The Devil Incarnate (The Devil of Ponong series #2) (22 page)

Kyam had told her that he rarely went to his family’s
compound. She also believed that, although she wasn’t sure why he shunned such
a prestigious address with spacious living quarters. He preferred to live in
his tiny apartment in a run-down building amongst the Ponongese. It was one of
his maddeningly attractive traits.

Because she tried to be honest with herself, even when it
made her wince, she admitted that she’d enjoyed most of her adventure with
Kyam. It wasn’t often that she had to work so hard to stay ahead of someone in
a mental game. He’d forced her to remain sharp, honed, focused. And he’d been
rather fun to talk to. Not to mention how easy he had been to look at.

She scowled. Enough
of that. On Cay Rhi, they’d agreed to pursue the interests of their own people
and parted ways. She assumed he was keeping his end of the bargain, as she
intended to keep hers. Unfortunately, that meant that they probably would never
work together again. Life being what it was on Levapur, they would probably find
themselves at odds. She looked forward to matching wits against him.

A warm smile played
across her mouth. She quickly quashed it. This was no time for those kinds of
thoughts. She had some serious thinking to do, and now that she’d come to the
perfect quiet hideaway in which to mull over the events of the past week
without interruption, she wasn’t about to start daydreaming about his hands
tugging impatiently at her sarong or his devouring kisses.

~ ~ ~

QuiTai was curious about the interior of the mansion. Did
chandeliers of long-faded jellylanterns wait in the darkness like ambush
spiders? Did jungle vines slip through the slats of typhoon shutters like
moonlight and creep along the walls? Would ghost footprints show on the dusty
floors? Or did servants come every week to scrape mushroom ears from the walls
and polish the banister in anticipation of a master who might never come?

She lightly pulled
on the grand entrance door. It didn’t budge. The doors to the second floor
veranda probably weren’t locked, but her Thampurian clothes made climbing
impossible. As she’d cautioned Kyam, just because one was curious didn’t mean
one had a right to know, so her questions about the mansion would have to
remain unanswered.

She turned to the low second building in the compound. The
door was slightly open. She couldn’t remember whether she or Kyam had closed
it, but despite neglecting the property, he had enough sense to make sure it
didn’t become home to a troop of monkeys. Cautiously stepping forward, she
tried to keep a cloak of shadow around her.

The scent of hot juam nut oil was faint but grew stronger as
she drew closer. Whoever was inside had recently used the cooking fire,
although she didn’t smell food. She concentrated on sounds. Under the splatter
of rain dropping from the eaves to the courtyard tiles, someone gulped a drink
and sighed. From the depth of tone, she was sure it was a man.

Had Kyam somehow guessed that she’d come here? He was smart,
but he wasn’t psychic. Maybe he’d followed her. He knew she could pass as
Thampurian when she wanted to. But when had he guessed her destination, and how
did he know a quicker route?

She should steal
away before he knew she was there. It was a long walk through Levapur to her
nearest safe house in the jungle, but what was inconvenience compared to
safety? She didn’t know that it was Kyam inside. If the man were someone else,
matters could get dangerous. But what if it were he?

Her heartbeat throbbed painfully in her throat, and she
moved in slow motion to the window and peered through the shutter. The man
inside was undoubtedly Thampurian. His shoulders were broad, and even though he
sat on one of the low stools beside the cooking fire, from the length of his
outstretched legs, he was tall. Unlike Kyam, he wore some sort of uniform
jacket, although if it had borne a soldier’s epaulets, the silver threads would
have glinted in the low light.

She watched him drink from a nearly empty bottle as he
stared into the cooking fire. Like her, he seemed to have something to mull
over. She almost hated to interrupt him, but she now had a strong suspicion who
he was, and a warm smile had already spread across her face.

She slunk several steps away from the building and then
walked toward it again, this time making sure the sole of her boot scrapped
across a tile. By her third audible step, she heard him rise with a bit of a
groan. He wasn’t the type of man who expected trouble, so he didn’t try to move
silently. She lifted her hand to knock on the door, but it slid open.

His eyes widened seconds before his pleased grin. “Lady
QuiTai!”

“Captain Hadre Zul.”
Relieved, she beamed as she extended both hands to him.

After placing dry
kisses on her hands, he backed away from the door and gestured for her to come
in. “Have you eaten?” he asked.

“Yes, and you?”

He nodded.

Hadre busied himself
with host duties, apologizing profusely for the stool he offered her instead of
a proper chair, and placing the kettle over the fire. Once they were settled,
he stared at her. “This really is the most unbelievable luck. I was just
thinking about you, dear lady. But why are you here?”

She accepted a cup
of tea from him after it had brewed. He didn’t seem to notice her hesitation
before pretending to take a sip. It smelled like regular tea, but she wouldn’t
taste it until she was sure of his intentions.

“I understood from your cousin that this property was
infrequently in use, and I had a great desire for a private, quiet place to
think,” she said.

“I’m almost sorry that you found me here, then. I came here for
the same reason. I can shut the door of my cabin and tell my first mate that
I’m not to be bothered, but the watch calls out and the conversations of the
crew drift from the main deck through my windows, and that damned bell on my far
writer interrupts me with no regard to my train of thought. And I knew that
Kyam wouldn’t come here. I have no such guarantee from any public venue in
Levapur.”

That comment struck her as odd, but she didn’t think it wise
to pry. While she hadn’t sought Hadre, she was glad to have this chance to talk
to him. “I’m surprised to see you too, and not just in this unlikely retreat. I
was informed that the
Golden Barracuda
sailed days ago.”

Hadre’s scowl reminded her of Kyam. While Hadre was better
at hiding it, it was clear he had a temper to match his cousin’s. “It did.”

 
She wondered if
he’d been removed from command as punishment for his part in the Cay Rhi
adventure.

“I’m now captain of the
Winged
Dragon
.”

She had no idea which junk was the
Winged Dragon
, but the
Golden
Barracuda
was the Zul family flagship, equipped with experimental
technology. The
Winged Dragon
had to
be a lesser post. “But still, you have not sailed.”

He glanced away.
“The ship is in need of repair.”

She didn’t doubt
that was true, but it seemed he didn’t want her to know something about the
circumstances. The more he talked, the better chance she had of figuring it out
on her own. People never realized how much information they let slip.
Unfortunately, they didn’t have a long acquaintance. There wasn’t much idle
gossip she could use to lull him into lowering his defenses. But as she took a
deep breath in preparation of launching into the only subject they had in
common, he suddenly turned to her.

“What are your
feelings for my cousin?”

Shocked, she found her mind suddenly blank. Finally, she
managed a coy smile. “That’s rather direct for a Thampurian.”

While her tone was light, he looked as if she’d slammed
something sharp across his knuckles. “Forgive me. When you’re on board a ship
for months on end with only a male crew, you forget how to treat a lady.”

“Don’t –”

“Ky-ky and I have had a falling out. I’d hoped to find you
and ask you to talk to him, but you’re devilishly hard to find. The only people
who showed any interest when I mentioned your name were colonial militia, so I
stopped asking. But that wasn’t getting me anywhere, until, well, here you are.
So could you have a word with my cousin? Maybe he’d listen to you.”

“Surely –”

“He saw me in the Red Happiness and cut me. Spun on his heel
and marched out.”

If anyone else had
interrupted her like that, she would have made it clear not to dare try it a
third time. Hadre was talking to himself more than her, though, and he was
clearly worried. Besides, a man who had turned his ship around on her orders
deserved every modicum of respect and generosity she could extend to him.

“But you’re going to
have to be careful. Much more circumspect than I was,” Hadre said.

What could have come
between Kyam and Hadre? She’d only spent a day with them, but they were obviously
close. Now, only a week later, they wouldn’t sit in the same room together.
They’d exchanged angry words at the Red Happiness, but that fight over their
grandfather wasn’t enough to destroy their friendship, was it?

“A delicate subject?” she asked.

He laughed as he shook his head. “Do you know much about
Thampurian religion?”

This was an odd turn in their conversation, but she trusted
he steered the course for a reason. “Ma’am Thun made us memorize the Thampurian
gods’ tales, but she never implied that they were more than stories.”

“In a way, this is one subject where Ponongese and
Thampurian beliefs are similar. From what I understand, you have priestesses
who preside over death rituals, and ones for births, justice,” – he
nodded knowingly at her as if he understood about the Qui – “and you have
gods and goddesses, but like your priestesses, they don’t interfere with daily
life.”

QuiTai nodded.

“We also have gods and goddesses, but they’re more concepts
than actual beings with supernatural powers. But where there’s a void of power
in Thampur, someone will always step in.” Hadre drained his cup of tea and set
it on the ground. “Convince someone that you have a celestially ordained right
to control every aspect of their life... Take a fatherless boy who loves you,
respects you, worships you, and convince him that the only way to earn your
love in return is unwavering obedience...”

Impatient, QuiTai tapped her foot.

“I’m sorry to be
such a poor host, but –” He gestured to an empty rum bottle. “My tongue
has been loosened. Anyway, there’s nothing angrier than a true believer when
his faith is challenged.”

 
QuiTai startled. Did this man somehow
know she’d lost faith in the Oracle?

“Or when warned that
the person they worship means to harm them,” Hadre said.

“Are you still speaking of your cousin?”

Hadre rested his elbows on his knees and sunk his head into
his hands. “We were brought up to worship our grandfather. That’s the
Thampurian way. Not as a god, but as the ultimate authority over our lives.”

“Grandfather Zul.” QuiTai breathed his name. So their fight
over him had been enough to estrange the cousins. For a man who lived so far
away, his name came up far too frequently in conversations in Levapur. She’d
admire his reach if it didn’t seem to have an iron fist at the end of it.

“I’m an apostate.
Too much time as my own master and out of the cloistered family compound back
in Thampur. You’d think that after spending so much time traveling around the
continent, living undercover for months on end, and answering to different
masters, Kyam would have come to the same conclusions I have; but instead, when
faced with facts, he clings more tightly to his belief in our grandfather. I
don’t understand it.”

QuiTai began to see
the origin of Hadre and Kyam’s estrangement, but she still wasn’t sure what
Hadre expected her to do. What message did he want her to deliver to Kyam, and
why did he think that she would have better luck making Kyam listen?

“Such irrational
behavior doesn’t sound like the Kyam Zul I’ve come to know.” She recalled the
respect with which he’d spoken of his grandfather, though, and couldn’t deny
that it had bordered on worship.

“We’re speaking of
religion, Lady QuiTai. Rational thought is the antithesis of faith.”

That was too raw a
subject for her to touch on lightly. “I have no quarrel with faith.”

“Neither do I. But I do with men who claim to speak with the
voice of a god.”

He really was drunk to talk like that. “Is your grandfather
mad, then?”

Hadre snorted. “Worse. His mind is sharp as yours, and his
schemes are brilliant, if you’re not caught up in them. He manipulates Kyam
heartlessly for his own aims.” He shook his head. “And Kyam knows it, but the
family let that old bastard sink his clutches into Kyam after his father died,
and there’s no prying grandfather’s grasp loose now. Not that I’m much better
off. I stand against grandfather, in my own way.” He smiled apologetically and
shrugged. “And yet, he gets what he wants from me anyway. Maybe it’s better to
delude yourself with faith rather than struggle against tyranny. Either way,
you suffer, but if you believe in the cause, at least you feel as if your pain
had a purpose.”

As they sat in the
darkened kitchen, each traveling down their own path of thoughts, she decided
that she didn’t care how Hadre and Kyam worked out their problems. It was none
of her business. She was hardly the influential voice in Kyam’s ear. However,
as long as she and Hadre had this chance to talk, she might as well get a few
answers to her own questions.