by Jill Braden
Their gazes locked.
He didn’t know exactly how she’d done it, but he knew she’d made Hurust disappear. That was why she’d come to the fortress. And he knew that she saw he’d figured it out.
“What? Is that it?” Major Rheagus asked. “Are you finished?”
He turned to the major and Cuulon, expecting to see a sign that they suspected something was terribly amiss in the fortress. They didn’t. They were so many steps behind her that they might never catch up.
He had to get her out of here before they did.
After drawing in a deep breath, Kyam rushed through the rest. “After PhaSun struck the lethal blow, she went upstairs to hide. Inattra heard her door slam, woke, dressed, and went downstairs to find the body. Thinking she could turn it to her advantage, PhaSun raced downstairs, pretended to see his body for the first time, and then ran out in the street to summon the militia.”
QuiTai nodded.
“That’s it?” Cuulon roared. “My friend died because of a fight between whores?”
“Yes. Absolutely.” Kyam placed his hand at the small of QuiTai’s back and ushered her toward the door. They had to leave.
“To show there are no hard feelings, I’ll see to it that PhaSun is delivered to you,” QuiTai said.
Kyam moved her firmly to the door. “She has to live long enough for a trial, so don’t let Cuulon at her.” He opened the door.
“He died by accident?” Cuulon shouted even louder. “I’ll kill her. I’ll dig her bowels out of her belly and burn her eyeballs!”
“For once, exit the stage without delivering your line,” he growled at her. He’d felt her draw in a breath. He shoved her out of the chamber before she could say anything.
“But what about… She’s the Devil’s whore! We should keep her here,” Major Rheagus said.
“Find your Colonel and see what he says.” Before they could object, Kyam bowed to them then rushed after her.
~ ~ ~
“Wouldn’t want to leave this behind.” QuiTai picked up a small case and her jacket from the floor of her cell. “I’ve only worn it once, after all.”
He could tell from her voice that she wasn’t as calm as she was pretending. She might have defeated the odds again, but she was terrified of the fortress and didn’t have the energy to hide it much longer.
Kyam strode to her and grabbed her elbow. He spun her around, yanked her against him, and hugged her hard. “I thought you were dead. I thought–” His pent-up sob of relief, the one he hadn’t dared release in front of Cuulon and Major Rheagus when he saw she was alive, welled out of him as he pressed his lips to her forehead. “I went a little mad.”
She buried her face against his chest. “I am sorry, tamtuk.”
He almost kissed her, but paused. “Did you call me ‘little fried dumpling’?”
She made a face. “I guess I did. Can we pretend I didn’t?”
“Are you kidding? I’m going to bring it up every chance I get.”
Kyam felt her smile when he kissed her. She dropped her jacket and slid her hands up his back. He cupped her head in his hand. How could he have let so much time slip away? Why had he denied himself this?
He chased her lips as she leaned back. Her hungry kisses grew more intense until they were forced to part and pant for air.
With a flirtatious smile, she stepped out of his arms. “It sounds as if the guards are awake. I thought I heard them talking. And we should save any…” – she pointed from him to herself – “for when we’re…”
“Alone?”
She nodded. “Meet LiHoun at the Jupoli Gorge Bridge in three hours. He’ll bring you to me.”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her into his arms again. “Not sure if I can wait.” He kissed her neck below her ear.
“Eight months, Kyam. What’s a few more hours?” Her fingers trailed down his lips. “You’re right. Meet LiHoun in two hours.” Her hand stopped at the top button of his jacket.
“I’ve been an idiot,” he confessed.
“Yes, you have, but I forgive you.”
Kyam grabbed her hand. “I think your line was, ‘No, my love. You’re brilliant.’”
“You accused Cuulon of murdering Turyat.”
He knew she was teasing him, but he was a little upset. “Hey, I figured it out. And if I hadn’t come when I had, Cuulon might have changed his mind and decided to torture you anyway.”
“I had him where I wanted him.”
“You were shackled to that board.”
“A mere technicality–”
Footsteps clattered on the staircase, and they sprang apart. QuiTai checked her sarong as Kyam fussed with his cuffs.
Nashruu clambered down the steps, followed by Voorus. She held a strange contraption in her hand, with a fat glass cylinder similar to a jellylantern set in a metal framework.
“Oh!” Nashruu said. Voorus bumped into her when she stopped suddenly. “So, we’re not too late?”
“You’re a little too early,” Kyam grumbled.
Nashruu pouted. “And I’d so hoped I’d get to use this.”
QuiTai’s breath caught. “Is that…?” Mesmerized, she crept closer to Nashruu.
Nashruu proudly held it up. “A sea wasp gun? Yes, it is. Like it?”
Kyam hadn’t suspected the Thampurians were developing something like that. They’d taken the bulky tanks from the Ravidian weapons they’d found on Cay Rhi and made them small enough to fit into a handheld device. He had no idea how many shots one could get from that small tank, or how accurate it was, but the potential for such a weapon was horrifying.
“May I hold it?” QuiTai extended both hands.
“Absolutely not.” Nashruu yanked it out of reach. “Unless…”
Kyam saw how tempting it was for QuiTai. After seeing the fantasies strewn around her office, he knew she itched to tear the sea wasp gun apart to see how it worked.
“I will not sell my freedom to your Grandfather for that.” QuiTai dismissed the gun as if it already bored her. “I don’t wish to be an alarmist, but there’s a major in the torture chamber who would gladly use any excuse to keep me imprisoned here. Before he thinks one up, I intend to leave. Excuse me, Captain Voorus.” She went around him to climb the steps.
Nashruu followed her up the stairs. “The sea wasp gun is part of a bigger offer, Lady QuiTai.”
Kyam didn’t have anything like that to offer her. They had a deal, though. He had to get her out right now, before Nashruu offered her something she couldn’t resist.
“I’ll take you back to the Red Happiness,” he said. He rushed to her side and firmly ushered her up a step.
“Wait, Kyam! Don’t you dare interfere.” Nashruu leveled the sea wasp gun on him. “This is between Lady QuiTai and me. And she doesn’t leave this fortress until we have an understanding.” She grinned at QuiTai. “What do you want? Coins? Land? Power? This gun? I can give you many things.”
“But not what I want,” QuiTai said.
Nashruu gestured toward Kyam. “You can have him.”
Kyam had always known he was disposable, but it stung to hear his wife say it. She was the new generation of family agents. His time was over.
“Or, if you prefer, you can have Cuulon. You can torture him any way you please, with impunity. You can make him suffer, QuiTai. Make him hurt for everything he’s ever taken from you. Think of it. Revenge without limits. Our torture specialists in the secret police will advise you on methods to keep him alive while making him experience more pain.” Eyes gleaming, Nashruu stepped closer to her. “Think of him suffering like your daughter did while Petrof ripped apart her flesh. Imagine making him feel that every day and begging for death that never comes.”
QuiTai blinked. Kyam wanted to plead with her, but how could he appeal to her better nature when he planned to use her the same way Nashruu would?
“Your father, mother, and aunts, avenged. Scream for scream, horror for horror.” Nashruu’s voice seemed to creep i
nto the back of his mind. It wove a repellent dream of ugly desires. It made old wounds bleed again.
The tip of QuiTai’s tongue darted across her bottom lip.
Could she betray him again? He wouldn’t blame her if she did. From her point of view, working for his Grandfather and for Thampurian Intelligence was practically the same thing. He’d only offered her a way out of the fortress, but it was clear Nashruu could give her the same thing… and more. Oh, so much more. QuiTai probably wanted this as much as he wanted to leave Levapur.
“I want you to know that my decision isn’t personal. It’s business,” QuiTai said.
Kyam wasn’t sure whom that was meant for. He had a terrible feeling he was about to pay for ignoring her all those months. QuiTai was patient when it came to revenge. She waited until it had the biggest impact.
Sensing she’d swayed QuiTai, Nashruu went in for the kill. “Your Jezereet would still be alive if Cuulon hadn’t sent Petrof after her. Because of Cuulon, Petrof turned her into a vapor ghoul. Don’t you want to make him pay for all the pain he put you through?”
Kyam’s heart sank. He was trapped here, and he’d never get to leave. It was over.
QuiTai drew in a breath. Her lips parted.
Nashruu was radiant in her triumph.
QuiTai’s expression hardened. “No one gives me revenge. I take it.”
Nashruu pushed onto the stair beside Kyam. She gripped QuiTai’s arm. “Grandfather is prepared to be generous. You only need ask. Do you want books for your school? Immunity from prosecution for your crimes?”
That was a better offer. She’d be a fool not to take it. If only he had more to bargain with… but it was too late now.
QuiTai looked over Nashruu’s head to meet his gaze. He pleaded with his eyes. If only he could beg on his knees.
“I’m tired. Let’s speak at another time, Ma’am Zul.”
Kyam sagged against the stone wall. He closed his eyes, gulped in a breath, and opened them again. Was that yes or no?
“You won’t like Grandfather when he’s angry, Lady QuiTai. His private soldiers could return to Levapur. The assembly law is only the beginning. Your people could be pushed to the brink. Children might get hurt,” Nashruu said.
QuiTai smoothed her sarong. Her palms pressed together at her waist.
Kyam took a step back. So did Voorus.
Her face was a mask, but Kyam saw rage in QuiTai’s eyes. Her voice had never been this quiet before. “You know as well as I that the problem with a threat like that is that you’d better be willing to see it through. One of the guards upstairs told me that you’ve sent the secret police in Thampur after his family, and that of Colonel Hurust’s secretary, for failing to obey you. While I commend you for taking the necessary steps, are you prepared to live with the slaughter?”
Nashruu lifted her chin.
“I see. So go ahead. Pass your vile laws and make my people miserable just to show you can. Incite them to rebel. Let the blood run in the streets.” QuiTai’s upper lip curled as she drew inches from Nashruu’s face. “I dare you.”
Chapter 23: And For Her Final Trick, A Disappearing Act
The scented smoke of grilled evening meals faded as Kyam climbed the twisting road through Levapur. The onshore breeze brought welcome coolness to the sunset hour. It was a peaceful end to the day, a time best spent on a veranda gossiping with neighbors; but he was on his way to meet LiHoun at the Jupoli Gorge Bridge. He couldn’t remember ever coming this far upslope. The road narrowed at the edge of a cliff beyond the last dilapidated apartment building and then dissolved into jungle. This, then, was where Levapur ended.
With his hands on his hips, he gulped deep breaths. Up here, it was clear how hilly the town was. Even the flat land sloped from the mountainsides down to the sea cliffs.
When he walked around Levapur it seemed like a bustling, sprawling town. Now he saw the truth: it was only a tiny cluster of buildings backed against a cliff. The jungle laid siege to its borders. Swaths of green through the buildings showed that the jungle had already breached the ring of civilization and infiltrated deep into the heart of the town. Holding it back was a constant battle, probably futile.
Beyond the island, the ocean was deep turquoise. The past few years, he’d tried not to torture himself with longing glimpses of the open water. Today the pull had been more urgent than usual. He’d relished the taste of salt on his lips left by the sea spray as he’d rowed to the fortress. His pulse had beat with the surge of waves against the breakwater. He was a sea dragon. He wasn’t meant to live chained to land.
Past the monolith stones jutting out of the Sea of Erykoli, junks navigated the shipping channels. One of them might be the Golden Barracuda. Next time it was in port, he would swallow his pride, board it, and shake cousin Hadre’s hand. Or maybe it wouldn’t be here, but he’d find a way to repair that friendship, he vowed to himself. It was time to stop sulking.
He felt burdens lifting from his soul as he drank in the view of the vast blue sea. Somewhere beyond where the horizon curved was home.
Unlike the green water of Ponong, the harbor water in Surrayya was dark gray. Junks flying the chops of the thirteen families gathered there after returning from months at sea. Their rich cargos had built the capital city from marshland into a sophisticated metropolis of small islands connected by canals.
The Zul family compound encompassed almost an entire island in that network. Only the road connecting the bridges was outside the walls. That wasn’t the home he was going to. He’d never liked living under his Grandfather’s unrelenting rule. After several years out of the world of espionage, he probably wouldn’t be allowed to return to that work anyway. All male Zuls worked on their fleet of junks for several years, so he might return to the sea, but he couldn’t call himself a master at any task on board. He couldn’t think of anywhere he’d be useful.
He wasn’t sure where home was anymore.
“Governor Zul?” LiHoun called out.
Kyam turned around and walked to the bridge where the old cat man was waiting for him. The Pha River thundered below them, although it was almost impossible to see the rapids through the mist.
LiHoun handed him a sack to put over his head. The rough fabric stank faintly of wet dogs. Kyam made a sour face, but he put it on because it was the only way to get to QuiTai.
LiHoun took his hand and led him across the bridge. They climbed up a small rise and turned toward the setting sun. For a while, he heard the engine of one of the funicular lines that ran to the upslope plantations, but it grew fainter. Only the sound of rushing water and the jungle remained.
His boots slid in patches of mud. The path rose and fell and sometimes turned. He’d tried to count his steps but lost his place.
LiHoun stopped him. “One little step up.”
Kyam lifted his foot too far and lurched as he stepped down on what felt like timber grass.
“This is narrow. Careful please.”
LiHoun put his hand on a timber grass railing as thick as his wrist.
“Now three steps to your right, Governor Zul.”
He knew now he was on a walkway leading to a house. Zigzagging paths thwarted demons that could only travel in straight lines. When vines trailed over his shoulders, he guessed they’d passed through a moon gate. Between that and the stink of the cloth over his face, he suspected he was at Petrof’s hidden den.
Had Petrof been alive all this time?
“Wait here,” LiHoun said.
He heard something heavy moving.
“She does not like to be disturbed. We draw back the bridge so that no one can cross it,” LiHoun explained.
The old man took his hands again and led him into darkness. His boots shuffled across a smooth wood floor. The sounds of the Pha River suddenly muted.
LiHoun dropped his hands. His footsteps faded.
Kyam was sure she was there, and that they were alone now, even though he hadn’t heard a door close.
“Can I
take this off?” He pulled off the sack before she answered. He stood in the center of a bare room in a house that wasn’t Thampurian, but wasn’t Ponongese either.
She sat in a large, ornately carved chair too big for her petite frame, and yet she looked quite at home in it. A low table sat to the side of her chair. The large sliding door behind her was closed.
He smelled kur smoke. He turned around and saw a narrow front doorway. LiHoun squatted outside, under a moon gate covered in flowering vines. The smoke from a kur curled from his fingers.
Kyam turned back to QuiTai. She wore a kebaya blouse richly embroidered with Ponongese designs. He’d never seen one that elegant. The wide hem was gold. Like her blouse, the design was Ponongese, but not like any other one he’d seen before. The Pha tended to use small repeating geometric shapes while the Rhi took inspiration from nature, but this wasn’t either of those. He wondered if hers were a Qui pattern.
He gestured to her sarong. “I already know you’re the most poisonous thing in this jungle. No need to warn me.”
“You always say such sweet things.”
Kyam drew close to her throne – there was no other word for it – and put his boot up on the little table. He leaned on his thigh. “I got you out of the fortress. Time to uphold your end of the bargain.”
“Of course.”
“No games.”
“No games.” Her restless hands traced the chair’s carved lines.
“But first–” he said.
The corner of her mouth curved.
“I have to know. How did you do it?”
“I’m in no mood to be arrested again today, so I’m going to pretend I have no idea what you’re talking about,” QuiTai said.
He took her hand and turned the palm up. His fingertips traced the welt left by the sea wasp sting so many months ago. He pressed his lips to the scar. “I spent all day running around trying to solve a mystery that didn’t matter. Meanwhile, you were committing an almost perfect murder. Only you would be clever enough to ask to be arrested before committing the crime.”
