The Devil's Concubine (The Devil of Ponong series #1) (17 page)

She wanted to know
why they were heading to the harbor. It didn’t make any sense. But she refused
to speak to him. He’d only use her words against her.

He turned to her. “If
you sense a growl, or anything that sets off your instincts, let us know
immediately. From the way you reacted in the marketplace earlier, you’re much
more attuned to it than we are.”

She’d be damned
before she warned him about anything; but every nerve in her body went on
alert. She tried to listen, but the soldiers were making too much noise. They
had no idea how to move stealthily: typical Thampurian heavy-footedness. Kyam,
however, moved with a slinky grace she never expected from such a big man,
gliding from shadow to shadow down the hill ahead of them.

The sun hadn’t set
yet, but it was already below the hills of west Levapur. Cool orange tinged the
sky, and hot pink glowed on the underside of puffy clouds. Night fliers rose
and swarmed on the evening onshore ocean breezes. Bats gathered in the trees chattered
restlessly as the group passed. One of the soldiers flinched when a large ring-tailed
lizard ran across their path. She wasn’t the only one who was tense. But the
Ravidians were probably several miles away, and the soldiers said the
werewolves had been captured. Why so much caution?

Near the bottom of
the hill, they came upon the funicular wreck. QuiTai had to blink a few times
before she could make sense of it. The car she and Kyam had been in was so
crumbled that the sight made her stomach heave. Then she realized it was
actually the last two cars, sandwiched together. The only car that wasn’t
ripped open or flattened sat atop the remains of the ticket booth. Huge
splinters of wood and the contents of busted crates had been thrown far by the
force of the explosion.

QuiTai glanced at Kyam.
He looked a bit queasy too as he nodded tersely and then headed for the wharf.

The Zul junk sat in
the middle of the harbor with its bow now pointed to the sea. Sailors moved
purposefully across the decks. Beyond the junk, the fortress loomed. A sense of
dread sank into her stomach.

“Into the skiff,
Lady QuiTai,” Kyam said. He stepped onto a boat tied to the wharf and offered
her his hand.

She shook her head.

“I’m afraid that I must insist.”

The soldiers grabbed her arms and dragged her
toward the boat. “You aren’t taking me to the fortress, are you?” It made her
blood run cold.

“Of course not. Calm down,” Kyam said.

Voorus pushed in front of QuiTai. “That’s not
correct, Colonel Zul. I have orders to relieve you of the prisoner. This is now
a matter for the colonial military.”

Panic gave QuiTai strength. She used every
trick she knew to escape from the hands that clenched her. One soldier fell
back into the water. Voorus grasped his groin. She spun to face the other two.

Kyam leaped back onto the wharf, grabbed her,
and covered her mouth with his hand. He whispered, “Be still. Keep your wits
about you. My protection has limits. If you bare your fangs to these soldiers,
they’ll have cause to toss you into a cell and throw away the key.”

The feel of his breath on her neck made her
shiver. She swallowed. She vowed not to give up. She might possibly be able to
talk her way out of the fortress.

When Kyam felt her relax, he let go of her. Spinning
around, she told him, “I acted in good faith, Colonel Zul. I should have known
that Thampurian justice would be my reward.”

“You think you’re under arrest?”

“I think I’m dead. That’s the only reason to
take me to that place.” She pointed to the fortress. A body, illuminated by the
last golden rays of the sun, hung from the western ramparts. “No Ponongese has
ever left there alive.”

The soldiers were pulling their comrade from
the water. They looked angry enough to attack her again. They probably wanted
to see her quake. To see her plead or cry. She wouldn’t give them the
satisfaction. Head held high, she stepped into the skiff.

Kyam and the soldiers boarded after her. Kyam
untied the ropes while the others sat at oars. He looked as angry as she felt.

“You’ll be the first, then, I swear,” he
whispered.

She laughed bitterly as they cast off.

~ ~ ~

They disembarked onto the fortress’s short wharf, tucked in
the far end of the harbor near where the fishing fleet and small merchant
skiffs anchored for the night. The soldiers, Kyam, and QuiTai stepped onto the landing.

“Come, Lady QuiTai,” Kyam said as he touched
her arm.

Her heart recoiled at the sight of the thick
stone walls, massive iron door, and the red banners proudly displaying the Imperial
chop as they furled and snapped in the wind like waves. Kyam was Thampurian. He
couldn’t know how it felt to be so close to the hated symbol of colonial power.
He thought of it as a place of justice; her people knew it as death.

“I want to watch the sun set,” she said.

“You’re in no position to make demands,”
Voorus said.

“Is she under arrest?” Kyam asked.

“Not officially.”

“Then there’s no reason to rush her inside,
is there? It’s not as if she can escape.”

It was possible to climb the huge boulders
that formed the seawall between the fortress and the shore, but it would be a
perilous trip. Waves from the Sea of Erykoli slammed against the north side and
sent plumes of spray high in the air. Small crabs and water bugs scurried for
shelter as the water crashed down. Anemones, sea urchins, barnacles, and slippery
kelp strands clung tenaciously to the rocks. Anyone trying to climb could
easily be swept off the rocks by one wave and then slammed against them by
another.

No. Escape wasn’t possible. Not that way. And
she couldn’t cast off the skiff before they got to her, even if she somehow
convinced Kyam to help her.

“Fine. Watch your damn sunset.” From the way Voorus
said it, it struck her as granting a last wish to the condemned. He probably
felt it was more than generous.

She turned to the harbor, but the fortress
loomed in the corner of her vision.

Past the bow of the Zul junk, the light of
the brilliant orange sun smeared across the endless waves. It seemed to flatten
as the lower edge met the horizon. The sapphire sea turned to gold.

According to Thampurian legend, the sun and
sea were the lovers Kiruse and Erykoli, reunited every evening after a day
apart. Erykoli missed her lover terribly, and so the sea tasted of tears. When
they came together, she smiled with radiant light.

The Ponongese explanation for sunrise and
sunset was simply that the planet rotated. “I prefer the poetry sometimes,” she
said, even though Kyam had no way of knowing what she was thinking.

He leaned closer to hear her voice over the
crash of waves. Voorus and his soldiers stood ready to stop her from running,
as if she had anywhere to go.

“Wouldn’t it be pretty if the myths were
real?” she said.

“If there were ever a time for faith, QuiTai,
it would be now,” he said. “It may be impossible for a regular Ponongese to
leave the fortress, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t do it. After all, you
would never let me out of my end of our bargain. Not that easily.”

If he was trying to calm her nerves, he
failed. She knew it would take a miracle for her to walk out that iron door
again. But Voorus would never have the satisfaction of seeing fear in her eyes.
This was merely a grand scene, full of drama, and the only way to play it was
with a dignified mask over her face.

“What happened to the werewolves who killed
those people during the full moon massacre?” Kyam asked.

“Forgive me if I’ve missed something, but I
fail to see how the immortal beauty of the sea brought that to mind.”

“No one ever tells that part of the story.
When I ask, the Ponongese become unusually silent.”

“You can’t let me enjoy the peace?”

“We need to talk, and I don’t want the
soldiers to overhear. Watch your sunset while you tell me about the werewolves.”

Watching was more than simply seeing the sun
set. She needed this moment to collect her thoughts, to reflect… and possibly,
to plan. She’d lost what little edge she’d had over him. No longer steps ahead,
all she could do now was try to outthink him and outmaneuver Voorus as events
unfolded.

“I warned you not to bring in the colonial
government, Mister Zul.”

“I needed help bringing you safely to the
harbor.”

“They’re the last people you should have
trusted.”

“And the Devil is the last one you should
trust, but we both cling to our loyalties.” He lightly touched her arm. “The
story about the werewolves, please, Lady QuiTai. The part no one tells.”

No more Jezereet, no more sunsets. Was there
anything fate would let her hold onto?

She cast a glance at the soldiers. They were
far enough away that they wouldn’t hear. “What no one tells is that I hunted
them down and poisoned them,” she whispered. “But not enough to kill. Only to
paralyze. When people came into the marketplace the following morning and saw
the criminals placed there for them, they tore the werewolves limb from limb.
The werewolves felt it all, but couldn’t move. That’s why no one speaks of it.
No one likes to admit they were part of that mob. You think my people shun me
because I’m the Devil’s concubine? The truth is that every time they see me,
they feel shame for themselves.”

She didn’t care if the truth disgusted him.
But he didn’t back away or lecture her. Instead, he seemed to concentrate on
his thoughts. He slowly nodded, as if things he’d heard and seen suddenly made
sense.

He gestured for her to continue.

“I’m not a nice woman, Mister Zul. I will do
things that others fear to. When justice is in short supply, I will step in and
fill the void. That day, I gave the names of the werewolves to these Thampurian
soldiers, but since the victims were only Ponongese, and the werewolves were
from the continent, Voorus planned to simply deport them. Articles of transport
and a free ride home are hardly appropriate punishment for eating a little girl’s
kidneys while she screams in agony for her mother.”

“That’s a bit of melodramatic embellishment.”

“QuiZhun was my daughter.”

He flinched.

She meant to tell him that she hadn’t simply
let it happen, how she’d run downstairs and thrown herself at the blockaded
doors. If her neighbor hadn’t sunk his fangs into her arm and temporarily
paralyzed her, she might have broken through – and let the werewolves
inside. She wanted him to know that she’d tried to save her daughter, but
emotion clenched her throat and wouldn’t let the words pass.

“I’m so sorry,” he said.

He flicked away the glinting tear at the
corner of his eye.

Then I asked the Oracle for
guidance. She only whispered a name. The Devil.

“How can you even stand the sight of
werewolves after that?” Kyam said.

She sniffled and squared her shoulders before
looking at him.

“Would you like me to make a speech? I could
say that there are those who are guilty of crimes, and then there are those who
merely look similar to the criminals. I could pretend that unlike Thampurian
soldiers, I don’t confuse the two. But the truth is that it’s a struggle every
day to remind myself of those higher ideals. The werewolves loathe me. They
make it clear that if it weren’t for the Devil, they’d feast on my entrails and
throw my corpse into the Jupoli Gorge. It doesn’t help that he uses me as a
threat to keep them under his control.”

“Are you sure you got the right ones? Can you
tell a man from his werewolf form? From all that horror below you, how were you
able to remember who they were?”

The truth was that she couldn’t. It was too
dangerous to be near them when they shifted. Even if she knew, she couldn’t
positively identify them from the horror she’d witnessed. Even in her
nightmares, they were blurs of fur and fury. The screams she would never
forget; the blood was seared into her memory. But the werewolves were hazy. She’d
only seen them from above.

Petrof had handed them over to her. She heard
whispers from the rest of his pack that he gave her men who challenged his rule
regardless of their guilt in the killings, but she’d dismissed those grumblings
much as she ignored everything else they whispered around her. Now, looking
back, Kyam’s question planted a seed of doubt. She remembered Petrof laughing
when she marched into the den and demanded justice. He could have killed her
then; maybe she even hoped he would, because she could barely stand to live
anymore. Instead, when he stopped laughing, he told her he admired her bravery,
and then he gave her names. He even told her where to find them. After she’d
extracted her revenge, her people shunned her, but Petrof wooed her. He could
be so charming back then. He said he liked her style. He admired her
ruthlessness. They were lovers before he asked her to eliminate his competition.
It had seemed like such a small price to pay for justice.