"I'm a scholar from a good home," Kiram responded. "How many scars could I possibly have gotten?"
"Well, one obviously." Javier glanced over Kiram's body curiously. "Somewhere."
"Here." Kiram offered his right hand for Javier's inspection. Javier gently spread Kiram's fingers apart then explored the tender expanses of his palm and wrist. The sensation made Kiram's entire body feel suddenly too warm.
"Are you talking about this little white line along the inside of your thumb?"
"Yes. I got it making candy with my mother. I cut my thumb while snipping taffy." Kiram felt a little embarrassed, but he had only been six years old.
"And that's really the only other scar you have?" Javier pushed the sleeve of Kiram's shirt up, inspecting the dark skin of his arm.
"I wouldn't have dared to get another," Kiram replied, but he was only half thinking about the conversation. "My mother made such a huge scene of just this one."
Javier seemed to come to some decision. "You should get out of this shirt. There's blood all down the front."
Kiram didn't move to stop Javier as he began unbuttoning his shirt.
"Your mother would hate to see this, I imagine." Javier paused, his hand resting over the last three buttons of Kiram's shirt, radiating warmth across Kiram's stomach. "All those letters you've been writing, they're to her, aren't they?"
Kiram nodded. Not only had the pain in his cheek faded but also he felt strangely languid. He wondered what had been in the salve that Javier had treated him with.
"And the rest of your family?" Javier looked almost troubled. "You're close with them?"
"Very. The letters are for the whole family," Kiram said, "but Mother loves to read them aloud. Whenever my brother Majdi writes she reads his letters at the evening meal and asks what people would like her to write back. Now I guess she's reading my letters, though I still haven't received a response."
As he spoke Kiram could see a kind of uneasiness come over Javier. He withdrew his hand from Kiram's stomach and straightened as if to rise from the bedside.
"What about your family?" Kiram grasped desperately for anything to say, just to keep Javier there beside him.
"Fedeles is all of the family I have left. There's Fedeles' father, but he isn't from the Tornesal bloodline."
"Just Fedeles?" Kiram couldn't imagine having only one cousin. He had over a dozen.
"We're a cursed lineage. Of course we've had our fair share of drunken idiots who rode off cliffs in the night as well. It certainly saves me the trouble of purchasing too many New Year gifts."
"I'm sorry." Kiram couldn't think of anything else to say. The thought of being so alone seemed heartbreaking to him.
Javier gave a flinty laugh.
"Be sorry for Fedeles if you must, but don't waste your pity on my account." Javier strode back to his bed and began pulling off his boots. "I control the white hell and rule Rauma. It's all worked out beautifully for me."
"Do you miss them?" Kiram asked.
"No," Javier replied but Kiram didn't believe him. The answer was too fast and too flat.
Javier set his boots aside and glanced back to Kiram. "Do you think you might be able to walk yet?"
"I don't know." The change of subject took Kiram a little off guard but he respected it.
"You should probably give it a try. See if you can make it down the hall to the toilet before the night warden gets up to our floor. It's going to hurt like hell when you first try to piss but do it anyway." Javier busied himself with the silver buttons of his jacket. "If there's blood, call me right away. I'll take you down to Scholar Donamillo and he'll treat you."
Kiram made the trip to the toilet and was relieved to discover his body still functioned properly. When he returned to the room, he found Javier had already washed and gone to bed. Only one oil lamp remained lighted. Kiram washed himself quickly and returned to his own bed.
"Good night," Kiram whispered to Javier.
"Good night," Javier replied softly. After a moment of silence he added, "Thank you for looking after Fedeles."
"It wasn't-" Kiram couldn't say that it wasn't any trouble. It had been. It had gotten him in the first fight of his life, but oddly he didn't regret it.
"It's just what friends do for each other," Kiram said at last.
"I suppose it is."
Kiram waited for him to add something more but there was only silence and the darkness of the night.
Chapter Six
The next morning Kiram felt better and most of the swelling in his nose and groin had diminished. Still, Genimo's crop had more than left a mark. Even in the crowded din of the dining hall other students gawked as Kiram passed by. Several snickered behind his back but none of the other students met Kiram's gaze directly. And only one of them kicked his leg out to trip him as he walked past.
He took his usual seat between Fedeles and Nestor.
Nestor only glanced up over the rims of his delicate glasses and then returned his attention to the inky figures on the page in front of him. "You look awful."
"I know." Kiram's entire face ached as he moved his mouth. The gash across his cheek had closed to a thick scab, while his upper lip was bruised to a dark purple and swollen.
Once bowls of morning porridge and pots of bitterly over-brewed tea were distributed, Kiram attempted to engage breakfast. It hurt to open his mouth wide and he wasn't sure that this sticky, beige mass was worth the effort but he soon discovered that hunger mitigated discomfort. He swallowed a spoonful of the bland porridge. Both Nestor and Fedeles had already finished their servings.
Fedeles flipped through the yellowed pages of a tattered book. The black-printed letters were overwritten with hundreds of scrawling notes and weird little symbols. Fedeles turned the book upside down and then right side up again. His hair was a wild tangle and his clothes looked unkempt as always, but Kiram thought he seemed more clear-eyed and aware of his surroundings than usual. He met Kiram's gaze, and for the first time he didn't seem to be looking through a dreamy haze.
"Eat up," Fedeles whispered.
Nestor sketched absentmindedly. The figures filling his sheet of parchment trailed off into loops of ink and then were engulfed in newer drawings. All around them students only half dressed in their blue linen uniforms chatted and laughed. Some of them exchanged class notes while others tossed banned dice. Their voices formed waves of noise, which crashed through the silence of Kiram's two companions.
"Is something wrong, Nestor?" Kiram asked at last.
"You shouldn't have put up such a fight," Nestor whispered. "Especially not against Upperclassman Javier. He could have really hurt you. Ladislo says that if you just close your eyes and take it, it's not so bad. Fighting won't do you any good."
"What are you talking about?" Kiram asked.
Nestor's pale face flushed deep red.
"Ladislo gets bent because he's little," Fedeles murmured. "A little pony. Pretty little pony."
"You know, they say that if your upperclassman gets bloody-minded and horny, there isn't much you can do. It's best not to put up a fight. Unless you have an older brother or something." Nestor scowled at his empty porridge bowl. "Upperclassman Atreau leaves me alone but I'm not. pretty like you."
"I'm not pretty."
"Yes, you are," Nestor cut him off. "There's no point arguing about it. Obviously you're too pretty for Javier to resist."
"Resist? Javier didn't do anything to me." Kiram suddenly realized what Nestor was implying. "He certainly didn't force his attentions upon me."
"Didn't he?" Nestor asked, his expression lifting for the first time all morning. "I thought…you know, because you're Haldiim and pretty.and who's going to say no to Javier Tornesal?"
"It was nothing like that." Kiram needed to stop the direction of Nestor's thoughts. He himself didn't want to think too much about the vulnerability of his position with Javier. It led him too quickly into confusion, remembering Javier's gentle touch and at the same time his cynical smile and those white sparks skipping between his fingers. "I got into a fight with Upperclassman Genimo last night."