Tempt the Devil (The Devil of Ponong series #3) (8 page)

“Wait. We have to search her,” the guard said. The man
sounded so sleepy he could doze off any second now.

QuiTai had thought this through. She had some kind of
plan. At least, he hoped she did. He had to help her. He shot a glance to the
gods above. Only QuiTai could get someone to talk himself into helping her and
betraying his own.

“Ah, she’s already in the cell. Why bother dragging her
out? She might not go in so easily next time,” he said. “Besides, she isn’t
charged with anything. I’m just holding her here for questioning later today. I’ll
come back later today and question her.” He stopped talking, but it was too
late to stop looking stupid.

The soldier and the guard seemed uneasy with that, but
they didn’t want to go to any more trouble than they had to. “Okay, but if
anyone asks, you told us not to.”

“Give me the key to her cell.” Kyam put his hand out. He
had no idea what this was about, but he took his cues from her, and if she
thought he should hold the key, then he would.

“We can’t give you the key.”

He grinned at the guard. “Yes, you can.”

“No, Governor. Afraid I can’t.”

“I command you.”

The guard shook his head slowly. “No.”

Kyam stuck his hand into his pocket and withdrew a handful
of coins. The soldier’s fingernails rasped against his palm as he scooped the
coins. The key dropped into his hand.

QuiTai patted her hip. He dropped the key into his hip
pocket as instructed. Her lips pulled into a tight smile. The guards rattled
the door to her cell to make sure it locked.

Whatever she had up her sleeve, it was up to her from now
on.

“Give me half of that,” said the other guard, trying to
take some of the bribe from his friend.

He wouldn’t be frightened for her. He wouldn’t think about
torture. She was brilliant, and cunning, and ruthless. Gah! But none of that
mattered much if a few soldiers decided to go into that cell and hold her down.
A wave of nausea hit his stomach.

As if she read his mind, she whispered,” I will see to it
that you’re stuck in Levapur until your dying day if you dare interfere with my
plans. Go away. Go now.”

~ ~ ~

Chief Justice Cuulon darted panicked glances over his
shoulder as he rushed into the government building. The Ponongese wouldn’t be
able to break down the massive brass doors and drag him into the town square if
they decided to riot over QuiTai’s arrest. He’d seen what those snakes had done
to the werewolves several years ago. Savages, all of them.

He forced himself to slow down as he stepped into the
center atrium. His heart pounded as he paused to admire a purple lily in the
ornamental pond. Seven, eight, nine, he counted the seconds. When he reached
thirteen, he headed for the staircase.

Cuulon didn’t acknowledge the deep bows of junior clerks
on the first landing of the staircase, or those of senior staff as they pressed
against the railing to clear his path. He held his head high through the long
climb to his office on the third floor. No one must guess how the snakes made
him tremble.

Somehow, QuiTai always managed to make things difficult.
How did she happen to have one of Thampur’s finest legal minds in her employ
now? She had supernatural powers. That was the only explanation.

He took a calming breath and opened the door of the
justice department.

Legal clerks sat at small desks arranged in neat rows in
the front chamber. Dressed in nearly identical sherwani jackets, they reminded
him of schoolboys. None of them lifted their eyes from their work as he strode
past the desks. The only sound in the room was the soft lop-lop-lop of the
ceiling fans and the banging of message cylinders in the pneumatic tubes along
the wall.

His secretary tried to hand him a stack of papers, but he
waved them away.

He shut his office door a bit too forcefully and sank onto
a settee. His hand rested at his temple to shield his eyes from the blinding
sunlight streaming through the glass typhoon shutters.

If only Petrof had killed QuiTai before the rice riot, or
even back during the
Full Moon Massacre
, he lamented.
It was just his luck that QuiTai had been the one to escape the assassination
of her family. The dangerous ones always found a way to survive.

His hand slipped down to support his chin.

That old bastard Theram Zul might have made it clear
QuiTai was under his clan’s protection, but the Ravidians had found a way
around that. They’d tortured Petrof until he’d agreed to kill her. But after a
few senselessly theatrical attempts on her life, Petrof had suddenly stopped
trying. What was he waiting for?

Maybe Petrof was being cautious. He was the only werewolf
known to have escaped the mass hanging at the fortress. Petrof didn’t need to
come out of hiding to kill QuiTai, though. He could still attack from the
shadows – if he were still alive. Was he? He had good reason to stay in
hiding if he was. Theram Zul and the Ravidians probably both wanted his hide
nailed to their walls. QuiTai too. She was a vicious little thing, and she
wouldn’t be content to kill a man quickly. Oh no. She’d do it slowly and enjoy
every second of it.

That woman!

He leaned back and crossed his legs. His arms spread
across the back of the settee as he surveyed his grand office. With a sniff, he
tried to convince himself that he’d never been infatuated with her. His fingers
drummed against the dark wood frame of the furniture. Never, he thought.

Maybe he should hire someone to kill her; but now that the
werewolves were dead, he wasn’t sure who handled contract killings in Levapur.
Every discreet message left at the usual places had gone unanswered.

Maybe the Devil had killed Petrof.

No. It couldn’t be. The Devil was smart and ruthless, not
a fool for love. The Devil wouldn’t kill Petrof to protect QuiTai. Petrof was
too important to the Devil’s business. But where had Petrof disappeared to? He’d
never been easy to find, especially after the militia went a bit too far with
that ant torture. But he’d still slipped into town occasionally after that. Now
he was as elusive as a
maishun
spirit.

Who knew where to find Petrof? Probably only the Devil.

And who knew how to get an audience with the Devil?
Probably only QuiTai.

Frustrated with his circular thoughts, he slapped his hand
against the upholstery. There were too many unknowns. It used to be that he
knew every major criminal in Levapur and what they might do, but that had
changed as soon as the Devil muscled in and took over. Now everything was a
secret, and the Devil was the biggest secret of them all.

It was too late anyway. Too late to kill her.

At least she had been taken to the fortress. He was
surprised that Kyam Zul had acted so quickly. She was defenseless now; even the
Devil couldn’t save her there. He looked forward to hearing her beg. That would
be the sweetest thing. As she had once humiliated him and made him plead, he
would now make her grovel. The natural order would be restored.

But none of that would bring back Turyat.

That bitch! Why would she kill a man who was already a
ghoul?

He bowed his head. Tears fell.

Kyam returned to his office
in a restless state. There was no
taking back the morning, was there? QuiTai had him in a strange bind. He couldn’t
save her too soon, but if he were too late, he was screwed that way too. Every
deal with her was a trap. He knew that. He should have asked her why she wanted
things done this way. It made no sense.

A deep sigh lifted his shoulders. He poured a drink but
left the glass untouched as he tried to remember his exact conversation with
her. The Ponongese could listen to a saga once then repeat it flawlessly. He
wished he could do that, because he knew she’d told him things she thought he
needed to know. But being typical QuiTai, she’d refused to say ‘remember this,’
or ‘this part is the most important.’ She trusted him to be smart. Sometimes he
wished she would treat him like an idiot instead.

Kyam’s office door rattled. Voices rose outside as
something slammed against it. No one had talked to him in months, and now twice
in one day he had urgent visitors. He had no idea what would happen next.

The door flung open and Voorus stumbled in, followed by
Kyam’s outraged secretary – a young man with far too much nose and not
enough chin. While his secretary alternately apologized to him and scolded
Voorus, an elderly Thampurian gentleman shuffled through the doorway and into
the room.

The man carefully made the transition from the wood floor
to the thick carpet. He grasped his cane with cruelly contorted hands. While
every step seemed difficult, the man never faltered. Kyam thought he recognized
him, but no name came to mind.

Kyam raised a placating hand to his secretary, “It’s all
right.”

Offended, his secretary sniffed deeply though his
prominent nose and turned on his heel. The office doors banged shut behind him.

Voorus seemed extremely nervous. The captain wouldn’t look
him directly in the eye. Instead of sitting, he rushed to the old man’s side,
but couldn’t seem to decide if he should help the fellow or simply hover. What
he should have done was make introductions, but after a long, painfully awkward
moment, Kyam decided he’d have to take care of it.

“Sir, you look familiar, but forgive me, I cannot recall
your name,” Kyam said.

The man made a small bow. “Mityam Muul. You need not
introduce yourself. I recognize a Zul when I see one.”

Kyam wasn’t sure if that was meant as an insult.

It took a moment, but it dawned on him where he’d met
Mityam before. Mityam Muul might have been a scion of the least powerful among
Thampur’s thirteen families, but a man of his reputation barely needed of a
family name. Mityam had never served on the nation’s high court, but he was a
mentor to every man who did. Diplomats and government officials turned to him
for advice, and he was often referred to as the nation’s ‘sage uncle.’ Kyam
thought he’d retired a few years ago. What was Captain Voorus doing in the
company of such a man? The best way to find out was to ask, but he’d have to
ease into it.

“Gentlemen, please have a seat,” he said.

Kyam remained standing until Mityam painfully lowered
himself into a chair. After Kyam took his seat behind his desk, Voorus also
sat, but almost immediately jumped to his feet again and paced.

“Is something troubling you, Captain?” Kyam asked.

“Well, yes. Former Governor Turyat’s murder.”

He didn’t like this. “I hadn’t heard.”

Clearly confused, Voorus looked to Mityam for help. “But
then why did you arrest Lady QuiTai?”

“She asked me to.” He was never going to be able to
explain it to them. QuiTai always made things sound so logical, until you tried
to explain them to someone else. Only then did you realize you were spouting
gibberish.

Voorus looked at him as if he’d done something
unspeakable. “You know they mean to hang her for it.”

That sinking feeling only worsened. “For what?”

Voorus had been sitting on the edge of his chair for a
moment but sprang to his feet again. “For murdering Turyat!” He jabbed Kyam’s
desk with his finger. “Right in this room, after the rice riot, she swore she
would not kill Turyat or Cuulon. She swore she wouldn’t have them killed. You
heard her. But that won’t stop the militia from hanging her for it.”

Astounded, Kyam leaned back in his chair. Voorus acted
like a passionate lover. Had QuiTai lied to him about her relationship with
Voorus? Had she ever made it clear what was between them? He couldn’t remember
now. How very like her to avoid a lie by changing the subject.

Voorus still glared at him.

“Okay. I’m lost. I’ll admit it. Why would anyone think
QuiTai murdered Turyat? We all know she hates him, but as you said, she gave
her word she wouldn’t kill him,” Kyam said.

“Because Turyat’s body was found in the Red Happiness. On
the floor. In a pool of blood.”

“Oh, hell!” Kyam clutched his head. “I should have known.”

He had to rescue her. He had to get her out of the
fortress right now. She couldn’t know how much danger she was in.

“And now Cuulon is calling for her neck, and you delivered
her to the fortress.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?”

They glared at each other until Voorus blushed and glanced
away.

What was he going to do?

Not panic. That was the first thing. The next thing he
would do was think. They generally didn’t execute prisoners until sundown, so
he had a few hours to come up with a plan.

He would hear what Voorus and Mityam had to say, show them
out, and then come up with a brilliant plan to rescue QuiTai. He took a deep
breath. That sounded about right.

Kyam pointed to Mityam then Voorus. “What’s the story
here?”

Voorus waved a dismissive hand at Mityam. “It’s a long
one, and we don’t have time to waste.”

“The finest legal mind in Thampur magically appears the
same day Lady QuiTai is arrested. I want to know why.” How long had she been
planning this?

Voorus sighed dramatically. “I told you I wanted to study
the law. She hired him to tutor me.”

“
She
hired him?”
What had been going on in the past nine months?

“You know they’ll torture her down there. The Colonel in
charge, Hurust, is one of these moral absolutists. He won’t even set foot in
Levapur because it’s polluted with Ponongese. And don’t even get him started on
the degradations of the Quarter of Delights. How could you deliver her into the
hands of a man like that?” Voorus asked.

“I warned the militia not to touch her.”

Voorus scoffed. “She did everything she could for you
before the rice riots! Everything. And you’re going to let her die because poor
Kyam got a cushy political post with a huge salary and he didn’t want it? Be a
man, Zul.”