Lord of the White Hell Book One lotwh-1 by Ginn Hale

Kiram knew it signified more.
    Ladislo was particularly sullen about handing over his sugar cones, but he did it. Ollivar broke them apart and distributed the cracked pieces of spun sugar amongst the five of them.
    As the candy melted over his tongue, Kiram closed his eyes and allowed himself to reminisce about his mother's candy kitchen, with its smells of bubbling cane sugar and honey and his mother's floral perfume pervading the atmosphere.
    The first mechanism he had built had been for his mother's candy kitchen. It had been a taffy pulling machine. Whenever she had felt that Kiram was exhausting himself in his studies she had claimed it needed repair and stole him away to her airy sanctum of perfume and sweetness.
    Seeing Ladislo's glum expression, Kiram couldn't help but feel sorry for him, for having to share a gift from his mother. "Thank you for the sugar cone, Ladislo."
    At first Ladislo seemed taken aback, but then he recovered his bland demeanor. "Mother sends the same cheap candy every few weeks. I'm getting sick of it."
    "It still tastes pretty good." Nestor sucked the last trace of sugar off of his finger. "Have you ever had one of the Kir- Zaki sugar cones?"
    "My father says that the Haldiim defile the water they use for their sweets." Ladislo stole a glance at Kiram. "He says that they make Cadeleonian men flaccid."
    Nestor laughed out loud at this. "Tell that to my dad. The only two things he can't get enough of are Kir-Zaki candies and sex. Half the brats in our house are nicknamed for the candy that inspired their conception. All boys so far, too. Mom blames that on the candy as well."
    Kiram wondered if being given credit for Lord Grunito's virility would have pleased or annoyed his mother. Before he could decide he noticed several men coming down the stairs.
    He whispered, "Master Ignacio is back."
    All five of them went quiet and straightened to attention as Master Ignacio and the upperclassmen approached.
    Elezar Grunito was the easiest to recognize. His neck was like a bull's, and his thick chest and bulging shoulders reminded Kiram of a fit war horse. He carried a large wooden trunk easily on one shoulder.
    Behind Elezar, Kiram picked out Atreau, Nestor's upperclassman by his long, black, braided hair. He also spotted Cocuyo Helio's whip-thin body and broken cheek. He didn't know the other upperclassman by name, but Nestor quickly provided it.
    "The greasy one with the scraggly black beard is Procopio."
    Then Kiram realized, with embarrassing disappointment, that his own upperclassman was not present.
    Kiram wondered if Master Ignacio would see to his training personally, or if he would be assigned to one of the others. He prayed that it wouldn't be Procopio. From all Nestor had told him, Kiram had no doubt that Procopio would misuse any power granted to him.
    Then the far door swung open. Even with the bright sunlight burning his figure to a black silhouette, Kiram still recognized Javier instantly. To his mortification he felt his heartbeat quicken as Javier approached.
    His black hair was wet from a recent bath and his shirt clung to his damp skin. His left wrist was bandaged, but it didn't appear to trouble him. He strode to Master Ignacio and bowed deeply. "Forgive my tardiness, sir. I just completed my penance at chapel."
    Master Ignacio frowned at Javier. "Your tardiness is not important. However, I am surprised that after last night's behavior a single afternoon of penance would be sufficient to cleanse you of all sin."
    "Holy Father Habalan felt it was enough, sir."
    "Holy Father Habalan is known for his easy nature, not for his thorough pursuit of the eradication of sin. If you want to remove a stain you don't just give up after a single scrubbing. You know that."
    Javier peered up at the war master, seemed to search his face with the pleading expression of an errant child.
    When Kiram asked his father for forgiveness, he imagined that he wore the same face. Only he could not imagine his own