by Jill Braden
The muscles along his jaw line flexed. Too bad. If he’d let himself speak, it would no doubt have been an impressive string of curses. “Sit down. Let me see your hand.”
QuiTai held out her hand. Her head ached a bit from the rum, and the dull throb in her throat still nagged at her, but her heart hurt much more.
Today is my first day without Jezereet. For now and forever.
Underneath her grief she felt a terrible relief, the sense that a great burden had been lifted from her. She wouldn’t have to watch Jezereet decline into the vapor like that dirt Thampurian. Jezereet would never strike her out of frustration again. Petrof would never again be able to use black lotus to coerce her. She was free.
She hated herself for even thinking it.
Kyam unwrapped the bandage and held her fingers gently as he turned her hand to the daylight streaming through the window screen. “Why does it worry me when you get quiet?”
“The Devil often says the same thing.”
He dripped vinegar over the welt. “And how do you answer him?”
“Sometimes with more silence.”
He pulled a stool toward him and sat. His long legs were ungainly in such a low seat with his knees up to his chin, but he didn’t seem to care.
“How did you manage to get stung by a sea wasp when they live off the west coast of the continent? Nearly two thousand miles away?”
She studied her scar. “How do you know what it was? Can you be sure?”
“Yes.”
Realizing that was all he planned to say, she said, “It’s a long story.”
“I’m listening.”
He’d changed, she realized. The easy camaraderie from the night before was gone. He seemed more determined. Even though she, for once, towered over him, he still managed to be menacing. That dangerous aura sent a familiar rush through her body, one she normally only felt around Petrof. And Kyam’s intense concentration made her nervous. Could he sense her thoughts?
“Do the soldiers know that Jezereet is dead yet?” QuiTai asked.
Kyam looked angry. “Her, again. The Red Happiness was quiet this morning.”
“They’ll know soon. A servant checks on her every morning.”
In a swift movement, he came to his feet. As usual, he stood too close; only instead of making her angry, this time she wanted to wrap her fingers in his hair and bring his mouth down to hers for a kiss. What was she thinking? She couldn’t even look at him, because all she saw was the finely tailored shewani jacket that fit his muscular chest like a second skin; all she felt was the promise of danger that set her blood on fire like nothing else.
He still trapped her hand. Her fingers throbbed. He said, “One wonders how you know the daily routine of the Red Happiness. And about the secret passage inside it. But we can discuss that later. Now I’d like to talk about what happened to your hand.” Kyam’s grip on her fingers tightened. “Lady QuiTai, how did you come by this scar?”
Even though it hurt enough to bring a tear to the corner of her eye, she pushed her hand toward him, twisted it, and escaped from his grasp. She cradled her hand in her lap. “No need to be so primitive.”
“You didn’t even consider telling me how much that hurt. Are you so used to pain?”
“Are you so used to hurting people?” she asked.
“If I have to.”
Something in his tone made her believe him. And the information about her hand was covered in their agreement about exchanging information…
She said, “Yesterday, after you left me at the harbor, I stayed behind to conduct a bit of the Devil’s business. Which is rapidly becoming indistinguishable from your business.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and nodded.
“We believe that the Ravidians smuggled something onto the island. Not a simple task. Your soldiers and the harbor master are vigilant tax collectors.”
That wasn’t strictly true. It was easy to bring contraband through the harbor, as long as one were willing to pay the ‘enhanced’ tax, and didn’t care that it went directly into the harbor master’s pocket. But Kyam didn’t need to know about that; it was, as she often phrased it, the Devil’s business.
“The dirt Thampurian rumored to have helped the Ravidians was the harbor master’s brother.” She tilted her head, expecting him to say something. His expression didn’t change. “If the dirt Thampurian had been paid in money, he would have bought black lotus from the Devil’s men. But they hadn’t seen him. I think the Ravidians paid him directly in black lotus. But for what? They aren’t moving goods through the markets as far as we can tell.”
“Continue.”
“Someone helped them move their shipment, and I’m fairly certain by now that those crates never made it upslope to Levapur. The dirt Thampurian was a heavy vapor user. The living dead. There’s no way he would have had the strength to sail his skiff out of the harbor, especially with the rough seas from the typhoon. The harbor master, however...”
“What does that have to do with your hand?”
“I warned you that it’s a long story. Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m trying to entertain you. Every part of this story is fulfillment of my end of our arrangement.” But QuiTai took a private moment to decide how much of the whole story she was honor-bound to tell. “After you left the harbor yesterday, Ivitch and I boarded the dirt Thampurian’s skiff. Ivitch got rough and strangled him before I could question him. Ivitch took off, leaving me behind.”
“Get to the part where you got stung.”
“I had to hide on the boat until sunset. It was filthy. Little bits of garbage, murky puddles of sea water... my hand slipped into one, and intense pain shot up my arm, and then I saw the stinger, and I knew...”
“Knew what?”
Everything except how to make a profit from the Ravidian’s plot. But she wasn’t about to tell Kyam that. With a slight shake of her shoulders, she sat up straight. “This may sound melodramatic, but for a while, I honestly thought I might die.”
“Many people do die from those stings. If you’d touched a few more, your heart wouldn’t have recovered from the shock.”
“There were moments yesterday where death looked like the better option.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you got a sea wasp sting on a boat in Ponong’s harbor.”
“I think it does, Mister Zul. Now we know what the Ravidians smuggled onto the island.”
Kyam’s brows furrowed and he stared speechless for a moment. Then: “Sea wasps? Why? They could catch them off their coast.”
“It’s fairly obvious.”
“To you, maybe.”
Her lips curved. He really didn’t see it. If he needed her to spell it out, it would cost him. “Why do you care what the Ravidians smuggled onto Ponong, Mister Zul?”
“That’s my business, and none of yours. Just accept that I’m very interested and won’t rest until I find out.”
Kyam Zul might have thought his business was all that mattered, but she had other duties that didn’t stop for his convenience. When he was long out of the picture, the Devil’s business would remain. She couldn’t lose sight of that. She said, “Well, I had several hours on the boat yesterday to mull it over, and I was up most of last night. I’ll be glad to take you through the steps.”
“Go ahead. I’m listening.”
“Not yet, Mister Zul. The soldiers will have been summoned to the Red Happiness by now. Time for you to convince them that Ivitch is their man.”
~ ~ ~
The typhoon shutters on the upstairs veranda of the residential building inside Kyam’s compound were closed. Ferns sprouted from the stucco walls. The jungle erupted through the tiles in the courtyard.
They passed the festoon gate that joined the inner courtyard to the small outer courtyard. The red, green, blue, and gold paint on the four pillars was faded, but the carved sea dragons wrapped around them were still visible, as were the small snakes with caricatures of Ponongese faces crushed under their ta
lons.
“That’s subtle,” QuiTai said.
“We can talk politics some other time. Or you can talk, and I’ll ignore you like I always do.”
“One day, Mister Zul, you’re going to find yourself caring more about politics, and you’ll wish you’d paid more attention.”
“One of your visions of the future?”
“You could call it that.” It was the Oracle’s vision, but she’d learned not to mention the Oracle to anyone.
She followed him around a privacy wall covered in aqua blue tiles bearing the Zul family chop. He raised a finger. “You’re either about to tell me that a proper safe house isn’t held in your family name, or that I’m an idiot for staying in that apartment when I could be living here. Save your breath. This was nearby, and you were in no shape to travel.”
“Actually, I was going to say that you’re not much of a morning person. I pity the poor man or woman who wakes up beside you.” She smiled sweetly and batted her eyelashes. After their odd truce the night before, a return to their regular banter was a welcome normality.
“At least my lovers wake up,” he said.
She blinked. She felt the smile slide off her face. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe.
After a moment, he said gruffly, “That was unspeakably rude of me. I’m sorry.”
When she was able to draw in a breath, it staggered down her throat. People said cruel things to her all the time, and normally, she ignored them; but his words had uncanny aim.
“Lady QuiTai –” he reached for her arm. She sidestepped his touch. He was under no obligation to be civil to her. She chided herself for expecting any Thampurian to treat a Ponongese with dignity; then, chin lifted high, she headed for the Red Happiness.
~ ~ ~
Kyam let her walk alone until the white verandas of the Red Happiness were close. Then he gripped her elbow and steered her behind a tree. “I think it would be best if you stayed out of sight for now. I don’t want the soldiers to see those marks on your neck. They would raise too many questions.”
“You were willing to hand me over to them last night.”
“That’s before you agreed to help me.”
She looked down at his grip on her and then raised her gaze to meet his. “Mister Zul, I understand that despite my personal feelings on the matter, we have entered a business arrangement. I intend to deliver the information I promised, as I assume do you. However, please remember that this partnership is not equal. I can find Jezereet’s murderer without your help.”
“And I can figure out what the Ravidians are up to without yours.”
“With my blessing.” She stepped away.
Kyam yanked her back behind the tree. “We have a deal. But if you want to be in charge, be in charge. Tell me what you want me to do, honorable lady.” His bow had too much flourish to be sincere.
“Before or after you go to hell?”
“Too late. I’m already there.” He blocked her as she tried to go around him. “If I may make a suggestion though, it really isn’t a good idea for the Devil’s concubine to mix with the soldiers. They might take you down to the fortress for questioning just because they can. You know how those Thampurians are.”
“You have been listening, after all.”
“More closely than you imagine.”
Maybe she should have been alarmed, but she was flattered.
“And when it comes to this particular group of soldiers, I have to agree with you. They swagger through the marketplace and treat the natives as if they own the whole damn island.”
She knew exactly which soldiers he meant. They were the worst face of the colonial occupation.
“So, do we have an agreement? I’ll take care of this alone,” Kyam said.
“While I do what?”
“Weave one of your devious plans. Think. Create new insults to hurl at me. Or maybe – just maybe – rest a little. Yesterday was a long day for you, and I have a feeling today won’t be much better.”
She wasn’t used to such treatment; his consideration would be missed when their business was complete. Resting sounded good. Keeping mentally sharp around Kyam had exhausted the little burst of energy of the morning.
She plucked a snake flower from an overhead branch and sniffed it. The little green fangs of its twin curving carpals tickled her face. “That’s your cue, Mister Zul. The stage is yours.”
“What do you know? She does listen to reason.” Kyam pulled down his sleeves and buttoned his jacket all the way up. “Showtime.”
~ ~ ~
QuiTai leaned against the tree. Leaving Kyam to his own devices was tempting, but where would she go? Her safe houses were even more barren than his. Why was it that everyone else had someone they could turn to in moments like this? There wasn’t a single person she trusted to give her help and restful shelter. She couldn’t think of a lover who had ever offered her comfort. Maybe it was the kind of people she tended to take to bed. Petrof wasn’t a tender person, and even before Jezereet was addicted to the vapor, she always had to be the center of attention.
Perhaps QuiTai needed to find a friend.
She chuckled at herself. A friend. The very idea was absurd.
Her palm still ached. When she brushed her fingertips lightly over the wine-red welt, it was like stroking burned flesh.
“Where have you been, QuiTai?” Petrof said.
QuiTai jumped as she turned to his voice. He shoved aside leaves in his path as he strode toward her.
Her hand pressed to her chest. She’d never been so stunned. He’d come out of his room. He’d walked through the city to find her. She searched his face for signs of panic, but he only looked annoyed.
“Jezereet... died,” she said.
“Where have you been? I searched for you all last night.”
“You already heard?”
His clothes were damp, as if he’d been caught out in the rain while she’d spent the night inside. No wonder he was grumpy. And yet, instead of returning to the house for a bath and dry clothes, he’d still hunted for her. More than any soft words, that proved he cared.
She pressed her face against his chest. The familiar scent of him almost made up for the way he stiffened when she wrapped her arms around him.
He paused almost a moment too long, as if he mulled over the news, but he finally stroked her hair. “Poor QuiTai. How your heart must be breaking.” From his tone, that seemed to please him.
Suspicious, she leaned back and searched his face. He was jealous enough of Jezereet to addict her to black lotus. It was a slow, cruel death sentence and he’d enjoyed making QuiTai watch it. She’d never fooled herself about that. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so quick to believe that he’d come to her now out of love.
Soft concern flowed over his face like a mask. “You can’t blame me for hating sharing you with her.”
Blame and recriminations were the last things she wanted to think about right now.
“You’re my woman.”
His hand slid down her back and pushed her groin against his. The hard glint of possessive sexuality was in his eyes now. It radiated from him as if it covered his skin and flowed onto her. His seductive charms could sway her, but they wouldn’t make her forget her loss.
“Why would anyone kill her, Petrof? She never hurt anyone.”
“It was a mistake.”
She nodded. Of course it was a mistake. She held tighter to him and pressed her lips to his chest.
His hand moved from her buttocks to her neck. He said, “Were you alone last night?”
If she told him the truth, he might kill Kyam, and she’d lose her chance to find out who murdered Jezereet. But he’d come to comfort her. Didn’t he deserve the truth from her, for once?
His thumb pressed against pulse at the jugular. “Were you alone?” His voice was quiet with menace.
She almost shook her head… but then his fingers curled over the bruises on her neck and woke the points of pain.
“Were you with a man?” he said.
The pain steadied her. Once Jezereet’s murderer was dead, she’d rededicate herself to Petrof and never try to play both sides again. She swore it.
“I slept alone,” she told him. That much was true.
He flicked the collar of her blouse. “I don’t remember you ever wearing pink before. Did you fuck that Thampurian? Did he buy this for you?”
A shiver went down her back. Who had seen her with Kyam? She said, “You know how I feel about Thampurians.”
“Yes. I do. So I’ll believe you, about that.” Petrof’s thumb stroked her pulse. “Tell me about the smugglers.”
“Ivitch probably told you that the dirt Thampurian died, but I have a new lead. As soon as I have news, I’ll bring it to you.” Unwilling to let to moment pass, she hugged him hard again. “Thank you for leaving your den to come find me.”
I never knew I could count on you until now.
“It was no – Soldiers!” Petrof shoved QuiTai away. “They’re coming after me!”
QuiTai peered around the tree to see Kyam and four Thampurian soldiers step off the veranda of the Red Happiness and head toward them then stop in the middle of the muddy street. She couldn’t hear their words, but it looked like a terse exchange. Usually Thampurians carried on with flowery protocol that took forever, but after a curt bow, Kyam stepped away and headed toward the town square instead of returning to her.
She exhaled in relief. “No, Petrof, they’re going back...”
But he was gone. She didn’t blame him for being wary of the soldiers. Whatever torture he’d endured at their hands haunted him still. He’d never liked jungle’s bugs and humidity, but afterwards he couldn’t even bear to walk through it. He refused to talk about what they’d done to him, but while in the grip of nightmares, he sometimes screamed about ants. Thousands and thousands of ants swarming over him...
She leaned against the tree. Who would have ever suspected Petrof of being so concerned that he’d overcome his fears to comfort her? Not her. It was such an unexpected, out of character gesture… and she had needed it so much. She would not examine it and twist it until she turned it into something with darker intent, the way she always did. Sometimes she ruined everything by thinking too much.
