The Devil Incarnate (The Devil of Ponong series #2)

by Braden, Jill

  “See? You don’t even talk like the other girls, little sister. Elegant! I like the way that word sounds. What does it mean?”

  He’d been right. PhaJut never liked that she went days between customers when the other workers had three or five a night, but by the time she left for the continent, she had made far more for him than anyone else under his roof. Oh, and how those customers had cried and pleaded with her when she told them that she was leaving Levapur. Some begged her to become their mistress. Chief Justice Cuulon had even offered to marry her.

  She turned her attention to PhaJut, who fumed at her prolonged silence. “I only came here to visit LiHoun. I’m on my way out, as you can see.” QuiTai gestured to the open window. Her feet were getting wet again. There was no hope of saving her sandals now.

  PhaJut’s eyes glinted with greed. “What business could you possibly have with the cat man, QuiTai? I’m sure the Devil has minions to run your errands now. Unless you’re hiding something from him?”

  She was too influenced by the conduit’s second pipe of black lotus to finesse her way around PhaJut’s clumsy attempt at cunning, so she decided to call his bluff. “Go ahead and tell the Devil I was here.”

  “Ah! But why are you here? Hmm? You always were up to something.”

  Did PhaJut really think she’d hand him information to blackmail her with? Sometimes, people tried her patience a bit too much.

  LiHoun shuffled his feet. “Little sister QuiTai needs some herbs to bring down her fever. She was asking me –”

  “She has fever?” PhaJut raised his arm to cover his mouth and nose as he backed across the room. “You brought sickness into my place?”

  “It’s nothing contagious, you old fool,” QuiTai snapped. “A cut on my ankle is infected.”

  “And she knows my women have medicine for it. Secret medicine from my home island. Very powerful. I sell it to all the workers here,” LiHoun said.

  “Then take her to your women! Get her out of here.”

  QuiTai’s temper was almost to its breaking point. She was so miserable that if she’d been alone, she might have allowed herself a few self-pity tears. Her leg ached. Even her eyeballs were dry and gummy. And even though she felt as if her skin could ignite at any moment, she was also beginning to shiver. None of that mattered now that her mean streak had been provoked.

  She swung her legs back over the sill and moved into PhaJut’s office chair, a move that made him squeak with outrage. She steepled her fingers together as she leaned back. “So, tell me, dear uncle –”

  PhaJut glowered at the edge in her voice.

  “What sort of profit are you turning here nowadays? The Devil always likes numbers. Is it about the same as when I worked here? Let me see. If I remember correctly, you had seventeen workers, averaging four tricks a night, with the house cut being –”

  PhaJut turned to LiHoun. “Both of you, out!” He glared at QuiTai. “You always were an evil bitch. The Devil should kill you while he still has a chance, because one day, you’ll betray him just like you have anyone else who has ever taken you in.”

  “I’ll share your advice with him. I’m sure he’ll find it... amusing.”

  She wasn’t sure if it was her words or the quiet voice in which she delivered them that made PhaJut blanch and back out of the room – nor did she care.

  ~ ~ ~

  QuiTai was furious with herself for giving in to her temper. PhaJut wasn’t a bad man. He hadn’t tried to cheat her more than was customary. While he shouted a lot, he’d never raised a hand to her or any of his workers. She had no reason to antagonize him.

  She rested her burning brow in her hand. “Favored uncle, I’m sorry to have cost you your job.”

  “There will be another. I get most of my information from gossip with the runners from the other brothels and gambling dens, not from this place.”

  “It was still careless of me.” Threats, she’d learned, was best used sparingly, and only when all other options had failed.

  LiHoun helped her out of the chair. She hated showing such weakness, but she honestly couldn’t have walked on her own. That damned vapor addict hadn’t been useful enough to cause her this much trouble.

  “I’m going to take you somewhere to rest and have that ankle tended to. Then I’ll arrange a meeting between your lieutenant for this area and the smugglers. The black lotus will be delivered to the Dragon Pearl tonight,” he said.

  “Thank you.” She shook her head though. “As I said, I won’t endanger your family. Where are you taking me?” There wasn’t anyone she could think of who would risk helping her.

  They shuffled around the broken furniture in the hallway to the back door. It was still raining, but the drops had turned to fine mist and there was only an inch or so of water in the streets. LiHoun had to feel how hot she was, but he didn’t mention it as they headed through the dark alleyways.

  “You’re not taking me to the Red Happiness.”

  LiHoun let her lean against a building as he peered around a corner. “If someone were searching for you, they’d go there first. There’s somewhere they’d never think to look for you, and I’m sure they have a healer.”

  LiHoun talked as they took the dark alleyways through the neighborhood. QuiTai was so intent on keeping upright that she barely heard what he said. It seemed as if she’d been in pain forever, but it had been just over a week since she’d met Kyam Zul at the Red Happiness. From that day on, she’d endured more near misses with death, werewolf attacks, and miscellaneous indignities than in the rest of her life put together. This, she hoped, was the grand climax. Once she was over this, she’d settle into a predictable, orderly life. No lovers, no complications. Just business.

  She tried to figure out where LiHoun was leading her, but there were gaps in time as the conduit dragged her into his oblivion. It took a moment to notice that she’d lost awareness of her surroundings and even longer to fight her way out of the vapor. The street sloped a bit too much to be the Quarter of Delights. Green jellylantern light glowed from the few windows and doorways that were open, so they weren’t in a Thampurian neighborhood. That narrowed it down quite a bit. If she was right…

  QuiTai pulled away from LiHoun. “Oh no.” She shook her head and muttered, “No, no, no,” but she saw they’d stopped at the front stoop of the apartment building she dreaded. “Kyam Zul? He probably won’t be happy to see me, and he’s no healer.”

  “Come inside, quickly. The rain is letting up, and people may venture out onto their verandas.”

  LiHoun was right. Besides, where else could she go? The chill was coming on again, and she didn’t think she could walk to her nearest safe house. Even if she could, she’d be alone. As much as she hated to admit it, she needed help.

  They slipped into the foyer. Muddy shoes sat in neat rows against the wall. She bent down to remove her sandals, but LiHoun nodded to the landlady’s door as a warning and pulled her up the stairs. LiHoun keep a steadying hand on her elbow. She suppressed her resigned chuckle. Here she was, the powerful crime lord of Levapur, and she couldn’t even climb a flight of stairs on her own. She didn’t feel menacing or intimidating.

  As they paused to rest on the third floor landing, she whispered, “I hope you know what you’re doing, uncle.”

  “I’m not taking you to Kyam Zul.”

  “Then who? There’s only one other apartment on the fourth floor...” She groaned as the other possibility revealed itself to her. “Let me guess. One of the escaped slaves decided to stay on Ponong, so he or she moved in with a sister or cousin from Cay Rhi who lives here in Levapur.”

  LiHoun’s cat’s eyes were full of awe when he turned to her. “The Oracle told you that?”

  “No.” Kyam Zul had told her about the family from Cay Rhi who lived across from him when they’d been on the Golden Barracuda. The rest she’d figured out on her own. QuiTai was in no mood to explain all that.

  “I told them all to leave the island for their own safety,” she gr
umbled.

  “Not everyone is inclined to obey you, grandmother.”

  “I told you to see to it that they went.”

  They reached the fourth floor landing. The door to Kyam Zul’s apartment was to the right, the other apartment door on the left.

  “Some are even less inclined to obey me, especially this one. She’s almost as headstrong as you.”

  LiHoun knocked on the door. A curvy woman with a worried brow opened the door a few inches. The strong smell of fish soup made QuiTai’s stomach rumble. She hadn’t eaten properly in days. The woman glanced over her shoulder as she blocked their view of the room.

  There was a brief, hushed conversation before the door pulled open to reveal a taller woman.

  “RhiHanya. Why did I know it would be you?” QuiTai meant to sound exasperated, but she knew she grinned at the woman who had helped her and the slaves escape from Cay Rhi. She’d never been able to resist the charms of women who swept through life like divas on the stage, or one who kept her head when all hell was breaking loose.

  RhiHanya’s wide smile showed the beguiling gap in her front teeth. Her hand shot out to grab QuiTai’s forearm and yank her into the apartment. “Wolf Slayer! I knew we were fated to meet again. Don’t hang in the hallway! Come in.”

  QuiTai’s face mashed against RhiHanya’s bosom as she was engulfed in an embrace. It was the most inviting pillow she’d rested her head on in days, but she wriggled away. The other woman watched like a nervous bird. Her face puckered with worry.

  RhiHanya’s voice was like a warm, soft blanket to snuggle into on a chilly night. “Well ‘have you eaten’ to you too, little sister.”

  Nothing irritated QuiTai more than being lectured about her manners, especially since hers were normally flawless.

  “If you’ve come by to tell me to leave this island, don’t bother. I wouldn’t listen to that scrawny old man, and I’m not about to obey you either, little sister,” RhiHanya said.

  Two young boys and a girl sat at a low table near the typhoon shutters that led to the veranda. Papers filled with carefully copied letters from the Thampurian alphabet covered the tabletop. They watched silently as QuiTai limped into the room. Finding her uninteresting, they turned back to their school work.

  QuiTai grimaced. Children. When she left the Dragon Pearl, she should have gone to one of the apartments she kept in Levapur and sent for LiHoun. He could have brought a healer to her. She’d made many mistakes this evening, but this one was unforgiveable. She had to find a way to back out gracefully without insulting LiHoun or the Rhi women.

  The apartment was no bigger than Kyam’s place across the hall, and the walls and ceiling were just as damp. Steam rose from a pot on the cooking fire. A neat stack of sleeping mats sat in the corner behind a dying frame with a half-finished sarong spread on it. Only the Thampurian-style divan on the back wall seemed out of place. Perhaps it was a gift from Kyam. He’d mentioned that he was friendly with his neighbors.

  “This is my cousin, RhiLan.” RhiHanya pointed to the woman who’d opened the door.

  RhiLan put her hands together and bowed. Her wide eyes fixed on QuiTai.

  “Auntie QuiTai is in need of assistance. A wound on her ankle is infected, and she has a fever,” LiHoun said.

  RhiHanya tsked as she bent down to look. “You should have drained that before it got this bad. Puncture wounds are dangerous.”

  “I was involved in another pursuit.”

  “There were more wolves than that one you ki–” RhiHanya’s mouth snapped shut as QuiTai’s gaze sharpened.

  I shouldn’t be here. Why are there never good solutions, only less terrible ones?

  QuiTai turned to LiHoun. “It isn’t right to ask a favor if they don’t know how big the favor is.” Next, she looked to RhiLan, not RhiHanya. “The colonial militia will be searching for me soon, if they aren’t already. If you’re caught harboring me, they will execute your family. I will not take offense if you turn me away, auntie. Your first duty is to your children, and I respect your need to protect them above all else.”

  Please, please send me away. Think only of your family, RhiLan. But QuiTai had seen that worshipful expression before. Normally it amused her. Now it dropped a cold stone into the pit of her stomach.

  RhiLan cast a quick glance at her children. Then she pressed her hands together and bowed again. “The Rhi clans owe you an honor debt that isn’t forgotten at the first sign of danger. The Wolf Slayer is welcome under our roof.”

  “Now you get off that ankle and let me have a look.” RhiHanya lifted QuiTai and carried her across the room to the divan. “You’re burning up, little sister.”

  RhiLan rushed to her cooking fire and put a tea pot on the flame. “Hitouh root, for fever.” She pulled open small drawers in the wooden cabinet set above her chopping block and muttered as she took each item out. “Dried jikal buds to strengthen your blood. Tiuhon leaves to restore your spirit.”

  “And a knife,” RhiHanya said as she carefully peeled the bandage away from QuiTai’s seeping wound.

  LiHoun was immediately at QuiTai’s side. His hair stood on end and his ears flattened.

  QuiTai winced as skin pulled away with the bandage.

  The children looked up from their work. Without a word, they quickly stacked their papers away and then stepped through the typhoon shutters onto the veranda.

  “We’re going to have to open those punctures so they can drain,” RhiHanya said. She locked her gaze on QuiTai. “And flush them with water until they’re clean. Otherwise, we’ll have to use maggots.”

  While she understood and agreed, QuiTai couldn’t help but shudder a little.

  RhiLan put the blade of her knife into the cooking flame before reaching for her herb cabinet again. “And black lotus, for mercy.”

  Chapter 5: The Winged Dragon

  Hadre refused to be humiliated by his new command, even though the Winged Dragon should have been scuttled years ago. Once upon a time, a very, very long time ago, the Winged Dragon had been the pride of the Zul fleet. As he inspected the junk, Hadre found the hull sound and the ageing vessel meticulously maintained. Malk, being the son of one of Grandfather’s daughters, probably never expected to be promoted from his command and thus had made the most of it. But still, the sails were in terrible shape, as if the junk had been caught on the fringes of a typhoon, and the rudder needed an overhaul.

  Grandfather knew how to pick his punishments.

  After dinner with his officers in his extremely small cabin, Hadre dismissed them and sat down at the scarred desk to write his weekly report. Grandfather probably expected complaints. He’d be damned if he’d humor the old tyrant.

  Lately, his mouth constantly pressed into a tight line. Defying Grandfather was always wasted effort, but he couldn’t have lived with himself if he hadn’t tried.

  It took quite a long time to compose his message. Words of frustration and anger snuck into what he’d hoped would be a polite and emotionless report. As he wrote, the paper filled with snide remarks that he crossed out. He balled it up and threw it against the unpacked trunk that held his few possessions. It bounced off the trunk and rolled under his desk. He took a fresh sheet and began again.

  Sir, after inspecting the Winged Dragon, I have found it to be seaworthy and well maintained through the excellent leadership of Cousin Malk and his diligent crew. However, I would like permission to replace the sails before we venture out of port, as it is typhoon season and I doubt they would withstand strong winds.

  The officers had not been informed about the cargo we are to take on and I was unable to ask cousin Malk before he took command of the Golden Barracuda.

  His former ship’s name came out in fat lines that blurred together as he pressed too hard on the pen. Grandfather wouldn’t see his writing, though, so he continued.

  If we are to bring a shipment of medusozoa back to Thampur, I would be obliged if you’d arrange to have the rudder refitted upon our return. However, if w
e are scheduled to sail to the Li Islands, it would be best to perform the necessary maintenance before we attempt to negotiate the Ponong Fangs. Please advise. HnZ

  That, he decided, was the best he could do. He rose from the desk and opened a cabinet on the wall beside the door to the flying bridge. A small desk folded out. The keyboard for the ship’s farwriter slid forward. He made sure the battery connections weren’t corroded, consulted his journal for today’s frequency, and carefully typed out his prepared message.

  Hadre had already placed his journal into the desk drawer – neatness was mandatory on a ship – and was about to lock away the farwriter when the little brass bell on the side struck, indicating that he had an incoming message. The message would print out even if the farwriter was unattended, but the Zul way was to read and destroy all messages at the soonest possible moment, so while he was in no mood to read Grandfather’s reply, he waited for the message to print, tore off the scroll of paper, and read it.

  Have you heard if the Qui woman was apprehended? TtZ

  How like Grandfather to completely ignore his message; unless the old man had sent his before he received Hadre’s.

  The message puzzled him. After Grandfather ordered him to take the colonial militia, Kyam, and Lady QuiTai to Cay Rhi, he’d then ordered Hadre to sail back to the harbor. Kyam hadn’t said a word about what happened on the cay, although he’d hinted that he was under orders to keep quiet. His questions about Lady QuiTai had been met with averted eyes and a sudden change of subject. Why would the soldiers need to apprehend her? Did it have something to do with her escape from the fortress?