“So you’re saying you’re too powerful to help,” Alaia said bitterly.
Quelamia and Glory exchanged a look. The tiefling shrugged, and the eladrin nodded.
“I’ll go, of course,” Krailash said, a trifle wearily. “The wizard and the devil kin can make sure the caravan doesn’t fall apart in our absence. We couldn’t all go, anyway. Someone has to keep order here.”
“Fine,” Alaia said. “Gather your men. We leave immediately.” She stormed out of the wagon.
“Such are the consequences of lies,” Quelamia said.
“We had to tell Zaltys her parents were dead,” Krailash said. “You can’t raise a child to believe that family is the single most important thing in the world, and then tell her that some of her family is still alive in servitude to monsters beneath the earth. We didn’t tell her because we were afraid this very thing would happen.”
“Oh, right,” Glory said. “I forgot that was all you knew.”
He frowned. “What are you saying?”
“Glory,” Quelamia said warningly.
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll just wipe his mind in a few minutes,” Glory said. “The real reason we lied to Zaltys is because we didn’t want her to find out what she really is. You still think she’s a little human girl, but once we got her back to the city and examined her when she was a newborn, we figured it out pretty quick. I had to erase some memories that day, I’ll tell you. Those scales she had on her back as a baby, remember? She had those because she’s a yuan-ti.”
“A snakeman? That’s nonsense. And you will not erase any of my-”
“They call them purebloods,” Glory said, sitting down. “Yuan-ti who look almost human, throwbacks to the nonserpent stock in their heritage. Or creatures chosen by the dark gods to infiltrate the lesser races, depending on what you believe. The yuan-ti use them as spies and traitors, send them to live secretly among humans, spreading the cult of their gods, or just sowing discord and making trouble. Anyway, that’s what Zaltys is. The fact that we cut out her scales with an enchanted knife doesn’t change her nature. We didn’t want her to find out she’s the scion of a cult of evil snake people. If she did …”
“What?” Quelamia said. “You think if she found out her parents were, as you say, ‘evil snake people,’ it would make her pursue a similar path?”
Glory shrugged. “Some say evil’s in the blood. Believe me, I’ve heard it said a lot-I’ve got devil in my bloodline. I don’t think I’m evil, but then, a cultist of Zehir probably doesn’t think they’re evil, either, just devout. I know you and Alaia believe that how you’re brought up is what matters-that if she could be raised without the influence of Zehir she would be indistinguishable from a human. Maybe you’re right-she doesn’t wear her evil heritage on her face, and I’m sure that helps.” Glory touched her horns. “But what if Zehir is interested in her? I know, hardly likely. So leave all that aside. Even if Zaltys has no natural tendency toward dark behavior, finding out you’re not even the same species as your adopted family, that’s got to mess with your head. It’s a secret we wanted to keep from Zaltys until she was older. Funny thing is, Alaia was going to tell her soon, even though I said I thought it would be a bad idea. Alaia figured as an adult now, Zaltys deserved to know about her heritage. Of course, we’d still have to keep it a secret from everybody else.”
“Yuan-ti are scum,” Krailash said, nearly trembling with rage. To keep this from him! Didn’t they understand the implications? “If Zaltys is truly what you say, how can we know she wasn’t planted by cultists of Zehir for us to find? That she isn’t a spy like these other purebloods? Perhaps unknown even to herself, with commands planted deep in her mind, waiting to be activated when she’s head of the Travelers? What if this is part of some deep plan to rebuild their fallen empire? I must tell Alaia.”
“She knows,” Glory said wearily. “Alaia, Quelamia, and me-we’re the ones who know. There’s a reason we don’t let you remember, because you always get so paranoid. Zaltys’s people were stolen by slavers when she was an infant. There’s no big plot. The yuan-ti settlement here was a tattered remnant. They weren’t capable of a plan this baroque and drawn-out-I can’t believe anybody is. Zaltys was raised human, and more importantly, she was raised to be a Serrat, and that’s what counts.” Glory waved her hand.
Krailash’s sense of outrage and betrayal suddenly became a sense of confusion and bewilderment, and after a moment, he shook his head. Why was he standing here? There was work to be done, and the heir to his mistress was in danger. “I have to gather my men to go after Zaltys and Julen. Take care of the camp while we’re gone, please. We’ll return as soon as we’re able.” He left the wagon before they answered him, troubled by the sense that he was forgetting something important, but soon he was shouting at his men, and the necessity of the moment covered over his misgivings.
“Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay?” Krailash asked, as Alaia cursed and tripped over another tree root. “I know it’s been some time since you ventured into the wilderness.”
“I grew up in this jungle,” she snapped. “My mother initiated me into the shamanic arts under these very trees. I belong here.” A branch wrapped with thorn vines brushed her arm and made her hiss.
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.