Free Venom in Her Veins by Tim Pratt Page A

you want breakfast, you have to get up with the rest of the camp. We’re moving out now. I’ll show you which dangling fruit is safe to eat on the way.”
    He groaned and stood up, running a hand through his hair, which didn’t improve its disarray. “Where are we going?”
    “Onward into the jungle, Cousin.”
    “This is the jungle.” He pointed in the direction of some trees, as if illustrating his point.
    “This is the edge of the jungle, the end of the rocky soil. Today we go into the jungle proper.”
    “Fine. Where do I sit?”
    Zaltys shook her head. “Mother says I’m to show you how things work here. That means you’re coming with me and some of the scouts to make sure there are no nasty surprises waiting for us up ahead.”
    He stretched his arms overhead and worked the kinks out of his neck. “I don’t suppose I have a choice.”
    “I suppose you could defy mother, one of the three heads of the family,” Zaltys said thoughtfully. “It would be interesting to see what the consequences would be.”
    “Show me to my horse,” he said.
    Zaltys laughed. “Go into the jungle ahead of the caravan on horseback? It would be interesting to see the consequences of that too, except a dead horse isn’t all that interesting.” She smacked him on the back. “I hope you brought your good boots. We go on foot, ahead of the trailbreakers, to make sure there’s nothing unpleasant waiting for them.”
    “Like more shadow snakes?”
    Zaltys tried not to let her face betray any emotion. “Those are very rare,” she said. “But there are other things. Giant insects and spiders. Jungle cats. Carnivorous plants. Farther to the south—deeper than we ever go—there are supposed to be yuan-ti, but I’ve never met any. They say there used to be a small tribe of them near our route once, but they’ve been gone for ages.”
    “No people?” Julen said. “None of your, ah, original family?”
    Zaltys shrugged. “There are tribes of halflings, but I’m a bit tall to pass for one of those.” She grinned. “Quelamia thinks my people were either a very small, unknown tribe, or maybe just refugees who fled the upheavals and ended up living in the jungle for a while. They didn’t last long, I guess. Certainly they didn’t leave much of a mark.”
    “Who, or what, do you think …?” He looked away.
    “Killed my family?” She kept her voice light. “Hard to say. Could be any number of things. Krailash found me crying among the trees, the only one left alive, so I don’t know who killed the others. I don’t guess it matters. Dead is dead.”
    “Huh,” Julen said.
    Zaltys knew she was somewhat notorious in the family, so it was understandable that he was curious about her origins. At least he’d become more polite—when they’d been young children playing together he’d once stared at her intently and blurted out, “Why come you’re so brown ?” Adoptees weren’t unheard of, and were even considered to strengthen the family by bringing in fresh blood—for one thing, they could marry their cousins without a greater-than-usual risk of bearing idiot children—but hers was certainly the most unusual adoption in recent memory. The only other truly colorful adoptee still living was her great-uncle Gustavus, a lycanthrope that the Guardians had adopted in hopes of using him to frighten rivals; everyone was surprised when he showed an aptitude for bookkeeping instead, and they’d sent him to the Traders in exchange for a pair of sociopathic twins boys with no affinity for retail who’d later perished in a trade war with the Longspear cartel in Chavyondat. “Sorry,” Julen said. “I don’t mean to stir up bad memories, or …”
    “I was an infant when they found me, Cousin. I don’t have any memories from that time. As far as memories go, I’ve been in the family as long as you have, and I’ve never known another life. I’m curious about my people, of course, but … they’re all gone. I’m