"Firaj." Fedeles sighed happily.
"Really?" Kiram asked. In his mind his new horse, Firaj, was much more intimidating. His first day of riding he'd simply clung to the black beast's back and prayed that the animal wouldn't kill him. He had not made much more progress in the subsequent classes.
"He's such a handsome old man." Nestor smiled at one of the sketches of Firaj's face.
"Handsome? I have nightmares about him."
A loud burst of surprised laughter interrupted Kiram's thoughts. Across the rows of wooden tables, he saw that several upperclassmen had clustered around Javier. Nestor's brother Elezar stood among them, as did the future count of Verida, Genimo Plunado.
Javier held a water glass in one hand and a spoon in the other. He dipped the spoon into the glass and then flicked the water up into the air. A white spark flashed up from Javier's hand as the water took flight. The droplet struck the tabletop as a small chunk of ice. Another cheer went up.
Kiram wanted to believe that this was just some slight- of-hand trick that Javier preformed but he had seen enough of Javier's magic now to acknowledge that the tiny white sparks that danced from his fingers were genuine. At some point Javier must have touched a shajdi and a little of its magic remained with him. But touching a shajdi was not the same as being possessed by a demon or having a door to hell inside him. It astounded Kiram that these Cadeleonians didn't grasp that.
Elezar snatched up the piece of ice and crushed it between his teeth. He grinned at Javier and said something. Genimo Plunado shoved his thick chestnut hair back from his face and leaned closer to Javier. When Javier threw another droplet of ice into the air Genimo caught it in his mouth. Javier continued performing his trick, receiving smiles and laughter, until his glass was empty.
"If they like him so much, why don't any of them room with him?" Kiram muttered to himself.
"You might as well ask why they don't sleep in the stalls with their horses," Nestor replied. "They're afraid of getting kicked to death, you know. The horses wouldn't mean them any harm but they'd just kick in their sleep and that would be it."
"He's not a horse," Kiram replied.
Nestor shrugged. "Are you going to eat the rest of your stew?"
Kiram shoved the blue porcelain bowl to Nestor. For a moment Nestor seemed to wrestle with some indecision, then at last he slipped his drawing papers back into their leather case and helped himself to the stew.
"Anyway, they don't all like him," Nestor said quietly. "My oldest brother Timoteo hates him. I think Genimo does as well. But Javier is already the Duke of Rauma. Only one of the Sagrada princes could afford to make an enemy of him, and I don't think anyone would want to face him in a duel. He'd eat their souls."
"Feed them ice and witty conversation is more like it," Kiram muttered.
He didn't want to admit it but he was a little jealous of the clever chatter and friendly pranks Javier performed for his classmates. After only a few days of total silence he had regretted his declaration that Javier was not to speak to him. More than that, he resented Javier's respect of his absurd demand. He knew it was all petty and beneath him, but he couldn't help himself.
The evenings in their shared room were agonizingly quiet. And that was if Javier was even there. Half the time he didn't appear until the night warden shouted for lights out. The nights he was alone, Kiram tried to believe that he was happy with the emptiness of the room and the opportunity to spread his cogs and iron cylinders out across the floor without criticism or comment. But the truth was that he felt deeply lonely.
To Kiram's surprise, Fedeles leaned up against his side the way a dog might. Reflexively, Kiram petted his head. Fedeles smiled, his eyes focusing on something far away. He was a handsome youth and sweet natured. Kiram wished that there were some way to know what, if anything, Fedeles was thinking. Kiram knew Fedeles was older than himself but he seemed so childlike. The simplest things, like cheese or apples, delighted him. But he loved horses most of all. Kiram noted the irony in the fact that he, who was terrified of the beasts, was forced to ride them every day, while Master Ignacio only allowed Fedeles to watch.
"Nestor? Would you mind if I gave one of these sketches of Firaj to Fedeles?"
Nestor looked at Fedeles for a moment then shrugged. "I want to turn in the one of him running, but any of the othe rs should be all right."
"Which one would you like, Fedeles?" Kiram leafed through the drawings watching Fedeles' eyes as they flickered down to the pages.
"Firaj," Fedeles whispered as Kiram came to the drawing of the horse's head. Kiram handed it to him and Fedeles crushed the drawing against his chest.
He sang quietly to himself. Strung through the lyrical murmurs of gibberish and horses' names, Kiram suddenly caught a strange refrain and he glanced to Fedeles.
"Help me. Please help me." Fedeles' dark eyes were wide and terrified. His constant smile looked suddenly like a terrible grimace. Alarm shot through Kiram.
"Fedeles?" Kiram asked. "Is something wrong?"
Fedeles bowed his head, his unkempt black hair falling across his face, and Kiram thought he saw a shudder pass through Fedeles' body.
"Lunaluz," Fedeles whispered dreamily. When he lifted his face to Kiram's his expression was soft, sweet, and lost.
The school bells rang out the end of the lunch hour. All around them students stood and gathered their belongings. Fedeles sprang lightly from the table, laughing, and skipped away.
Kiram turned back to Nestor, who was gulping down the last of the stew.
"Did you hear that?"
"The bell? Of course," Nestor replied.
"No. What Fedeles just said. I think he was asking for help. You don't think he's hurt or something, do you?"
"He seems fine. I mean, as fine as he's ever been since his seizure." Nestor gathered his drawings and corked his inkwell. "He picks up phrases and things. He probably heard some one praying for luck with the next math test and was just repeating that."
"Maybe," Kiram replied. Fedeles had looked so stricken; it was hard for Kiram to think it was just some kind of mimicry. What if he was ill or in some pain that he couldn't communicate? "What kind of seizure did he have?"
"I wasn't at the academy when it happened, but my brother Elezar said that the hand of the white hell reached out and grasped him."
"You mean Javier caused it?" Kiram lowered his voice to a whisper as other students strode past them.
"No, it was the white hell itself," Nestor said. "Fedeles is Javier's cousin and the white hell has a taste for their bloodline. That's what Elezar says. And he was there when it happened."
"Yes, but what exactly happened?" Kiram asked.
"It was three years ago, when they were all first years. Elezar and Fedeles were leaving Scholar Donamillo's class when black sparks suddenly burst up, dancing across Fedeles' body, burning into his flesh. Fedeles was screaming and thrashing as if he was on fire. The white hell was trying to get into him."
"What did Elezar do?" Kiram couldn't imagine what his own reaction would be such a sight.
"Elezar didn't do anything. What could he do?" Nestor straightened his spectacles. "Javier heard the screaming and came running. He grabbed Fedeles and drew the hellfire off him. If you ever see Fedeles without his shirt you'll see the scars where the hellfire burned his body. He's been…odd ever since then."
Kiram studied Nestor's face intently.
"I'm not making it up," Nestor said. "Ask anyone. That's really what happened to Fedeles."
"It doesn't mean he doesn't need some help."
"If he needs help, Javier will give it to him." Nestor waved his hand as if brushing the thought aside. "Javier doesn't let anything happen to Fedeles. Why do you think everyone puts up with Fedeles running all around the academy?"