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

by Jill Braden

  “You know I’m going to deliver you to them even if you are a fake,” he said.

  “As well you should. Deliver what they asked for. If it doesn’t work out, it’s not your problem.”

  “I could swear you almost want to work with them.”

  She made a face that made him uneasy. Maybe she did. Who knew what sabotage she had planned?

  The muscles along his spine flexed when he heard something big move in the far, dark corner. He lifted the jellylantern and took a few steps toward the sound.

  QuiTai spoke so quietly he had to turn back and lean close to hear her. “Pay attention, because this may be my only chance to share this information with you.”

  “You changed your mind?”

  She still seemed reluctant to speak. “I won’t tell you who murdered Turyat, but I’ll tell you what happened leading up to his death. Late morning, I found Turyat and Cuulon passed out on the veranda at the Red Happiness. Turyat woke as I opened the shutters and followed me inside.”

  That was what he’d seen.

  “Turyat begged me for black lotus and even threatened me, but I turned him down.”

  “Is it true that you forbade anyone to sell black lotus to him, practically torturing him with his addiction?”

  “Yes.”

  She didn’t hesitate a moment about admitting that. She looked him right in the eyes. Killing Turyat would have been an act of mercy on her part, and she wasn’t the merciful type. Torture was more her style. He couldn’t blame her, though. And Cuulon should be careful. QuiTai might be biding her time, but eventually, she’d find a way to torment him too.

  “While Turyat was bothering me, PhaSun came creeping down the staircase. She about jumped out of her skin when she saw me there.”

  “PhaSun again? Inattra mentioned he had to practically pull PhaSun out of the street and hide her from the militia.”

  “Inattra is an excellent employee.” Her voice sounded oddly flat.

  “He’s had a rough day. The militia destroyed the bar and drank all your liquor. He’s trying to get the place ready to open by tonight, but he’s stopped to help me several times.”

  “The militia reminds me of Petrof’s werewolves. Thugs, all of them. Criminals, really, trying their hand at intimidation. One wonders who their shadowy overlord might be.”

  “Yes, yes. The militia are bad. I get it. I thought you wanted me to focus on Turyat’s murder.” Kyam wiped away the bead of sweat trickling down his temple. “Inattra said PhaSun was actually trying to summon the militia. Does that sound right to you?”

  QuiTai paced the cell as she pulled at her bottom lip. “It fits my theory. Yes, I can see it. It was a stupid thing to do, but she isn’t the smartest person, obviously. I strongly urge you to find her, and soon.”

  “We’re trying. I have RhiHanya and LiHoun working to lure her out of Old Levapur.”

  “They will,” she promised.

  His relief at her renewed sense of urgency must have shown.

  “You were talking about the Red Happiness. Go on.”

  “I told PhaSun that I had to go meet a passenger on the Golden Barracuda this morning and didn’t have time to listen to her try to get Inattra in trouble. I went into my office to change out of my soiled dress – something that I’m surprised you knew about, or did you simply guess from what you know about me?”

  If he admitted he’d watched her from behind a tree, it would sound like he’d been spying on her. “I believe I mentioned that you were seen by a witness.”

  “Oh, yes. I forgot.”

  The hell she did. She never forgot anything.

  “Alas, I didn’t have another continental style dress in my wardrobe, so I was forced to change into a sarong. When I came out of my office, Turyat was still there. I’m fairly certain he and Cuulon were waiting on the veranda for PhaSun. My workers don’t rise before noon unless there are many coins involved.”

  He pushed his bangs out of his eyes. It was like standing in an oven down here. He had no idea how QuiTai could look so composed after several hours in the dungeon, especially since she’d been wearing two layers of clothing when he’d brought her here. If it had been acceptable, he would have taken off his jacket.

  She was speaking so quickly he was afraid he’d miss something important. He had to solve this mystery and bring the real murderer to the fortress as soon as possible, or the military would execute her for the crime. If only he knew what questions were the right ones to ask. If only she’d answer. If only he’d be able to figure out the truth in spite of her answers.

  “Do you think PhaSun was planning to sell Turyat black lotus despite knowing you’d cut him off?”

  “I had my suspicions that’s what was happening, but since I had to leave and no one else was awake, I didn’t feel it was a good time to fire her. She destroyed drapes and a chair when I announced that Inattra would take Jezereet’s position as Madam. Quite the temper, that one, and no attempt at self-control. So I didn’t tell her that I knew what she was up to. I thought I’d have time to take care of the matter this afternoon.”

  Every word counted, he reminded himself. He hoped he could remember all this, because she wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation to hide clues for him in her story. All he had to do was pick them out.

  “I told her that when I returned from the harbor, Turyat had better still be itching for vapor, or someone–” She caught Kyam’s gaze and held it. “Someone would lose their job. My exact words: someone.”

  “Then?”

  “I left. Turyat was still alive.”

  “PhaSun can verify that?”

  She spread her hands. “I’m in a difficult spot here. If I want you to believe her when she swears Turyat was alive after I left, I shouldn’t mention that she’s a troublemaker and a liar. If I want you to ignore aspersions she might cast on Inattra, then I’d want you to know her true character.”

  “I see. And she won’t cast aspersions on you?”

  That clearly troubled her. “I can’t imagine why she would. If she does, let me know. I may have to reassess.”

  “If I can’t find her soon, you may have to rethink this noble but stupid stance of yours and tell me the solution to this mystery.”

  “What good does my version do you if you don’t have proof? I’m telling you to find the clues – find the proof. Then, if you still have trouble figuring out the story they tell, I will give you my interpretation. But you know as well as I do that you’ll never believe I’m innocent unless you prove it to yourself.”

  “Why does that matter to you?”

  “I’m taking the long view here, Kyam. It’s a risk. I know that. But it’s one I’m willing to take because things are going to get very complicated from here on out. The arrival your wife in Levapur proves that. So does this race to recruit me.”

  “I don’t get it. You want me to start trusting you again because Grandfather sent my wife here?”

  “Find PhaSun. Hurry, Kyam. Time is ticking away.”

  He wanted to ask her so many more things, but she made him feel as if he were falling behind, so he reluctantly left.

  By the time he was on the beach, doubt was nagging at him. It seemed as if she’d wanted him to leave her. He couldn’t put his finger on any exact thing, but he was sure she’d tricked him somehow. Again.

  Chapter 15: Voorus Learns the Law

  Voorus had never given much thought to his living quarters before. He didn’t have visitors. But now that Mityam sat in his sagging best chair, the apartment embarrassed him. A dusty spider web hung from the ceiling. His plates were gaudy. The prints that hung on his walls hadn’t been popular in a decade. He should have paid extra for a white light jellylantern rather than his usual green, but once he opened the doors to the veranda, natural light overpowered the sickly glow.

  Mityam clutched a teacup in his curled fist and stirred in sugar. Voorus thought about offering help, but hesitated. That might be an insult. Not offering to help might be a
n insult. The entire day had been full of moments like this. He was so on edge that he almost wished QuiTai hadn’t hired Mityam to tutor him.

  They’d only met several hours before, so the subject of how much help was wanted seemed embarrassingly personal. Maybe in the thirteen families they taught you how to gracefully work through this situation, but the only thing he’d been taught was repulsion for anyone who seemed ill.

  He sank into the wingback chair opposite Mityam and kept sinking until his knees were higher than his backside. Maybe he should have picked up some cakes to serve.

  “You have something on your mind, Captain,” Mityam said.

  Voorus immediately blushed. Was he supposed to acknowledge that it took forever for Mityam to climb the stairs? Did a proper Thampurian ignore his guest’s struggles? “I’m going to say something that might offend you, but I’m not sure how else it might be said. Unfortunately for us both, it is a matter I feel must be addressed.” He rubbed his thighs as he tried to figure out how to say it. “It appeared to me that three flights of stairs were a difficult climb for you, although you know yourself better than I, so please correct me if I’m being presumptuous.”

  Mityam shrugged, but Voorus thought it was agreement.

  “If this is too much for you to do every day, I should probably come to your apartment to study. Unfortunately, I wasn’t told that a ground floor apartment would be more convenient for you, so I arranged for a place up one flight.”

  “I was quite a bit spryer when QuiTai last saw me, and I wasn’t exactly forthcoming in our letters.” Mischief lit Mityam’s eyes as he leaned forward. He confessed with a conspiratorial wink, “I didn’t want her to think of me as an old man. Pretty young girls don’t talk to you when you look thirty years older than you are in your mind.” He tapped his temple.

  Did elderly men still think about things like that? He realized with some surprise that Mityam did. The idea that he considered QuiTai a young girl, and someone to flirt with, was too odd for Voorus. He decided to ignore it, as one would any embarrassing social gaffe, and prayed that there wouldn’t be any more comments like that.

  “I’ll find another place for you soon. If only Lady QuiTai were free, I’m sure she’d find something suitable by tomorrow,” Voorus stammered.

  If only she were free. But she wasn’t, and the day was slipping away. What was he doing having tea with a thiree instead of helping Kyam find a way to free her?

  Voorus hated to be petty, but if QuiTai were executed, who would pay Mityam’s fees?

  “I noticed that you and Governor Zul call her Lady QuiTai. I wasn’t aware that our mutual friend was titled. Is she a native princess? She never mentioned a family name, so many of us suspected she had a secret past. She always had a regal aloofness to her,” Mityam said.

  Newcomers to Levapur always had strange ideas about the island and the Ponongese. Voorus remembered with some embarrassment things he’d believed even after living in Levapur a few years. “It’s not like that. They don’t believe in a central authority. How it works, I don’t know. It seems like chaos to me. Did you know that if a child knows more about something than everyone else, they will listen to her opinion?”

  Mityam seemed as aghast as he’d been.

  “Qui is QuiTai’s clan name, or her tribe, or something like that. It’s confusing at first because Old Levapur is in the ancestral lands of the Pha clan, so it will seem as if half the Ponongese you meet in Levapur have the same name. Pay attention to the second half, so you can tell them apart.” Voorus winced. A year or so ago he wouldn’t have thought twice about saying something like that, but now that he heard it in his own voice, it sounded so insulting. The Ponongese didn’t all look alike.

  “Are there many Qui around? Do you called her Lady QuiTai so everyone knows who you’re talking about?”

  Voorus snorted. “There’s no question people will know who you mean if you say QuiTai. And no, there aren’t many Qui. Aren’t any Qui, I guess. Not since…” He winced at the memories. “I’m not sure why we call her Lady QuiTai. If we were Ponongese, I suppose we’d call her auntie, or grandmother–”

  Mityam chuckled. It took Voorus a moment to figure out why, and then he laughed with the old man, because he could imagine the horror on a Thampurian woman’s face if anyone hinted she was old enough to have grandchildren. His own grandmother had demanded he call her Aunt Iolya. He wondered now if that was vanity or embarrassment that he was a bastard. He stopped laughing.

  “Anyway, I’m not sure who started it, but someone recognized that she’s in a class by herself, so they gave her a title befitting her stature.”

  Mityam couldn’t seem to find the words, until he could. “You can’t go around handing out titles. Someone might mistake her for real nobility.”

  It struck Voorus that only a thiree would be upset by the idea of someone being treated as their equal. He was shocked when the next realization came to him – that all Thampurians would react the same way if they suspected someone might be treated as if they belonged to a higher caste. Thankfully, the Ponongese could never pass as Thampurian because of their eyes, but when QuiTai wore continental fashions and arranged her hair in upswept curls rather than her braid, she appeared uncomfortably similar to a Thampurian lady of means. He’d been fooled by her once, until she’d raised the heavy mourning veil on her hat. If she ever conquered the curse of her eyes, no one would ever suspect the fanged menace among them. The idea made him shiver.

  “It’s too bad she isn’t a secret princess, though,” Mityam grumbled. “I saw her play a bare-breasted native queen once on the stage. Very exotic.”

  As Mityam’s eyebrows wriggled, Voorus tried to picture QuiTai on a stage without a blouse. The mental picture didn’t strike him as exotic. In his vision, she looked fearsome, and the audience cowed by her power.

  Mityam’s eyebrows stopped their lascivious dance to arch. “It bothers you when I speak of this.”

  “I can’t imagine my instructors back in Thampur ever discussing something so racy.”

  “Instructors? You do mean tutors, don’t you?”

  There was no use pretending to be someone he wasn’t. “No, sir. Only regular school.”

  “Yes, yes. I’ve lectured many times to rooms full of young men, so I know that system. It’s an efficient way to teach many students at once, but what I dislike about it is that I must make speeches and you must take notes, and then I must test to see what you’ve memorized. Memorization isn’t the same as knowing something, really knowing it and understanding it. You have to take it off the shelf and turn it over and poke inside it to learn what it means. Memorization is only the ability to tell me what it looks like on that shelf.”

  To Voorus, school was rows of small desks in a bleak school room, with boys in matching uniforms writing the same lesson while the teacher loomed over them. It was chanting the lesson in unison for the headmaster. It was misery.

  “Have you heard of the Ingosolian Ikoreet Orsuna?” Mityam asked.

  “I saw his bust in the library at the military academy. Someone had put a festival hat on his head and flower leis around his neck.”

  “I have a copy of his writings in my trunk if you’d like to borrow them. Back in his day, lessons were more like a conversation. He’d say something, his student would ask what it meant, and they’d explore the answers together. If that method was good enough for the greatest philosopher in antiquity, who am I to say he was wrong?” Mityam shrugged with false modesty.

  Voorus rose and went to his desk. His entire library stretched across the back of it. He had never learned to enjoy reading. “I have here a copy of the Thampurian legal code. All thirty-two books. Plus this little one for the colony. Is that where we start?”

  A professorial air came over Mityam as he settled back in his chair. His voice rang through the room as if he were addressing someone in the hallway. “Normally, I’d spend a week explaining the fascinating history and structure of our legal system, but I’m
interested myself to read these colonial laws that allow people to be executed without a trial, so let’s start there.”

  Voorus tried to hand Mityam the book, but he waved it away.

  “Find the judicial code relating to murder and read it to me. You should ask questions when something confuses you. And if something confuses me, well, we have a problem, don’t we?”

  It would take them weeks to get through a single page if they stopped every time Voorus got confused. He felt as if they should be doing something for QuiTai, something quick and active, something he was good at. All morning he’d felt as if his dreams were stupid, and now he felt useless too.

  But QuiTai wouldn’t have wasted her money if she’d thought he was hopeless. She wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to help him. Sure, she seemed to think he was an idiot; but she thought everyone was an idiot, and some of those idiots did quite well despite her opinion of them.

  “There’s nothing about trials or murder in the colonial laws. I’ve read this cover to cover three times. It’s all about taxes and land. There must be another book, because there are laws the militia enforces that I can’t find anywhere in here, and I’ve looked, believe me. When I asked the clerks for the book with those laws, they said it doesn’t exist.”

  “That’s rather interesting.” Mityam scowled at the book in Voorus’ hand. “Do you know why Chief Justice Cuulon was exiled to Ponong?”

  Voorus was mortified. “No, and we don’t–”

  “I can see from your face that it’s a taboo subject. I wonder who conned people into believing that the past is best left buried. Although I guess everyone here is guilty of something they’re ashamed of.” Mityam winked, although it was hard to see under the weight on his wild white brows. “Cuulon was a policeman of some repute for his tough stance on crime. He kept the lower castes in line. Brutally. And everyone looked the other way when he punished or executed people he said were criminals. Of course their families complained, but when someone dies, we’re used to the family cutting a fine burial shroud for them. We assume they lie about the virtues of their dead. The lower castes, after all, are inherently criminal classes.”