Tim Pratt - Venom in Her Veins

Krailash considered saying more, but didn’t. The truth was, in her youth, Alaia had been profoundly connected to the jungle, and had flourished as a shaman. But the needs of the family had forced her to spend more and more time in the city, and when she took over the Travelers when her mother passed, she’d given in to the inevitable fate of spending half the year in the city. Krailash could remember when she’d had two spirit companions at her feet, matched boars, but in the past twenty years she’d only had one. A shaman was meant to be a protector of the wild places, and while Alaia did steadfastly defend the area where terazul flowers grew, she did so for largely civilized reasons, and that tension had seemingly diminished her shamanic powers, if only because it sowed disorder and conflict in her own mind. A priest who strayed from their chosen deity as much as Alaia had strayed from her path might find himself on the wrong end of a god’s rage, but shamans took their power from the primal force of the natural world, which, lacking consciousness, was not prone to fits of pique or thoughts of vengeance. Alaia was still powerful, but she’d seldom had cause to call on that power, and Krailash wondered if she was still as capable as she assumed.

Sensing the blackness of her mood, he tried to change the subject. “I was surprised when Zaltys chose the path of a ranger, rather than the path of the shaman.” Surprised you let her choose it, was the unspoken remainder of that sentence.

“Ha,” Alaia said. “It’s just as well. With my luck she would have become a disciple of the World Serpent.”

Krailash frowned. “What’s wrong with that path? World Serpent shamans are formidable.”

“Hm. Never mind. Suffice to say I don’t like snakes, even astral snakes that hold the world in their protective coils. Being a ranger suits her better, and I daresay it’s a more practical specialty for the head of the Travelers.” She paused by a tree to catch her breath, and the dozen guards in a moving ring around her paused as well. “How much farther to this accursed temple?”

She’d never been there, Krailash realized. She’d never seen the chasm that led to the Underdark, or the rubble that covered it. She didn’t want to remember the origins of her daughter, he supposed, and who could blame her? “Not much farther,” he said. How much farther they would have to go once they made it under the temple, he could not guess, and did not care to speculate.

“My spirit companion is down there in the dark already, though it’s nearly reached the limit of its range-I swear there was a time when it could travel farther away from me than this. It’s found no sign of Zaltys, though it has discovered some sign of the derro slavers.” She stopped abruptly, and swore, reaching into the sleeve of her robe. “This is yours. Zaltys left it for you, and in the confusion I forgot about it.” She passed over a letter, not sealed, just folded, with his name written in Zaltys’s surprisingly elegant script. “I didn’t read it,” Alaia said, as if she’d been accused.

“I know.” Though he also knew she would hover by him and demand to know what it said. Squinting in the dim torchlight from the surrounding guards-a beacon to any animals in the jungle, but also a warning-he scanned the half page of words. “She says she doesn’t blame me,” he said. “That she knows I was only following orders, and that, ah …”

“That I’m the only liar of note?” Alaia said.

Krailash nodded. “More or less.” He shook his head. “We just wanted to give her a sense of closure, however tragic, so the thought of her lost parents wouldn’t eat at her. But even the best-intentioned lies can have unintended consequences.”

“Mmm. I see there are quite a few more words there,” Alaia prompted.

“The rest is just an apology for not coming to see me to organize the scout schedule, with some suggestions for how it might best be done,” he said. Krailash folded the letter in half, then in half again, and pushed it down into a pouch at his belt. “We should move on. Going is slow in the Underdark, I’ve heard, and we may catch up to them soon if we hurry.”

Alaia grunted assent, and they continued walking through the jungle. Zaltys and Julen had left barely a trace of their passage, but a crowd of soldiers made a more obvious path, and went more slowly too, breaking through obstacles Zaltys and Julen would have leaped over or slipped beneath. “I don’t understand why she took Julen with her,” Alaia said. “That doesn’t seem like her. My daughter has always been of the opinion that she can do anything by herself.”

“Seems rather more likely it was Julen’s idea, don’t you think?” Krailash glanced at his mistress. He was surprised to see she had no idea what he was talking about. “He’s madly in love with Zaltys, you know,” he said. “You can see it written on his face like lines of ancient imperial poetry every time he looks at her.”

“Love? Nonsense, he’s her baby cousin,” Alaia sighed. “When did I get so old , Krailash? I know I never married, but there was a time when I at least dabbled in thoughts of love, when I had the free time. And the boy is nearly sixteen now, isn’t he? I’m sure he’s been falling in love with housemaids and shopgirls and his tutors for years by now. Naturally Zaltys would catch his eye.”

“And her being an adoptee means they’re not necessarily idle thoughts,” Krailash said.

Alaia groaned. “I can’t think of political marriages-or the possibility of a brat from the Guardians trying to put his hands on my daughter -just now. You don’t think … does Zaltys reciprocate his feelings?”

“I’ve seen no evidence of anything more than familial affection on her part,” Krailash assured her.

“That’s something,” Alaia said.

“Here’s the plaza.” Krailash pointed. “Where we found Zaltys as a baby.”

“Let’s hurry along to the place where we’ll find her as a teenaged girl, then, hmm?”

Krailash took her to the false grave, noting the two holes, one of which opened down into darkness. He set his men to widening the opening-it was far too small for a dragonborn, or even the larger human guards-while Alaia paced impatiently around the wreckage of the temple. After a few moments when the only sound was picks and axes striking the ground, Alaia tapped Krailash on the shoulder. “I’m an idiot,” she said. “Look at me. I’m wearing robes . To go crawling around in caves and tunnels.”

He nodded, having wondered when she was going to notice that, and opened his pack. “Quelamia caught me just as I was leaving camp and handed me this. She said you might need it.” He passed over a bundle of bluish-black cloth embroidered with tiny white stars.

Alaia shook it out and held it up, frowning. The exotic cloth aside, it was a simple enough gown, if elegantly cut. “Rather fancy dress for grubbing about in holes in the ground.”

“Quelamia says it’s as good as leather armor at a tenth the weight.” He shrugged. “Wizard things, I imagine.”

Alaia squinted. “I think this is a robe of stars. Quelamia mentioned owning one once.”

“Sounds quite mystical,” Krailash said politely.

“I gather it can be used to bring light to dark situations. I won’t test that now, but if it can turn a sword blade, I’m well pleased. I’m going around this wall to change.”

“Not without an escort. I’ve lost one of the family to derro already, and won’t lose another. Rainer just went around the corner once, and he was stolen in moments.”

“Fine, then, come along, but don’t ogle.”

“You aren’t even my species,” he grumbled. “It would be like ogling a monkey. No offense.” He followed her around a fragment of freestanding wall, and averted his eyes while she changed.