Tempt the Devil (The Devil of Ponong series #3) (25 page)

“Kill one as a warning to the others.”

Nashruu sighed. The last thing she needed now was dry wit.
“Real advice, please.”

“I’m serious. Do it calmly as you can, in front of
witnesses, then step over the body and continue the conversation. I’m assuming,
of course, that you know how to kill. I hope Grandfather didn’t neglect that
area of training as well.”

QuiTai couldn’t be serious. Simply kill a man, let his
body drop, and keep talking? Who could be that callous?

“But doesn’t that get you into trouble, killing people as
an example to others?” Nashruu asked.

“Loads of
trouble. Then you find a way out of that trouble. And then no one can stop you.”
QuiTai’s head tilted. “But that might not work for you. I can see it isn’t in
your nature. Pardon me while I think out loud on this.”

Feeling that she’d somehow stepped into one of those
dreadful experimental Ingosolian plays where the distorted sets made you feel
as if you’d smoked a black lotus pipe and the dialog consisted of people
shouting about fish, she gestured for QuiTai to continue. None of Grandfather’s
lessons had prepared her for this. He’d never talked about killing. He’d never
questioned that people would obey her if she mentioned his name.

QuiTai rubbed her temples as she paced. “You’ve lost
everything the moment a man uses a patronizing tone of voice on you. Anything
you say after that will seem petulant. You could try talking down to them from
the beginning, since the first one to treat the other like an idiot usually
wins these things, but ideally you want your conversations to remain as
professional as possible.”

“Yes. I suppose.” She wasn’t sure.

“Respect is key. The problem there is that Thampurian men
demand that you respect them while they treat you like an idiot child.”

That summed up Nashruu’s entire life.

“I still say killing the first one who questions your
authority sends the quickest message, but failing that, remind them once that
you are an agent of the King. That’s fair warning. Then if they ignore you,
stop the conversation immediately. It will only weaken your position to say
more.”

“But what if that doesn’t make them listen?”

QuiTai gestured for her to calm down even though she didn’t
feel as if she were agitated.

“Do you have a portable farwriter? Good. You may want to
keep it with you from now on.”

“It’s heavy.”

“Hire someone to carry it for you. That’s the Thampurian
way.” QuiTai waved that aside and continued pacing. “Immediately after you’ve
reminded someone that you have a writ from the King and they refuse to
recognize your authority, get out that farwriter – remember, your
conversation with that person is absolutely over, not another word – and
send a message to Grandfather Zul. Tell him what you’re trying to do and that
this person isn’t complying, so you need them removed from their position
immediately. No delays. No discussion. Instant dismissal. It isn’t death, but it
will have to do.”

Just like that? Nashruu’s heart pounded. “What if
Grandfather won’t do that for me?”

“Pack your bags and go home. But if that happens, don’t
imagine that you’ve failed. He will have failed when he didn’t back you up.”

Failure was scary, but not as overwhelming as the idea of
following QuiTai’s instructions. “What do I do after Grandfather acts?”

“Turn to the next man and make the exact same request. If
he balks for even a second, tell him that he, too, is dismissed from duty. If
you have to force half the garrison to resign, so be it. Eventually one of them
will get the message that you have the power, and he will obey you. Be
ruthless. Be quick. Don’t give them time to think it over. And don’t reach out
to Grandfather too many times. You have to make it clear you wield authority.”

It was a tempting idea, but Nashruu wasn’t sure she could
do it. What if the men ignored her? What if they laughed? “It sounds so simple
when you say it.”

“I understand that every inch of your soul rebels against
the idea of behaving that way. You’ve been taught it’s unnatural. Remember, you
don’t have to enjoy it to do it well. You can quake in your shoes through the
whole thing. But it’s the only way.”

A forbidden thought crossed Nashruu’s mind. She covered her
mouth as she laughed. “Short of murder.”

QuiTai seemed to find it funny too, and then her smile
faded away. “That’s always an option.”

~ ~ ~

Nashruu wondered how to lead their conversation back to
Grandfather’s offer. If QuiTai’s life wasn’t enough of an incentive to come
work for Grandfather, what could tempt her? She hoped Grandfather knew QuiTai
better than he seemed to.

The sound of the dungeon door opening echoed down the
staircase.

“I’m afraid it’s time for you to leave, Ma’am Zul. Matters
are about to get quite intense,” QuiTai said.

“I’m not done yet.”

QuiTai’s gaze hadn’t left the stairs. She tensed. “This
might be a very good time to run home and gather your farwriter. Bringing
Grandfather up to date might not change anything, but it’s worth a try.”

It sounded as if more than one person was coming. Nashruu
gripped the cell bars. Who would it be? QuiTai seemed to already know. Maybe
she did speak to the gods.

“I can save you. Just give me your word,” Nashruu said.

“I’m not leaving this cell yet. And you need to go. Right
now.”

Nashruu felt like a child sent off to bed just when things
got interesting. So much for QuiTai being her mentor.

Chief Justice Cuulon sauntered down the steps with a
jellylantern held high. Colonel Hurust hung back from the pale orb of light
surrounding Cuulon, as if he were afraid to be seen.

“Enough tea and cakes, Ma’am Zul. It’s time for the
professionals,” Cuulon said. He reached for her arm.

“My work here isn’t complete yet. I suggest you wait.”
Nashruu heart thudded as she stepped back.

Colonel Hurust slunk around Cuulon. She yelped when he
gripped her waist with far too much familiarity. He dragged her toward the
steps. “Why don’t you come with me, Ma’am Zul? You don’t want to be here when
Chief Justice Cuulon questions the Devil’s whore. You might faint.”

“Return to me after you’ve shown her out, Colonel,” Cuulon
said.

It was all very well for QuiTai to say one should demand
respect, but they acted as if Nashruu didn’t matter.

QuiTai moved her fingers as if typing on a farwriter. Her
glance shifted to the Colonel.

There was such focus in QuiTai’s stare that Nashruu feared
for the Colonel, although she didn’t understand why. Why wasn’t she afraid for
Cuulon? Or for QuiTai, for that matter? Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that
she should warn the Colonel. Maybe his affiliation was different from hers at
this moment, but he was a Thampurian, someone she understood at a gut level,
while QuiTai was something alien and deadly.

She was
sure of it now. QuiTai was coiling to strike. She should warn Colonel Hurust.
And yet, she held her tongue.

Lady QuiTai and I
are fighting together against the colonial government. How did she twist me
into this?

Colonel
Hurust’s eyes looked like a spooked horse’s, too wide and showing too much white.
He moved behind Nashruu. Was he using her as a shield?

“Chief
Justice Cuulon, Colonel Hurust, I warn you that the King himself wants this
woman alive. If she dies, so do you.” Nashruu wanted to say so much more, but
QuiTai signaled her to stop talking, and she obeyed.

“I wondered
when
you’d show up, Cuulon,” QuiTai said.

She mocked him even though she was the one behind bars. He
couldn’t wait to see the look in her eyes the moment she realized she was about
to die. She’d regret everything. She’d beg for mercy. She’d break. And he’d
simply smile down at her.

“And Colonel Hurust. How very nice to finally meet you. I’ve
been waiting all day for this honor,” QuiTai said.

Offended pride pricked Cuulon’s complacency. Why was she
taking notice of the Colonel?
He
was
the most important man in the room. He held her life in his hands. Hurust was
no one.

He hated the way her dark magic still made him want to
drop to his knees before her even in this filthy place. He’d make her regret
every night she’d sent dreams to torment him. Once she was dead, he’d finally
be free.

A smile
played across her mouth as if she read his mind. He remembered those long
silences when she’d weighed his soul and found it wanting.

“Unlock her cell, Colonel,” Cuulon snapped, turning to
Hurust. He’d show her he wasn’t afraid.

“I don’t – Governor Zul took the key.”

Cuulon looked back at QuiTai and recoiled in shock –
somehow, in the second he’d glanced away, she had transformed into the image of
a wrathful water demon. Her unbound hair twisted in long locks as if tangled by
the shifting tide while she’d floated face down in a lagoon. The thin yellow
rings around her oval pupils glowed like candles in her skull. Even though he
knew she couldn’t be a demon spirit, fear dropped into his gut and sat there,
hard and unyielding.

“Oh come now, Colonel Hurust. We all know there’s another
key. There’s always another key,” QuiTai said.

The odd way her voice reverberated against the stone
walls, as if it came from anywhere but her mouth, made his skin crawl.

“I left the key in my office,” Hurust said.

“Then what’s the ring on your belt for?” QuiTai snapped.

Colonel Hurust flinched.

Cuulon clasped his hands behind his back and lowered his
gaze to the stone floor. It embarrassed him how that tone of voice could make
him revert to that stance. He peeked at her. Had she noticed? Why wasn’t she
looking at him?

He stood straight again. He was in charge here. “Get one
of your soldiers to fetch the key if it’s not on that ring,” he told Hurust.

Time was slipping away. That damned fool Kyam Zul might
come dashing in here any moment to stop him. Everyone knew Theram Zul had brought
a private army to Levapur before the rice riot. No one knew where they’d gone.
They might have gone back to Thampur, but what if they were lurking in Levapur
still? The Zul clan was making a move. He was sure of it. Why else would Mityam
Muul have come to Ponong?

Words seemed stuck in Colonel Hurust’s throat. His gaze
flicked to QuiTai again. “My men have vanished.”

QuiTai clicked her tongue. She shook her head as if
confronted by a great sorrow. “Surely not all of them. It would be so careless
of you to lose track of them.”

Hurust rushed to the cell and shook the bars. “Shut up! I
know why you’re here.”

Cuulon looked around the dungeon. Why was it so infernally
dark down here? “Where’s the torture chamber? Near your office?”

“No. Down here.” Colonel Hurust gestured away from the
stairs as if the motion exhausted him. He seemed to deflate. He lifted a ring
of keys from his belt and put one in the lock. Cuulon shot him a look, but the
Colonel’s back was to him as he pulled open the cell door.

“Was that so difficult?” QuiTai crooned. She slunk across
the opening like a cat deciding if it wanted to go outside, and was in no rush
to.

Cuulon took the jellylantern and waded into the darkness
even though it gave him the chills to turn his back on her. Was that a door
ahead? Hurust must have grabbed QuiTai’s arm and dragged her with him, because
the scuff of their shoes seemed to come close on his heels.

“So it’s torture and a chat? Or just torture? Because you
know I didn’t murder Governor Turyat, so I can’t imagine we have much to talk
about, Chief Justice,” QuiTai said.

“You killed him.”

“You know I didn’t. I enjoyed playing with him too much.”

He opened the door to the torture chamber. “Bitch snake.”

“Snake? Oh, I am crushed, Cuulon. You used to call me Ma’am.”

He prayed Hurust thought she was lying. There were many
interesting devices in the chamber to make her stop talking. The spiked iron
ball, for instance, would pin her tongue to her chin, and every sound she
uttered would drive it deeper into her flesh.

“Bring
her inside, Colonel, and shut the door. We don’t want to be interrupted.”

~ ~ ~

The snake woman walked around the torture chamber as if
she were thinking of leasing the place. Colonel Hurust had seen plenty of her
people come into this room with their heads held high, but even they’d balked
at the board, with its iron cap and the shackles for wrists, ankles, thighs, and
shoulders. If they turned away from it, they saw the cruel implements hanging
from the iron grid on the wall, and they showed fear. But this one coolly
extended a fingertip to a slim metal spike and tested the point.

So this was the Devil’s whore. Hurust didn’t leave the
fortress often, so he hadn’t known her by sight. Everyone talked about her
peculiar beauty, but she looked like a half-remembered childhood nightmare to
him. The last time she’d been in his prison she’d escaped before he’d even seen
her. This time he’d avoided her as best he could, but Cuulon had forced him to
come down here. What made the Chief Justice think he had authority over the
militia? For too long they’d served the powers in Levapur rather than running
the place. He was changing that, but first he had to help Cuulon get rid of
her, because she was the symbol of everything wrong and decadent in Levapur.

She was
so calm. Nearly cheerful. Maybe she was drugged, although nothing in her
movements or voice seemed as if her senses had been dulled. Could it be that
she truly had no fear?

He drew
back from her as her snake’s eyes turned on him. Her lips formed into a cruel
vee, the most malevolent smile he’d ever seen. It was ghastly.