Ginn Hale - Lord of the White Hell Book One

Javier stood, as did the prince, and they embraced.

"Thank you for coming, Sevanyo," Javier said into Sevanyo's shoulder.

"Of course. It's always a pleasure to see you. But do take care of yourself, Javier." Prince Sevanyo stepped back reluctantly. He looked at Kiram. "I look forward to seeing you again, Kiram Kir-Zaki. Look after Javier for me, won't you? Slip him some of those candies when you can."

On the stairs outside, dozens of well-dressed men stood waiting to be admitted in to attend the prince. They bowed their heads respectfully as Javier passed but several of them glared at Kiram as if his presence among them was distasteful.

"Ignore them," Javier whispered over his shoulder.

When they reached the lower stands where the rest of the academy students were gathered, Kiram flopped onto a hard seat of the bench next to Nestor. Javier remained standing, leaning against a wooden support. The nearest pair of combatants on the arena floor were only a few feet away. Kiram could hear them gasping for air and smell the sweat pouring down their arms and legs.

Javier studied them like a cat watching swallows. Other students glanced up from time to time but most were involved in their own preoccupations. The only change came when a winner was announced. Every Sagrada Academy student cheered for one of their own. Defeated students were greeted with disinterest. Master Ignacio hardly even glanced to them.

Farther down the bench Elezar stood close to two other third-year students and Kiram was sure he glimpsed money pass between them. Elezar was collecting winnings from his wagers already.

Kiram wondered if Javier had actually placed a wager on him. He hoped not.

"So, how was it?" Nestor asked Kiram. "What did the prince say?"

"He wants Kiram to convert, marry a nice Cadeleonian girl, and come live at court," Javier said.

"Convert and marry and move to the court?" Nestor rolled his eyes. "Why doesn't he ask him to shave his head and buy a monkey while he's at it?"

One of the judges on the arena floor signaled a win for the Sagrada Academy, waving a small blue banner over the head of a winded young man. Kiram had no idea who he was but he cheered along with the rest of the academy students.

It had been the student's fifth duel and he would not be expected to fight again today. The exhausted first-year student staggered back to the stands and collapsed onto the bench.

"Prince Sevanyo means well. He just doesn't know when he's asking too much of someone or even telling them too much." Javier glanced to Kiram. "He didn't offend you, did he?"

"No, he surprised me. I guess I wasn't expecting.Well, I didn't know what to expect." Kiram looked up to where Javier stood. "I wish I could have answered his questions."

"What questions?" Nestor asked.

"He wanted to know about the Haldiim religion," Kiram replied. "I couldn't tell him too much because my family isn't religious."

"Lucky." Nestor sighed. "My mother made us recite a verse of her choosing before she would let us sit down to dinner each night. I memorized the entire Book of Redemption just for the love of a hot meal." Nestor shook his head. "I still don't know what half of it is supposed to be about."

"Redemption, I'd imagine," Javier said.

"I guess, but every time I hear a verse all I can imagine is piping hot roast beef."

"Chapel sermons must be oddly appetizing for you," Javier remarked.

Nestor nodded. "I always leave hungry."

"Maybe you should convert to my faith," Kiram said. "On the Highest Holy Days the Bahiim prepare huge feasts and anyone who comes to the Holy Gardens is fed and offered honey wine."

"You all just eat in church?" Nestor stared to Kiram as if this were unbelievable.

"Of course. The two Highest Holy Days are celebrations of compassion and generosity. Even my family puts gifts out for the poor on the Highest Holy Days."

Nestor looked like he was going to ask something more but Javier leaned between them.

"I'm not sure how wise it is for you to be seen and heard at this public gathering, converting Nestor to your faith."

"I wasn't serious," Kiram objected.

But Nestor, too, looked worried. "He's right, Kiram. It's just what Holy Father Habalan is always warning us about in chapel. If word were to get back to him it could be bad for both you and me. The holy father hasn't got much of a sense of humor."

"I guess not." Kiram frowned out at the arena. The white salt circles of the fencing rings were spreading into the dirt, blurring and distorting the way smoke rings dissipated.

Several grooms worked their way down the length of the stand distributing leather armor and fencing blades to the second-year students. Kiram imagined his own face reflected Nestor's queasy pallor. It would be them out in the arena soon. Everyone in the stands would be watching.

The leather of Kiram's cuirass fit tightly across his back and chest though it hung loosely over his stomach. The byrnie he pulled over it draped down to his groin. The thick scales of leather overlapped like snake skin.

He laced his blue gauntlets tightly over his forearms and then tested his grip on the blade he had been given. The armor felt hot and heavy. Kiram could already smell his own sweat soaking through his under shirt and into the cuirass. He had no idea how men managed to move, much less fight while wearing the much heavier armor required for the tournament's final duels.

"Here." Javier handed him a black ribbon. "Tie your hair back."

Kiram did as he was told. Next to him Nestor sat back on the bench, scowling at the dueling sword he'd been given.

"I was out right away last year. It wasn't so bad really." Nestor sighed heavily and then glanced up at Javier. "You don't think Elezar's put any money on me, do you?"

"Of course he has. We both know how much you've improved over the last four months. You're going to take the wind out of your opponents before they know what hit them."

Nestor straightened slightly. "I have gotten a lot better. Though I wish I had my spectacles."

"You never wear them while you're fighting," Kiram said.

"I know. I just think it would settle my nerves if I could see how nervous the other boys look."

Kiram nodded. In a way he thought Nestor might be the lucky one. None of the students left on the arena floor looked nervous. All of them had already fought and won several duels. They looked dirty and some wore bandages, but all of them wore hard, assured expressions.

The last remaining pair of first-year duelists stepped into a nearby ring. They were both Yllar students and their armor was covered in nicks and dust from previous duels. A judge raised his hand and then swung it down indicating the beginning of their combat. Both students stood still with their blades drawn and then one of them simply knelt and the other touched his chest lightly with his blade.

Kiram gaped at them. "What was that?"

"Yillar etiquette, I guess," Nestor said. "When they're evenly matched one Yllar student will forfeit to another of higher rank instead of dragging out a real fight."

"We're allowed to forfeit?" It made sense. Why should two students from the same school exhaust themselves fighting each other? And it offered Kiram some relief. Rather than take a brutal beating he could simply forfeit.

"No," Javier said firmly. "They can forfeit. We at the Sagrada Academy do not."

"Master Ignacio would kill you if you did," Nestor said. "A chain is only as strong as its weakest link or something like that."

"Master Ignacio will not tolerate cowardice," Javier continued. "It's his philosophy that it is better to fight and be beaten than it is to simply surrender. No war was ever won through surrender."

"None was ever won by being beaten into bloody submission either," Kiram replied.