Venom in Her Veins

path to make sure there were no lurking hazards waiting to ambush the caravan. The trees there weren’t as big as elsewhere in the jungle, but that meant more sunlight could filter down, and as a result the jungle’s fecundity was explosive, with smaller trees and plants growing so close together Zaltys sometimes had to turn sideways to slip between the trunks. “Down in the oldest part of the city especially, the houses are built so close together the alleyways are too tiny for grown humans to pass through at all, and the streets curve and twist, limiting your sight- lines. There are places where the roofs overlap, blocking out the sun.” He glanced up at the green canopy above. “Of course, in the alleys, the worst you have to worry about is a mugger, not-I don’t know-giant flesh-devouring beetles.”

“The beetles aren’t so bad,” Zaltys said, pushing aside a low hanging branch and its freight of poisonous white flowers.

“Oh? So what’s the worst thing you’ve ever had to face out here, then?” Julen said.

Zaltys considered. “It’s hard to say. Deeper in the jungle you’ll want to keep an eye on the trees above you as well as the ground below. There are apes who’ll drop down from above and start pummeling you-we’ve even seen a few wearing fragments of old armor, guards of some abandoned ruin or another, I guess. They killed four of our scouts a few years ago. Krailash says there used to be yuan-ti near the prime terazul harvesting location, but he hasn’t seen any of them in years, and I’ve never seen one, myself. Lots of snakes, but no snake people. I’m sure there are worse things farther from the caravan path-chokers, drakes, trolls and goblins, who knows, maybe even a dragon-but most thinking creatures learned to avoid this route long before I was born. Between mother, Krailash, Quelamia, and Glory, we’re a lot more formidable than just about anything we’re likely to encounter among the trees. All we get are the mindless creatures, blood-sucking vines and giant spiders and the like. It’s a shame. It would be nice to have a challenge.”

“Really?” he said, hacking at a thorn-encrusted vine. “And I was just thinking it would be nice to have a hot bath.” He paused. “Who’s Glory?”

The next tenday proceeded well, with Julen’s presence the only notable difference from the previous year’s excursion. Zaltys did her best to ignore the guards that followed her whenever she went into the woods, and rotated through the various scout groups, paying close attention to what the more experienced rangers and huntsmen and reconnaissance experts did, picking up a few fine points of tracking and teaching the basics to Julen, who continued to complain in a relatively good-natured way. One night after dinner-eaten with the guards, fortunately, as mother had given up her attempts at formal dining after that first night-Julen confided to her that learning naturecraft was no more boring than learning the list of approved poisons, and that struck Zaltys as high praise, coming from him.

They had lessons too, which Julen found annoying at first-“I thought out in the wilderness I could avoid tutors”-but he obviously enjoyed the weapons training with Krailash, though he sometimes fell asleep during Quelamia’s monotone recitations of ancient historical fact. Glory, who’d long ago declared Zaltys hopeless at psionics, pronounced the same verdict on Julen, and settled down to teaching them what she could: which was mostly how to get your way by sweet-talking and manipulation, and how to subtly steer people toward a desirable course of action, and how to make people do what you wanted while making them think a given course was their own idea. After one such lesson-an especially bawdy one, complete with illustrative anecdotes about an emperor brought low by the machinations of one of his own councilors combined with his fondness for lovers of an inappropriate social class-Julen said, “They should bring her in to lecture to the Guardians!”

“They do,” Zaltys said, amused. “Every year. You just don’t remember her, though you remember the lessons, I’m sure.”

“Don’t remember who?” he said.

The caravan did not move swiftly, because it was a large operation, and took time to break camp in the morning and set up in the late afternoon. They couldn’t streamline things much, because the deeper they got into the jungle, the more important it was to have proper defenses set up before nightfall, when the jungle came alive with menacing noises and the things making those noises. They also took a somewhat meandering route, and sent trailbreakers to hack false paths through the jungle (ideally leading to profoundly dangerous dead ends), and spent time covering their own tracks, all in order to frustrate the spies and followers they assumed were tracing their trail.

After two tendays, though, they’d reached the main terazul harvesting site, and set up the more-or-less permanent camp that would be their home for the next month.

And that meant it was almost time for Zaltys’s initiation day. Her mother, in consultation with the other elders of the family, had decided Zaltys was old enough to become a full member of the family-no longer a dependent, but an adult in her own right, with attendant rights and responsibilities. It was a significant coming-of- age in the Serrat family, usually celebrated with lavish parties, but Zaltys wanted to celebrate in the jungle, where she felt most at home, and where most of her work for the family would take place.

The camp as a whole didn’t take any notice of that particular milestone-the caravan was a working operation, with scouts and sentries keeping watch, laborers plucking the blossoms from the terazul vines and filling their baskets, which in turn filled the enclosed carts that had once held food, gradually emptying to make room for more precious cargo as the caravan moved forward. Indeed, the special day was like any other until that evening, when her mother’s spirit boar came and sniffed at her legs and led her back to the center of camp.

Krailash, Quelamia, Glory, Julen, and her mother were all waiting by the same long dining table they’d used for their formal dinner, though, fortunately, without the crystal and porcelain used that time. Her mother embraced her and kissed her cheek. “My daughter,” she said. “Seventeen years ago, Krailash brought you to me from the jungle, and changed my life.”

“Mine too,” Zaltys said, to general laughter.

“You have served the family well,” Alaia said solemnly. “You have worked tirelessly for our prosperity, and proven yourself an asset to the Serrats as a whole, and the Travelers in particular. It is with great pleasure that I formally induct you into the highest circle of the family, as an adult in your own right, with all the rights and privileges that status entails.” Eyes shining with tears, Alaia kissed Zaltys on one cheek, then the other, and embraced her. Zaltys very nearly wept herself.

“I’d say you’re old enough to take your wine unwatered,” Alaia said, and poured straw-colored wine into a wooden cup, handing it over to Zaltys. “Though not too much. Krailash wants you on patrol tomorrow. For now, though: let’s raise our glasses to Zaltys, trade princess, heir to the Travelers, and ranger of the wild places.”

They all recited her name and took the ritual drink, and then Alaia said, “I think that’s all, unless there’s something I’m forgetting.”

Zaltys didn’t say anything. It was traditional to give gifts to a family member being raised to adult status, and she was fairly sure her mother was just teasing.

“Oh, yes,” Alaia said after a long moment, giving a small smile. “You probably expect a gift or two. I think we may have a few small things.”

Glory presented her with a small carved box, which held a ring of delicate blue crystal that glowed with inner light.

“It’s beautiful,” Zaltys said, lifting the ring from the box and looking at its gently pulsing glow. “This is too nice, Glory, I can’t-”

“It’s a psychic ring,” she said. “Well, the ring isn’t psychic, but it can grant a tiny bit of power to even a hopeless psionic case like you. You know how I can speak directly to your mind, sending my thoughts into your head?” She nodded to the ring. “With this, you can do the same thing. It continually gathers your mental energy, but sending thoughts isn’t easy, so it will take a day or so to recharge after each use. And it won’t help you receive thoughts, but, well-if you ever need to whisper a secret or get a message to someone without being overheard, this can help.” She closed Zaltys’s hand over the ring. “Happy initiation. Welcome to the horror of having real responsibilities.”

Next Krailash approached, holding a long bow case, pale wood inlaid with sigils in some reflective black substance like the night-made glass, with hinges of gold. “I have carried this for decades,” the dragonborn rumbled. “It was an inheritance from an elven archer I campaigned with, long before I began working for the Serrat family. Before he died, that elf told me to keep this until I found an archer who deserved to wield such a fine weapon.” He