by Jill Braden
Now she was one of those mysterious people sending messages to Grandfather. She pictured him hovering over the receiving farwriter. A card with her chop would be placed in front of the machine. A farwriter was dedicated solely to her.
After cranking the generator, she cleared her throat as if she were about to speak. Was someone reading what she wrote? Maybe QuiTai was right, but there was nothing she could do about it now. She had to report. Her short, slim fingers curved over the keys as she composed her message.
I went to the fortress as ordered. Made offer to Q. NaZ
And? TtZ
She could picture him tapping his fingernails on the table beside her farwriter. She’d never squirmed under the gaze of her parents or tutors, but she shifted uneasily now.
What would he want to know about first? She might as well get the worst out of the way.
Q refused deal. NaZ
Tell me the conversation, from beginning to end. TtZ
Nashruu realized she couldn’t remember QuiTai’s exact words. She wasn’t sure what had been said, what was implied, and what she’d imagined anymore. Grandfather would be so angry.
The farwriter’s bell rang again before she could type. He was impatient.
The conversation, in detail. TtZ
“I’m typing as fast as I can,” she told the farwriter.
We talked for a while. It’s difficult to remember exactly what was said. NaZ
I warned you that with her, one must pay attention to every detail. TtZ
He always made her feel miserable and stupid.
She cleared her mind and let impressions of the conversation float through it. What was important to pass along? Except that QuiTai had turned her down, not much. She shared QuiTai’s warning about the ship’s doctor and the sailors giving away the secret engine on board the Golden Barracuda as cryptically as she could. The longer she typed, the more pieces of the conversation came back to her. Her confidence rose. She could do this.
She doesn’t seem to care if she dies, or to want what you offered her. NaZ
Did she say what she wants? TtZ
Nashruu winced as she typed QuiTai’s words as faithfully as she could remember them. She expected the secret police to crash through the door and arrest her for repeating them. It had to be treason to even think of the King kneeling to someone, much less apologizing for stealing their land.
A typical negotiating tactic. It would be more convincing if her situation wasn’t so dire. Let her sit in the dark for a few hours and imagine the noose around her neck. Then go back and offer her less. She’ll fold as the sun dips in the sky. TtZ
I don’t think so. NaZ
You don’t think so? You know nothing. TtZ
She shrank back. Nothing was ever good, no effort was ever enough.
It gave her grim satisfaction to type, She said she’d go to the noose smiling because she denied you what you wanted from her. NaZ
Minutes passed. Nashruu picked at her fingernails and chewed on the cuticles. Simarn came in with her dress and parasol. She rose from the dressing table and let the sheet drop. Her maid averted her eyes as she helped Nashruu put on a sleeveless chemise with a pink silk flower at the neckline. Nashruu stepped into the skirt. It was always a tug-of-war to persuade her undergarments to stop bunching up under the silk. Once she’d donned the jacket, her maid smoothed her curls and placed a matching hat on her head.
Nashruu turned back and forth to examine the effect in the mirror. Would this outfit impress QuiTai? She felt it had an authoritative air. Satisfied, she dismissed Simarn.
The farwriter bell still hadn’t rung.
How simple this all had seemed when she and Grandfather had discussed his agents in the past. ‘Why don’t they just…’ she’d often said about an agent who seemed to be taking too long to accomplish something. Now she knew. It wasn’t so straightforward. Unexpected things happened. People didn’t behave the way you predicted, and when your entire plan hinged on them doing something, you were stuck with a useless plan if they did something else. This game wasn’t as fun as it looked from the outside.
The farwriter finally rang. She hovered over it and read the message as it typed out.
Go back to the fortress. Find out what she wants and give it to her. Then get her out of there before those idiots decide to hang her anyway. TtZ
She barely condescended to speak to me the first time. I don’t see her as the type of person who would waste her time on a pointless conversation a second time. NaZ
Find a way. TtZ
“Easy for you to say,” Nashruu muttered.
Did you offer her Kyam? TtZ
How could she explain to him that an encounter with QuiTai wasn’t like a dinner party? One couldn’t steer the conversation. There was never an opportunity to drop in a well-practiced piece of information. The malevolent intent was there, the coded phrases, the use of wit as a weapon, but it was as different from playing salon hostess as swimming in your human form was from swimming as a sea dragon.
I mentioned Kyam once, but there wasn’t so much as a flicker of recognition at his name. You told me she’d once been a prostitute, so maybe her kind thinks that way about men. NaZ
She was the mistress of the King of Houlton and other high ranking officials of nearly every country on the continent, so never make the mistake of thinking of her as a common whore. TtZ
“But you’re the one–” Nashruu slumped in her chair. Arguing with a machine as useless. Of course she didn’t think of QuiTai as a whore. Grandfather had made it perfectly clear that she was to be treated with the respect due any deadly, intelligent creature.
She looked at herself in the mirror above the dressing table. A tendril of dark hair stuck to her neck. Frown lines marred her forehead. Leaning closer to the mirror, she stared into her eyes. How had she ever thought she would be able to play this game? Everything was so far above her abilities that she couldn’t begin to compete against these people. Her gaze lowered.
Grandfather seemed to think his offer would work eventually, but she didn’t agree. He hadn’t seen QuiTai’s indifference. He didn’t understand what QuiTai wanted.
What could that woman want?
Nashruu made a face at her reflection. She had no idea. Grandfather thought he knew, but he was wrong. He’d framed a picture of QuiTai that was wrong from the beginning, and every decision he’d made about her since was still tainted by that error. It was as if he didn’t see the obvious, or refused to learn from his mistakes. He thought he was so clever and could bend anyone to his will, but that only worked if you understood how a person thought. He didn’t understand QuiTai. It was up to her to figure out how to deal with this woman. What did QuiTai want? Who knew her well enough?
Going to make inquiries. Signing off. NaZ
Chapter 11: Lizzriat Explains
The Dragon Pearl wasn’t the only casino in Levapur that banned Ponongese, but it was the only business owned by an Ingosolian that did. Kyam suspected the owner, Lizzriat, kept them out because his clients wanted him to, not out of any personal prejudice against the natives. Kyam wasn’t sure how he felt about Lizzriat, because it was so hard to figure out where Lizzriat stood.
Like QuiTai, Lizzriat knew the value of information. It was coin of the realm in the Quarter of Delights. His alliances weren’t clear, but his product was usually reliable.
Kyam had never heard the click of tiles in the Dragon Pearl before, but he’d never been in the casino this early. Bored dealers watched him climb the stairs without much curiosity. They were used to vapor addicts coming at all hours. He wondered how long it would take for rumors about him visiting the second story to spread through Levapur.
The door to the common den across the landing from the main staircase was open halfway. Dreamers shared a raised wooden pallet in heap of tangled limbs, uncaring for anything but the need for vapor. The strong, resinous scent of black lotus was stomach-churning.
Kyam crept down the hallway even though the t
hick carpet swallowed sound. Maybe it was the vapor fumes affecting his mind, but every time he walked past the opulent private dens where the rich took their pipes to the owner’s office, the purple and brown striped walls appeared to converge and the hallway to elongate before him. It always seemed to take twice as long as it should to reach Lizzriat’s door.
He knocked gently. While the ground floor of the Dragon Pearl was normally loud and boisterous, up here hush had settled like an overnight snowfall on a courtyard lantern. He thought he heard the rustle of silk and the quiet click of a lock, but it could have been a trick of his mind. He knocked again, this time sliding open the door as his knuckles rapped on the wood panel.
Lizzriat was reclining on a bed built into an alcove in the office’s dark bookshelves. His curly red hair sprawled across the pillows that propped him into a sitting position. He extended a hand with weary grace.
Kyam pushed the fall of lace from Lizzriat’s wrist and pressed his lips to the pale blue skin.
Lizzriat patted the mattress beside him, and Kyam sank into the soft bed. He wondered how Lizzriat could stand the layers of silken sheets and duvets swaddling him all night. The room was stuffy and too warm as it was, the air sour with sweat and another unpleasant scent he could not name.
“You’re kind to see me,” Kyam said. “I wouldn’t have disturbed you this early, but I’m on a tight schedule.”
Lizzriat’s mouth hardened, but he tried to sound idly amused. “One does not rush in Levapur, krith amaci. One surrenders to lethargy.” He reached for a small glass of garnet liquid on the nearby table and sipped it like a tonic.
“I don’t have the luxury today.”
Setting aside his glass, Lizzriat made a face. “I’m far too exhausted for cryptic messages. Let us borrow a tile from our native friends and be blunt.”
That suited Kyam. “If you insist. Lady QuiTai has been arrested for murder and will be executed as the sun sets.”
Lizzriat flinched at the mention of QuiTai and looked away. “It was bound to happen eventually. On suspicion, I assume. She’d never be stupid enough to leave evidence.” A quick slide of his gaze to Kyam’s face made that seem like a question. “Although I heard she was first arrested, and then she was accused of murder. Such a curious sequence of events, don’t you think?”
Intrigue was part of daily life in the Quarter of Delights. Of course Lizzriat already knew what had happened. He wasn’t asking. He was proving to Kyam the value of his network.
Smiling tightly, Kyam said, “I’m investigating former Governor Turyat’s death, and wondered if you had any insights. He spent a lot of time here.”
The ruffled edge of the blanket didn’t need to be straightened, but Lizzriat passed the time aligning the fabric. “Not lately.”
“I heard a rumor that he was off black lotus.”
Lizzriat made a sound between bitter laughter and a harrumph. “Not by choice.”
“So it’s true QuiTai cut him off.”
“She’s as brilliant as the diamond dust that sharpens a drill’s bit. You have to admire such a cruel imagination even if it repulses you. It’s almost artistic.”
“I think this is a folktale.”
“We all suffer by her hand. We enjoy it. We hate ourselves for our addiction, but oh, do we ever relish the pain she doles out. And that, too, is her art. She tattoos our hearts with self-inflicted scars.” Lizzriat grinned and winced.
That was far too close to the truth. Blunt was okay, but Kyam wasn’t prepared to stare into the darkest part of his soul today. He cleared his throat. “The part I don’t believe about–”
Where was it that Lizzriat was trying so hard not to look? He wouldn’t turn around right now, but when he left, he’d find a reason to look at the room behind him. Something there drew Lizzriat’s eye.
Kyam struggled against the soft abyss of the blankets to find a more comfortable position before he continued. “I don’t believe anyone could stop every single dreamer in Levapur from sharing their black lotus with Turyat. She can’t possibly control every soul in this town. The population is small compared to cities on the continent, but it’s no fishing village on the outer cays, either.”
“Noted, although I respectfully disagree with one of your assertions.”
“Back on the continent, possession of black lotus can send you to prison for life, but here, people use it like medicine.”
“It is medicine,” Lizzriat said.
“It’s poison.”
“All medicines are poisons. What do you think these concoctions our doctors give us do? They kill the sickness, and a little of the healthy part of us too.” Lizzriat lifted his glass again, saluted Kyam, and took another sip.
“My point is – you can probably find black lotus in half the households in Levapur. So someone buys a little extra and slips it to Turyat for a tidy profit. How would QuiTai ever know? She can’t control this many people. Simply not possible. It makes a nice story, but no. I don’t believe it’s true.”
Lizzriat rolled on his side. His fingertip traced the cream on cream pattern on his sheets as he spoke. “Turyat stole a vial of black lotus from a dreamer here. She blamed me. Cut off my supply for weeks as punishment. Do you know how I got back into her good graces?”
“Seduced her?”
His hand covered Kyam’s and squeezed lightly. “She and I, we flirt because it is in our nature to desire what is worst for us, but we’re not meant to be.”
“Because of the Devil?”
“The Devil? Pffft. Is he even fashionable anymore? No. QuiTai is terrifying enough on her own, which is part of her allure. I’m sure you agree.”
Kyam couldn’t deny it.
Lizzriat didn’t seem to like what he saw when he gazed into his own soul. “I earned her partial forgiveness the old-fashioned way: I informed on someone else who dared to give Turyat a pipe.”
“And they?”
“Know better now. We all do. She’s the harsh headmistress of the school of life.” His gaze flicked over Kyam’s shoulder again.
Kyam wondered if maybe someone were sneaking up behind him. His back tensed.
“But maybe now my debt is fully paid…”
Lizzriat fussed with his nightshirt’s sleeve. Kyam took advantage of the moment to look around the room. Clearly, it was more of an office than a bedroom. Where were Lizzriat’s clothes, if this was where he lived? A suit hung over the back of the desk chair. Was that what he kept glancing at? Had he been out earlier this morning? Few denizens of the quarter rose before midday. The only person he knew who habitually rose with the sun was QuiTai. Had the two of them been up to something earlier today? Was that payment on Lizzriat’s debt?
Kyam turned back to Lizzriat. “Who do you think would kill Turyat?”
Lizzriat’s head jerked. He stared at Kyam for a moment. “No one. It’s a nonsense murder.”
“How do you mean?”
“Why risk a death sentence to kill a man like that?” Lizzriat didn’t seem interested in the topic.
“Do you mean QuiTai?”
“I mean anyone. You’d have to be an idiot to murder a vapor ghoul.”
“I agree. You agree. Everyone agrees with that. And yet, he’s dead, and it was no accident.”
Lizzriat gently tapped Kyam’s thigh until Kyam got the message to rise from the bed, then shoved the covers down to his feet and then swung his legs over the side of the mattress. After wrapping a dusky red dressing gown over his nightshirt, he went to his desk.
“I think whoever killed Turyat made a huge mistake. QuiTai wanted him alive so he would suffer. Everyone knows that.” He paused to smile at Kyam. “Everyone who matters. So whoever killed Turyat probably didn’t mean to, and now they’re scared to death. They’d probably welcome being arrested by you rather than face her wrath when she gets out of the fortress.”
“If she gets out. And why don’t you think someone framed her?”
“Do you see anyone trying to throw fuel on he
r funeral pyre? Is anyone offering the colonial government more information to make sure she’s executed? Not that I’ve heard of. Think about that, Governor Zul.” Lizzriat opened a ledger a placed it near the edge of the desk.
“So no one wants QuiTai to die?”
“As infuriating as this town can be, can you imagine what it would be like without her? But of course, you came after the Devil took control. You don’t remember the bad old days of assassinations in the streets, or the time the werewolves burned my Dragon Pearl to the ground for refusing to pay protection money. That’s not the official story, of course, but everyone knows that’s why sixteen dreamers roasted alive that night. Even QuiTai’s enemies fear chaos more than they hate her. Except, of course, those lately arrived opportunists who are foolish enough to believe they are the embodiment of order.”
Pointed words meant Lizzriat had someone in mind. “Now who might that be?” Kyam asked.
“Is that the time? Goodness. My books need updating before tonight.”
Kyam knew it was useless to press for more right now, so he bowed.
“Tell Ma’am Zul that if she cares to gamble, we can open a line of credit for her. We can assume that you vouch for her?” Lizzriat’s eyebrow arched as he reached for his pen.
Kyam hadn’t given much thought to the subject of his wife. Nashruu had always been his Grandfather’s problem. She’d never asked him for as much as a coin. He had no idea where the money came from that kept her in designer clothes, or how her servants were paid. She’d need accounts with merchants in Levapur, and someone would have to keep the household budget, but did that come from his pocket now, or did she have her own money? He should have asked before she arrived. He should have known. But all he knew was that if Nashruu couldn’t handle money, they were in trouble. He’d done a terrible job of managing his remittance before he’d become Governor.
“If she plays deep, it’s at her own peril,” he said.
