The Devil Incarnate (The Devil of Ponong series #2) (12 page)

If he wanted to see what one could do with power, she was
more than up to the challenge.

“About the rice… I’ve
developed quite an appetite for it. Tell my lieutenants to buy all the rice the
smugglers and the legitimate importers bring to the island.”

A coughing fit shook
LiHoun’s thin shoulders. “All?” he said faintly when he caught his breath.

“Every last grain.
But spread the purchases among my lieutenants. I don’t want to arouse
suspicions.”

“Forgive this old
man for not understanding, but what do you want with so much rice?”

“Leverage, uncle.
You’d be amazed how much power there is in such a simple thing.”

Since
they were in
no hurry to finish repairs to the
Winged Dragon
, Hadre made sure every inch of the junk was
inspected. He expected the crew to complain, but they were enthusiastic about
it. The officers probably felt the additional investment in the ship promised
fair sailing and better payouts from the ship’s profits. The crew liked the generous
shore leave, since many diversions that were illegal on the continent were
legal – and encouraged – in Levapur.

Grandfather continued to demand gossip from Levapur. While
Hadre had visited the Quarter of Delights, he hadn’t admitted it. Instead, he
told his grandfather that he was too busy overseeing the repairs. He was used
to life on board and could go months without yearning for land, or so he said.

His crew had plenty
to say about Levapur when they returned from shore leave. Most of their talk
wouldn’t have interested Grandfather, but here and there he caught comments
that made him hold his breath and listen intently. Those stories he kept out of
his reports. He was no spy. He knew how a ship worked, but had no idea how
towns functioned. Maybe it wasn’t terrible that the marketplace was all but
abandoned. There were still stores people could shop in, after all, but the
wharf was stacked with crates that wouldn’t move upslope until the Ponongese
were allowed to return to work. The abandoned fishing fleet bobbed in the
gentle waves across the harbor. That sent an ominous chill down his spine. What
would people eat if they couldn’t fish?

If only there were someone other than Grandfather he could
discuss these ugly developments with. His officers were as mystified as he was
by the rapid changes. Levapur had always been lawless, but cheerfully so. Now
it was as dour as the trading posts on the bleak islands near the werewolves’
northern fortresses.

He braced both elbows on his desk and rested his head in his
hands.

He missed Kyam. Several times, he’d been tempted to find his
cousin and try to work out a truce, but then Grandfather pressured him to go
into town and report his findings, and he grew more determined to force their
grandfather to talk directly to Kyam.

Kyam had always been far too loyal to that old man. Hadre
never understood it; but then, Hadre was a ship’s Captain. Once a man grew used
to being his own master, it was harder to be a filial Thampurian grandson,
especially to their grandfather.

As if thinking about the old man could summon him, the ship’s
farwriter bell chimed. If only he hadn’t set the machine to the new frequency
earlier, he could have ignored the muffled summons. Now or later, it would make
little difference. He opened the cabinet and tore off the paper scroll.

What was your impression of the Qui woman? TtZ

Hadre was puzzled. He’d reported everything about her time
on board the
Golden Barracuda
days
ago, except the part about finding her and Kyam together in a cabin. Facts were
all grandfather cared about. Why did the old man now want his assessment of a
woman he’d met only once?

QuiTai had made a strong impression, but one he wasn’t sure
he could put into words. Kyam’s many stories about her had prepared him for her
intelligence and cutting wit, but not for her intensity. Hadre smiled. No
wonder his cousin was so intrigued by her. While she’d never pass as a lady by
Thampurian standards, she could have ruled a salon in Surrayya with the arch of
an eyebrow and a few precise words.

Lady QuiTai is
brilliant, insightful, and very quick of mind. And fearless. HnZ

Smiling wryly, Hadre said to himself, “She’d easily outsmart
you given the chance, old man.”

Rumor has it she has
separatist sympathies. TtZ

“Is that a question?” Hadre asked his empty cabin.

If she does, she was
far too canny to say so in my hearing. HnZ

I’m not interested in
what she said or didn’t say. I want to know if she were provoked, would she
lash out at the colonial government? Is she the type? Is she an angry woman? Is
she a leader? You said she was fearless. TtZ

She leapt off the
walls of the fortress to escape the werewolves. She could have landed on the
rocks and broken her back. The harbor is shark-infested and apparently she
isn’t a strong swimmer. I saw her jump without hesitating. HnZ

This is welcome news.
TtZ

Not since his first ship had run aground on a moonless night
and he’d woken to the sickening groan of the damaged hull scraping against
rocks had his stomach dropped with such leaden fear. At least then he’d known
right away why he was frightened. He’d sailed through heavy seas during winter
storms that sent waves crashing over his deck and toppled his main mast. He’d
survived plague that had killed half his crew in two weeks, and more than once
he’d fought hand to hand with pirates for control of his ship. None of that had
worried him as much as this message, and nothing angered him more than being
scared by words. Words were nothing. They were maishun spirits without
substance. And yet, they deeply disturbed him.

Bile rose in his throat as he carefully worded his next
message.

As you said, she might have been apprehended.
I haven’t heard anything about her since she left the Golden Barracuda with the
colonial militia. HnZ

She hasn’t been arrested yet. Why is she
holding back? TtZ

Grandfather, musing
in a farwriter message? Hadre bet the old man wished he could recall that
message. Lady QuiTai hadn’t been captured by the soldiers. That part was clear,
but
Why is she holding back
? What the
hell did that mean? Why would she hasten to be arrested?

Ask Kyam. He knows her far better than I do.
HnZ

Far, far better than
I do, he thought. Hadre’s cheeks burned as he remembered her pulling the sheet
over her naked body and the smell of sex in Kyam’s cabin.

Kyam
took two steps
into the Red Happiness, saw his cousin Hadre drinking with
his new first mate, and walked out. It seemed there was nowhere in town he
could go for a quiet drink. He was an exile among exiles in a town that
suddenly seemed so small he couldn’t draw a free breath.

The Dragon Pearl was only a block from PhaJut’s, so he went
there next. It wasn’t quiet, but Lizzriat, the worldly, androgynous Ingosolian
owner of the Dragon Pearl, kept a quality house. Kyam was never sure if he
should think of the gender-shifting Ingosolians as male or female, but since
Lizzriat wore foppish suits rather than dresses, Kyam had always thought of
Lizzriat as male. Besides, the other casino owners would have shut the Dragon
Pearl down immediately if they had been able to prove their rival was a woman.

Lizzriat was in his
usual place near the main entrance where he could keep an eye on the action and
greet his customers. Smiling, he lightly gripped Kyam’s elbow and deftly
steered him to an open seat at one of the tables. Governor Turyat and his
cronies sat in the other chairs. Lizzriat’s smile never faltered, but a cloud
of concentration settled on his brow as Kyam made his excuses and backed out
the front door.

It was just as well that he hadn’t taken the place at the
table. He’d gambled away most of his last remittance payment on purpose so he’d
have an excuse to accept QuiTai’s portrait commission. She’d called his
obsession with details narcissism. How she’d laugh if she knew he was living
off the bag of coins she’d tossed at him as part of their act.

The least Grandfather could do, if he planned to make Kyam
stay in Levapur much longer, would be to send more money. And it would be
helpful if Grandfather would tell him why he had to stay on the island. But the
old man hadn’t acknowledged any of his farwriter messages.

As further proof that he had nothing but bad luck, as Kyam
strolled down the street behind the government building, he saw Voorus at the
corner – and he couldn’t dodge into the nearby shop quickly enough to
avoid being seen.

Voorus walked up the
veranda steps with his hands shoved into his trouser pockets. He glanced around
the store as if the bins of brown, black, and white rice were a quaint oddity.
“Zul! I almost didn’t see you. Buying rice?”

Kyam didn’t see any
way out of it, with Voorus ready to ask annoying questions and the merchant
expectantly waiting for his order. He didn’t cook often. He didn’t even have a
rice pot in his apartment. Then he remembered his oath to buy rice for his
neighbors and thanked the Goddess of Mercy for the excuse.

“A quarter-measure, please,” Kyam told the merchant. That
would be enough for the Rhi family for a couple meals.

Voorus peered into a bin as if the color of the rice puzzled
him. “Do you need that much? Aren’t you leaving Levapur?”

Damn Voorus and his curiosity.

“It isn’t for me.” He regretted saying that. He paid the
merchant and left.

Voorus seemingly had nothing better to do with his time than
follow him. “Who is it for?”

The problem with living in a small, sleepy town was that the
only entertainment was gossip. There was no way Kyam could escape Voorus
without an explanation.

“The marketplace is still closed to Ponongese, so I thought
my neighbors might need rice.” There. That was simple enough. And it was true.

“You’re giving a
gift to a Ponongese?” Voorus laughed.

Kyam stared ahead as
his jaw set tight.

“You know that’s
just asking for trouble. Even I know they get angry if you give them a gift.”

“They like gifts the same as anyone else would, but you
never bring food into a Ponongese home. It implies they don’t have enough to
share, and that’s a huge insult to them,” Kyam said. “If all they had was a grain
of salt, they’d find a way to cut it so everyone got a taste.”

“Well, what do you know?” Voorus seemed genuinely delighted
to learn that, although his easy grin and slight slouch reminded Kyam of the
bored scions of the thirteen families sprawled across the dainty pink divans in
his mother’s salon. They could rouse from a drunken stupor and go through the
motions society demanded and then pass out again and not remember a thing the
following morning.

As annoying as he was, though, Voorus had a point. Such
matters required a delicate touch. The best way to approach it was to cook the
rice himself and invite the Rhi to join him for dinner. He’d have to borrow
RhiLan’s cookware, but that might smooth over any other awkwardness.

Voorus tagged along
when Kyam stopped at a butcher to pick up some thin strips of pork and then at the
grocer’s for some vegetables. Hopefully he could make them into something
edible. RhiLan was such a good cook. She knew a million ways to prepare fish so
it didn’t feel like the same meal every night, and her rice never crunched when
you bit into it. But there was no way around the coming embarrassment unless he
wanted to play the clueless Thampurian who stomped on Ponongese toes with the
grace of a floundering h’vet out of water, and they’d humored him far too many times
to try that ploy again.

Voorus frowned at
his packages. “How many gifts are you giving them?”

“Most of this is for
my dinner.”

“I wouldn’t feed a
pig those greens you bought.”

“I didn’t have much
choice. The shops are nearly empty because everything is rotting on the docks
and no one will carry the crates up to town.”

“Don’t give them to your neighbors. They’ll really be
insulted.”

When Kyam didn’t respond, Voorus nudged him with his elbow.
“So you know their customs; but even you have to admit that most Ponongese are
funny about strange things.”

He knew he was going to regret asking, but he said, “Such
as?”

“These snakes have a thousand different rules about who is
in charge. Sometime it’s the oldest person, which is proper thinking, but then
you’re in a different situation and it’s someone else. At least in Thampur, if
you’re the eldest, everyone obeys you no matter where you go or who you’re
with. Direct. Easy. Sensible. Order and structure.”

Kyam didn’t understand how Voorus could live beside people
for several years and still know nothing about them. If he had more time he
could teach Voorus enough to stop looking like an ass, but who knew how soon he
could leave Levapur?

A grunt of amusement shook Kyam’s shoulders at the thought
of being anyone’s etiquette instructor.

“With the Ponongese, much depends on where you stand
socially in relation to someone, which sometimes, but not always, is a matter
of your actual ages. When in doubt, the old people are grandfather or
grandmother, adults you don’t want to anger are uncle or auntie, and anyone
younger than you is little brother or sister.”

If Kyam got it wrong, the Ponongese were too polite, or
amused, or mortified, to correct him.