The Devil's Concubine ARC

by Jill Braden

  “Why did you want to see me? Ivitch could come back any moment, so I suggest we get down to business.”

  Kyam kept drawing. “There are Ravidians in Levapur.”

  A chill ran through her core. Kyam also sought the Ravidians? Her lips pursed as she composed herself. “And the sky is blue.”

  He set down his pencil. Dark eyes leveled on her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Don’t waste my time telling me the obvious. You sat between them in the Red Happiness.”

  “Lower your chin a bit. You saw two of them. There’s a third.” He glanced over at the wharf. “Unless you know about him too?”

  She did now.

  “What exactly do you want from me, Mister Zul?”

  “I can’t possibly follow all three Ravidians. You have contacts and spies all over town, all over the island. I need to know what they’re up to,” Kyam said.

  “It looked to me as if they were up to a bit of fun with the workers at the Red Happiness.”

  It was just her luck. As much as they tried to avoid each other, their paths always crossed at the most inconvenient times. If she didn’t know better, she’d think the Oracle’s hidden hand was to blame for it; but the Oracle only foretold the future, she didn’t make it happen. Or did she? There was too much QuiTai didn’t know about her goddess. If only she hadn’t turned her back on her people and gone to the continent to be an actress; now there were no Qui elders left on Ponong to ask, and every responsibility she’d run from – and then some – was now hers alone to shoulder.

  “I would pay a month’s rent to know what’s making you frown like that, Lady QuiTai. Is it something about the Ravidians?”

  He would insist on forcing her to concentrate on his needs rather than leaving her to dwell on her thoughts. Although, truthfully, she didn’t mind the jolt back to present concerns as much as she might have under different circumstances. Still, she didn’t want him to interfere with the Ravidians until she found out if they had indeed smuggled black lotus onto the island in those mysterious crates. A new source of the drug would free Jezereet from Petrof’s clutches. And probably kill her sooner – there were never any good answers to QuiTai’s troubles, only ones that led to less suffering.

  “It’s horrible narcissism, you know.” She knew that her voice was too quiet, too tired, too honest. Kyam stared at her, as if it took all his focus to hear her over the waves. If she said something like that to Petrof, he would demand to know what the hell she was on about now, but Kyam only listened, as if he felt able to keep up with her sudden changes of thought, as if he could see the trail leapfrogging across seemingly random bits of information and arrive at the same place she’d gone to. “We go to such great lengths to hide our true goals from their eyes, and they probably aren’t even paying any attention to us. You could walk up to me in the marketplace in front of a hundred witnesses and ask me if I know anything about the Ravidians in Levapur, and I could tell you what I know, and no one would care.”

  “Narcissism? That’s rich coming from you. I’ve seen too many of your grand entrances.”

  “I move through the marketplace often without being recognized. And even when I do make a grand entrance, as you call it, after the people are satisfied that I have no business with them, they forget me, because there are much more important matters in life than the Devil’s concubine. Believe anything you want about me; it’s no concern of mine. But don’t doubt for a second that I have a firm grasp on my role and position. So next time you want to talk to me, save us both a lot of bother and quit acting like a spy. No one cares.”

  “Except the Ravidians.”

  She shrugged, but her mood didn’t shake off that easily.

  “And the Devil,” Kyam added.

  “Ah, yes. We must not forget about him.” She sighed and stared over his shoulder at the open water. “The Devil and a handful of Ravidian spies. Such an esteemed audience.”

  “Do you anticipate a return to the stage?” Kyam asked.

  So he knew her history. Was he trying to bribe her into helping his government by dangling the prospect of a starring role? That wasn’t even close to her price for working with Thampurians.

  “Do you anticipate a return to Thampur?” she asked.

  Anger settled around his mouth and seeped into his eyes. He set down his pencil and reached for another one. “As long as we’re avoiding each other’s questions, did you examine my trunk after your men stole it?”

  Maybe he’d learned in the fancy salons of Thampur how to steer a conversation back to a safe harbor when it went adrift in treacherous waters. Now they could act as if she’d never let an indecent amount of her soul show. She was grateful, even if the kindness was out of habit. She rallied and clicked her tongue as if scolding a drunk. “Presumption of guilt, Mister Zul.”

  “You should have been a lawyer. Let me restate my question. Did you examine my trunk before you returned it to me?”

  “Of course.” She let one corner of her mouth curve just enough to irk him.

  “Completely?”

  “If you’re asking whether I found the secret compartment that held the farwriter, then yes, my search was thorough.”

  He took off a boot and poured red sand from it. After tapping the heel to make sure it was empty, he put it on again. “How did you break the biolock?”

  The almost-supernatural powers people were willing to believe she possessed always amused her. “I didn’t. I must commend you on how complete your cover was. Every detail from your clothes to your mementos was perfection, and the workmanship on your trunk first rate. If I hadn’t been so persistent, I wouldn’t have found the hidden compartment. Once I knew it was there, I surmised the contents from the size. And, of course, a farwriter was the one item that was glaringly absent from the rest of your belongings.”

  “So you didn’t open the biolock.”

  “Don’t talk nonsense. No one can do that, not even me.” She’d tried, of course. It wasn’t often that she had time to experiment with a biolock without worrying that Petrof might catch her at it.

  “Did you tell the Devil about the farwriter?”

  QuiTai hesitated. Her gaze slipped from his. “I saw no profit in it.”

  “So only you think I’m a spy; and for some unfathomable reason, you’ve helped maintain my cover all this time.”

  A loose strand of hair floated in the ocean breeze and trailed across her face. She tucked it behind her ear. “When you put it that way, it seems foolish of me.”

  “That’s hardly the word I’d use to describe you, Lady QuiTai. Exasperating, yes. Foolish, no.”

  She could have said the same thing about him. It was such a pity he sided with the colonial government.

  He switched pencils again. “So, what do you know about the Ravidians?”

  Them again. She reminded herself that pearls began as specks of grit, but that didn’t make the grit any less irritating to endure. “They’re foppish dressers, miserly drinkers, and too rough with the workers at the Red Happiness.”

  “I’m sure you know far more than that.”

  Two fishermen struggled past them through the sand with a big basket full of their day’s catch. Kyam bent over his drawing pad as more men headed from their boats to the lower funicular station. Some men sauntered over to watch the dockworkers and Ivitch gamble. Others spread heavy, wet nets to dry across tall poles stuck in the sand.

  After the last men moved far down the beach, Kyam returned his attention to her. “We may not have much time before your werewolf comes back, so let’s lay our tiles on the table. If you found something about the Ravidians that might interest me and had nothing to do with the Devil’s business, what would it cost to get that information from you? My family is wealthy.”

  So that’s why he had her facing the junks in the harbor, to remind her of that wealth and the connections that came with it: The Zuls were related to their king by generations of blood and marriage. But that was the wrong tactic
to try with her.

  “My money doesn’t interest you, Lady QuiTai? Most actresses and whores want money and jewels. Don’t look so offended. I said most. Try the obvious negotiation first, my grandfather always said. There’s no reason to make it more complicated than it needs to be.”

  “A wise man, your grandfather, even though he is a thief.”

  “Most people hated him because he always found their price. Of course, he knew his competitors very well, which made it easier. I’ll admit that I’m at a disadvantage. I know very little about you. We hadn’t even been properly introduced before you began your campaign to make my life a living hell. Since that day, the facts I’ve learned about you wouldn’t even fill out a one-sheet dossier. Oh, I know your reputation, but that’s long on myth and short on proof. People here relish a good story, don’t they?” He gave her a piercing look. “One thing I am sure of is that you’re much more than the Devil’s concubine. You’re his right arm.”

  “Such flattery. I may swoon.”

  “Don’t. I need you to hold that pose.”

  He tapped his pencil on his bottom lip as he checked to see if Ivitch was still at the dock. Then he said, “Have you noticed a subtle change in the mood on the island?” While his tone was casual, he watched her closely.

  Relief washed over her. Finally, someone else was saying out loud what she’d been feeling for weeks. It wasn’t just her imagination. “Sometimes I think I’m dreaming, but other times, I swear I can feel it. What do your superiors say?”

  Kyam laughed as if the joke were on him. “The government has no interest in anything I have to say. That’s why I need proof. If they listened to me, I wouldn’t need your help. Believe me, you were my last choice.”

  “Fair enough. You’re my last choice for an ally too, but since you gave a little information, I’ll return the favor. I always pay my debts.”

  “A scoundrel with honor. We’re not so different after all.”

  With an admonishing smile, she shook her head slightly. He had nerve.

  “The Ravidians aren’t the only newcomers. Levapur is overrun with mysterious strangers these days.” Mysterious was a bit of a leap, but more travelers than usual had come to the island, considering the time of year.

  “Am I focusing on the wrong group?”

  “Subtle, Mister Zul, very subtle. I think I’ve given you enough information today.” She couldn’t blame him for trying, though.

  “Not that I’m keeping score, since this is a debt of honor, but I gave you more information than you gave me,” Kyam said.

  “In the future, if I hear something that is of no value to me but might be useful to you, I might be tempted to pass it along.”

  Kyam didn’t like that answer. “Coyness doesn’t suit you.”

  “How is this, then? My people are watching the Ravidians and all suspicious newcomers. I agree that the Ravidians are up to something.” She put up her hand when he leaned forward. “However, they aren’t my enemies.”

  “That you’re aware of. I’ve heard rumors that you have separatist sympathies, but Thampurians look like the Goddess of Mercy compared to what Ravidians do to the native populations of their colonies.”

  There might have been some truth to that, but sworn enemies usually exaggerated about each other. She could imagine what the Ravidians said about the Thampurians. It probably wasn’t all that different from what she said about them. “There are only three Ravidians on Ponong. I’ll take my chances.”

  Kyam said, “Don’t underestimate how determined I am to get what I want. I’d rather have your cooperation, but I have other means.”

  She sensed the same change in the power flowing around him as she did when the werewolves shifted. She crossed her arms over her chest to hide her gooseflesh.

  He said, “Don’t force my hand, Lady QuiTai.”

  “You will never be able to force mine, Mister Zul.”

  His mouth tightened. Then he hunched over his pad, barely looking up at her as he furiously erased something with rubber gum. He had no right to be angry. She was the one who should have been insulted. Did he really think she’d help the Thampurians?

  As his pencil swept along the paper, he said, “The drugs, the smuggled rice, the murders, the burglaries, the extortion – our soldiers could interrogate you about those crimes for hours. They’ve wanted to get their hands on the Devil ever since he killed his competitors and became the face of criminal activity on this island. Only he’s not the face, is he? He’s the coward who hides in the shadows while you run the syndicate. I could have you arrested right now. I could have you tortured.”

  It was true. If not for her generous payments to key Thampurians in the colonial government, she probably would have been taken in long ago. She knew that was an illusion of safety. A bought man wasn’t to be trusted. No one would protect her if the soldiers dragged her to the fortress.

  But Kyam forgot that she knew he wanted her help. It was the trump tile in this game.

  “Go ahead. Have me arrested. I dare you, Mister Zul.”

  He flipped the cover of his drawing pad closed and stood. “That’s enough for today.”

  She ambled over and extended her hand. “Let me see.”

  He thrust the pad at her.

  In his sketch, there were harsh lines around her mouth, and her eyes were cunning. It was the portrait of an unrelenting, cruel woman. The drawing was quite good, which surprised her. She handed it back without comment.

  Chapter 4: Death of a Vapor Addict

  As QuiTai went to collect Ivitch from his game on the wharf, she saw Kyam head toward the funicular. The attendant shut the door, and the train began to rise up the slope to the town.

  “He could have asked them to hold it for us,” Ivitch said. He covered his ears as the engine that powered the funicular’s drive chain gave off a shrill whistle.

  QuiTai pointed to the steep road leading up the hillside. “You could always walk.”

  “I’ll wait for the other car to come down.”

  “Suit yourself.” She walked away from the ticket booth.

  “Where are you going?”

  “As long as I’m here, I thought I’d pay a social call. Run along. I no longer need you to protect me from Mister Zul.”

  “I take my orders from the Devil, not his whore.”

  “I am wounded, Ivitch, simply gutted by your scathing condemnation.”

  Confusion spread over his features slowly, in keeping with the speed of his thoughts. It was as if his brain were surrounded by thick paste. It was almost painful to wait for her barbs to hit their mark; she used to lose patience and try to push the process along, but that only seemed to confuse him more. It was a mistake to ignore him, though, the same way it would be lunacy to turn her back on a mob.

  She was sorry he wasn’t Kyam. There was a man who could hold his own in a conversation, and understand an insult, no matter how veiled.

  Finally, Ivitch grinned, as if it had been a compliment. She could have wept for him, but never would.

  “If you’re about the Devil’s business, then I should come along.”

  If she said no, he would tell Petrof, and then she’d have to explain her reasons. It would be easier to let him come. All she planned to do was find out if the dirt Thampurian who’d helped the smugglers was a black lotus addict. If so, she could return later and question him alone.

  They crossed the beach to the far end of the harbor where small sailing skiffs and fishing boats moored. She pointed to a skiff at the end of a line of boats tied together; used, weathered wood was bound together to shape a ramshackle lean-to at the stern behind the sail. That matched the information from PhaNyan that the dirt Thampurian lived on his boat, which made sense since his brother was the harbor master. “That one,” she said.

  “How do we get out there?”

  After checking to see that no one watched, QuiTai stepped from the narrow dock onto the deck of the first boat in the line. She reached for the tieline to the
next boat and pulled it close; then, carefully balancing, stepped from one boat to the next.

  Ivitch tried to follow and nearly lost his balance as he stood with each foot on a different boat and a wave sent them rocking. “This is stupid.”

  She turned to press her finger to her lips, and kept going.

  “Why are we doing this?” Ivitch asked.

  “I heard a rumor this man might know something about the smugglers.”

  Ivitch cracked his knuckles. “It’s a good thing I’m along.”

  She put her hand on his shoulder. “No, it’s good that I’m along.” He wrested away from her touch, setting the boat they stood on to rocking violently. QuiTai said, “We only want to question him.” To be sure that Ivitch understood, she had to be clear. “Don’t kill him. Threaten to if he won’t cooperate, but offer the forgiveness of the Devil before you damage him too much. He needs to be able to work off his debt.”

  Ivitch climbed onto the skiff. QuiTai ducked under the boom of the main sail and followed him to the lean-to.

  Ivitch already held the skeletal dirt Thampurian by the throat. From the smell of the shelter, the man was a heavy black lotus user, although that didn’t explain the sharp scent of vinegar under the sweeter stink of vapor. A spirit lamp and clay pipe with a tiny bowl sat on an upturned crate. The cot he lay on was held together with leather straps and hope. There wasn’t much else in the tiny, dank space – probably not even food, QuiTai assumed.

  The Thampurian wore only trousers. Every bone in his chest protruded, and his skin barely stretched over his skull. His lips were deep red, in stark contrast to his unhealthy pallor. QuiTai had to bite her lip to stop it from quivering: Eventually, Jezereet would look like this.

  “Gently, Ivitch. He probably won’t remember any lesson you try to teach him.”

  As Ivitch hefted at the ghoul in his hands, QuiTai swiped a vial of sticky black resin from the crate by the cot and hid it in her blouse. Empty vials rolled loose on under their feet with several vinegar bottles. The smugglers evidently had paid the dirt Thampurian in black lotus instead of coin.