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

by Jill Braden

  Kyam was more surprised that she’d already met with Voorus than he was to see her in the rowboat coming from the fortress. He was a bit jealous to see her accomplishing so much while he foundered. “I’m sure she had her reasons.”

  “I escorted her home. She was safe.”

  “What danger do you imagine she was in at the fortress?”

  “I– Well– It’s no place for a woman,” Voorus said.

  “No, indeed, especially if she’s Ponongese.” Kyam paced the dock. “Could they row any slower?”

  “I think she’s trying to tell us something.”

  Nashruu was waving her hands frantically over her head. She cupped her hands around her mouth, but her voice was swept away in the breeze. She gestured emphatically to the fortress and pointed somewhere upslope, but they couldn’t guess the message. She tried to grab an oar from one of the soldiers. They easily shoved her away, but they moved a bit faster.

  “She’s something, isn’t she?” Voorus grinned.

  Kyam turned to him slowly. It only took a little slip to reveal the truth. Voorus and Nashruu. His half-brother and his wife. His gaze lifted to the sky as his mouth set in a grim line. The only swear word strong enough was a guttural, “Grandfather.”

  He wasn’t even sure why his temper snapped. He knew when he’d married Nashruu that any child she bore wouldn’t be his. But the way Thampurian men saved face when their woman cheated was to kill her. He hated that way of thinking, but years of being told that real men wouldn’t allow her to live if she shamed him were hard to ignore.

  “It wasn’t her fault. I seduced her. Please, don’t hurt her,” Voorus begged.

  Kyam clapped his hand on Voorus’ arm. “I won’t. You’re a good man to try to protect her.”

  Voorus still looked worried. “She’s entirely innocent.”

  “Oh, ho! I doubt that. Now look here, don’t panic. It’s okay. She’s not in danger. Not from me. You have my oath on it.”

  “You’re not just saying that? Don’t hurt her.”

  “I’m not going to hurt her.” Kyam realized his raised voice wasn’t making his case. He motioned for calm. “We need to have a long talk about Grandfather and this clan, and why you have to believe me when I say that I will not harm Nashruu.”

  “You looked angry.”

  Kyam would not lose his temper. He would not. He set his jaw and patiently explained. “I’m sorry if you misread my facial expression. It had nothing to do with her.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m–” He had to bite his tongue and soften his voice again. “I’m sure.”

  “Then what were you thinking about?”

  Why wouldn’t Voorus let it go? Now he had to lie. “I was thinking about Lady QuiTai.”

  Voorus chuckled. “She will do that to you. Make you a bit crazy.” He rubbed his chin. “Are you and Lady QuiTai…?” He made hand gestures that might have implied sex, although Kyam found them incomprehensible.

  “No.”

  “It’s just, sometimes it seems you two are…” Voorus shrank back from Kyam’s grim look. “Oh, look. The rowboat is almost here.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Kyam stood back as Voorus leaned over to reach for the rowboat’s sturdy bow. It rocked violently as Nashruu rose. He helped her up onto the dock as one of the soldiers tossed the bowline to Kyam.

  Nashruu gestured frantically toward the fortress. “We don’t have a moment to spare. Cuulon’s there, and he’s taken Lady QuiTai into the torture chamber. I ordered Colonel Hurust to stop him, but he simply ignored me.” She gasped as if this outburst had used the last of her breath. “You wouldn’t happen to know where I can find a farwriter, do you?”

  Kyam put a foot on the bench in the rowboat but kept the other on the dock. “Try the Harbor Master’s office at the end of the wharf. Contact Grandfather and see if he has any soldiers hidden in Levapur. If he does, gather as many as you can and bring them to the fortress, quickly. If he doesn’t, warn Intelligence that we have a situation here and the colonial militia may have gone rogue.”

  “Oh no! You’re not going to drag Intelligence into this! Grandfather won’t stand for it,” Nashruu said.

  Voorus stepped between them. “We need help right now. Don’t be picky about who sends it. You two can work out credit for her rescue after she’s been saved.”

  Nashruu made a face, but she nodded.

  “Go now. I’ll do what I can at the fortress.” Kyam finished boarding the rowboat. “Go with Nashruu, Voorus. Persuade people to be helpful to her.”

  “You may need my help.”

  Kyam reached over to remove the rope from the cleat holding the boat to the dock. “That’s why I need you to join me at the fortress as soon as you can.”

  “Oh!” Nashruu clasped her hands over her mouth. Her eyes were wide. She pointed at the fortress with a trembling hand.

  The boat rocked wildly under Kyam as he turned to see what had frightened her.

  A prisoner convulsed at the end of a rope beneath the fortress rampart. The legs kicked frantically as the prisoner tried to get her hands free. The body swung and twisted, bouncing against the stone walls with each kick.

  Kyam staggered back a step. Horror silenced him as a tsunami of hopelessness engulfed him. He sank to the bow bench as his knees weakened.

  QuiTai didn’t have one last scheme up her sleeve. She was gone.

  Despair punched his gut. Nothing felt real. He wanted to claw back time and do it over again. He wanted to go to the fortress instead of going to see Lizzriat again. Why hadn’t Nashruu stayed by QuiTai’s side and protected her? Hadn’t she understood the danger QuiTai had been in?

  A wave of disbelief hit him. It couldn’t be her. But hope died in his heart. Who else would they have killed? Cuulon had gotten to her.

  You could drown in despair, he thought. It was heavy water that seeped into your clothes and pulled you under the surface. Even if you managed somehow to stay afloat, the misty misery clogged your lungs and made you breathe in great sobs.

  Hopeless, he tried to find something to grasp onto. All he had was anger. This was all QuiTai’s fault. She’d made him arrest her. She’d tricked him into it, and now it had backfired on her. She wasn’t as smart as she thought she was. She shouldn’t have risked this much. And for what? He’d never know.

  How could she do this to him? She’d promised freedom and then snatched it away. She was a cruel devil, a demon. For years, he’d made it clear that all he wanted was his old life back. She knew that. She knew it and she took it away from him again.

  Kyam pursed his lips and drew in a deep breath.

  He hated her.

  “Are we going or not?” one of the soldiers asked.

  He turned away to hide the tears brimming in his eyes. Why had she insisted on going to the fortress? She should have let him know what she was up to. Maybe he could have helped her.

  But why would she have confided in him? He’d done nothing but sulk since the rice riot. It was his fault they’d grown apart.

  Damn her. Damn her to hell. She shouldn’t have let him treat her like that.

  Kyam forced himself to look at the fortress, but couldn’t make his gaze go to the body dangling, lifeless now, from the rope. Soldiers were leaning over the ramparts to watch the hanging. He was too far away to see their faces, but he imagined them smirking.

  The soldiers in the rowboat with him laughed as they imitated the prisoner’s frantic kicking. Kyam came to his feet and grabbed the nearest one by the collar. He knocked the soldier down and pummeled his face.

  Voorus jumped into the boat and grabbed his arm. “We don’t have time for this.”

  He had all the time in the world to wipe the smile off the soldier’s face forever. The other one huddled against the stern as he tried to pull the oar out of the oarlock.

  QuiTai was dead. The universe had come to an end.

  Nashruu shouted from the dock. He ignored her.

  Voorus grabbed h
is arm and held on tight. “It’s a man, Kyam. Look. A man. It isn’t her.”

  Panting, Kyam looked up.

  He couldn’t see the purpling face, but he saw now that the prisoner was a man. So why did his heart still feel as if it were going to crack his ribs? He knew the hanged man’s tongue was swelling now, his last breath burning in his lungs. Terrified and desperate, he’d spend his last seconds in horrible pain.

  “From his sarong, he’s Ponongese, but he’s a man,” Voorus said.

  He heard what Voorus said. Part of him understood, but he was so blinded by grief that he didn’t see immediately. Slowly, the truth dawned on him. QuiTai was still alive; he wasn’t too late.

  Kyam slowly groped his way back to the bench. He licked his lip, tasted blood, and knew it wasn’t his.

  He looked at the corpse. How had he ever thought that tall man was his QuiTai? Even the sarong was the wrong color. His relief was short-lived, though, as he realized Voorus was right. He’d let another innocent person die because it felt like wasted effort to make things right. His stomach clenched with a new kind of sickness.

  “What did he do?” Voorus grabbed the beaten soldier by the collar and glowered down at him. “Why is he being executed?”

  “Don’t ask me. We didn’t have any prisoners except the Devil’s whore. Not that I knew about. He’s just a damn snake. Why do you care?” the soldier whined. He shot a fearful glance at his companion. The other man shook his head hard and gripped the oar to his chest.

  “Why did that happen?” Voorus shouted as he pointed at the fortress.

  The soldier’s face scrunched up, as if bracing for a blow. “I don’t know! Maybe he fanged someone.”

  Enraged, Voorus shoved the soldier back down. His nostrils flared as his chest rose and fell rapidly. Completely disgusted, he shook his head. “That!” he said to Kyam. “That’s what happens when good men hold their tongues. Take a good look, Governor, because you know who it will be next time.”

  Voorus climbed onto the dock and stomped to the beach. Hands on hips, he looked up at the cliffs and shook his head several times as if struggling to keep his temper. He turned suddenly and waded back through the deep sand. “Okay. We have to stop Cuulon from killing her. But this matter does not go away. Do you hear me?”

  Should he make a promise when he knew he wouldn’t be around to see it through? Kyam wished he had QuiTai’s talent for bending words into artful paper cranes. He wasn’t proud of himself for doing it, but he was politician enough to nod as he pushed away from the dock with one of the oars and began rowing. One thought of QuiTai at Cuulon’s mercy made him put his back into it.

  Chapter 21: A Dungeon Deception

  Hurust couldn’t move his head. He was at the far end of the torture chamber, yet only a second ago he’d been ten feet away, at the door. He felt as if he were falling backward, and he tried to use his arms to brace or balance, but they wouldn’t move. Struggling didn’t help. He’d shackled enough prisoners to the torture board to know there was no escape. He tried to shout, but only gurgled. His eyes darted back and forth.

  He didn’t know how this had happened. Cuulon had shut the door to the torture chamber a mere second ago. He remembered a sharp pain on the back of his hand and looking down to see a thorn in it. Then, suddenly, being transported across the room and secured to the board. There was nothing between.

  Cuulon was slouched in a chair with a foolish grin on his face. He had dreamer’s eyes. Hurust didn’t smell black lotus in the stale air of the torture chamber, so how had Cuulon taken vapor?

  He saw two thorns sticking into Cuulon’s cheek and understood. They weren’t thorns; they were darts. Somehow, that snake had smuggled a hunting pipe into the fortress.

  Hurust flinched as a familiar voice whispered in his ear.

  “Normally, I wouldn’t waste my time chatting with you. That’s for stage villains. But I want you to suffer as much as possible, so that means letting you know what’s coming.”

  A young, small soldier walked into his line of vision. Why didn’t the lad do something to help him?

  “When you sent your dogs to attack PhaJut’s brothel and the Pink Orchid, I wasn’t unduly worried. Militia dirt have been swaggering through the Quarter of Delights since long before you came here. Cleaning up after your sort is the cost of doing business. But then you had had my lieutenants murdered. That got my attention.”

  Hurust recoiled as he heard her voice coming from the soldier. Where had she found a uniform? How had she turned Thampurian?

  Her Thampurian eyes rose, as if rolling back into her head, but underneath were snake’s eyes. His fingernails scrapped the board as he tried to dig through them.

  “Killing my people was a foolish mistake, Colonel. They’re valuable. You aren’t.”

  The iron band around his forehead stopped him from shaking his head. He struggled against the shackles. His heart beat fast and hard against his ribs. Her kind didn’t have a soul. She’d do terrible things to him no civilized man would think of.

  She watched him writhe with a wry smile. There was no pity in her. He’d heard so many stories, but none of them had prepared him for the pure evil before him.

  “I understand business. I built my organization by eliminating my competition. Did you think for a moment that I’d let you get away with killing my people so you could take over the black lotus trade? When you hanged all the werewolves, you thought you were free to resume your trade – yes, I know that’s why you were exiled from Thampur – but you only removed the lowest level of distribution. The werewolves were unimportant and easily replaced. When you move into someone’s territory, you take out the brains of the operation, not the brawn. Do you know what galls me? I mean, other than the waste caused by your excessive stupidity? All this sanctimonious talk of racial purity to get these moronic soldiers to do your dirty work. It’s ear poison. It seeps into the rest of the filth you Thampurians brought to this island, like a disease. It ruins lives in small ways and big ways you’re far too stupid to realize.”

  Her eyebrow arched. “But you’re going to get a glimpse of it very soon.”

  Enraged, he shook.

  “Well, this has been a lovely chat, Colonel, but as I told you, it bores me. You bore me. To death.”

  She dragged the small table Cuulon sat behind to the torture board and climbed up on it. She knelt gracefully and leaned close to his face. He tried to shrink away, but couldn’t.

  QuiTai pulled a long gold necklace from inside her blouse and unscrewed the top of the vial hanging from it. Her little finger pressed into it and came out with a daub of black lotus tar. He tightly closed his eyes as she reached for his face.

  She daubed the black lotus into the corners of his eyes. Against his will, his eyelids relaxed. She forced his upper and lower lids wide apart.

  He tried to blink as her finger came close to his eye again, but she had complete control over him. A small lens balanced on the tip of her finger. He screamed as her finger neared, and then touched, his eyeball. His legs tried to kick, but the unyielding shackles allowed him only to twitch.

  The uncomfortable lens made him blink rapidly as she released his eyelid.

  “Have you never worn a costume lens before? They’re a bit scratchy, but I assure you that you can’t blink them away.” She put one in his other eye.

  QuiTai hopped off the table. Hands clasped behind her back, she perused the grid of torture devices as she had before, only this time her tiny feet moved at a purposeful pace. “Aha! That’s what I was looking for.”

  She stood on the tips of her toes and reached for one of the metal gags. Testing the weight of it in her hand, she came back to him and climbed back onto the table. She paid no attention to him as she arranged items around her within easy reach.

  “Open wide.” She gave him a stern look. “Now really, do you think you’re going to be able to stop me?”

  He’d be damned if he’d help her torture him. He clamped his mouth shut. />
  “I was hoping you’d do that.” Her hand shot out and gripped his nose.

  His throat clenched. He tried to twist away but couldn’t.

  “How heavy do your lungs feel? What would you pay for one deep breath?” She leaned over to pick up the metal gag and examine it.

  One little gasp of air. Just one. He didn’t need to open his mouth that much. She wasn’t looking; he could do it before she realized–

  Her gaze locked on his. Slowly, the corner of her mouth curved.

  His face flooded with heat as his lungs burned. So this was what it was like to drown. His body fought him. His lungs demanded fresh air. If only he could push her away!

  He couldn’t hold out any longer. If only he could take a quick breath when she didn’t expect it. He tried to breathe through his nose, but she had it pinched so tight that his ears popped from the pressure.

  She watched him closely as she held the bar against his lips. Her eyes glowed as she watched him struggle.

  Desperate for air, Hurust gasped in a breath.

  She shoved the bar into his mouth. It was like a horse’s bit. Sharp pains jolted through his teeth as it banged against them. His lips felt like they would rip. She pushed it so far back he began to retch. He’d used it on prisoners before; the idea that Ponongese tongues had touched the bar made him nauseous.

  “Why?” he tried to ask as his tongue pressed against the bar. The taste of rusty metal filled his mouth. Drool spilled from his lips.

  “I went to so much trouble, and considerable risk, to arrange our meeting today. Imagine how crushed I was that you refused to visit me. Everyone else trooped in to pay their respects, but you? No.” She pressed the back of her hand against her forehead. “Absolutely crushed.”

  His strained his eyes trying to see if Cuulon were coming around. If they’d both been dosed at the same time, why wasn’t Cuulon coming out of dream?

  Her gaze followed his. “Don’t worry about him. I gave him a double dose.”

  He reluctantly looked into her eyes as her fingertips lifted his chin.