Tempt the Devil (The Devil of Ponong series #3)

by Jill Braden

  He owed her for having abandoned her earlier. This one time, he’d help her; but after this, she was on her own. “It’s a mistake to assume Lady QuiTai behaves in any way like a normal Ponongese.”

  “Well, then, what would she do if she hated me?”

  “Kill you.”

  Shocked into silence, Nashruu snapped her mouth shut. It pleased him in a grim way. Hadn’t Grandfather warned her about how ruthless QuiTai could be?

  “She arranged the deaths of those werewolves, but–” She was still flustered.

  “Oh, she wouldn’t kill you over me. As you said, I’m only a discarded conquest. It would have to be something important, something she cared about deeply, before she’d bother to make you bleed. That’s when you know you’ve arrived. But trust me when I say that she’s dangerous. You have no idea who you’re tangling with.”

  Nashruu seemed to be collecting herself quickly, but not nearly as fast as she’d need to when she dealt with QuiTai.

  She cleared her throat. “But she’s in no position to negotiate anything, now that she’s been accused of the former governor’s murder.”

  The bad feelings piled on top of each other. Why was Nashruu talking about negotiations? Was she trying to cut in on his deal with QuiTai?

  “So you know about the murder,” he said.

  “It was all the talk when I went to that pastry shop near the bank.”

  “You’re been busy.”

  “Grandfather likes results.”

  It was like being back in Thampur. Sometimes, he hated that place. The humidity in Ponong during monsoon season made the air seem to weigh heavily on his lungs, but it was nowhere near as stifling as the atmosphere in the salons of Surrayya.

  “Why did you go to the fortress?”

  “About an hour after you deserted me in our courtyard, Grandfather ordered me to visit her. We had tea and cakes, and talked about the murder, among other things.”

  He would have laughed at the image conjured in his imagination if matters hadn’t been so dire. “Thus the visit to the pastry shop.”

  She nodded.

  “How’d your meeting with Lady QuiTai go?”

  She glanced away.

  “Don’t feel bad. I know you’re used to living in a world where Grandfather controls all, knows all, and wins all, but this isn’t Thampur. She will eventually beat you and, you will never even see it coming. Ask Grandfather about that.”

  A thought dawned on Nashruu. He could read that much from her face. She’d have to learn to control her expressions better.

  “You respect her,” she said.

  He wasn’t sure how he felt about QuiTai anymore, but every time her name was mentioned, his emotions roiled.

  “Grandfather respects her too,” she said.

  “That alone should warn you what sort of person you’re dealing with.”

  Nashruu leaned forward. “What does she want? I can’t even figure out how she thinks.”

  Damn it. Grandfather was up to something. He wasn’t sure if he should ask Nashruu about it.

  Nashruu slapped her glove in her lap as if she’d lost patience already. She’d never last if she thought things happened quickly, especially in Levapur. Every action had a reaction, but it was delayed, or muffled, or oblique. In Levapur, you pushed, and then ran for cover and waited for the pendulum to swing back at your head, no matter how long it took.

  “She must want something,” Nashruu said.

  “For herself? I have no idea.”

  “Would you tell me if you did?”

  He had to be careful here. “I wasn’t aware that you and I were enemies.”

  “You and Grandfather have suffered a rift. I’m his agent in Levapur now, although you probably don’t need to be told that. You might feel that puts us at odds, but I’m more than willing to work with you when our interests are similar.”

  She’d been tutored by Grandfather for years. The training showed. He shouldn’t underestimate her, ever. Yet rather than being more guarded, he relaxed. Marriage was beyond him, but professional relationships he understood. “I don’t know what QuiTai needs or wants. I don’t think anyone knows her well enough to answer that question. She’s not the chatty type.”

  “You’d think her life would be enough leverage, but she turned down my offer to save her from the noose.”

  Save QuiTai? That was his job.

  He couldn’t say that out loud, though. He couldn’t even hint at it, because she’d report it back to Grandfather, and the old man would try to use it to get him back under his control.

  He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. “It seems her life would be the ultimate bargaining tile, but it wasn’t, was it? Sometimes, I think she doesn’t particularly care if she lives or dies. After Jezereet, and her daughter and her parents…”

  He realized the truth of what he said as the words came out of his mouth. It gave him pause to think that QuiTai might be willing to die. Might want to. How hard had this last year been for her?

  Nashruu huffed as she slouched. “So she doesn’t want anything? How can I negotiate with that?”

  “I didn’t say she doesn’t want anything. I said there’s nothing I can think of that she wants for herself. What she wants, I think, is justice.”

  Nashruu slowly rose to her feet. The expression on her face looked a lot like QuiTai during one of her aha moments. The similarity unnerved him. What if he was married to the Thampurian version of QuiTai?

  Once Nashruu had a thought, she evidently ran with it. She ignored him as she mused aloud. “Of course! She’s Qui. Grandfather told me the Qui clan’s goddess is the Oracle of Justice, or Vengeance. I’m not sure of the exact translation. Grandfather used the words interchangeably. QuiTai was raised to think of herself as the vessel of justice. So all I have to do…”

  Kyam dreaded the words that weren’t spoken. Nashruu’s building excitement worried him. Who was this woman he was married to? What was she thinking? If he stared at her long enough, would he figure it out?

  “By the way, Kyam, I know you’re at odds with Grandfather, but don’t even think of meddling in this to get even with him.”

  “Revenge would never be my motivation.”

  That was a lie so big he was embarrassed by it. Of course he’d get revenge on his Grandfather if he could. He waited for her to call him out on it, but she was completely wrapped up in thoughts of QuiTai. He could almost commiserate with her.

  He wondered what deal she was trying to make with QuiTai. What would Grandfather want with QuiTai this time? And why would he send Nashruu to get it? What special powers of persuasion did Nashruu have?

  As he watched Nashruu’s agitated pacing, something nagged at the back of his mind. There was something different about her. It wasn’t only her manner. His breath caught as he watched his wife cross the room. “You changed clothes.”

  She gave him a look as if he were an idiot. “And here I thought men never noticed such things.”

  He pointed at her. “You were in a different outfit this morning.”

  The idea dawning on him was terrible. He slowly rose from his chair. Had QuiTai tricked him? He felt a little queasy. A bit embarrassed. And heartsick.

  No. He wasn’t heartsick. He was over her, and she’d never draw his soul’s blood again.

  He had to turn off his emotions and be logical. That was the way to get through this day.

  There was no way QuiTai could have been at the harbor and at the Red Happiness at the same time. She couldn’t have killed Turyat. But why had she changed clothes? Not just once, but twice.

  Nashruu stared at him. “You’re onto something.”

  He knew where his investigation had to go now. His fingers fumbled with the top button of his jacket.

  “Whatever you’re doing, don’t you dare interfere with my mission, Kyam. Grandfather will crush you.”

  “Pardon me. Have to go.” He slipped past her, through the door, and was running at full stride by the tim
e he reached the courtyard.

  Chapter 13: In QuiTai’s Office

  Kyam stepped around Ponongese women caning the seats and backs of damaged chairs on the veranda of the Red Happiness. Inside, several people on their hands and knees were sanding the old finish from the floor. The smell of fresh paint was strong. Another group was pasting the wallpaper’s curling corners to the plaster. Even the brothel’s workers had been put to work on the banister and stairs.

  Inattra watched Kyam pick his way around the newly stained patches on the floor from behind the bar. He plunged a glass into a bucket of steaming, soapy water and wiped it with a rag before rinsing it in another pail. “How can I help you, Governor Zul?”

  “I have a few more questions.”

  Inattra sighed heavily.

  “I know you’re busy, so I’ll be quick. Early this morning, Lady QuiTai was seen on the veranda in a yellow dress in the newest continental style: a military style jacket and a narrow skirt.”

  “I’m aware of the latest fashions in Rantuum.”

  Kyam ignored the sour tone. “An hour later, she was at the harbor in her traditional green sarong. Now, I know that she doesn’t tell anyone where she sleeps, and she has many safe houses around Levapur, but she didn’t have much time to change clothes, so she may have done it here. Does she keep a room in the brothel?”

  “No.”

  Kyam scratched his brow. “You do realize that I’m trying to help her, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  When had Ingosolians become so tight-lipped? An ugly idea sprouted in his mind. What would happen to the brothel if QuiTai were to die? She didn’t own it; Jezereet’s sibling did. But that sibling, Evoreet, had never been to Levapur, as far as Kyam knew, so he’d probably let Inattra continue to run the place.

  “How much more do you make as the Madam here than you did as a worker?” Kyam asked.

  Inattra’s freckles flushed a deeper shade of blue.

  “I know money is a sensitive topic,” Kyam said.

  Inattra’s short bark of laughter made him wince. As the scion of one of the richest families on the continent and colonial Governor, those words took on a completely different meaning when they came from him.

  “QuiTai said I can still take customers even though I’m the Madam, and sometimes I do, but not often. I don’t need to.”

  QuiTai had a reputation for paying her people well, so that didn’t surprise him. Still, for some people, no stack of coins would ever be high enough. He tried to remember how many tables and chairs had been in the bar before, and used that number to calculate what the bar might bring in. How many rooms were upstairs, and how often were they used per night? Plus the take from the liquor and drug sales… and maybe he was wrong, but that added up to a tidy sum. Take away the average rent for a building this size and the worker’s cut, and there was still quite a bit left over.

  “This place mills coin faster than a mint, doesn’t it?” he said.

  Inattra seemed even more wary. “We do all right.”

  “Have you ever thought of opening your own place?”

  Inattra picked up another glass and dunked it into the suds. “It’s a big, bad world out there, Governor. PhaJut’s brothel was robbed last month. His workers and customers were roughed up by a gang of men. Thampurian men, but ones not often seen in town.”

  “From the plantations?”

  “Two months ago, the Madam of the Pink Orchid was murdered by a customer. Here, I enjoy QuiTai’s protection. No one in this town would be stupid enough to bring that kind of violence under this roof. Other than the damage the militia did here this morning, of course. I’m paid twice what the Madams of the other brothels make, QuiTai doesn’t charge rent for my room, and I don’t have an owner’s headaches. Ask anyone in the Quarter of Delights and they’ll tell you my job is the best one in Levapur.” He rested his hands on the edge of the bar. “But only a fool would want it.”

  “Why is that?”

  Inattra sighed again. “I’m exaggerating. It’s been a difficult day.”

  Kyam made a sympathetic noise.

  Inattra licked his lips as he squinted at Kyam. After a long moment, he seemed to have reached a decision. “QuiTai has standards that no one else would demand from their workers. They aren’t impossible to meet, and she rewards people who uphold them, but sometimes it’s a huge pain in my ass. Most people don’t have any idea how meticulous she is. Some of the workers here grumble about how I don’t do anything but flit around the room and chat with our guests every night as if I’m at a party. They crawl into bed when the last customer leaves; I’m still awake two hours later doing the books. They rise after noon and have a leisurely breakfast while their rooms miraculously clean themselves. The bar is always stocked, problem customers magically go away, the jellylanterns never fade, and the floor is never sticky. Sometimes, I think QuiTai is the only person who appreciates what I do.” His expression hardened. “Some lazy little liar may think she can take my place, but I’m not going anywhere, and if she does get me fired, she’s going to learn real fast that it isn’t as easy as she thinks.”

  Every business had internal squabbles, Kyam supposed. The bickering in the government building was deafening at times, so why should the Red Happiness be any different? He didn’t have time for workplace gossip, though. There was a murder to solve.

  “About QuiTai – if she doesn’t have a room here, where might she change clothes?”

  Inattra jerked his thumb toward the splintered door to QuiTai’s office. “She has a wardrobe in there.”

  “I need to have a look.”

  “And I suppose I need to accompany you, because QuiTai would never forgive me if I ever let someone in there without watching them. Make it quick, Governor. I have a lot of work to do before we open tonight.”

  ~ ~ ~

  QuiTai’s office door swung open part way and then rebounded toward Kyam. It wouldn’t open further no matter how hard he pushed against it. Splinters snagged his trousers as he sucked in his breath to slip inside.

  The small room was well lit by jellylanterns. It had no windows and only the one door, although he assumed at least one hidden passage had been built into the walls, because QuiTai would never leave herself only one escape route.

  A tall iron safe stood behind the door. From the deep drag marks in the flooring, someone had tried to move it but had given up. Scrapes on the metal dial and around the edges of the safe door showed futile efforts to pry it open.

  “The militia did that too,” Inattra told him. “The plan was to carry it down to the fortress so they’d have time to figure out the combination.”

  “Too heavy?”

  “That, and one of them was smart enough to measure the doorway before they tried to push it through.” He knocked on the door frame. “She had this made of metal too, so they couldn’t saw away the wood. This room was built around the safe. They could push it back and forth over the floor all day, but they’d never get it out of the room, and it would take months to try all the combinations.”

  “But you know it?”

  Inattra showed him bruises ringing his wrist. “That’s what the militia thought. I use the smaller safe inside the wardrobe. The soldiers didn’t even look for it. Once they saw the behemoth, they focused on that. I’m lucky they didn’t try to beat the combination out of me.”

  “Why didn’t they?”

  “They got in a few blows before I lost my temper and shifted masculine. They recognized testosterone-fueled rage when they saw it. My muscles ripped my best jacket into rags.” He squeezed his biceps. “We Madams have to deal with belligerent drunks all the time. We make sure we have the strength to beat them. The militia is no different from a drunk – except drunks rarely rob you.”

  Kyam knew he should do something about the militia’s thuggery, but soon they would be another Governor’s problem.

  “It’s not that I don’t care what the militia did, but I have to concentrate on the murder. Can y
ou come in here and tell me if anything strikes you as odd?” Kyam asked.

  Inattra’s slim frame easily slipped around the door. They stood shoulder to shoulder and looked at QuiTai’s office.

  It was difficult to know where to look first. The far wall was covered in clocks, most of their workings exposed. The pendulums were swinging out of synch, and he had to resist the urge to force them into unison.

  Books filled every shelf of the bookcases. Many were stacked on top of other books. He knew QuiTai spoke several languages, so it didn’t surprise him that the math, science, and technological manuals seemed to come from every country on the continent. That didn’t interest him as much as the fantasies on the opposite shelves. People might call them toys, but the beautiful mechanical gadgets were so much more. Inventors in Ingosol built scale models of their machines to show potential investors. Some were crafted by professors to demonstrate concepts to their students, but others, such as the motion picture viewer on the middle shelf, were sold in stores.

  He could have spent all day exploring her private collection. It was a rare insight into the most private person he’d ever met. If only Inattra would go away and let him absorb this peek inside QuiTai’s brain! But the mismatched ticking from the wall of clocks reminded him that he didn’t have time for that.

  The scale model of a rigid balloon sat in pieces on a side table. Kyam thought at first that the militia had broken it, but then he saw the journal with sketches of the parts underneath the model. Beside the drawings were formulas and notes that went to the bottom of the page and then turned up the side and continued. He moved a set of tiny gears off the page and lifted the journal to show Inattra.

  “I don’t recognize this alphabet. Do you?” he asked.

  Inattra shrugged. “Maybe it’s Ponongese.”

  He set the journal down. “They don’t have a written language.”

  Inattra gingerly reached out to touch the motion picture viewer. “These were Jezereet’s. QuiTai was always bringing them to her. Sweets, too, imported all the way from Rantuum. Jezereet wouldn’t eat them, so she always gave them to us. Jez didn’t like the fantasies and follies either.” He sounded wistful. “I can’t imagine being loved like that. I can’t imagine being loved like that and not caring.”