The Devil Incarnate (The Devil of Ponong series #2) (24 page)

“Mister Zul!”

She must have spent all day with her ear to her door,
waiting for her tenants to walk into the foyer. He bounded up the stairs as if
he hadn’t heard her.

“Mister Zul! Rent!” she shrieked.

He tried to get his key into the lock before she reached
him, but she moved quickly for such a round old woman.

“Rent!” Panting, she put her hand out for the coins.

There was no avoiding her. Reluctantly, he counted out the
payment. She counted it again, gave him a sharp look, and toddled down the
stairs.

He unlocked his door and walked in.

Someone was in his
apartment.

It felt as if he’d
suddenly been yanked back to his first day in Levapur. For a moment he didn’t
even dare breathe. He was afraid if he moved or spoke, QuiTai would disappear
like a shy maishun spirit fleeing through the jungle.

Sunlight filtering through his typhoon shutters cast stripes
of light and shadow across the bare wood floor. The bright band of gold around
her vertical pupils glowed out of the darkness that fell over her eyes. On the
day they’d first met in this apartment, she’d been dressed much the same, like
a Thampurian lady rather than a Ponongese. His trunk was even in the middle of
the room as it had been when he’d discovered her waiting for him. She’d sat on
it just like that, her hands folded in her lap, ankles crossed, back so straight
it made his spine ache, her chin lifted just a bit as if inviting him to speak
first.

She had to be real. He smelled that elusive mixture of spice
and wood that clung in the hollow of her throat. She had to be real. He blinked
to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. She had to be real. No one
else could make him want to punch the wall without saying a word.

“You!” If he remembered correctly, that’s what he’d said to
her that first day too. He’d been no less furious with her then than he was
now.

She didn’t so much as flinch when Kyam stomped over to her,
bent down, and punched the trunk on either side of her slim hips. He leaned
forward on his knuckles and glared into her impassive eyes. He felt her slow
exhale on his cheek. Not a spirit, then. He could grab her by the arms and she
wouldn’t evaporate like mist through his fingers.

The corners of her mouth curved up and she blinked
languidly, the way she had after he’d pleased her in that narrow cabin bed on
board the
Golden Barracuda
. Now he
knew exactly why the Devil’s fingerprints were so often on her throat. He
wanted to shout, to shake her, to kiss her so hard she’d back away from him in
alarm. Just once, he wanted her to be frightened of him. He wanted her to
regret how much he’d worried about her. Instead, he gathered every pittance of
control he had left and slowly growled, “Did it ever occur to you to let me
know you were still alive?”

Even though a long moment passed before she spoke, he didn’t
believe for a second that she’d given her answer any serious thought. At best,
she seemed mildly surprised by his question. “No,” she said.

Kyam strode back to
the door. If it hadn’t been his home, he would have walked out and slammed the
door so hard the building would have collapsed. Did she really say
no
? His thoughts were so intense he
couldn’t put them into words. All he could do was make sounds of disbelief and
contempt as he tried to get himself under control. He ran his fingers through
his hair while he stared at the wall. Why did this woman make him so insane?

“Are you unwell,
Colonel Zul? You seem less articulate than usual.”

The anger he’d tried
to rein in exploded. He spun to face her. “Why?”

“I’ll thank you not to bellow at me. I can hear perfectly
well, as can your neighbors. And if you want an answer, please include at least
one verb – and a pronoun if you’re feeling generous – with your
interrogatory. ‘Why’ is a rather vague question.”

A year ago, she’d robbed him of his possessions. Now she
stole his ability to talk. A million words came to mind but none could pass
through his tightly clenched teeth. His hands rose in a gesture of angry
pleading and shook.

She waited for him to speak with the patience of a cat on a
sunny perch.

He wasn’t angry that she was alive. He had to remind himself
of that. She was so cold, calculating, and unfeeling. He thought he’d earned
better from her. His lips pressed together as he shook his head. He’d made a
fool of himself over her.

“Scoot over.” He lightly swatted her thigh and plopped down
beside her on his trunk.

She stared straight ahead. He refused to be caught stealing
glances at her, so he did too. Neither of them spoke. She could make silence do
terrible things to his mind.

“Thank you so very,
very much for almost getting me killed on Cay Rhi, Lady QuiTai. Half the
soldiers we needed to fight the Ravidians chased you instead,” he said.

She coughed
delicately into her gloved hand.

 
In his
experience, the only time women made that little throat clearing sound and sat
up that straight was as they prepared to verbally flay a gentleman. Somehow, he
knew she’d speak in a low voice, at least to start. That was the way it was
done.

“I made it quite clear that our business arrangement had
come to a natural end, and that I would seek my own path from that point forward.
My actions shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you, Colonel Zul.”

He shook a finger at her face. “I –” She had a point.
He hadn’t been surprised, but he wasn’t about to let facts douse his righteous
indignation. “A few of the soldiers accused me of helping you. If Captain
Voorus hadn’t shut them up, I could have been thrown into a fortress cell.”

“Could have been, but you weren’t.”

He hated the mocking tone dancing through her voice, as if
she were on the verge of laughing at him. She tilted her head and smiled at
him, charming and heartless as a viper, while she waited for him to speak.

“I’m beginning to hate you.”

She shrugged. “Who doesn’t?”

Kyam rubbed his forehead. He was getting a headache. “The
slaves you freed.”

“Ah, yes. We must not forget about them.”

Voorus’ warnings
about a Ponongese rebellion came back to him. Was she hinting that he and the
colonial government shouldn’t forget that she could incite her people to riot?

“Or the Rhi who remain in slavery,” she said. Her smile was
gone. She didn’t bother to soften her tone with flowery words or flirtatious
looks, but there were layers of meaning behind that statement. He wasn’t scared
of her, and had never been, but the chill she cast reminded him how very
dangerous she was.

“Is Petrof dead, or are you still chasing each other?”

He might have imagined it, but he thought he saw the dimple
by her lips deepen, as if she were suppressing a wry smile. She knew he’d
deliberately changed the subject. He couldn’t ever hope to fool her. Yet she
went along with it. Suddenly, she was charming and gracious.

QuiTai straightened the tassels of her skirt’s waist scarf.
“How kind of you to ask, Colonel Zul. Yes, it seems that my unfortunate little
tiff with Petrof has come to a satisfactory resolution.”

He was in no mood to play her word games. “You’ll never use
the word ‘killed,’ will you?”

“I have enough rope, thank you. I’m not about to ask you to
give me more with which to hang myself.”

Normal conversations
weren’t competitions, but each one with her was a battle.
 
Had he ever won?

Resigned to losing
this battle, he asked, “How is your sea wasp sting?”

She pulled off her glove and lifted her hand for his
inspection as she fixed her gaze on the door. He gently wrapped his fingers
around hers and watched her profile as he pressed his lips to the dark pink
scar. Nothing, as usual. Not even a hint that she felt a thing. He turned over
her hand and kissed it. At least that time she blinked. Did he imagine a slight
movement of her mouth or a narrowing of her eyes? Kyam wondered why he craved a
response from her.

“Someone in the government paid Petrof to kill you,” he
said.

“Hmm.”

Did that mean she already knew?

She finally turned back to him, but her expression was still
unreadable. He could feel the warmth of her thigh against his, but she was
distant. She was dressed as a Thampurian, which meant she was here on business.
Was she once again completely the Devil’s woman? Had she ever been anything but
that?

Kyam couldn’t stand to be near her another second. He jumped
to his feet. “What do you want, Lady QuiTai?”

Was that a flicker of relief on her face? Maybe it was a
trick of the light and shadow she used like a veil.

“Why are you still here, Colonel Zul?”

“It’s my apartment.” How did she like word games used against
her?

“Why are you still in Levapur? You have signed articles of
transport.”

“For all the good they do me.”

Her eyebrows rose.

His wagged his
finger at her. “Oh no. No, no, no. We are not going to discuss that. We aren’t
going to discuss anything. As you said, our business is concluded. You got what
you wanted from me.”

“And vice versa.”
She rose.

This wasn’t the
reunion he’d pictured. It wasn’t what he’d wanted. They’d drawn close during
their adventure, and it was hard to accept that moment was gone forever. Yet he
sensed this was exactly the way she planned it to be. As usual, she was in
complete control of the conversation, steps ahead of him.

He was surprised when she stood on her toes to place a
chaste kiss on his cheek. “I’m relieved that you weren’t blamed for the events
on Cay Rhi. It would have pained me if you’d been arrested. I couldn’t have
done anything to free you, of course. That would have distressed me even more.
Helplessness leaves a vile flavor in my mouth.”

She seemed sincere.

He had to stall her until he could say the right things. “Is
that why you finally decided to reappear? To tell me that?”

“No, Colonel Zul. I came to say goodbye.”

He was surprised how final that sounded. If only he could
start over from the moment he walked into his apartment… but she’d slipped away
from him again, elusive as ever. “I never finished your portrait.”

“We don’t need that ruse anymore.”

Again, she was telling him that she didn’t expect them to
meet again. He didn’t know what to say to change that. Regrets already haunted
him, and she hadn’t even stepped out of his apartment yet.

“We made a good team, QuiTai.”

Unlike before, this time she seemed to give a great deal of
thought to her reply. “Smugglers can take you to any free port on the
continent. From there, you can travel overland to Thampur. You know LiHoun.
Tell him if – when – you’re ready.”

She opened the door.

The one emotion she’d never hidden from him was sadness. He
didn’t know if the glimpse of it on her face was her final gift. It struck him
that she was being kind in her peculiar fashion. She pitied him, and he didn’t
know why.

Before the door even closed, he’d sunk his head between his
hands.

Ma’am
Thun shut
the front door of her schoolhouse. She checked the sky. Puffy
white clouds drifted in the blue expanse, roiling from within – that
meant the weather would change soon. She patted the handle of her umbrella on
the crook of her arm and walked down the steps to the street.

She had enough money to last a few more weeks, unless QuiTai
demanded she return the tuition already paid for classes that might never meet
again. Those damn soldiers. Who told them they could march into her school and
ruin her life?

She nodded smartly
to her neighbors as she passed them. Everyone seemed tense. Some people didn’t
return her greetings. She felt as if she were being snubbed, which burned her
pride. What had she done to deserve such curtness?

If QuiTai wanted the
money back, what could she do? She might have to sell some of her possessions.
The humiliation felt unbearable, even though it hadn’t happened yet. Perhaps if
QuiTai stopped by she could ask her former student for a loan.

Her step faltered. Taking tuition money was one thing, but
borrowing from a girl who had once been so poor that she’d worn the same sarong
every day was quite another. And where did QuiTai get her money? From such
unsavory business! From that criminal, the Devil. That was the puzzling part;
not that she’d ever understand the way the Ponongese thought. QuiTai didn’t
need the Devil to make her way in the world.

Years ago, she’d had such hopes for QuiTai. Such a mind!
Going to university in Thampur had been completely out of the question, of
course, even though QuiTai had asked to take the entrance exam and passed it.
Thampurian universities didn’t admit women, and they certainly didn’t admit
barefoot natives. She’d offered letters of reference for QuiTai to enter
service in Thampur, although she couldn’t think of anyone who would hire a
Ponongese servant. To this day, she shivered when she remembered the look on
QuiTai’s face – and yet, QuiTai sent students to her and often paid their
tuition. The quiet, serious child had blossomed into something rather
mystifying.

But she had money to spare. As filthy as it was, it spent
the same.

Perhaps there was something to be said for abandoning polite
society. Ma’am Thun sniffed through her fleshy nose. There was no such thing as
polite society for the Ponongese, and no matter how civilized they behaved,
they’d never be allowed into the tight circle of privileged Thampurians in
Levapur. She’d led an exemplary life and hadn’t received so much as an
invitation to a salon or lunch from the compound dwellers.

Would QuiTai let people know if she asked for a loan? No.
The girl had always kept her own council. You never knew what was going on
behind those strange eyes. And oh, the endless questions! QuiTai would never
take anything at face value. You had to prove everything to her. It was almost
a relief that she only came to the school to deliver the tuition payments
because even now she asked uncomfortable questions.

Ma’am Thun gripped the handle of her umbrella tighter. What
if QuiTai never visited now that the school was closed? It wasn’t as if they
talked about old times over tea. Their monthly chats were always brief to the
point of being brusque – a few questions about the students’ progress,
who excelled at which subjects, and sometimes a discussion about books and
equipment, and then the purse would come out and the coins stacked in that
exacting manner on the edge of her desk, signaling that the conversation was
over.

If QuiTai would not come to her, she would have to seek her
out.

She realized that
she’d already accepted that she’d have to beg QuiTai for money. After her exile
from Thampur, she’d learned to take a realistic view of such matters, no matter
how offensive they were. All you could do was pick the shame you’d have to live
with. Borrowing money seemed far better than selling her possessions.

Ma’am Thun wondered
how one went about finding QuiTai. She’d never had to do that before. QuiTai
always came to her. Levapur was small and rife with gossip; surely someone knew
where one could find the most notorious woman in town. But what if she were
seen asking? Oh, no. That simply wouldn’t do. Perhaps it was possible to simply
pick a café near – but not too near – the Quarter of Delights,
drink tea, and wait for QuiTai to pass by.

 
At the corner,
a group of Thampurians stood outside a rice merchant’s shop. They looked angry.
Ma’am Thun needed rice, but the shops always charged more than the merchants in
the marketplace. Whatever had caused the crowd was none of her business, so she
crossed to the far side of the street and went past.

One street before the town square, she saw another crowd of
angry Thampurians outside a rice merchant’s shop. Fear and uncertainty prickled
her mind. A Thampurian lady with twin boys tried to enter the shop, but a man
grabbed her arm and yanked her back. The lady yelped as Ma’am Thun also squeaked
in surprise. She’d never seen a Thampurian gentleman in Levapur act like a
common ruffian, although his clothes proved he was no member of the top tier.
Words were exchanged, but it wasn’t her problem, so she hurried away before she
found out the reason for their argument.

It was with no small amount of caution then that she hurried
on to the marketplace. Unlike the past days when the few, forlorn stalls had
been all but neglected, now there were long lines of Thampurians waiting at
some of them. Her disgruntled frown deepened as she realized all the lines were
for the rice sellers.

With a tiny huff of
exasperation, she picked what seemed to be the shortest line and stood behind a
fashionable woman in russet velvet. When the line didn’t move for a while, she
leaned over to see around the woman’s large beribboned hat to watch the
prolonged, animated discussion between the man at the front of the line and the
rice merchant.

The woman’s head
turned suddenly. She leveled narrowed eyes on Ma’am Thun. “Do not even think of
jumping the queue.”

Her jaw dropped. “I
would never think of doing such a thing. I simply wanted to know why the line
does not move.”

“The line does not
move because people like you try to insinuate themselves ahead of others.” The
women turned away. Her straight back and tense shoulders spoke volumes of
outrage.

“Even if one were exchanging social pleasantries, I do not
see why it would take so long to buy a measure of rice,” Ma’am Thun grumbled.

Someone bumped her from behind, sending her against the
woman. After a frosty glare, the woman sniffed and turned around again,
ignoring her protestations of innocence. Receiving no satisfaction in that
direction, Ma’am Thun in turn scowled at the men behind her. He shrugged,
slightly apologetic, and pointed to the five people behind him as the culprits.

“This is insufferable. I should go to another line,” Ma’am
Thun told him.

The man spread his hands. “If I had no manners, I’d let you,
but one of the merchants is out of rice already, so the lines have doubled at
the other stalls. Best to take it in good humor or your morning will be wasted
for nothing.”

Finding the
gentleman – although from the state of his shewani jacket, he was a mere
clerk – much more agreeable than the woman in front of her, Ma’am Thun decided
just this once to talk to someone beneath her station. “There were no lines
yesterday. What happened overnight that every Thampurian in Levapur suddenly
must buy their measure?”

“I wish I’d bought
some yesterday. The price was thirty percent lower then.”

“What?” She turned
around to glare at the rice merchant.

“You haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?” Panic
again fluttered in her heart. “What has happened?”

“The black market
price for rice went up this morning. The merchants heard the rumor and started
raising their prices. So people are buying more than they need, and the price
keeps going up. By noon, it will have doubled.”

Her fingertips touched her cheek. “Oh my! I hadn’t heard.

As the man had mentioned, the line behind them grew longer.
She wondered if QuiTai might talk the Devil into selling her rice at a little
discount.

“Hey! What’s taking so long?” someone shouted.

People bumped into her as the back of the line grew
restless. She gave up trying to apologize to the woman in front of her. Staying
on her feet was enough of a challenge. Someone tried to cut into the queue near
the stall, and she heard the shouts and a melee broke out. Pushed forward by
the people behind her, she moved closer to the front of the line. The shouting
and fighting grew worse. The lady in front of her held a hand to her hat as it
nearly fell off. Then suddenly everyone surged forward.

The merchant tried to protect his merchandise, but people
jumped over the table to reach the sacks of rice at the back of the stall. The
table was knocked over and the scale hit the ground with a thump. Men grabbed
sacks of rice and tried to run off, but others jumped them. Bags split open.
Rice spilled onto the wet dirt.

Ma’am Thun shoved
her fist into the gash in a burlap sack and grabbed a handful of rice as a man
pushed her aside. She backed away, clutching her fist to her chest.

A once beautiful and
expensive hat sat in a puddle on the ground. She stomped on it quite decisively
before rushing away. She heard shouts and the thud of blows landing. Soldiers
ran past her into the marketplace. She walked at a fast clip, never looking
behind, as she cradled her handful of rice.

~ ~ ~

Levapur had always been a sleepy town. Tonight, it was dead.
Few people were out on the streets. Voorus was glad of that. After the small
riot – no, Thampurians didn’t riot. After the unfortunate events in the
marketplace, he hoped people were reflecting on their actions and hiding their
faces in shame.

He should have smelled dinners cooking and heard the clatter
of plates. Someone should have been laughing or scolding their children. If it
hadn’t been for the glow of jellylanterns in the windows, he would have thought
the town had been deserted. The quiet made his nerves jumpy.

Although policing the streets technically wasn’t part of his
duties as a soldier, Voorus hadn’t minded it until recently. He and his men
could keep order when the only troubles were a few drunks in the Quarter of
Delights and the occasional domestic squabble. The past few weeks, though, were
a reminder that the colony needed a regular police force. Not more soldiers.
The soldiers who had recently arrived were causing more problems than they were
solving. It was as if they wanted to provoke the Devil’s whore into starting an
uprising.

He’d tried every day to talk to Governor Turyat. No one in
the government office would admit they’d seen him. The servant who answered the
bell at the governor’s compound wouldn’t allow Voorus through the gate. Chief
Justice Cuulon was unreachable too. Something had to be done before matters got
out of hand. His only hope was to corner the governor in the Dragon Pearl’s
vapor den before the man took his pipe.

Voorus heard breaking glass. He closed his eyes for a moment
as he sighed. Lately it seemed that all he did was run toward bad sounds to
find a terrible scene waiting for him. This time his men weren’t with him. It
was a Thampurian neighborhood, though, so he hoped to find something simple,
like a fire. A fire would be good. People banded together to fight them.

He rounded the corner. About twelve Thampurians were
gathered before a rice merchant’s store. It was hard to count in the dim
moonlight. Some people were stepping through the broken windows to grasp bags
of rice. The rest menaced a figure on the ground. The fallen man could have
been a looter, but Voorus would sort that out after he saved the man’s life.

He grabbed his baton while his other hand tried to capture
the whistle bouncing wildly against his chest as he ran.

“Disperse! This is the militia! I order you to disperse!”

Several people ran away with burlap sacks of rice over their
shoulders, but the rest stood defiantly as he drew closer.

He finally got a
grip on his whistle. It sounded desperate and panicked, as if giving away his
thumping pulse. He hoped some of his men were close enough to hear the shrill
summons.

Steps away from the
men, he realized the other seven weren’t going to run like the looters had.
From their cruel smiles, they knew he was alone, and they wanted a fight.

The nearest man looked as if he’d spent a lifetime lifting
heavy crates. Voorus wasn’t as muscular, but he’d trained for fights at the
military academy. He ran at the man with his baton ready. While the man raised
his hands to protect his face, Voorus slammed the baton low against the side of
his thigh. As the man collapsed, Voorus gripped the end of the baton and pushed
against the man’s knee, then stomped on his ankle. The man screamed as he
rolled on the ground.

Voorus was already on the next man, but he couldn’t work
fast enough to take down all seven. He heard running footsteps leading away
from the fight, and then someone else tackled him to the ground. He kept
swinging as he was forced onto his back. Bile burned his throat as he fought to
keep his dinner down when a man landed on his stomach. He bucked until the man
tipped forward. Their faces were inches apart. Before one of the other men
could pin his arm, he hugged the man on top of him, gripped both ends of his
baton, and rolled it hard against the man’s ribs.

“He’s breaking my back!” the man screamed. “Get him!”