Tim Pratt: Venom in Her Veins

“That’s a baby ,” one of the women said. “And hungry, by the sound.”

“Keep working,” Krailash said. The immense rust-colored dragonborn cocked his head and hefted his two-headed war axe. “I’ll investigate.”

“Could be a trap,” said Rainer, one of the guards under Krailash’s command. He sounded like he relished the prospect. Rainer was a capable fighter, and more importantly for his job, he looked menacing-he was unusually big for a human, with a scarred face and broad shoulders, and though he wasn’t a half-orc, Krailash thought he might be a quarter-orc, or at the very least had some orcish influence in his bloodline. Though Krailash made sure the guards under his command drilled and kept in shape, there was precious little actual fighting in the job, which could be difficult for men like Rainer, who thrilled to the impact of metal on metal-or, better yet, metal on flesh.

“And who would set this trap?” Krailash said. “The family’s business rivals? Hardly seems likely. If they were this close to the source of the flowers, they wouldn’t need a ruse. They’d already know everything they’d hoped to find out.”

“I was thinking more about the locals,” Rainer said. “We’ve all glimpsed yuan-ti in the ruins nearby.”

Krailash shook his head. His voice was measured, and solid as the iron shield strapped to his back. “No one hates yuan-ti more than I do, or with better reason.” He’d tried to bury the memories of his first time adventuring, young and eager, his scales still shining and unscarred, and the brave companions who’d set forth with him to seek treasure in an abandoned temple in a land beyond the jungle-a temple that, in fact, had been home to a vast tribe of yuan-ti and their fanatical Snaketongue cultists. One of Krailash’s party had turned out to be a traitor, secretly a cultist working for the yuan-ti, who’d led them in as human sacrifices. Only Krailash had survived, and his loathing for the snakemen had only grown more profound over the years. But the few of that race who lurked in the jungle nearby were pitiful, half-starved things barely holding onto life. He said as much to Rainer. “These serpentfolk are broken remnants. Their numbers dwindle every year, and there weren’t enough of them to be a threat a decade ago. They are mad cultists, devoted to feeding the monsters they venerate. When we come too close, they hide in what remain of their temples to Zehir.” The dragonborn spat after speaking the snake-deity’s name.

The child cried again. “That’s no serpent spawn,” Krailash said. “Sounds human to me.” He’d heard the mewling of human children before, and something deep within his armored heart turned over at the sound. His adventuring days were behind him. For the past ten years and more he’d been a protector instead, and that cry was the sound of someone who needed protection. “There are a few human refugees and halfing tribes in the jungle,” he said after a moment. “Though I know of none so close by. We shall see. Rainer, you and Marley come with me. The rest of you, watch the harvesters.”

The young, jug-eared guard Marley swallowed but stepped forward. Rainer drew his sword and took the rear as Krailash pushed his way through the jungle. At nearly seven feet tall, and weighing three hundred pounds, Krailash was not the largest or strongest thing in the jungle, but he was far from the smallest or weakest. After spending so many years on the caravan route, he knew the likeliest dangers well, and broke his trail with confidence, sweeping aside branches and vines with his axe. He paused whenever the child cried out, adjusting his direction as necessary. Sound carried strangely in the jungle, bouncing off the towering trees and occasional overgrown ruins of old halfling settlements and yuan-ti temples.

The wall of green parted before his axe, and a clearing was revealed: a broad courtyard of once neatly-jointed stones, long since jostled out of true by the slow motions of the earth and the growth of tree roots underneath. A squalling, naked child with skin the rich brown of new leather lay in the shadow of a pillar. The stone was carved with the likeness of some extinct jungle beast, eroded into a shape of vague menace by the weather of centuries. Fresh blood spotted the stones nearby, and there were other signs of recent violence: broken bits of weaponry, shreds of torn cloth, a few teeth scattered on cobblestones.

The child was naked, tipped on its back, limbs waving like an overturned turtle. Female. Krailash had always found the sight of human infants vaguely alarming. They were so helpless and needy-unlike dragonborn, who could walk and feed soon after emerging from the shell. They became self-sufficient in a few years. When Krailash’s shadow fell across the girl child, shielding her from the sun, she quieted, and gazed up at him with wide eyes the same rich green as terazul leaves. If she found the sight of a seven-foot-tall rust-scaled humanoid dragon frightening, it didn’t show-but for a child so young, everything was new, and most things were probably more interesting than frightening.

Rainer walked the perimeter of the courtyard, looking at the signs of battle, while Marley just swallowed and stared at the scattered teeth, which were not human or dragonborn: they were long, needle shaped, and bloody at the roots.

“The blood’s not dried yet,” Rainer said, crouching to examine the stones. “You can see the undergrowth is broken there, people were dragged away.” He shook his head. “The yuan-ti must be better organized than you thought. Either they missed the child or didn’t think she was worth eating, or raising to be a slave, or sacrificing to their anathemas. The monsters left a trail as broad as a boulevard in Delzimmer, easy to follow … Did you want to investigate?”

Krailash considered. He was philosophically opposed to slavery and the sacrifice of sentient creatures, and besides, this had happened rather too close to the trade route for his liking. Assessing potential dangers to the family trade was part of his job as head of security. If there were unusually bold yuan-ti-or something worse-operating here, it would be good for him to know. “I do.”

Rainer nodded. “What about the girl?”

“Marley will take her to Alaia. You and I will follow this trail.”

“Just us? Alone?”

Krailash showed his teeth. He’d been around humans long enough to learn how to smile. “Alone? Not at all. I’ll have my axe, and you’ll have me.”

Rainer picked up the child and thrust her at Marley, who took her as if she might be venomous. The infant squalled at first, then clutched at the front of the guard’s shirt and tried to gnaw one of his buttons. “She’s a tiny thing,” Rainer said. “Amazing she survived whatever happened here. I’d never want one of my own, of course, but I can see the appeal. Cute.” Rainer was almost as tall as Krailash and not far short of his weight, all of it battle-hardened muscle, so he could afford to speak sentimentally, whereas someone scrawny like Marley had to make a far greater show of toughness. Rainer touched the girl’s cheek. “She makes you feel … protective, doesn’t she?”

Krailash nodded, though he knew his protective instinct sprang from a different source-he didn’t find tiny apes cute , exactly, but he hated to see the harmless and the innocent endangered. “Step quickly, Marley, and be watchful. Tell Alaia we’ll report back before nightfall-and if we don’t, she should close ranks and move the caravan out.” Krailash doubted the woman would obey, at least not readily. In theory, Krailash’s word was absolute in matters of caravan security, but if he wasn’t physically present to make sure Alaia listened, she might decide she knew better, and stay to harvest another day.