence hung between Scholar Blasio and himself for a moment and Kiram realized that the scholar was expecting some kind of confession or confidence.

All Kiram could think of was a question.

"I was wondering where this carving came from?" Kiram touched the smooth surface of the dove's neck.

"That?" Scholar Blasio looked a little relieved that Kiram hadn't actually dredged up his personal troubles. "My brother made that. He's quite accomplished at carving."

"You mean Scholar Donamillo?"

"Yfes, yes. Scholar Donamillo." Scholar Blasio looked amused at the formality. "He doesn't carve very often anymore. He's much too busy. But I think you can still see his artistry in his mechanical cures. They're actually quite beautiful."

Kiram nodded. Though he rarely considered the question of beauty in a mechanism, he had to admit that the luminous panes of glass and beautifully etched supports of Scholar Donamillo's machines made the mechanical cures seem like works of art.

Still, Kiram judged them on their performance. A machine that functioned perfectly was lovely to him even if it stank and looked like a heap of refuse. And there Scholar Donamillo's mechanisms were more than pretty objects; they were inspiring.

He had personally seen the difference they made in calming Fedeles and relieving him of his bouts of paranoia and strange anxiety. Kiram couldn't help but wish that one of his own mechanisms could someday do so much so well.

"You might mention your admiration for his carving to Scholar Donamillo." Scholar Blasio's words brought Kiram back to the subject at hand. "Solstice isn't all that far away and who knows? You might just get a gift from him."

"I wouldn't want to trouble him," Kiram replied. He hoped that Scholar Blasio didn't think he was one of those boys who complimented someone's belongings just in hopes that they would be given to him.

"I don't know that it would be too much trouble," Blasio replied. "He likes you, you know. We both do."

"Thank you, sir." Kiram couldn't help but feel both pleased and shy at the same time. "I should probably get to my riding class."

"Yfes, but be careful." Blasio glanced up at him. "Don't fall on your head attempting some mad leap."

Kiram assured him that he wouldn't and then hurried out. He had no desire to irritate Master Ignacio by arriving late. Of course, he managed to irritate Master Ignacio in countless other ways throughout most of the class period. And then, near the end of class, he made a spectacular error.

Kiram shifted his weight in the saddle and twisted his leg against Firaj's side. At the same time, while reaching to scratch his knee, drew back a little on his reins. Somewhere in the chaos of Kiram's motions Firaj picked out something familiar to him.

Firaj went stock-still. Then slowly, and very mechanically, the big black horse began to prance backwards across the arena. Kiram was utterly shocked. He hadn't thought a horse could be trained to walk backwards, much less prance. He could tell from the tension playing through Firaj's body that this was not a simple maneuver.

Firaj held his head high and twisted his ears back, straining for any hint of what was behind him. Kiram sat like a stuffed doll atop Firaj, too worried about startling his horse to move. Once they reached the center of the arena, Firaj came to a halt and gave a soft, pleased noise as if he were extremely proud of his performance.

All around them other students sat atop their mounts, staring. Then Nestor laughed and it seemed to release a torrent of snorts and giggles from the other students. Kiram flushed. He patted Firaj, assuring him that he had done well -whatever he had done.

Only Master Ignacio remained stony faced. He ordered Kiram back to the other riders with a loud shout.

Throughout the rest of the class, Master Ignacio was relentless in his growling criticisms. He barked out angry reprimands at every one of Kiram's motions.

If Kiram was down in his saddle properly, then Master Ignacio snapped at him to pay attention to what he was doing with his knees. His hands were moving too much. He wasn't watching his surroundings. He was sitting too far back, and then too high up. Master Ignacio's constant recriminations destroyed Kiram's concentration and soon he was making mistakes that he had overcome months ago.

He prayed that some other student would attract Master Ignacio's wrath but Kiram was not so lucky. Even after he dismounted and turned Firaj's reins over to a groom, Master Ignacio wasn't through. He gripped Kiram's elbow and pulled him to the side of the arena.

"Do you know what your problem is?" Master Ignacio demanded. Kiram knew the question was rhetorical, and so he suppressed his response: at the moment Master Ignacio was his problem. Master Ignacio continued, "You are exactly the kind of distraction that gets soldiers killed! I don't ever want to see you show off like that again, do you understand?"

"I wasn't showing-"

Master Ignacio struck Kiram across the face so hard that Kiram stumbled back and almost fell to the arena floor.

"Yfes or no?" Master Ignacio growled. Kiram remembered Javier saying nearly the same thing to Genimo.

"Yfes," Kiram managed to reply. His entire jaw felt as if it had been ripped from its ligaments.

"Good." Master Ignacio took in a deep breath and only then seemed to become aware of the other second-year students lingering around the arena, gaping.