RAMUS WENT SOUTH, then west. He moved slowly and cautiously, not wishing to give himself away. His head was throbbing and the pain behind his eyes gave a false light to the scene. What he saw as solid ground was marsh, and where he saw marsh was a spread of shale, slipping and sliding beneath him, loosened by the rain that had begun as soon as he started to move. His clothes were wet and heavy, his hair lank and plastered across his face. He held out one hand ahead of him, knowing that if he caused too much noise, he would likely encounter a Serian in the darkness.

When he judged he had gone far enough past the camp, he turned north once more, going carefully until he saw the glow of a campfire in the distance. He should have asked Lulah how far from the camp the Serian guard or guards would be, where they would choose to keep watch, how they would be armed. He could see the fire from here, but if he set the distraction he had planned, it was possible they would not hear it. Lulah would be waiting way past that fire even now, hunkered down in shadows, ready with the pouch of berry bugs.

Ramus moved closer. He entered a lightly wooded area, slipping from tree to tree and doing his best to avoid the undergrowth around their trunks. There were noises from all around: scurrying things, leaves rustling and caressing in the breeze, raindrops dripping from above.

This is not for me, he thought. Give me a warm library, a musty book and a bottle of root wine any day.

As if to mock him, the raindrops grew warmer, and he felt the occasional impact of something harder against his scalp. He held out his hands and caught a slick serpent, the length of his index finger. It flexed and snapped at the fleshy pad of his thumb. He dropped it, and more landed around him, slithering away into the damp grass. Something larger struck the ground to his left, and he heard the meaty sound of something bursting.

Ramus moved on, cringing whenever something other than rain hit him. He stamped on the small serpents when he saw them, kicked at running, many-legged shapes and stepped over the wet mess of things that had split upon impact. They streamed into the night; some had legs, a few had the stubs of rudimentary wings.

He slipped on a slick of leaves and went down, sliding into a gulley he had not even seen. His head struck the ground and the pain flared, sending spears of light into his eyes. The heat of agony did its best to draw a groan or a scream from his mouth, and he ground his teeth together to hold it back.