A sweet, earthy spice prickled Mira’s nose. It sent her tongue trembling as it seared through her senses and cracked her thoughts awake. When her eyes fluttered open she saw that she still sat across from Veda Rios, and she gasped and tensed up.

“Welcome back,” Veda said. She had a smile that suggested a friendly tea party. “I know you declined tea before, but this blend is the quickest way to bring someone back up from a hypnosis duel.”

Mira glanced at the cup before her and glared at Veda. After what just happened she wouldn’t accept any drink from her.

“No need to drink, if you prefer not to,” said Veda; “the scent works fair, much like an incense. I’ll give you a moment to gather your thoughts.” She sipped her tea.

Mira rubbed her face and worked out what went wrong. She’d never faced a lamia so strong—well, she’d never dueled anyone with hypnosis. A passing memory of her first meeting with Anne Koizumi, she discarded—the snobby Koizumi attempted to entrance her, and Mira ignored her like a fly. Anne didn’t have enough hypnotic power to even grab her attention, let alone ensnare her.

Veda’s eyes, she felt could have drowned her. Did drown her.

Mira didn’t care for it. She wanted to stay the hypnotist.

“Well?” she asked. She wanted the spider monster’s location so she could leave.

A moment passed as Veda finished her sip, although Mira would have bet she wasn’t even drinking and only paused to control the conversation.

“Your hypnosis truly is powerful,” Veda said. Mira narrowed her eyes.

“I’m not here for flattery.” No one had ever told her that before, but she didn’t need to hear it. The lost look in her prey’s eyes and smile on their lips as they surrendered despite the danger said all she needed.

“I wasn’t trying to throw you off when I offered lessons,” Veda said. “You could be a truly amazing hypnotist with that power.”

“I would prefer to aim on my aim,” said Mira. “I just want to know where to find the spider so I can get her venom.”

Veda set down her tea and frowned.

“Are you certain you do not remember being raised by anyone? No memory of lamia parents—or a human? No village with a missing child matching your tail pattern?”

Mira leaned forward, face tense with her intent stare.

“I have no use for history, Rios. There is no history for me.”

Even if she had more than the faintest memory of an elderly lamia watching over her as a young child—even if that story of a lost infant matching her tail pattern, from which village she no longer recalled, was more than circumstantial evidence—she had no reason to divulge scant wisps of her meaningless past to someone who had more past than she could imagine, let alone imagine a use for.

Veda rested her chin on a hand, her return stare as intent as Mira’s. Maybe Veda saw through her deflection. It didn’t matter—if she hadn’t pulled the information out of Mira while she was hypnotized, Veda certainly wouldn’t while she was awake.

“Maestra is one with a lot of history,” Veda said. “Rather inevitable, when you have as many children as she does, and perhaps even more so when you are told that you are destined to.”

“I don’t care about her children,” Mira said. Veda chuckled.

“Let us hope you won’t have to.” She nodded to the butler. “Eduards, be a dear and fetch Miss Ainsley, please.”

Mira turned and watched the butler exit the tent. She’d forgotten his presence. He seemed able to stand as still and patient as Mira on a hunt, despite the fact she threatened his boss, even though Veda threatened her first. She wondered what would have happened if she’d won that duel. With a glower she turned back to Veda.

“Who is Miss Ainsley?” She was done with Veda’s games.

“My chemist,” said Veda. “You aren’t the first to use Maestra’s venom, and my friendship with her allowed Miss Ainsley to strike a friendship with her. It seems she intends to stock up on venom for research. Perhaps experiments, but”—Veda smiled with a chuckle—“surely she isn’t doing any work outside the purview I’ve tasked her with, and if she is, surely I know nothing about it.”

Mira blinked. Veda liked to use a lot of words, but she understood one key fact. She leaned forward, her intent stare softer.

“You’ll introduce me to someone who’s going to visit Maestra?”

“As Miss Ainsley is making a trip that way, I see no reason to not let you accompany her. Perhaps you might be considered a guard.”

Mira smiled. She tried to soften her face, aware that her smiles usually had a sharp, domineering mockery to them.

“Very good.” Mira considered the proper words, gratitude unfamiliar to her. “Thank you. And”—she nodded—“I do promise I have no intention of harming her.”

“Of course,” Veda said. “I rather doubted you did, but I suspected you might not quite realize the exact nature of Maestra. Remember that she is a mother of monsters, for there lies her danger.” She smiled. “Don’t let it slip you had no mother, or she might ask you to stay for an extended visit.”

Mira had no chance to question her further as the tent flap behind her opened, the light blocked by a round carriage of a figure. When the flap settled over the figure’s bulk and the outside glare no longer obscured them, Mira raised her eyebrows.

She’d expected a human. Maybe a lamia, but with all the humans in the camp she mostly expected a human.

Not a snail demihuman, carrying a boulder-sized coiled shell like a carriage on the back of her amorphous lower body.

“Lady Rios,” the snail said with a nod, her rough voice unlike any accent Mira had heard.

She faced Veda, but the eyestalks in front of her slick, dark hair watched Mira with glassy eyes. Mira found herself distracted being watched by someone not facing her, but couldn’t deny how useful a second pair of eyes would be to a hunter. Her butterscotch skin looked as pliant as custard, especially next to her darker shell, which looked like a twisted rock formation worn smooth by prolonged cascades.

“I’m all set to go,” she said with a pat to her shell. The tent draped over it, no room for her to enter all the way. Her hard coiled shell looked as easy for Ainsley to fit inside as Mira’s soft, scaly coils were for a human—in fact, a human might fit in Ainsley’s shell with her.

“You seeing the spider nest after all, or just want me to bring Maestra ya greetings?”

“I’m afraid I can’t pay Maestra a visit this time,” Veda said, “but please do let her know I would love to visit for tea again soon.” She looked at Mira and gestured to the snail. “Miss Mira, this is my chemist, Miss Ainsley Colquhoun. Ainsley, this is a local hunter, Miss Mira.”

Mira braced herself for a sticky handshake. She could see the slime discoloring Ainsley’s white buttoned coat and sticking her short hair down. She looked like a solidified slime person, as her features stretched and rippled more than any solid person Mira had met.

With a glare at Veda, Ainsley threw her arms out, which stretched beyond their resting length.

“For sake’s, Veda, I telt ya I dinnae need a guard! I can handle maself out there just fine.”

“You misunderstand,” Veda said with a chuckle. “Mira wishes to see Maestra for herself. She would accompany you on her own business.”

“What fer?” Ainsley peered at Mira with all four eyes. “What you off to see the creepy-crawly progenitor for, eh?”

“I have my own reasons,” Mira said, crossing her arms. She had no qualms with this snail knowing why, but the thought of traveling with someone put her out of ease. She looked at Veda. “I’ve lived in this jungle all my life. I can find my way to this spider if you provide directions.” She wanted to arrive faster than a snail’s speed.

“Nonsense,” Veda said with a wave of her hand, “a trip is always better with a companion. Besides, Miss Ainsley has a friendship with dear old Maestra. She could aid in convincing her to help you.”

Mira pursed her lips. Veda had a point. She sighed through her nose.

“All right, I’ll take this.” Before Mira could thank them Ainsley shook her hand and smiled.

“Well, if ye want tae see the spider matriarch tha’much, I’ll welcome ye along for the trip.” Her slimy handshake didn’t feel strong, but her hand stretched to grip around Mira’s, not unlike how some lamias shook with their tails. Ainsley grinned as she let go. “I’m leaving now, so you best be ready tae go!”

She turned to leave the tent. Mira ducked back as Ainsley’s shell swung around, its arc slow enough that Mira could have been asleep and avoided it, but it extended so far behind Ainsley that it would have toppled the table had she entered the tent any further.

Mira didn’t expect any trouble keeping up. She wiped her hand on her tunic, but the thin slime didn’t stick like she expected. Rather than clammy, her handshake just felt as if she’d lathered up with lotion.

“Thank you for visiting, Miss Mira,” Veda said. “I would love to see you again next time I’m in the area.”

“Maybe,” Mira said, with no intention of making that a yes. Once she had what she wanted she would put aristocrats out of her mind for good.

Ainsley wasn’t as slow as Mira expected, but she still traveled at a slower pace than Mira would have. She stocked an entire lab in her shell, she said, and even with her safety precautions she had to move steady to not disturb it.

“Dinnae worry yeself, though, we’ll make it afore nightfall.”

Once free of Veda’s tent and her citrus perfume, Mira sensed a distinct scent from Ainsley, a burning smell unlike the fire she used for cooking. She smelled closer to burning leaves, burning bark, with an earthy hint like after a rain shower.

Despite Ainsley’s careful pace Mira could feel rippling vibrations and hear clinking glass as she moved. Perhaps she really did maintain a lab inside her shell. Such a heavy load on her lower body would make anyone slow, though Ainsley maintained a steady pace. Mira only saw her rest a few times, leaning her upper back against the shell behind her.

Outside the camp Mira took back her bow and arrows. At this Ainsley smiled and nodded.

“Ah, I see yer aim now,” Ainsley said, once they’d left earshot of the camp guards.

“What do you mean,” Mira said. She said it so flatly it wasn’t a question, just a response, with little interest in what Ainsley thought.

She slithered down a tree. While she waited on Ainsley she stretched her tail and looked for diversions. She saw a junglefowl as a tempting shot for lunch, but she didn’t care to carry it along the trip.

“Gaunnae dip yer arrow in Maestra’s venom, are ye?” She shut her eyes as if trying to appear wise, though her eyestalks remained open as she plodded along. “I know how it’s, did much the same meself once.”

Mira snorted. The laugh didn’t care enough to emerge.

“You’ve dipped arrows in venom before?”

“Well, ma tabletop ranger did. Was deadlier, gorgon venom, enemies I shot turned ta stone. Gave our barbarian some handy clubs that way.”

Mira stared at her.

“What are you talking about?”

“Ach, ya likely don’t got that out here,” Ainsley said. “Never mind that jabber. Though I did perform a real experiment dipping arrows in soda. Suppose soda in’t the right word, but whatever. Didn’t shoot th’ arrows meself, o’course, had a professional do that, but the result was fascinating and explosive.”

“I suppose an alchemist might experiment with potions in that way,” Mira said. Ainsley glared at her, eyestalks wide open.

“Don’t mix up terminologies, ya long tube! I don’t dabble in potions, I make science.”

Mira raised her eyebrows. Ainsley sounded offended. Well, she always sounded offended, but that time it seemed more than her strange accent.

Ainsley’s eyestalks turned to watch ahead as Ainsley looked at Mira.

“Anyway, stone arrows and transformation sodas are one thing, but you’re a lamia, ye already got yer hypnotic eyes, what do ye need with hypnotic venom?”

“An extra tool never hurts,” Mira said.

“Fair ‘nough.” Ainsley shrugged. “And if Veda vouches for ye, that’s fine by me. Now let’s get a move on.”

Mira could have told Ainsley at length of those who had enough wits and will to escape her coils, how she wanted to keep those prey most of all, but she had no reason to. She hardly knew her, and Ainsley already talked too much.

As the day wore on they stopped to rest. Ainsley said she had rations in her shell, but Mira preferred something fresh and shot a junglefowl. She roasted it over an open fire.

“Amazing, that ye do this every day,” said Ainsley.

“I can’t imagine not,” Mira said.

“Here.” Ainsley tossed her a hard tube, wet and slick and cold like steel dunked in water. Mira felt liquid slosh inside.

“Some sort of glaze?” She had her own cooking methods but wasn’t opposed to adding Ainsley’s input.

“Naw, naw, it’s a soda, a drink,” Ainsley said. “This is a flavor I invented, in fact.” She took the can and pulled the top, opening a hole, and she poured a sparkling liquid the color of melon flesh into a cup. “Have a taste!”

Mira peered into the cup. She sniffed it—her first thought was the cakes she could smell near some lamia villages. She took a drink and choked and coughed as bubbles filled her nose, like she stuck her face into a hot spring. They sizzled over her tongue and burned her throat, and by the end she wasn’t sure if the drink was cold or hot. She groaned.

“I find it amazing that you do that every day,” Mira said. Ainsley grinned.

“Not sure that’s a compliment, but I’ll take it as one!” She sipped from the soda. “Probably a lot for yer first soda, but still my pride. Speaking of, here’s a compliment: that bird smells pure dead brilliant!”

“Well, cooking is one of my prides.” Mira cut into the roasted bird with a clean arrow and handed Ainsley a serving, who approved of it as much as her own concoction.

“Who’d’ve guessed we’d cook up something in common?” Ainsley said.

“I suppose.” Mira hardly considered it common ground, but they did both create things. They created drinks and food, things integral to survival.

Well, she wasn’t sure anyone who drank those . . . “sodas” regularly would actually survive for long.

As they prepared to resume their travel Mira took the roast bird to toss what was left, but Ainsley said she had a place to store it in her shell for later.

“A good meal like this, it ought to be shared with as many as it can.”

“You’re right,” Mira said. “I don’t get to share such meals with many, either.”

She hoped the end of her journey would find her with a new tool to make getting a captive audience to share meals with easier.