“He wants to get there before me,” Nomi said. “He won't waste his time with more games like last night.”

“I play games,” Ramin said. “Back in Mancoseria, I was very good at them, before I took my seethe-gator. Head ball, whip slash. They take dedication and determination, but a lightness of approach. Go in simply to win and you're guaranteed to lose. Believe me, last night was no game. And if he wants to reach the Divide before you, speed is not the only way.”

They rode together in silence for a while longer, but neither of them spoke again until Beko called camp.

THAT NIGHT’S CAMP had a much more restrained feel than before. Even the previous night, with what had happened between Ramus and Nomi fresh in their minds, there had been no real sense of danger. But now that they were on the Pavissia Steppes, Beko and the Serians took their purpose more seriously. Rhiana had scouted ahead a couple of miles until she spied a suitable campsite, and upon her return the others had waited while she and Beko went to check it out. After pronouncing it safe, they rode the last couple of miles. There were always at least two Serians on guard while the camp was set up, and the fire they built was smaller than usual, shielded by screens built of stone and mud.

Nomi felt a little safer. But only a little.

The dark skies were the same here as back in Marrakash. The stars shone the same light in the same patterns, the moons had barely moved and the scattered clouds knew no borders. And yet everything felt different. It took Nomi until after their meal to realize that much of the difference was within her.

Ramin told a tale, standing close to the fire and talking in low tones. He eschewed Mancoserian history and instead relayed a story about when he had first come to the Noreelan mainland. It involved a tavern, a huge whore and the intervention of the whore's lover, but though Ramin colored it with effortless humor and a natural storyteller's grace, Nomi could not find it in herself to laugh. Perhaps it was because of the exchange she'd had with Ramin that afternoon. He could tell them about fat whores and livid lovers, but nothing could erase his belief that they were heading toward bad times.

After the tale, Ramin went out to relieve Noon for his watch, and Nomi made her excuses and went to her tent. Beko did not even acknowledge her leaving the campfire, and that was another factor contributing to her sudden loneliness. Away from familiar territory, in the wilds, Ramus was perhaps out there seeking to do her harm . . . and the man who had become her lover was shunning her just as quickly.