For a brief moment Kiram thought of Yassin Lif-Harun. He wondered if it was possible that the academy had left one of the famous astronomer's early drawings intact out of reverence. Almost at once Kiram noted that the lines on the floor didn't match any particular constellation and that the ink was far too fresh to have been spread across this floor a century ago.
Long shafts of light poured in from the slit windows, illuminating a series of ellipses and the scrawling, strange letters that they enclosed. The ink seemed to shift in color, rusty brown in some areas, deep red in others.
Kiram glanced to Scholar Blasio, hoping for an explanation, but the man didn't seem to take any note of the floor. He pointed the barren bed pushed up against the west wall.
"The housekeepers should have your bedding brought up before dinner, but if they don't all you need to do is pull the bell cord just outside the door and someone will come up directly." Scholar Blasio pulled the heavy, oak door back open. "You saw the bell chord, didn't you?"
"Yes." Kiram didn't bother to look at the dark blue braided cord a second time. He frowned at the arc of letters surrounding a dark red line at the foot of his new bed. The writing was Cadeleonian but Kiram didn't recognize a single word.
"The bath is through there." Scholar Blasio pointed to a narrow door just past the writing desk. "In the summer, though, many of the students prefer to wash in the orchard lake. The water is quite shallow and warm. I used go there myself when I was a student but now that I'm an instructor I don't go so often. It's best that instructors and students don't mix." Scholar Blasio kept his gaze away from the floor, and even the bed and desk against the east wall. He gripped the iron doorknob in one hand.
Kiram realized that just standing in this room disturbed the scholar.
"Fifth bell will sound for dinner. It's best to come dressed formally. You have your uniform, I assume?"
Kiram nodded.
"Good, good." Scholar Blasio faded off, staring out one of the dozen tall, narrow windows. The knuckles of his hand went white as he continued to grip the doorknob.
"You could sleep in the stables, you know," Scholar Blasio said at last.
"With the animals?" Kiram couldn't hide his offense at the suggestion. He wasn't some stray dog that a student had taken pity on. He had been invited by the headmaster to study at the academy. His mother had already paid a full year's tuition.
"No, of course not." Scholar Blasio blanched, and the freckles on his face looked suddenly very dark. "It's a lovely room really. Lots of light and Javier says that it's quite warm in the winter. The fireplace is huge. I'm sure you'll be comfortable here."
Kiram pointed to the floor but Scholar Blasio spoke before he could get his question out.
"You probably want to unpack and wash up. I'll just go down and see about your bedding." With that he slipped out of the room and pulled the door shut behind him.
Kiram would have laughed at the scholar's awkward exit if it hadn't been so disconcerting.
For a few moments he stood in the doorway, studying the floor. He had never believed in Cadeleonian superstitions and didn't think now was a good time to start. He boldly walked across the floor and when he caught himself picking a careful path between the flowing lines of ink, he forced himself to step directly on the strange words, just to prove that they were meaningless.
He reached his bed without incident and laid his trunk on the floor. The big, white mattress looked inviting. Kiram ached to lie down and sink into it, but he and his clothes were both too filthy.
He opened his trunk and found his soap tin as well as the thin white prayer clothes that his uncle had insisted he pack. Hidden beneath them, Kiram discovered a small satchel stuffed with dried mint leaves and pieces of his favorite rosewater taffy. A gift from his mother. Doubtless she'd hidden several in his things, as was her habit.
A wave of homesickness overwhelmed him. He had only just arrived at the academy and already he felt completely out of his depth.
"To fear what you do not understand is to mistake ignorance for safety."
Traveling Haldiim scholars were constantly repeating that proverb. For the first time, Kiram thought he might understand why they would need to.
The bathroom was little more than a closet with a large iron tub and several porcelain jars of cool water. Kiram washed quickly. When he was done he pulled the stopper out of the base of the iron tub and listened as the water drained away. A moment later he heard the faint sound of the water pouring out of some rainspout just outside the building. That was a clever design, Kiram decided, and he felt a little of his delight with the academy returning.
He dressed in his prayer clothes. The thin cotton clung to his damp skin, but it was better than putting his dirty travel clothes back on.
He left the bathroom and started for his own bed. Then one of the books on the nearby writing table caught his attention. A circle of gilded script shone from the black leather cover. Like the words scrawled across the floor, each of the curling letters looked so close to common Cadeleonian writing that Kiram thought that he ought to be able to read them. If he just glanced at the words' lengths and shapes, they seemed recognizable. Only when he looked closer did they melt into gibberish.
He picked the book up and leafed through it. A deep, woody scent drifted up from the thick parchment.
The last third of the book was empty. But the pages that did contain text were crammed with blocks of tightly packed, hand-written script. Every few pages there were drawings of circles and curling lines. Some looked like ornate knives, others like tangled briars or strangely skewed constellations. The very same designs that decorated the floor.
Three that resembled blades were almost under Kiram's feet. They seemed to be pointing at the other bed in the room. Javier's bed, Kiram assumed. The dark blue blankets were slightly rumpled, revealing an expanse of clean, white sheets.
Kiram laid the book back on the table and turned to his own bed. As he did, he realized that the door to the room stood open. Javier Tornesal leaned against the doorframe, silently watching him.
He was tall even for a Cadeleonian and very well dressed. The black silk suns of the Tornesal crest adorned the sleeves of his dark blue jacket. The same silk stitching ran down the length of his fitted riding pants and the seams of his leather boots and gloves. He wore a large gold signet ring on his right hand.
And yet, for all his refined dress, there was still something about Javier's lean build, unkempt black hair and hard dark gaze that reminded Kiram of those rangy youths who haunted the smoke alleys of Anacleto and made their money with their knives. Kiram's father called them 'street snakes' and no Haldiim from any good family ever spoke to one of them.
"I would have announced myself but I didn't want to disturb your reading." Javier's voice was softer than Kiram had expected and much lower.
"I wasn't-" Kiram cut himself off. It was bad enough that he'd been caught going through Javier's book; he shouldn't also try to lie to the man about it. "I know that I shouldn't have been reading your book but I recognized the writing on the cover of the book as the same that was on the floor and I wondered what it all meant. I'm sorry."
Javier regarded him for a moment, a slight curve spread across his sharply bowed lips. "Did you figure it out?"
"No," Kiram admitted. "I couldn't read any of it."
"Don't sound so disappointed." Javier crossed the room to the bedside. As he passed, Kiram caught the scents of leather and sweat. He noticed tiny spears of golden straw caught in the laces of Javier's black boots. Javier picked up the book and for an instant his amused expression seemed to falter; then the hard arrogance returned and he tossed the book to Kiram.