Tempt the Devil (The Devil of Ponong series #3) (3 page)

What if she refused to answer his invitation? He had to
talk to her. She was his only hope.

He buried his face in his hands.

He’d known better than to get involved with her, but he’d
done it anyway. He’d thought he could walk away. Instead, somehow, she’d crept
under his skin. No, not under his skin. Her hold on him went much deeper than
that.

His superiors shouldn’t have asked him to do this. They’d
said her services were essential. He’d told them it would be useless to try to
recruit her and that he wouldn’t attempt it. He had folded his arms across his
chest. He’d been adamant. But they’d known his price: he could return home if
he delivered her to them.

They didn’t seem to understand that they had to offer her
something in return for her services too. Did those fools think she’d be so
flattered by their interest that she’d say yes? If they thought he knew her
price, they were wrong.

This meeting was going to be brutal. She’d draw his soul’s
blood and leave wounds that might never heal.

~ ~ ~

A restless murmur rose from the marketplace below Kyam’s
office. Something had the shoppers upset. Things would calm down in a few
hours, on the surface, but the tension never fully went away.

If only his people would understand that the rice riot had
irrevocably changed Levapur. They couldn’t keep pretending that they could
carry on as they had before. He’d have to start drumming that message into his
fellow Thampurians soon – but right now, he had to figure out how to
phrase his invitation to the woman who had sent that seismic shift rippling
through the town.

Lady QuiTai, I know
this invitation will come as a surprise...

Except nothing surprised her, ever.

His office door flew open. The brush blotted the last word
as he fumbled it.

QuiTai herself stood on the threshold. She never simply
walked into a room; she made an entrance.

It was as if he’d spoken of the devil and summoned her.
Did she have a spy in his office? Indignation followed swiftly on the heels of
shock. How dare she barge in unannounced?

Like the halo of light around a jellylantern, an aura of
power surrounded her. Others reacted to the space her personality devoured, but
he knew from experience to keep his eyes on its nucleus.

Earlier this morning, she’d been dressed for business in
the newest Ingosolian fashion. What did it mean that she was now wearing a
lumpy sarong? Wasn’t
this
business?
Was she insulting him?

What was she doing here? It was eerie how she seemed to
anticipate the future. Had she known he’d planned to send for her today?

Her lips parted slightly. A frisson of anticipation
invigorated him. Any moment now, the verbal battle would begin. He had the
sensation of rousing from a long sleep, of shaking off a lethargy. Her presence
was electric. He’d forgotten the rush he got from sparring with her.

Soldiers appeared in the doorway behind QuiTai, jostling
for position. No Ponongese was allowed to walk through the government building
unescorted.

“Only five guards? It seems the militia vastly
underestimated you,” he said.

He’d practiced that tone in so many daydreams. Light,
pleasant, slightly teasing. It was supposed to show there were no hard
feelings. It was supposed to make her pause.

She hardly seemed to have heard him. Then, as if someone
had thrown a switch, she indulged him with a tight smile.

“It’s time we had a little chat, Governor Zul.”

Her mouth had no business caressing his name like that.
The silky insinuation in her voice traveled across his skin and down–
Kyam cleared his throat and scowled at her.

She walked toward his desk but did not sit. She turned to
the soldiers flanking her. “Thank you, gentlemen. You may go,” she said coolly,
as if they were hers to command.

“You’re dismissed,” he told them. “Please, Lady QuiTai,
have a seat,” Kyam said more courteously, indicating a chair.

Her eyes slid sideways and remained there until the door
closed behind the soldiers.

He hoped she’d say something cruel to him, so he would feel
better about the confrontation they were about to have. It didn’t matter what,
as long as it made it okay for him to rage back and then demand a favor from
her.

He didn’t feel angry at this moment, though. He didn’t
feel worried about her anger either – because she was here, with him, and
the old feeling of adventure was back – and something more. That was part
of her charm. Calamities always followed in her wake, but she was impossible to
resist.

Her hands lay folded in her lap, but at any moment she might
flick her long black braid over her shoulder or smooth her sarong. She might
smile mockingly at him. He drew a deep breath, hoping to catch the spiced scent
she wore at the hollow of her throat, but she was too far away.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” He sat down
and nudged the wastebasket under his desk with the toe of his boot. He hated
the way he sounded. He’d become an Intelligence officer to escape the starched
formality of his mother’s salons, but here he was, talking as if he were back
in Thampur, wearing a velvet sherwani jacket and holding a silver-tipped
walking cane.

“We need to talk about the ludicrous new law forbidding my
people to assemble,” she said.

He clasped his hand together on his desk. “I regret that
we cannot.”

“It was a serious mistake when your Grandfather first
enacted it, and an even worse idea to bring it back. Normally I’d blame Chief
Justice Cuulon, but he seems to have your support.”

“It doesn’t matter what I say. Cuulon controls the laws.”
It was true. There was nothing he could do.

“Arresting my people for gathering, even in the
marketplace, and especially on festival days, is an error you’re going to
regret. It’s the first step down a very dark path.”

It dawned on Kyam that, after all, she had no idea he’d
been about to invite her to come see him. What a relief. She wasn’t
clairvoyant. She wasn’t spying on him. This visit was a coincidence.

“I cannot discuss it with you.” It made him strangely
happy to deny her.

“I thought you wouldn’t. Coward.”

The insult didn’t dampen his relief. “I’m quite busy,” he
said dismissively, covering his reaction.

She rolled her eyes.

“Unless you have something else to say to me, Lady QuiTai,
it’s time to leave.”

He was bluffing, of course. They had barely started, and
she’d already given him leverage to use against her. She wanted the law
repealed; he wanted her soul for Thampur. Could it possibly be this easy? He
felt almost giddy.

“I had somewhere else to be today. Unfortunately,
circumstances forced me to delay my plans. As you can imagine, I don’t care to
be inconvenienced like this. We’ve lost enough time to your nonsense already.
It’s time for you to stop sulking,” she said.

His jaw dropped. He’d forgotten how blunt she could be,
and how rude. “I have not been sulking!”

She made an offhand little noise of disagreement that set
his teeth on edge.

He disciplined himself to a reasonable tone. “I’ll admit I
was angry about the rice riot and being forced to take this office. I’m not as
quick as you, but I finally pieced it together. Grandfather had you neatly
trapped. You didn’t have many options. I understand why you chose to betray me.”

She clasped her hands together and batted her eyelashes
theatrically like a pantomime princess admiring her hero. “So all is forgiven.
You have no idea how much better I’ll sleep tonight.” Her hands dropped as her
face settled into a darker expression. “Like the dead.”

This reminded him of the old days – back before they’d
worked together, when they’d been bitter enemies. He didn’t like it. What he
longed for was that magical sliver of time when they’d been allies in their
search for the Ravidian bioweapons farm. Their lives had been in peril, but
working together had been thrilling.

It felt as if his chance to bargain with her was slipping
away. He needed to remind her that she’d come to ask him for a favor.

“I don’t see that the law harms your people. It’s only
applied when crowds are deemed to have a potential for violence.”

The waters were chummed. All he had to do was wait. Any
moment now, she’d jump to her feet and lecture him on all the ways he was
wrong. Any second now, she’d lose her temper. She’d rail against injustice and
the militia and... She wasn’t moving. If she wasn’t going to demand he change
the law, how could he negotiate with her?

“You don’t wish to discuss the assembly law. You won’t
admit you’ve been sulking since the rice riot. I see no further need to talk,”
she said.

No! This wasn’t supposed to happen. She never gave up that
easily. This was one of her games. It had to be. Despair washed over him. What
was she up to? How had she slipped through his fingers?

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Lady QuiTai?” He
hoped he didn’t sound desperate.

She mulled over something. His spirits cautiously edged
up, wavered, and then tried to rise still further as he watched her for the
slightest hint of what she was thinking. He leaned closer.

Her shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. “I almost hesitate
to mention it.”

Sure she did.

The words seemed to prick her lips as she spoke them. “There
is a small matter of murder.”

What murder? He didn’t know about any recent murders. His
mind raced but got nowhere. Family lore held that his great-grandfather had once
escaped a sinking boat with only a sock and a candlestick in his hands; Kyam
felt as if he didn’t even have a sock.

He didn’t recall hearing about any murders of note
recently, but official reports took weeks to reach his desk, and since he’d
become governor even gossip seemed to bypass him. It was entirely possible she
knew about something he didn’t. It was also entirely possible she was the
murderer.

If he gave a flippant response, maybe she wouldn’t see
that he didn’t know what she was talking about. “Small? Since when is murder a
small matter?”

Contempt sparked in her odd eyes. “The way your militia is
handling the investigation, one might think they’ve decided murder doesn’t
matter. I’m glad to know that you still take it seriously.”

“What investigation?” he asked. He didn’t know of any
investigations. If he had, he might have helped. It would have given him
something useful to do.

“What investigation, indeed, Governor.”

There was still a chance he could bluff his way through
this. “Well, you know…” He tried to think faster than he talked, but he needed
more time. “The militia are soldiers, not police. Their job is to defend
Levapur from foreign invaders. They aren’t trained in the art of detection.”

“Exactly. So why don’t you put your police force on the
case instead? Oh, that’s right. You still haven’t created one.”

He jabbed a finger toward her, but stopped himself before
he raised his voice. The important thing to remember was that he needed a favor
from her. Pride be damned. He wanted his freedom. He settled back in his chair,
lowered his hand, and tried to look like a hapless civil servant. “I’ve been
busy.”

Now she’d ask what he’d been busy with and make sharp
comments about how little he’d accomplished.

Except that she didn’t.

“Two bodies found mutilated in alleyways in the past week.
Both alleged smugglers. Does that sound familiar?” she asked.

Now he remembered Voorus telling him about the grisly
findings. “Oh. Those. I didn’t suspect you… much. I’m sure the Devil–”

“You shouldn’t blame me at all. They were my people.” Her
anger cracked, and pain shone through it so acutely that his breath caught.

The criminal network in Levapur existed outside the
Thampurian sphere. Kyam had no idea what happened in the alleyways of the
Quarter of Delights. She shouldn’t expect him to know.

She composed herself. “Are you going to see to it that these
murders are properly investigated?”

Here was another potential bargaining tile. He could offer
to investigate the deaths in exchange for her help. It seemed to be something
that mattered to her. Maybe this was her real reason for coming today.

He decided to be frank. “I have limited powers here. I’m
up against every government clerk in this building. They make glaciers look
fast. They demand obscure forms that can never be found. They get offended if I
ask them to do anything, but I can’t fire them. Besides, I can’t create a
police force out of thin air. We don’t have the money. Turyat drained the
treasury. I don’t even have enough to remit taxes to Thampur.”

There it was at last, the wicked little smile that haunted
his dreams. She was laughing at him, but he thought it was with some fondness.
What a relief that she didn’t seem to hate him.

“Does the Colonial Government need a loan?” she asked.

He laughed.

“You won’t like my terms, but if you’re desperate enough,
let me know.”

He was desperate, but not for coins. He kept his tone
light. She liked banter. He’d give it to her. “What are your terms?”

She gave him an appraising look. “Repealing the assembly
act is out of the question?”

“Yes.” Not really, but negotiations always began this way.

“What would it take to convince the colonial government to
go through the pretense of giving a damn and investigate the murder of my
lieutenants?” She rose and walked across his office to open the typhoon
shutters. Indicating the marketplace below with a sweeping motion of her arm,
she said, “Show them that you’re the governor of everyone on this island, not
only the Thampurians. Show them that justice is for everyone.”

“I can’t–”

“Don’t be such a coward. Anger your own people. Make
enemies. Prompt them to write outraged letters to the papers back in Thampur
and denounce you to the King. After all, when the war comes, you don’t want my
people to side with the Ravidians against Thampur.”