The Devil Incarnate (The Devil of Ponong series #2) (23 page)

“Are the new soldiers
in Levapur real Thampurian soldiers, or are they Grandfather Zul’s private
army?”

She expected denial.
She expected Thampurian bluster and an artless change of subject. Instead,
Hadre slapped his thigh and laughed.

“You truly are an
amazing woman, Lady QuiTai. One of these days, you’ll have to tell me how you
do it.”

“So you know.”

“Grandfather brought them here on the
Winged Dragon
.”

She sucked in a breath. “He’s here? In Levapur?” The bigger
picture unfolded before her. It was as if she were back in Ma’am Thun’s
schoolhouse looking at the wall map that showed Thampur as the center of the
world. The Ponong Archipelago were mere dots, almost an afterthought compared
to the mass of the continent. Thampur sat in the middle of everything, with
dashed lines showing trade routes radiating out from it as if it were the
center of a web. While she had no proof, she was certain now that the events of
the week were no part of a little domestic power struggle. Pluck Ponong’s line
of that web, and the vibrations were surely felt in Surrayya.

“Grandfather sailed back to Thampur immediately. He probably
didn’t want anyone to know about his plan.”

“He sailed back on the
Golden
Barracuda
? At top speed, how long would that take?”

Hadre gave her a sharp look. Then he frowned. “You can’t
sail at top speed through the rock island archipelago that lies between Ponong
and Thampur, and there are spy ships patrolling the Sea of Erykoli. We don’t
want anyone from the continent to know about that technology, and you shouldn’t
ever mention it again. Grandfather would have your neck in a noose.”

“How long did it take the
Winged Dragon
to bring him here?”

From Hadre’s
expression, he wasn’t about to tell her that either. As she recalled, it had
taken about two weeks to sail from Ingosol to Ponong when she’d made the trip,
but Thampur was much closer. She guessed that the
Winged Dragon
could have crossed the distance in five or six days.
That meant it had left port the day she agreed to help Kyam track the
Ravidians.

“If you can’t risk
the junk at top speed in the Sea of Erykoli, what use is such power? Unless...”
A broad smile spread across her face as she pictured the rest of Ma’am Thun’s
map. Once a ship passed through the Ponong Fangs, it entered the vast expanses
of the Te’Am Ocean. “Oh, of course. The Li Islands. How short-sighted of me.”

Hadre’s face had
gone pale. He’d covered his mouth as if afraid of what he might give away, but
then he seemed to realize that there was nothing left to let slip. His hand
dropped. “You are a very dangerous woman.”

“I believe that your cousin already warned you about that.
However, I gave you my word that I wouldn’t discuss anything I saw on board the
Golden Barracuda
, and it’s bad
business to break promises.”

“There are governments that would pay handsomely for that
information.”

“Certainly. But I wouldn’t live long enough to enjoy it, and
even if I did, there are some things money can’t buy.” She leaned forward,
hands between her knees. “Before Grandfather Zul took it away, did you ever get
to take the
Golden Barracuda
out at
top speed? What was it like?”

Hadre seemed reluctant to say anything, but she could tell
he found her earnest interest irresistible. He shook his head and chuckled, a
mannerism so like Kyam’s that her breath caught.

“Once, on the Te’Am. You should have seen the
Golden Barracuda
fly.” Hadre gazed over
the cooking fire as if it were the open ocean. “My navigator almost threw
himself overboard when he thought I was going to try to run the Fangs at top
speed. It was harrowing enough at one quarter speed. That contraption you saw
in my cabin came in handy. We were able to plot our course –” Hadre
kicked his empty bottle of rum again. “I’d make a poor spy.”

Now that he’d given
away what he thought was his biggest secret, maybe she could pry the
information she really wanted from him. “A promise is a promise, Hadre. I won’t
breathe a word about it. Now, about those soldiers...”

“I’ll make a bargain with you, Lady QuiTai. You tell my
cousin that he has to escape from this island before he’s stuck here forever,
and I’ll tell you anything you want to know about those soldiers.”

“Kyam might have been angry, but he heard your warning and
advice. What difference would it make to hear it from me?”

“Do you love him?”

Why did they always go back to the unanswered questions?

“I just lost my spouse. We might have been unable to live
together, but I very much loved Jezereet right until the end, and still do. I
have no desire to be in love with anyone and don’t expect to be for quite a
while.”

“Do you care for him as a friend, then?” Hadre asked,
exasperated.

“We aren’t friends. We had a business arrangement and were
working together only until the terms of our agreement were met.”

Hadre’s face contorted with fury. “Stop playing word games
with me. Just tell me if you give a damn about his future.”

“I have been trying
to drive him away from this island since the first hour he set foot on it.”

That hadn’t been out
of concern for Kyam, but Hadre seemed to take it that way. His anger
disappeared, and he apologized nicely for his outburst.

“You should have
seen his face the first time he told me about you, Lady QuiTai. I’d never seen
him so enraged. Over time, it was evident that his opinion of you... well, it
didn’t soften, but he’d come to respect you. I think he very much looked
forward to your
queltumonz
after a
while.”

Her eyebrow rose.
“Did he use that term?”

“Never! But the Ingosolians have such a flair for summing up
complex matters of the heart, and er…” Hadre coughed into his fist and glanced
away. “In a single word. Don’t you think?”

“Our arguments weren’t foreplay.”

Hadre blanched at her rather direct language. “When I don’t
like someone, I stay away from them. You two sought each other out, repeatedly.
‘Passionate’ is how witnesses described your verbal battles. And you were in
his cabin, in his bed, undressed.” Hadre’s face was noticeably pink by now.
“I’d hoped you’d developed some feelings for him.”

“Most certainly. Loathing. Animosity. Repulsion.” She ticked
off each word on her fingertips.

“Lady QuiTai! Please be serious.”

“We had a business arrangement. There’s nothing more between
us.”

“Then there’s nothing to keep you apart either. You’re a
formidable woman on your own, but together, you two are a force of nature.”

He was right, but
she and Kyam simply weren’t meant to be together. One of them would have to
abandon their goals, and she would never stop being the Devil for Kyam any more
than he’d give up his life for her.

“Despite what you
saw in his cabin, we are not lovers.”

“You finish each other’s sentences. He made rice-and-eggs
for you and you ate it, even though he’s a terrible cook.
 
Call your relationship by any word you
want to choose – the Ingosolians probably have a term that would fit
– but don’t tell me that you don’t care for him, because that would be a
bold lie. So I beg of you, use whatever influence you have to convince him to
escape Ponong.”

Why did everyone believe she had near-supernatural powers?
She couldn’t lie to this man and make him think she could talk Kyam into
leaving the island. Hadn’t she spent over a year trying to do just that?

QuiTai flicked beads of water off her velvet skirts. Despite
the rain, the night wrapped around her with seductive comfort. Her eyelids
drooped. Too many days cooped up in RhiLan’s apartment had sapped her strength.
Against her better judgment, she sipped her now tepid tea. Hadre wanted
something from her; he wasn’t likely to poison her tonight.

“I see no profit in this venture.”

Hadre rose. He ran his fingers through his hair. “If you
speak with him, if you persuade him, I will tell you everything I know about
Grandfather’s soldiers.” He shrugged apologetically. “I’m a Zul. I know how to
bargain.”

“Can he leave?”

From the look on
Hadre’s face, that was another delicate matter. “He has signed articles of
transport, but for now, they’re useless. Don’t ask me for details.”

“Then how would he leave if I were able to convince him?”

Hadre wrestled with that question for a while. He ducked his
head, abashed. “I hoped you had connections that wouldn’t be particular about
paperwork.”

She also rose. “I see. What if he won’t listen to me? How
can I prove that I kept my end of the bargain?”

“I trust your sense of honor. However, I don’t expect a
miracle. I know who you’re up against.”

“Kyam has faith in his Grandfather; you have faith in me.
Not the best judges of character, are you?”

“On the contrary.” Hadre escorted her to the door even
though it was only a few feet away. “We can meet here, in three days. Same
time.”

“Here, tomorrow night. I only have two days left. I need
that information.”

He gently gripped her forearm. “What happens in two days?”

“A massacre.” She stepped out of the room and crossed the
dark courtyard, sure that Hadre would watch her every step until she passed the
festoon gate.

~ ~ ~

Report to me. TtZ

He bristled at the demand on the farwriter roll. Even though
written words had no tone, he imaged a haughty voice.

Anyone who bought and sold information learned over time
when to withhold rumors. It was essential to always have a backup for those
times when talk ceased and scent trails faded. Such was the natural ebb and
flow of life. Like the monsoon rains, gossip always returned. Patience was as
much a part of selling information as cunning. The trick was to never panic.
Those words made his heart feel as if it were submerged and struggling for a
breath though.

She has gone back into
hiding.

She has agents who can
do her bidding even if she’s hidden herself. Has she spoken of retaliation
against the colonial government? Did she go to the inland villages? TtZ

She’s too canny to speak such dangerous words out loud.

She is thinking.

QuiTai was always thinking. It showed on her face, even if
her thoughts didn’t. It was like reporting that a bird was flying.

The reply was a long time coming.

I, too, am thinking.
TtZ

They were like players reviewing what they held, calculating
odds and sizing up their opponent. He wondered which one would make the next
move.

Kyam
had walked
almost all the way down slope to the harbor before he changed
his mind about reuniting with Hadre. He knew the
Winged Dragon
was still in port as Hadre replaced the sails and
tried to make the old junk more seaworthy, but he couldn’t bring himself to
apologize, and he doubted Hadre would be able to either. So he turned around
and climbed back up the steep, winding road to the town square.

During monsoon, the rain seemed endless, but today the sky
was cloudless. As if making up for lost time, insects buzzed loudly. The large
ring-tailed lizard basking on a rock barely opened its eyes as Kyam passed.
Brilliant pink flowers blooming overhead perfumed the air.

The winding road crossed the already rusting funicular
tracks. Rumor had it that it could take weeks to fix the werewolves’ sabotage.
All that damage, just to kill QuiTai. How did the Devil let it happen? If he
didn’t care for her – and there was no evidence that he did –
didn’t he at least care what happened to the people of Levapur? Everything
shipped to the island had to be hauled up the road from the harbor, but no
Ponongese were allowed into the town square. Who would carry the heavy crates?
Not any Thampurian he knew. They wouldn’t even carry their own shopping.

It was hard to care about the funicular any more. Since he’d
found Governor Turyat and the chief justice in dream at the Dragon Pearl, he
hadn’t done anything to find out who’d paid Petrof to kill QuiTai. It was this
damned island. The longer he stayed, the worse his apathy grew. QuiTai could
take care of herself. She’d find out who wanted her dead and handle it herself.
How she summoned that much energy was a mystery. Maybe that was why she kept
her rage stoked like a furnace. He was angry too, but he couldn’t force himself
to do anything about it.

He ran his finger under his collar. His clothes stuck to his
skin. Not for the first time he wished he could have worn a light sarong like a
Ponongese man. It would cause a scandal, though, and he didn’t want to give his
grandfather any excuse to keep him away from Thampur much longer.

If only Grandfather would answer his farwriter messages.

By the time he
reached the crest of the road, he was too sapped to question why quarrelsome
voices carried across the marketplace. He remembered that he was out of rice,
but he saw the lines at the few stalls and decided to make do with what he
could find in his apartment. That wouldn’t be much. With the humidity so high,
food spoiled quickly. Like most people in Levapur, he bought only what he
needed for a day or two. But if the choice was between going hungry and
standing in a long line in the blistering sun, he’d go hungry.

He decided to go
home.

 
The landlady’s
apartment door flew open the moment he pulled off his boots in the foyer of his
building.