by Jill Braden
Tempt the Devil
Copyright © 2014 by Jill Braden
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
Published in the United States by Wayzgoose Press.
Edited by Dorothy E. Zemach.
Maps by Will Mitchell.
Cover design by DJ Rogers.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Tempt the Devil
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Jill Braden
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Table of Contents
Glossary
Note: The glossary contains terms and names from all three books: The Devil’s Concubine, The Devil Incarnate, and Tempt the Devil. Terms from Tempt the Devil (except characters and place names) are hotlinked to the glossary the first time they appear. Click on the link to go directly to the glossary definition; then use the ‘back’ button on your ereader to return to your place in the novel. You may also enjoy simply browsing through the glossary before or after reading the novel, to immerse yourself more fully in the world of Ponong. The glossary comprises Foreign Words, Terms, and Cultural Notes; Races and Beings; and Places.
Map of Levapur
Chapter 1: A New Arrival
Chapter 2: The Governor’s Favor
Chapter 3: The Marketplace
Chapter 4: Nashruu Begins
Chapter 5: To the Fortress
Chapter 6: Motives
Chapter 7: Kyam Investigates
Chapter 8: At the Dragon Pearl
Chapter 9: A Social Call
Chapter 10: Reporting to Grandfather Zul
Chapter 11: Lizzriat Explains
Chapter 12: The Widow Turyat
Chapter 13: In QuiTai’s Office
Chapter 14: A Dungeon Meeting
Chapter 15: Voorus Learns the Law
Chapter 16: Nashruu Returns
Chapter 17: Educating Nashruu
Chapter 18: Cuulon
Chapter 19: PhaSun
Chapter 20: At the End of Their Ropes
Chapter 21: A Dungeon Deception
Chapter 22: The Murderer Revealed
Chapter 23: And for Her Final Trick, a Disappearing Act
Chapter 24: The Beginning
Map of Levapur
Chapter 1: A New Arrival
She was vapor: insidious, addicting, forbidden.
She was QuiTai, the Devil’s right hand – and often his left one too. Former actress, former prostitute, former mistress to kings and prime ministers, she was a dangerous mixture of ruthlessness, charm, intelligence, and cunning. And she was in Kyam’s dreams again.
This time, she wasn’t a lover or his partner in adventure. Instead, she showed him the slums of Old Levapur, and forced him to look at the bodies of executed prisoners hanging from the fortress walls. Nothing he said would stop her from revealing horrors.
He woke relieved to find himself alone, yet he reached across the sheets to make sure she wasn’t beside him. It was his ritual after dreaming of her.
Birds chirped happily in the snakeflower tree outside his window. He pulled the pillow over his head, but there was no way he could fall back asleep.
He sat on the edge of the bed a long while. From the angle of the sunlight coming in through the typhoon shutters, it was already late morning. He had to be at the wharf when the Golden Barracuda arrived, and according to the farwriter message he’d received last night, they expected to be dropping anchor about now.
Still, he didn’t rise. Sighs lifted his shoulders. Time slipped past and he let it go.
He ran his hand over his face. He could rub away sleep, but he couldn’t erase his sense of dread. It clung to him every day that he was stuck on this infernal island. The worst of it hit him in the morning as he walked across the town square to his office. The sight of the gold sea dragons wrapped around the red columns of the government building was like piling stones on his already sinking heart.
It was QuiTai’s fault. She’d condemned him to this when she’d made him look like the hero of the rice riot, and Thampur’s grateful king had named him governor of the colony. Grandfather had made sure of that.
He had to escape from this damned island. Last night, he’d seen a glimmer of hope; this morning, he couldn’t decide if he dared think of freedom. He would make up his mind later. For now, he would go through the motions as he did every day. He would get up and shave. He’d get dressed. Any moment now.
Eventually.
Kyam pushed aside the mosquito net and rose from his bed. The household staff he’d brought to Levapur had already deserted him for better positions, so he didn’t have a valet to pick a sherwani jacket that conveyed the right message for today. What did one wear to greet one’s wife when she appeared uninvited on one’s doorstep? In their eight years of marriage, Kyam and Nashruu had never spent a full day in each other’s company. Now they were to live under the same roof. They’d be trapped together in hell. No jacket, no matter how perfect, was going to make that any easier to endure.
~ ~ ~
The Zul family compound had been the first one erected in Levapur after Thampur claimed the island archipelago as a colony. It was on flat land—a rarity on the mountainous island—near the sea bluffs. It was also a rather long, hot, walk from the town square, much further than the less exclusive neighborhoods. By the time Kyam reached the Dragon Bridge, which connected his neighborhood to the outskirts of the Quarter of Delights, his collar was already damp with sweat.
The jungle had reclaimed the ravine under the bridge like an invading army digging under fortress walls. It climbed the steep dirt walls and spilled out into a small stand of trees. Somewhere in the undergrowth were the remains of a drainage system and stone walls from the pre-colonial days, when the native Ponongese had farmed this land. He averted his eyes when he passed the ruins, but that didn’t stop him from knowing they were there.
A flash of bright yellow through the trees reminded him of Ponongese eyes. The first year he’d lived in Levapur, he’d spent far too much time wondering if it were the Ponongese’s oval pupils or the narrow yellow irises that made their eyes seem so alien. Since meeting QuiTai, he’d decided it wasn’t her eyes but what lurked behind them that chilled the heart.
He stopped abruptly and darted into the trees as he realized what the yellow was.
QuiTai was heading downhill to her brothel, the Red Happiness. She wore the latest Continental fashion – a form-fitting jacket with military flourishes over a long, narrow skirt that hugged her legs to below her knees.
Longing for her pained him. He hated himself for wanting to hear her voice, for wanting to speak to her. She was vapor, and he was an addict. He had to get as far away from her as he could, far from this island, where he wouldn’t be tempted by his desires anymore.
With some difficulty, QuiTai climbed the first step to the wide, white veranda that wrapped around the pink building. Her skirt was too narrow. He heard the seam rip as she forced the step. Frowning, she twisted around to look at the back of the skirt. A flicker of annoyance passed across her face. As she turned back to the brothel, something on her sleeve caught her eyes. She lifted her arm to peer at it. Her frown deepened.
Kyam hadn’t noticed the two men in the white wicker chairs until the former colonial governor, Turyat, rose and staggered
to QuiTai. The other one appeared to still be asleep, but from that distance, with the veranda railing and the side of the chair blocking his view, Kyam couldn’t be sure.
Since Kyam had been named as Turyat’s replacement, the avuncular man had turned from a causal user of black lotus into a vapor ghoul. His belly no longer filled his jacket. Pale skin made his addict’s red lips seem brighter.
QuiTai unlocked the typhoon shutters as Turyat advanced on her. Her shoulders tensed. Turyat smoothed a lank strand of hair across his balding head. He had the look of a kicked dog. As QuiTai opened the shutter, she shook her head in one, firm motion. Turyat shouted. He gripped the shutter so she couldn’t close it.
Kyam held back. If he swooped in to save her from Turyat, she might be grateful, but more likely, she’d give him that look, the one that always made him feel like an idiot. She could take care of herself. He needed to talk to her, but this wasn’t the place or time. She looked busy. Besides, meeting with her inside the Red Happiness would give her the advantage. It was better to bring her to his office.
Who was he kidding? She held all the tiles. Always. He would be at her mercy no matter where they talked.
~ ~ ~
The Golden Barracuda, pride of the Zul clan’s merchant fleet, had already set anchor before Kyam arrived. The painted eye on the hull watched disapprovingly as he stepped out of the funicular car. Maybe he should have worn the blue jacket.
The briny scent of the harbor taunted him. As he crossed the white sand beach, waves surged toward his boots and then merrily slipped away. They could return to the sea. He was marooned here.
The wharf sat on a narrow band of beach under fern-dotted red dirt cliffs. A miniature marketplace did a lively business on the weathered wooden walkway in front of the warehouses. Cargo men shouted at vendors to get out of their way.
Kyam shoved his hands into his pockets and lowered his chin as he walked past a sailor haggling over a caged gray monkey. He could have told the man that Captain Zul wouldn’t let him bring it on board, but he didn’t want to explain how he knew. He glanced up at the hull towering over him. His cousin, Hadre Zul, captain of the Golden Barracuda, was probably still on board. They’d once been the best of friends; then QuiTai came between them, but not in the usual way. Hadre had sided with her and Grandfather in the conspiracy to make him Governor. That stung deeper than anything QuiTai had done. After all, only a fool trusted her. Then again, when you were a Zul, only a fool trusted family.
Yet, he understood why Hadre had lent QuiTai his support. One day he’d forgive his cousin and extend a hand. His hands shoved deeper into his pockets. Today was not that day.
As the gangplank lowered, unexpected worry gripped Kyam. What if he didn’t recognize his wife Nashruu and her son Khyram? The wharf was crowded. Everyone would witness his mistake, and the gossip might fly as far as Thampur.
He’d lain awake many nights dreading this moment since receiving Grandfather’s message that Nashruu would be joining him in Levapur. He had no idea how to be a husband or father. He couldn’t even pretend well. What if they hated each other? He’d seen too many family compounds at war within their walls. What if she blamed him for taking her away from her posh life in Surrayya and bringing her here, to exile and imprisonment? What did she expect from him? He felt as if he owed her apologies, some for other things he couldn’t even think of yet.
Despite his worry, he knew Nashruu immediately when he saw her on the deck. She was nice. He remembered that now. You could tell by looking at her that it wasn’t in her nature to be cruel. His smile grew.
Her boy, Khyram, hung over the junk’s railing. She pulled him down gently. The boy had grown so much in the past three years. No longer a toddler, his face had thinned. His boney wrists showed as he pointed at everything interesting on the wharf. Questions spilled from his mouth, but he didn’t seem to expect answers from his mother or the cluster of servants huddled on the deck as if afraid to set foot on the island.
Nashruu lost her grip on Khyram as he darted down the gangplank to gape at a man’s articulated leg. Before she could catch up, he’d moved on to poke at a basket of spiky huwewe fruits. She called after him, but the noise of the crowd swallowed her voice.
A cargo net swung over the wharf directly over Khyram’s head. Kyam lurched toward him but the crowd held him back. He shoved people aside.
“Khyram! Careful!” Nashruu yelled.
Khyram looked up, and then bolted out from under the net. Still running, he looked back over his shoulder at his near miss. Kyam and Nashruu shouted warnings as the boy raced toward the edge of the wharf.
Khyram came to a sudden halt as someone gripped his arm. Startled, he stared up at the person who’d saved him from plunging into the shark-infested harbor.
Kyam’s temper boiled. Why was QuiTai here?
Khyram shrank back from her.
She wouldn’t hurt a child, would she? Had she come here to meet his wife? Did she plan to make a scene?
The corner of QuiTai’s mouth curved into a smile as she looked down at the boy. She said something to Khyram that made him stop squirming. He glanced at the water, then tugged on the hem of his jacket and spoke to her.
Despite her narrow skirt, Nashruu edged around the cargo net and through the men unloading it before Kyam thought to move. She hurried over to QuiTai and Khyram.
His heart froze. They were talking. His wife and his… he could hardly call QuiTai a former lover. She was his obsession. His enemy and passion. His ticket off this island.
Fate had a nasty sense of humor, and he was the butt of her joke.
“Excuse me.” Kyam scrambled around a black lotus seller talking to the ship’s doctor.
QuiTai let go of Khyram. She bowed to Nashruu with her palms pressed together. Whatever Nashruu said seemed to strike her as funny, but her expression was polite enough.
Three sailors strolled down the center of wharf as slowly as they could, boasting about their plans for the Quarter of Delights. No one could get around them. Kyam shoved them out of his way and hurried to Nashruu’s side to protect her.
QuiTai craned around as if she’d lost sight of someone. The hairs at the nape of Kyam’s neck rose when her gaze fixed on a shadowy warehouse doorway. He didn’t see anyone, but there was a subtle shift in her face. She turned back to appraise Nashruu, as if suddenly finding her interesting. Her gaze dropped to Khyram. Kyam’s heart caught in his throat. He knew that expression. It was the most frightening look he’d ever seen, and he knew it all too well. QuiTai was thinking.
Her gaze flicked up to him. Now her face was a mask. Did she know? She couldn’t know. There was no way she could know from a glance.
QuiTai said something to Nashruu, inclined her head, and stepped away. He would have followed her and demanded to know what she was thinking, but the crowd closed behind her and he lost sight of her.
Nashruu turned and seemed surprised to see him. “There you are.”
Kyam offered his arm as his spirits sank. This was real. She was here, anchoring him to the island more firmly than before.
He had to talk to QuiTai. Today. It was probably too late already. He’d waited too long. Again.
~ ~ ~
On her mother’s side, Nashruu Zul was third cousin twice removed from her husband, Kyam. They were also first cousins on her father’s side, at least on the family’s official scrolls. Her true sire had been recruited for breeding, without his knowledge or consent, from the crew of a Zul junk. The donor had not been chosen by her mother. Rather, her grandfather, Theram Zul, had selected him because he possessed three prized qualities: intelligence, excellent health, and no Zul blood.
From her unknown father, she’d inherited her enviable nose, gracious nature, and hair that could not look bad under any circumstance. Her height and elegant hands came from her mother. Grandfather Zul took credit for honing her native intelligence through his unconventional tutoring, but stopped short of claiming he’d taught her how to think. H
er sense of humor was entirely her own.
Nashruu hadn’t expected a warm welcome when she stepped off the Golden Barracuda, but Kyam barely seemed to notice her. He’d behaved atrociously to that native woman, barking at her like that when all she’d done was save Khyram’s best suit from a dunking. As they walked to the funny little shack on the beach to buy tickets on the funicular, he glanced behind them several times, presumably to glare at that woman.
“What did she say to you?” Kyam snapped.
For a moment, she thought about pretending she didn’t know whom he meant, but until she knew him better, she didn’t dare provoke the Zul temper. “She said, ‘Welcome to Levapur, Ma’am Zul.’ Her Thampurian was quite good. I told her we had no need of staff right now, but to keep in touch. Oh, I suppose I should have asked for her name.”
Kyam pinched his nose and coughed as if he’d swallowed one of the tiny gnats hovering about. “What did she say to you, Khyram?”
She fretted that her son might let the strange land distract him, but he seemed as wary of Kyam as she was. He answered as if he were addressing Grandfather.
“I said her eyes were strange, Sir. She said she was Ponongese and that I would see a great many people with eyes like hers. Then she warned me to be more careful on the wharf.” Khyram’s thin chest puffed out. “I reminded her that I’m a sea dragon, and I’m not afraid of falling into the water. She pointed to a shark and said my parents would probably want to know about them.”
Nashruu was glad to see Kyam relax.
“Is that all?” he said.
“Then Mother came over.”
More tension ebbed from his shoulders. “Very well. Uh, how was the weather on your trip?” His gaze already rose over her head.
“It rained fish and the main sail caught fire,” she said. He’d asked already. She saw no reason to answer truthfully if he wouldn’t listen.
