Kiram's distaste for war arts was only exacerbated by the fact that Master Ignacio often called Javier over from the third year riding practice to demonstrate perfect battle forms. Kiram scowled at the master's obvious pride in Javier's prowess.
Though, Kiram couldn't help but stare when Javier countered one of Master Ignacio's attacks, lunged past his defense, and brought the tip of his blade to the master's chest. It wasn't just his accuracy or audacity that fascinated Kiram; it was the pure beauty of his movements. He didn't waste a single gesture or ever hesitate. He moved the way an animal would, utterly assured of his nature.
Kiram found his own awe aggravating and consciously worked at dismantling it. He decided that much of Javier's grace could be attributed to arrogance. Of course he never hesitated or second-guessed himself. The man was probably incapable of conceiving of himself making a mistake.
"He's terrifying," Nestor whispered to Kiram.
"You can hardly see him," Kiram replied.
Nestor squinted intently at Javier through the bristling mass of his sandy brown bangs. He wasn't exactly Kiram's friend but over the last two weeks they had grown comfortable with each other.
Unlike most of the other second-year students, Nestor shared Kiram's intellectual curiosity. He asked questions in natural sciences, took the highest scores in their law classes, and clearly possessed the talent and inclination to be an artist. He, like Kiram, hailed from the port city of Anacleto, though Nestor's father was an earl whereas Kiram's father was the indulged husband of a very wealthy Haldiim merchant.
Nestor retrieved his delicate spectacles from their ivory case and placed them on the bridge of his beak-like nose.
"Still terrifying," Nestor said as he watched Javier demonstrate a maneuver called the King's Cross. "How do you ever fall asleep with him in the room?"
Kiram rolled his eyes. "Look, I know that no one is actually afraid of him. You don't have to keep pretending."
Nestor peered at Kiram through the thick lenses of his spectacles. "What are you talking about?"
"If people actually thought Upperclassman Javier was some kind of demon, why would they all hang around him at dinner or even agree to allow him into the academy?"
"He's the Duke of Rauma. Who's going to tell him that he can't attend the academy?" Nestor went quiet as Master Ignacio walked past them. After the master was out of earshot, Nestor leaned a little closer to Kiram. "It's not really Javier that people fear. He's actually nice enough. My brother Elezar and he are best friends. But the white hell trapped in him is something else. You just haven't seen it, that's why you're not afraid."
"Have you ever seen it?"
"Once. When the royal courier came to confer the dukedom upon Javier, the white hell broke free. The instructors were able to contain him with muerate poison that time but last year." A troubled expression came over Nestor's round face and he lowered his voice to a whisper. "Last year a stable hand was murdered. Torn apart. The headmaster denied that it was the white hell but everyone knew it was. Javier didn't attend classes for two weeks after it happened."
Kiram didn't have a response for that. It was the first time that anyone had explicitly told him what there was to fear in rooming with Javier-he was quite probably a murderer.
Kiram was still wrestling with the idea at lunch, when he took his usual seat between Nestor and Fedeles.
The first day he had taken breakfast at the academy he had made the mistake of seating himself next to a second- year student he didn't know. The young man had knocked Kiram's food to the floor and hissed that he could eat down there, but not with decent men.
To Kiram's relief and surprise, Nestor had intervened right away, offering Kiram a place with him at another table. The day after that Fedeles had joined them, though he had offered no reason other than singsong jumbled words.
The three of them were the only older students seated at the tightly packed first year benches. The majority of second and third-year students filled the long tables ahead of Kiram. Those tables weren't any more attractive than the stained one Kiram sat at but service from the kitchen reached the other second-year students sooner and with better portions.
The tables at the far eastern end of the huge dining hall were a different matter altogether. They were draped with cloths and the benches were beautifully carved. Fresh air and bright light poured in through the windows just behind them.
One table was reserved for scholars, the war master, and the holy father. Kiram only saw all the instructors gathered together at the table on Sacreday when Holy Father Habalan read prayers over the evening meal. Otherwise, the scholar's table was generally only half full. The remaining ornate tables belonged to students whom Nestor told him were the angels and devils of the academy -the brightest and most dangerous young men. Many were third and fourth-year students, who would one day be the lords of Cadeleon. It didn't surprise Kiram to spot Javier there, attended by his gang of loud companions.
Nestor's older brother, Elezar, always sat at Javier's right. Like Nestor, Elezar possessed a hawk-like nose and bristling brown hair, but he stood even taller than Javier and was built like one of the rippling bulls emblazoned on his gloves. Nestor, by comparison, looked more like a fresh egg.
Already, several upperclassmen had coined the term, 'stick and ball' to refer to Kiram and Nestor.
Kiram frowned at his bowl of lumpy brown stew. Nestor had already finished off his serving. It was apparently the staple of first-year students' lunches at the academy.
Kiram took a listless mouthful and swallowed. It tasted nothing like the dishes his mother's cook would have served on a hot afternoon like this one. Briefly he reminisced over the cool cucumber slices, lemon wedges, and mint leaves that had flavored his last meal with his family. At that moment he missed the flavors of lamb and figs almost as much as he missed his parents. He couldn't believe how he had taken the thick yoghurt and honey for granted.
Kiram glanced to Fedeles, who grinned at him.
Despite being quite simple, Fedeles made better company than most of the other students of the academy. He never tried to tease either Kiram or Nestor. In fact, he seemed only half aware of their presence. For the most part, Fedeles drifted in a smiling fog. Occasionally, he would look at one of Nestor's sketches and name the man or animal pictured. He was particularly fond of horses.
"Lunaluz," Fedeles whispered dreamily.
Nestor nodded absently and continued to ink in the horse's braided mane. Kiram glanced at the picture. As a rule he couldn't tell one horse from another, a fact that had deeply disturbed Master Ignacio the first day of riding class, but even he knew this horse. It was Javier's white stallion.
Until two weeks ago, Kiram wouldn't have imagined that there could be much difference between horses. Though admittedly the only ones he'd been familiar with were the nags that hauled Cadeleonian wagons and carriages outside the Haldiim district. The huge, glossy warhorses that the academy required their students to ride seemed like an entirely different breed of creatures. Between calculating gazes, sarcastic snorts, and immovable obstinacy they seemed to possess personalities that were as individual as their riders.
Like Javier, Lunaluz was known for his pride and prowess.
Kiram scowled at Nestor's drawing. It seemed that everything around him today was set on making him think about Javier.
"Did it have to be Lunaluz?" Kiram asked Nestor.
"Lunaluz," Fedeles echoed the name.
"He's a beautiful animal. So is this big fellow." Nestor handed Kiram the inked page that lay beneath his present drawing.