by Jill Braden
Kyam craned to see if anyone had followed them out of the marketplace.
She saw LiHoun, but the old man blended so well with the rest of the people on the street that he didn’t draw Kyam’s attention.
“I thought that the Devil was interested in those crates too.”
“With the evidence we’ll find, he’ll understand that there is no profit in this scheme for him. As for me, I get to bring Jezereet’s murderer to justice. My justice. The murderer is going to be very sorry that he killed her.”
“I’m pretty sure he already is, Lady QuiTai.”
~ ~ ~
They reached Kyam’s apartment building and walked up the short flight of steps to the doorway. LiHoun barely darted out of sight before Kyam’s watchful gaze swept across the street. He was so close. How could she buy time? All she needed was a minute away from Kyam.
Kyam slammed open the door and shoved her into grimy foyer, then herded her toward the staircase. LiHoun would probably wait for her to come down, but with the clock ticking, she wanted as much of a head start on Kyam as possible. She pulled away from his grip. “Mister Zul, if you don’t mind, I need to make a short stop before we go upstairs.”
“For what?”
She stared at him as if she expected him to read her mind. Then she raised her eyebrows. Finally, she rolled her eyes. “A gentleman can heed the demands of nature anywhere...”
He took his time thinking, as if he’d been given a difficult puzzle to solve. “Come on, then.” He led her past the stair and down a hallway to the back door of the building.
“I don’t need an escort.”
“Someone could have seen us come into this building.” He opened the back door.
They stepped out onto a veranda whose uneven steps led down to a small yard. A faded ball nestled in a curtain of vines that cascaded from the hillside above. An old woman raked the dirt inside a wire coop while jungle fowl pecked at the ground around her ankles.
“Little brother! I have eggs for you,” the auntie called out. Her eyes disappeared into the folds of her cheeks as she smiled. After a brief glance at QuiTai, she clucked at Kyam and wagged her finger at him. “I’ll give you extra since you have a guest.”
QuiTai stepped into the outhouse and held the door open a crack to watch Kyam make his way to the coop. He said, “Eggs? You spoil me, auntie. Have you eaten?”
As the auntie ducked into the coop, a rooster with an iridescent green-black tail flew at her with his talons out. “Stop it, ChuChun!” she scolded. Kyam stepped inside the coop and grabbed the angry bird.
QuiTai heard a scratching at the side of the outhouse by the vine.
“Psst. Auntie QuiTai.”
She closed the outhouse door and leaned to a large gap between warped boards in the side wall. “Uncle LiHoun! I’m impressed.”
“Cats have their secret ways.”
“I don’t have much time, so listen closely, favored uncle.” She spoke quickly. “The Ravidian smugglers took over a medusozoa plantation. A remote one. Cay Rhi has the highest probability. They’re raising special medusozoa that don’t glow at night in the tide pool beds. I want you to capture several medusozoa in a glass container with a strong lid and take them to my estate. Take lots of vinegar with you to neutralize any stings. Look.” She held her scarred palm through the crack and heard his intake of breath. “One sting did this. Two will kill you. And the stingers don’t have to be attached to the medusozoa.”
“I understand,” LiHoun whispered.
“Ravidians will be guarding the pools. Their dewclaws can gut a man in seconds, so watch their feet. I think there are three, but there may be more.” She fed coins out through the gap in the boards and heard them clink into his hands. “Not for the wolves to know. Speed matters.”
LiHoun recited the entire message verbatim. “Anything else?” he asked.
“PhaNyan was also supposed to be here. I expected him to help.”
“No one has seen him for several days. And an angry wolf is searching for you, auntie. He was furious when word reached the marketplace that you escaped from the wreck.”
Ivitch, no doubt. She hoped the soldiers would arrest him before he found her.
“Are you done yet, Lady QuiTai?” Kyam called out.
“Go. Be safe, uncle,” she said.
“Lady QuiTai?” Kyam pounded on the door.
She flung it open. “Your manners are atrocious.”
“Save the lecture for when we’re inside and safe.” Kyam yanked her across the yard as if she were a disgraced child.
~ ~ ~
A sour auntie backed out of an apartment on the first floor with a huge basket of laundry. She sniffed when she saw QuiTai, but her eyes lit up at the jade eggs in Kyam’s hand. “Eggs, little brother?” She plucked one from Kyam’s hand. “Three is an unlucky number.” Satisfied that she’d saved him from peril, she tucked the egg into the corner of her basket.
“My landlady,” Kyam explained to QuiTai. “Although you two have met, I think.”
“It’s been a while,” QuiTai murmured. “Have you eaten, auntie?”
The woman cupped her hand to the side of her mouth but didn’t bother to whisper. “I know nice Ponongese girls. I could introduce you. For a fee,” she told Kyam. Her nostrils flared as she looked over QuiTai from head to foot.
“This is business, auntie. I’m painting her portrait.” Kyam pushed QuiTai toward the stairs.
The landlady grunted and called out, “She lives with werewolves! Too good for her own kind, not good enough for yours.”
As they climbed the stairs, Kyam said, “Don’t take it to heart. She hates everyone.”
“And as you said last time I was here, everyone loathes me.”
Kyam winced. “That was for Ivitch’s benefit.”
“Oh, certainly.” She enjoyed his discomfort.
They rounded the landing and stopped with their feet on the first step of the last flight of stairs. The door to Kyam’s apartment was ajar.
Kyam put the eggs into her hands. “Wait here.” Then he crept up the remaining stairs. He flattened against the wall, peeked through the door, then threw it open fully and rushed in.
QuiTai sauntered in behind him. Either the place had been searched, or he’d dumped all his paints on the floor. She lifted her sarong as she stepped carefully over a canvas.
“I told you to wait,” Kyam said.
She put his prized eggs near the cooking fire, then righted a chair and sat. “I see you’re in the habit of running into dangerous situations on your own, Colonel Zul of His Majesty’s Intelligence Services.”
“Me? I’m the one who rushes in? My dear Lady QuiTai, I think you’re ignoring your own penchant for trouble.”
His overly polite words didn’t match his tone. He glowered at her as if she’d done something to anger him. She wondered why his mood had turned so quickly. Then she saw his sketch book was on the ground near her foot. She picked it up and flipped through the pages. While preliminary sketches of her were there, the full drawing was gone.
“Someone took a memento,” she said. “I meant to tell you yesterday that you’re quite talented with a pencil. I was surprised.”
Kyam searched under the piles of clothes and canvases. “My art tutor had more luck than the music tutor.”
He didn’t do it on purpose, but there were times when he made it so clear how very different they were. Even the best school in Levapur didn’t teach drawing or music. She wondered suddenly if he missed his home as much as she’d missed Ponong when she’d been away.
Stay focused. Every minute she could buy for LiHoun was precious now. The trick was to keep Kyam talking. “Do you have a handler on the island, or do you report directly to Thampur? If I were you, I wouldn’t let the colonial government know about this just yet. Maybe never.” There was nothing specific that she could point to, but the more she thought about the colonial government, the more uneasy she grew. It was as if she’d seen or heard someth
ing that raised a warning at the back of her mind.
“We may be partners in this investigation, but there are some matters that must remain confidential. Aha!” He triumphantly waved a handful of instant jellylanterns. “These might come in handy.” He dropped them on the mattress and reached further under his bed.
“I keep the Devil’s business from you, so it’s only fair if you withhold Thampurian business from me. However, I’m curious about something,” she said.
Wariness hooded his eyes.
She waved her hand. “Nothing top secret, I assure you. It’s just that I have a, shall we say, personal curiosity about biolocks. I know that your farwriter is protected by one. May I observe you opening it?”
He leaned against the mattress. “What’s it worth to you?”
“Worth?”
“You’re the one who treats life like a series of business deals, so consider this a side negotiation. What would you be willing to give up for a chance to inspect my biolock?” There was a hint of teasing in his voice.
“What do you want?”
“The truth. There’s a biolock somewhere you want to crack. Why?”
He was the most infuriating man. A worthy adversary, and an even more worrisome ally. Still, she wanted to see how the lock worked.
“I’ve paid several necessary business expenses out of my own pocket. The Devil is reticent to reimburse me, even though he knows I invest it for his benefit. Unfortunately, his fortune is protected by a biolock.” She folded her hands in her lap. “I have no intention of robbing him. I only want what’s mine.”
Kyam laughed. “So you’re financing the Devil’s crime syndicate and you get nothing in return? I thought you were smarter than that. But where the Devil is concerned, you’ve proven yourself to be exasperatingly blind.”
“There’s no need to be unkind, Mister Zul. It’s merely a difference of management styles.”
“Oh ho! Management!”
One of their arguments could rage for hours if she managed it right. “The Devil’s business is just that, Mister Zul – a business. As a sea dragon, you should appreciate that. Other nations built navies; Thampurians built a merchant fleet, and conquered the Sea of Erykoli with it.”
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about Thampurians.”
“Respect where it’s due.”
It used to be so easy to goad him into fights. If she hadn’t been so thoroughly tired, she would have done a better job of provoking him. Certain there’d be another excuse for harsh words, she decided to let this line of discussion go. If she tried to revive it now, he’d get suspicious.
“So, are you satisfied with my reasons? May I see the lock?”
He kicked scattered clothes aside on his way to the trunk that lay open and on its side near the wardrobe. Then he knelt and reached for the lower of the two recessed metal bands that encircled it. “Come over if you want to see.”
QuiTai’s braid slid over her shoulder as she leaned down for a closer look. If she saw how it worked, maybe she could find a way around it.
“I put my fingers into these copper-lined grooves. You can’t see them, but there are indents I have to line up with.”
She’d felt similar grooves on Petrof’s biolock.
“It’s rather advanced technology. My fingers react with the copper to form a signature electrical circuit. It’s very weak, but it’s enough to –” The metal bar inside slid back to reveal a narrow gap between the false bottom of the trunk and the side. “It triggers a simple latch that slides back.”
“And the biolock can’t be opened by anyone else?”
“It doesn’t read my fingerprints, but the grooves were molded to my fingers. The lock has to receive a certain current that I’m told only my body can produce. That may not be true, but I doubt that a biolock keyed to a male werewolf would yield to a Ponongese woman. Your hands are far too small.”
“Would you please stop trying to trick me into telling you who the Devil is?”
“I think I already know everything I need to about him.”
She tried to remember any hints she might have dropped, but she’d been careful. She knew she had. Maybe Kyam was bluffing.
“Do you have to be alive to complete the circuit?” When he flinched, she said, “A hypothetical question.”
“You wouldn’t kill me for a farwriter. At least, I don’t think you would. Would you?”
QuiTai put her finger to her chin and pretended to think about it. Finally, she shook her head. “Too many witnesses have seen us together.”
“Sometimes I’m not sure if you’re joking.”
He lifted a small black iron machine with round brass keys from the compartment and placed it on the small desk that had been pushed against the wall. The desk looked as if it had originally belonged to a lady in a grand house. For all she knew, it had once sat in Kyam’s family’s compound.
“Since it’s the Devil’s safe you want into, I’ll tell you that – hypothetically – if it was soon enough after his death, the lock might still open. Try it and find out.”
“That option was never really on the table. Merely curious.”
Although if the lock would open for a corpse, it would certainly work for someone in vapor dream. She was a little irritated with herself for not thinking of that before.
He took a smaller box from the trunk and removed a small device with a crank that reminded QuiTai of a pepper mill. At the center was a copper coil. Wires stuck out of the bottom.
“Is that a generator?” she asked.
“Mobile units need a source of power.” Kyam attached wires from the generator to the small farwriter then cranked the handle. “So. The lock. Did you see any way around it?”
“Most certainly.”
“Aren’t you going to tell me?” Kyam asked.
“I shouldn’t, but I’m sure that it’s occurred to you too. That lock is like putting seven bolts on a door made of rice paper. If, for example, I desperately wanted to get into your trunk, I’d break open the bottom with an axe rather than waste time fiddling with a lock. The only problem with my method is that you’d know I’d done it. I prefer a subtler approach, something that wouldn’t arouse even a whiff of suspicion that the safe had been breached.”
“The Devil would kill you if he caught you stealing from him?”
She looked at her hands. “He wouldn’t react well.” That was an understatement, but she was sure Kyam knew that.
“Has he caught you trying to open his safe?”
“How careless do you think I am?”
“Everyone runs out of luck at some point, QuiTai. Even you.” Then he turned his attention to the farwriter. Using two fingers, he began to peck out a message.
QuiTai lifted her hand to her mouth to cover a yawn.
“If you’re tired, you can stretch out on my bed. I promise to stay over here,” he added quickly when she shot a look at him.
“If I eat, I’ll be fine.”
“You had a rough day yesterday, and today hasn’t been any easier.”
“Thank you for your concern, but I prefer to keep moving. Then I don’t have time to dwell on matters best forgotten for now.” But even saying that brought the dull ache back to her heart.
She forced herself to pay attention to Kyam’s farwriter. Maybe it was possible to see the frequency he used from across the room; then she could monitor Thampurian government messages. She squinted. But then he fiddled with knobs on the side of the device.
“It wasn’t set to the right frequency?” she asked.
He glowered at the machine as he hunted for the next letter. “You know how it works.”
His slow typing seemed to drag on forever. Watching his fingers, curved high over the keys and moving across them before he found the next one to press, drove her crazy. It was everything she could do to stop herself from offering to type it for him.
Her stomach growled loudly. Kyam had the manners to cover his smile.
She r
ose and went to the cooking fire. He had no plates, which was unusual for a Thampurian, but he might have adopted the Ponongese habit of using bowls. Bowls made poor pots and pans though, and he didn’t seem to have any of those either.
“Do you eat your eggs raw?” she asked.
“I either share my neighbors’ cooking fire out on the veranda, or grab a bite at the Red Happiness. You have an excellent cook and the prices are reasonable.”
She hadn’t understood how dangerous it would be to spend time with him. While his mind didn’t work as quickly as hers, he still put the pieces together. She wondered what other information she’d inadvertently given him that could come back to haunt her. “So you figured that out.”
“You knew too much about the brothel to be a casual visitor. And that secret staircase went behind the café next door, so I presume it’s also under your control. Are they the Devil’s businesses, or yours?”
“I’ll answer any question about the Ravidians, as per our original agreement, but that’s the extent of what I’ll tell you.”
Kyam finally sent his message. Then he turned the frequency dials, a precaution she would have approved of even more had she been able to read the settings before he changed them.
“You’re not going to wait for their reply?” she asked.
“It’ll notify me of incoming messages.” He pulled a chair over to face hers and sat. “We were talking about the Red Happiness. I could check government ownership documents, or you could just tell me.”
Or she could drag out the conversation by only hinting at answers.
He cast a glance at his door, then turned back to her. It was only a little gesture. It might not have meant anything. But she gave no indication she’d seen it, only saying, “It would be a pity if the documents were stored improperly or filed incorrectly. It could take forever to find the information.”
“I’ll find the time. The more I learn about you, the more I want to know. For example, why you accept as normal what would horrify the average person.”
“More flattery, Mister Zul? You’ve made it clear how you feel about me and the Devil, which makes me wonder why you’re taking such great pains to be nice now.”
