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

by Braden, Jill

  He shook his head.

  “Something has happened. Tell me.”

  “Lizzriat says Grandfather Zul wants to talk to you. Tonight. If you don’t come, Lizzriat will be killed.”

  “Trap?”

  “Possibly, but he looked truly frightened.”

  “How did he know to tell you?”

  “I wondered that myself. It means he knows I worked for the Devil when he hired me.”

  “Hmm.” That would be something to puzzle over later. She had priorities. “I wanted to speak to Grandfather Zul tonight anyway, so I suppose I should answer this rude summons, although I’d hate for him to think he can snap his fingers and make me jump. Still, my pride is the least of our concerns, isn’t it?”

  He swallowed hard. The sharp lump in his throat wouldn’t be moved. “Grandmother, forgive me. I understand if this means an end to our friendship, but Grandfather Zul also ordered me to bring you to my farwriter, on pain of death.”

  She staggered back a single step, but that was enough. Her face was unreadable. At such times, he feared her most. While he’d searched for her, he’d thought about leaving his betrayal out of it. Even when he found QuiTai, the temptation to hide the truth had been overwhelming. He saw what she’d done to Petrof. He’d seen the bloody remains of the werewolves in the marketplace. He couldn’t have explained what changed his mind.

  “You always said I could sell my information to anyone as long as I gave it to you first.” His excuses sounded weak even to him. LiHoun shuffled to the door. “I’m going. In case I was followed, I don’t want them to know I found you, so I will go to several other random places about town. If you’re going to kill me, at least let me perform this one last service. Tomorrow is as good a day to die as any.”

  She blinked. He could tell she was furious. He knew before she even spoke that her voice would be quiet and that each word would be enunciated with great care lest he misinterpret her message.

  “Don’t let Grandfather Zul know you confessed to me.”

  He shook his head. “I won’t.”

  “We will speak of this later. I have business to attend to right now.”

  “I think Grandfather Zul knows you’re the Devil. I didn’t tell him.”

  “Later, LiHoun.” Her voice was terse.

  He bowed with great reverence. “Be careful, grandmother. This town is full of treachery and spies.”

  “You too, uncle. Don’t lead them on too merry of a chase. After all, they might not exist, and I’d hate for you to fall ill.”

  He wasn’t sure if that was a threat. In a way, it made him feel better. If she decided to forgive him, there would be no more secrets. If she didn’t, he’d bought his own death with Zul coin.

  ~ ~ ~

  As soon as LiHoun was gone, QuiTai ran to her wardrobe. She cursed her Thampurian clothes. Even though she’d given up on the corset and a few of the underskirts, there were still so many layers. She unbraided her hair, combed her fingers through it, and gathered it into a bun. Her hands shook as she jabbed pins to hold it into place.

  She winced as she thought of LiHoun’s betrayal. It pained her almost as deeply as Jezereet’s death. He’d called her daughter. She wiped away an angry tear. There was no time for such nonsense.

  On her hands and knees, she dug through the dusty boxes hidden in the false bottom of the wardrobe until she found one she hadn’t used for a long time. It didn’t matter that the wig inside was messy. After five minutes in the rain, it would simply look like wet, bedraggled hair.

  She took a length of white silk and bound her chest tightly. Unlike the Thampurian corsets, which emphasized her assets, this breath-taking constriction flattened her chest. She pulled a shirt over the binding and raised her arms to make sure she could move. She hoped she wouldn’t have to climb tonight.

  LiHoun. She closed her eyes. Of course she’d told him to sell his information wherever he wanted to. She heard it first, and if she wanted to keep it secret, she paid him more. It was a simple arrangement, much as when he’d run errands for her back when she worked in PhaJut’s brothel. He’d never been her employee. He’d always been strictly for hire. But what had he told Grandfather Zul about her? Why did Grandfather Zul even know her name?

  Her fury focused unfairly on Lizzriat. Another Zul spy.

  But hadn’t she always warned everyone in the Devil’s syndicate that the town was full of spies? Why was she suddenly angry about it? She was fair game, like anyone else. After all, she was the face of the Devil.

  LiHoun and Lizzriat. No doubt there were a few other spies desperately searching for her right now. It was a beautiful move, she had to admit. Grandfather Zul had turned the ground beneath her feet to quicksand at a crucial moment. Knowing it was part of his plan didn’t stop the fog of rage and uncertainty growing in her gut, because this could only be the beginning. She had no idea where the next blow would land. All she knew was that she had to let them come as they may and not waste time trying to protect herself. She had to focus. Anger wasn’t useful. Neither was moping around like a scorned lover. The past was past and the future was unfolding before her. If she didn’t hurry, it would spin out of her control. Tomorrow was the third day. Time was up, unless she could stop it.

  Still fuming, she turned her attention back to the wardrobe.

  The sarong she picked was well-worn. The pattern was classic Pha-style batik, a touch that most Thampurians wouldn’t consciously notice, but the brown, tan, and orange design seemed more masculine. She reached for the back hem, pulled it between her legs, and pinned it at her waist. The billowing gathered sides would disguise the feminine shape of her thighs, but she couldn’t do much about her calves now that they were exposed.

  After slipping into plain sandals, she turned and twisted in front of the small mirror inside the wardrobe door. Nothing was out of place. She stopped and faced the mirror.

  Teenage boy, she thought. I’m a teenage boy. Her posture subtly shifted. As soon as she saw an awkward mix of cockiness and self-consciousness, she grinned at her reflection. It, too, said teenage boy.

  She covered the jellylantern and went to the window. She saw no one in the alleyway. She climbed onto the sill and dropped down into the mud and weeds that choked the narrow lane. A flock of jungle fowl grumbled as she walked past their perch under the thick leaves of a low plant, but they were the only ones who noticed her turn into the next alleyway.

  ~ ~ ~

  QuiTai raised her hand to knock on the door, but hesitated. Perhaps this wasn’t a good idea. She knocked anyway.

  She heard the groan of bed springs and decisive footsteps across the floor. Before she could dart down the stairs, the door opened.

  Kyam took a second to recognize her.

  “Are you alone?” she asked.

  He nodded and backed away from the door so she could enter. After he shut the door and locked it, he turned to her. “LiHoun gave you my message?”

  She shook her head. If she’d known, she wouldn’t have come here. It only made it worse to see him again.

  “I’ve decided to take a smuggler’s ship. Can you arrange it for me?” Kyam asked.

  Maybe this is what it felt like when LiHoun betrayed her. She never expected it would feel as bad from this side, as if her heart were brittle glass fracturing under the lightest touch.

  “What’s wrong? QuiTai.” Her name was a sigh on his lips. She couldn’t bear it.

  Kyam tried to hug her.

  She wanted to close her eyes and rest her head on his chest. She wanted a lot of things she could never have. She stepped back. Maybe there was a way out of this. Maybe this was the story with the happy ending – evil vanquished and good rewarded – but then she remembered that to most people, she was evil.

  “I have to talk to Grandfather Zul. Could you unpack your farwriter and tune it to the right frequency for me?” She didn’t like the way her voice sounded. It was thick with grief. She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, as if that would w
ipe away the lies she would surely have to tell.

  “You’re shaking. You’re soaked. Sit down. I’ll make some tea.”

  “No, Kyam. The farwriter. Now. People’s lives depend on it.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What kind of trouble are you in? Is it the Devil?”

  She laughed. It sounded a bit hysterical to her ears.

  Why do I care so much about his fate? As Voorus pointed out, it isn’t exactly a tragedy to become governor.

  Why am I making it happen?

  Because she knew already that she’d be the one. She’d foreseen it on the Golden Barracuda. It had seemed funny to her then. Now it was another horrible thing she had to do.

  “Do you want a drink instead of tea?” He was still watching her with such concern in his eyes.

  She shook her head. “I need my wits for this conversation. I’m sure you know. Talking to Grandfather Zul...”

  “Sweetheart, I can set up the farwriter. I can put you on the right frequency. But he never answers my messages.”

  “He’ll answer mine.”

  Kyam opened his trunk’s biolock and set the contents in piles on the floor. He leaned into the trunk to open the farwriter’s hidden compartment.

  QuiTai sank into a chair. She shoved a lock of the wig’s hair out of her eyes. Water dripped down her back. Misery suited her. No one should feel comfortable doing what she was about to.

  “So, if I may ask, how do you know my grandfather wants to talk to you?”

  “He sent a message to me.”

  “He sent a message to you.” Kyam spoke slowly, as if the words were foreign and he was trying to translate them. “What message?”

  “He said he’d kill the messenger if I didn’t respond.”

  Kyam stared at her.

  There was never an easy solution, never a good answer. She could barely meet his gaze.

  “I don’t know about you, but I think I need that drink. Maybe two.” He rose from the floor and went to his cooking fire.

  “You believe me.”

  He nodded as he poured a generous drink into a glass. “I know my grandfather, so yes, I believe he said that to you, even though it was just an empty threat. I’m curious why he’s interested in you. What have you been up to since we parted ways on Cay Rhi, my dear?”

  She had to stop being so afraid. She had to get into the right mindset to face Grandfather Zul. He might be able to sense her fear, and she didn’t want him to have that edge. There still might be a way to give him something without giving him everything.

  For Kyam, she summoned up a ghost of her usual smile. “Oh, you know. The usual. No good.”

  His smile brightened. He leaned against the cabinet, facing her, his long legs crossed at the ankles. “That’s my g— Almost forgot. Must not call you my girl.”

  “Kyam, I’d love to banter with you, but there are lives at stake.”

  “So you believe. I guess I am being a poor host.” He set down his glass and picked up the farwriter.

  She bit her bottom lip as he charged the field battery. What would she say to Grandfather Zul? ‘What the hell do you want, you evil old dirt Thampurian’ probably wasn’t the right tone to set. ‘You wanted to talk to me?’ could come across as too angry. ‘I’ve looked forward to meeting you’ was almost too ingratiating, like the men who came backstage after a performance expecting to meet the character, not the actress. Although that wasn’t too far off the mark. She was playing a part. She wasn’t scared, worried, and furious QuiTai. He expected the Devil’s Concubine. No. He expected the woman who became the Devil. She had to step into the role and play it to the hilt.

  Kyam flipped open a book and ran his finger down to a line. He turned the frequency dials. “Just in case you get any ideas about memorizing this setting, we change it every day.”

  “Sensible.”

  He turned to her, his face a picture of exasperation. “Okay, I’m dying of curiosity. Why the hel— the heck are you suddenly mixed up with my grandfather? Did I miss something?”

  “Where have you been all day?”

  “Packing. Why?”

  He didn’t know about the rice riots. No wonder he hadn’t slammed the door in her face.

  “Kyam, now that you’ve decided to leave Ponong, are you going to stop this silly feud with Hadre?”

  He shrugged.

  “It would make me... You will need... He’s always had your best interests at heart. He’s the only person you can ever trust to do that.”

  “You two have become friends?”

  Co-conspirators was closer to the truth, but she was about to betray Hadre too. He and Kyam could re-bond over their hatred of her.

  She pointed to the farwriter. “Is it ready?”

  Kyam bowed in the Thampurian manner with a flourish of his hand toward the machine.

  She walked to the farwriter, still uncertain of what she might say to Grandfather Zul. “This is horribly rude of me, Kyam, but please leave.”

  “I wouldn’t miss this for the world. You and Grandfather? I’m dying of curiosity.”

  “I need to concentrate.”

  Kyam chuckled. “It’s as if you already know him.”

  “I know enough about him. Really, Kyam, this is important. I have to focus.”

  He put a hand on her shoulder. “You find me distracting?”

  She glared at him until he removed his hand.

  “I promise I’ll sit over here and won’t say a word.” Kyam stretched out on his bed and cupped his hands behind his head.

  QuiTai wanted to wipe the smirk off his face. If he only knew, he’d take this as seriously as she did.

  She turned the farwriter around so she wouldn’t have to look at him while she typed her message. He wouldn’t be able to read the incoming messages from across the room. As a precaution, she’d burn them after reading them. That was all she could do.

  Her fingers stretched toward the keyboard.

  Chapter 19: The Stakes of the Game

  Q

  She sent the message and hoped it was the right one. Every minute that passed with no reply made her feel like an unwanted visitor forced to sit in the hallway while newer arrivals were shown into an office. Was Grandfather Zul trying to put her into her place? He’d obviously forgotten how patient the Ponongese were.

  Kyam’s bed creaked as he rose. She watched him over her shoulder. He took a kettle off the cooking fire and poured steaming water into a teapot.

  “I finally received my remittance, so I can afford oil now.” He opened canisters and sniffed their contents before choosing one. “Like I said, he never answers my messages. Even when he did, it took a while to get a reply.”

  He poured out the water and put tea leaves into the pot. “I’ll make a cup for you too.”

  “No thank you.”

  “I’m not going to poison you.”

  The bell on the farwriter dinged.

  “Never trust anyone on this island, Kyam. Anyone.” QuiTai turned her attention to the line of text appearing on the paper scroll.

  It’s a pleasure to finally speak with you, Lady QuiTai. TtZ

  He’d chosen the form of Thampurian etiquette. She wondered if she should reply in a Ponongese manner or follow his lead. He’d lived on Ponong and would understand the gesture. She bit her bottom lip. Was she over-thinking a simple exchange?

  “Kyam, is Grandfather Zul one to play mind games?”

  From the look on Kyam’s face, that question offended him. She should have remembered Hadre’s warning. Having to tiptoe around one Zul was bad enough, but juggling two at the same time was going to be impossible.

  “Poorly worded. Let me try again. Is he known for his wit?”

  “He’s the terror of the salons in Surrayya. Mother won’t even invite him anymore, although he shows up when he wants to. It’s not as if she could have him barred from his own parlor.”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “You sound distracted.”

  “I am. I’
m trying to talk to your grandfather and you keep –” She gestured a blabbing mouth with her hand as she leaned closer to the farwriter. That didn’t help her decide how to reply to the message.

  Kyam checked the color of the tea and poured a cup. “Is there a problem?”

  “Just clarifying the rules of the game at this point.”

  She stared at the words. ‘To finally speak with her.’ What did that mean? He addressed her as Lady QuiTai. What meaning was hidden behind that show of manners?

  “He’s really not that bad of a man. You just bring out the worst in people. Sure you don’t want tea?”

  “Hmm? If you’re going to pester me until I say yes, then yes. Now hush.”

  I regret that we can’t meet in person, Grandfather Zul. Q

  If he was going to be polite, two could play at that game. She almost laughed. Only a Thampurian would think of manners as a weapon. Well, a Thampurian and her. She had a mental image of them circling each other. She wondered what he looked like.

  Kyam set a cup of tea on the table. She quickly ripped the scroll and carried it over to the cooking fire. He chuckled as she burned the papers. “Always so secretive.”

  Conversation with Kyam would be too distracting, so she didn’t encourage him with a response. He spun a chair around and straddled it, his arms resting on the back as he stared at her. He had to know that was annoying, but she wouldn’t let him draw her into conversation that way either.

  This time when the bell rang, she ripped the paper as soon as the message finished typing and carried it to the fire.

  I, too, wish we could have spent some time together when I was in Ponong. I would have expressed my great admiration for your manipulation of the rice market. Although, of course, you hadn’t implemented that plan yet. You surprised me. That doesn’t often happen. Oh, not that I didn’t think you were capable of it. Call it a lack of imagination on my part. It never would have occurred to me to do such a thing. Well played. Except that rice shipments are on their way to Ponong already and within two days, you’ll no longer have control of the supply. TtZ