The Devil Incarnate (The Devil of Ponong series #2) (7 page)

They shuffled around
the broken furniture in the hallway to the back door. It was still raining, but
the drops had turned to fine mist and there was only an inch or so of water in
the streets. LiHoun had to feel how hot she was, but he didn’t mention it as
they headed through the dark alleyways.

“You’re not taking me to the Red Happiness.”

LiHoun let her lean against a building as he peered around a
corner. “If someone were searching for you, they’d go there first. There’s
somewhere they’d never think to look for you, and I’m sure they have a healer.”

LiHoun talked as they took the dark alleyways through the
neighborhood. QuiTai was so intent on keeping upright that she barely heard
what he said. It seemed as if she’d been in pain forever, but it had been just
over a week since she’d met Kyam Zul at the Red Happiness. From that day on,
she’d endured more near misses with death, werewolf attacks, and miscellaneous
indignities than in the rest of her life put together. This, she hoped, was the
grand climax. Once she was over this, she’d settle into a predictable, orderly
life. No lovers, no complications. Just business.

She tried to figure out where LiHoun was leading her, but
there were gaps in time as the conduit dragged her into his oblivion. It took a
moment to notice that she’d lost awareness of her surroundings and even longer
to fight her way out of the vapor. The street sloped a bit too much to be the
Quarter of Delights. Green jellylantern light glowed from the few windows and
doorways that were open, so they weren’t in a Thampurian neighborhood. That
narrowed it down quite a bit. If she was right…

QuiTai pulled away from LiHoun. “Oh no.” She shook her head
and muttered, “No, no, no,” but she saw they’d stopped at the front stoop of
the apartment building she dreaded. “Kyam Zul? He probably won’t be happy to
see me, and he’s no healer.”

“Come inside, quickly. The rain is letting up, and people
may venture out onto their verandas.”

LiHoun was right.
Besides, where else could she go? The chill was coming on again, and she didn’t
think she could walk to her nearest safe house. Even if she could, she’d be
alone. As much as she hated to admit it, she needed help.

They slipped into the foyer. Muddy shoes sat in neat rows
against the wall. She bent down to remove her sandals, but LiHoun nodded to the
landlady’s door as a warning and pulled her up the stairs. LiHoun keep a
steadying hand on her elbow. She suppressed her resigned chuckle. Here she was,
the powerful crime lord of Levapur, and she couldn’t even climb a flight of
stairs on her own. She didn’t feel menacing or intimidating.

As they paused to rest on the third floor landing, she
whispered, “I hope you know what you’re doing, uncle.”

“I’m not taking you to Kyam Zul.”

“Then who? There’s only one other apartment on the fourth
floor...” She groaned as the other possibility revealed itself to her. “Let me
guess. One of the escaped slaves decided to stay on Ponong, so he or she moved
in with a sister or cousin from Cay Rhi who lives here in Levapur.”

LiHoun’s cat’s eyes were full of awe when he turned to her.
“The Oracle told you that?”

“No.” Kyam Zul had told her about the family from Cay Rhi
who lived across from him when they’d been on the
Golden Barracuda
. The rest she’d figured out on her own. QuiTai was
in no mood to explain all that.

“I told them all to leave the island for their own safety,”
she grumbled.

“Not everyone is inclined to obey you, grandmother.”

“I told you to see to it that they went.”

They reached the
fourth floor landing. The door to Kyam Zul’s apartment was to the right, the
other apartment door on the left.

“Some are even less
inclined to obey me, especially this one. She’s almost as headstrong as you.”

LiHoun knocked on the door. A curvy woman with a worried
brow opened the door a few inches. The strong smell of fish soup made QuiTai’s
stomach rumble. She hadn’t eaten properly in days. The woman glanced over her
shoulder as she blocked their view of the room.

There was a brief, hushed conversation before the door
pulled open to reveal a taller woman.

“RhiHanya. Why did I know it would be you?” QuiTai meant to
sound exasperated, but she knew she grinned at the woman who had helped her and
the slaves escape from Cay Rhi. She’d never been able to resist the charms of
women who swept through life like divas on the stage, or one who kept her head
when all hell was breaking loose.

 
RhiHanya’s wide
smile showed the beguiling gap in her front teeth. Her hand shot out to grab
QuiTai’s forearm and yank her into the apartment. “Wolf
 
Slayer! I knew we were fated to meet
again. Don’t hang in the hallway! Come in.”

QuiTai’s face mashed against RhiHanya’s bosom as she was
engulfed in an embrace. It was the most inviting pillow she’d rested her head
on in days, but she wriggled away. The other woman watched like a nervous bird.
Her face puckered with worry.

RhiHanya’s voice was like a warm, soft blanket to snuggle
into on a chilly night. “Well ‘have you eaten’ to you too, little sister.”

Nothing irritated QuiTai more than being lectured about her
manners, especially since hers were normally flawless.

“If you’ve come by
to tell me to leave this island, don’t bother. I wouldn’t listen to that
scrawny old man, and I’m not about to obey you either, little sister,” RhiHanya
said.

Two young boys and a girl sat at a low table near the
typhoon shutters that led to the veranda. Papers filled with carefully copied
letters from the Thampurian alphabet covered the tabletop. They watched
silently as QuiTai limped into the room. Finding her uninteresting, they turned
back to their school work.

QuiTai grimaced. Children. When she left the Dragon Pearl,
she should have gone to one of the apartments she kept in Levapur and sent for
LiHoun. He could have brought a healer to her. She’d made many mistakes this
evening, but this one was unforgiveable.
 
She had to find a way to back out gracefully without insulting LiHoun or
the Rhi women.

The apartment was no bigger than Kyam’s place across the
hall, and the walls and ceiling were just as damp. Steam rose from a pot on the
cooking fire. A neat stack of sleeping mats sat in the corner behind a dying
frame with a half-finished sarong spread on it. Only the Thampurian-style divan
on the back wall seemed out of place.
 
Perhaps it was a gift from Kyam. He’d mentioned that he was friendly
with his neighbors.

“This is my cousin, RhiLan.” RhiHanya pointed to the woman
who’d opened the door.

RhiLan put her hands together and bowed. Her wide eyes fixed
on QuiTai.

“Auntie QuiTai is in
need of assistance. A wound on her ankle is infected, and she has a fever,”
LiHoun said.

RhiHanya tsked as
she bent down to look. “You should have drained that before it got this bad.
Puncture wounds are dangerous.”

“I was involved in another pursuit.”

“There were more wolves than that one you ki–”
RhiHanya’s mouth snapped shut as QuiTai’s gaze sharpened.

I shouldn’t be here.
Why are there never good solutions, only less terrible ones?

QuiTai turned to LiHoun. “It isn’t right to ask a favor if
they don’t know how big the favor is.” Next, she looked to RhiLan, not
RhiHanya. “The colonial militia will be searching for me soon, if they aren’t
already. If you’re caught harboring me, they will execute your family. I will
not take offense if you turn me away, auntie. Your first duty is to your
children, and I respect your need to protect them above all else.”

Please, please send me away. Think only of
your family, RhiLan.
But
QuiTai had seen that worshipful expression before. Normally it amused her. Now
it dropped a cold stone into the pit of her stomach.

RhiLan cast a quick glance at her children. Then she pressed
her hands together and bowed again. “The Rhi clans owe you an honor debt that
isn’t forgotten at the first sign of danger. The Wolf Slayer is welcome under
our roof.”

“Now you get off that ankle and let me have a look.”
RhiHanya lifted QuiTai and carried her across the room to the divan. “You’re
burning up, little sister.”

RhiLan rushed to her cooking fire and put a tea pot on the
flame. “Hitouh root, for fever.” She pulled open small drawers in the wooden
cabinet set above her chopping block and muttered as she took each item out.
“Dried jikal buds to strengthen your blood. Tiuhon leaves to restore your
spirit.”

“And a knife,” RhiHanya said as she carefully peeled the
bandage away from QuiTai’s seeping wound.

LiHoun was
immediately at QuiTai’s side. His hair stood on end and his ears flattened.

QuiTai winced as
skin pulled away with the bandage.

The children looked
up from their work. Without a word, they quickly stacked their papers away and
then stepped through the typhoon shutters onto the veranda.

“We’re going to have
to open those punctures so they can drain,” RhiHanya said. She locked her gaze
on QuiTai. “And flush them with water until they’re clean. Otherwise, we’ll
have to use maggots.”

While she understood
and agreed, QuiTai couldn’t help but shudder a little.

RhiLan put the blade
of her knife into the cooking flame before reaching for her herb cabinet again.
“And black lotus, for mercy.”

Hadre
refused to be humiliated
by his new command, even though the
Winged Dragon
should have been scuttled
years ago. Once upon a time, a very, very long time ago, the
Winged Dragon
had been the pride of the
Zul fleet. As he inspected the junk, Hadre found the hull sound and the ageing
vessel meticulously maintained. Malk, being the son of one of Grandfather’s
daughters, probably never expected to be promoted from his command and thus had
made the most of it. But still, the sails were in terrible shape, as if the
junk had been caught on the fringes of a typhoon, and the rudder needed an
overhaul.

Grandfather knew how to pick his punishments.

After dinner with
his officers in his extremely small cabin, Hadre dismissed them and sat down at
the scarred desk to write his weekly report. Grandfather probably expected
complaints. He’d be damned if he’d humor the old tyrant.

Lately, his mouth
constantly pressed into a tight line. Defying Grandfather was always wasted
effort, but he couldn’t have lived with himself if he hadn’t tried.

It took quite a long
time to compose his message. Words of frustration and anger snuck into what
he’d hoped would be a polite and emotionless report. As he wrote, the paper
filled with snide remarks that he crossed out. He balled it up and threw it
against the unpacked trunk that held his few possessions. It bounced off the
trunk and rolled under his desk. He took a fresh sheet and began again.

Sir, after inspecting
the
Winged Dragon
, I have found it to
be seaworthy and well maintained through the excellent leadership of Cousin
Malk and his diligent crew. However, I would like permission to replace the
sails before we venture out of port, as it is typhoon season and I doubt they
would withstand strong winds.

The officers had not
been informed about the cargo we are to take on and I was unable to ask cousin
Malk before he took command of the
Golden Barracuda.

His former ship’s name came out in fat lines that blurred
together as he pressed too hard on the pen. Grandfather wouldn’t see his
writing, though, so he continued.

If we are to bring a
shipment of medusozoa back to Thampur, I would be obliged if you’d arrange to
have the rudder refitted upon our return. However, if we are scheduled to sail
to the Li Islands, it would be best to perform the necessary maintenance before
we attempt to negotiate the Ponong Fangs. Please advise. HnZ

That, he decided, was the best he could do. He rose from the
desk and opened a cabinet on the wall beside the door to the flying bridge. A
small desk folded out. The keyboard for the ship’s farwriter slid forward. He
made sure the battery connections weren’t corroded, consulted his journal for
today’s frequency, and carefully typed out his prepared message.

Hadre had already placed his journal into the desk drawer
– neatness was mandatory on a ship – and was about to lock away the
farwriter when the little brass bell on the side struck, indicating that he had
an incoming message. The message would print out even if the farwriter was unattended,
but the Zul way was to read and destroy all messages at the soonest possible
moment, so while he was in no mood to read Grandfather’s reply, he waited for
the message to print, tore off the scroll of paper, and read it.

Have you heard if the
Qui woman was apprehended? TtZ

How like Grandfather to completely ignore his message;
unless the old man had sent his before he received Hadre’s.

The message puzzled him. After Grandfather ordered him to
take the colonial militia, Kyam, and Lady QuiTai to Cay Rhi, he’d then ordered
Hadre to sail back to the harbor. Kyam hadn’t said a word about what happened
on the cay, although he’d hinted that he was under orders to keep quiet. His
questions about Lady QuiTai had been met with averted eyes and a sudden change of
subject. Why would the soldiers need to apprehend her? Did it have something to
do with her escape from the fortress?

When Grandfather had arrived on the
Winged Dragon
with his odd troop of soldiers, he’d seemed to know a
lot more about recent events in Ponong than Hadre did, but like Kyam and the
colonial militia, he hadn’t shared any information. That was typical
Grandfather.