Nomi mounted her own horse and gave her thanks once again to Volkain, but his final comments about the wisps had soured their brief stay. As the militia eased the gate aside and Nomi's party rode through, she looked once again at the web-scarred woman. Her face had not changed, her expression neutral, as though her flesh had burned and melted into a mask of indifference.

AS THEY LEFT the border post and rode onto the plains that marked the edge of the Pavissia Steppes, and the sun cast purple and yellow streaks in the heathers, Nomi's thoughts were complex. Fear and excitement vied as she took her first steps into Pavissia. Her voyaging spirit reveled in the miles of unknown ground laid out before her, and yet she mourned what she was leaving behind—the familiarity of Long Marrakash.

And before her, dangers more numerous than she had imagined even a few days previously. Back in Long Marrakash, sitting in Naru May's and contemplating the seeds of this voyage as the river flowed by below and around them, she had already had a partner. Ramus was wise and responsible, and they would travel together as friends. There would be threats, yes, but they would have Serian guards. They both understood that Noreela had many hidden dangers yet to be discovered. Risk was a big part of the thrill of discovery.

Now the perils were known as well as unknown, and more terrifying because of that.

Ramus had killed their horses to slow them down. The idea that he could have poisoned them as well had crossed her mind more than once. She did not see him as a murderer, yet she could not imagine him as a horse killer, either. Perhaps he could have slipped into their camp and infected their food; perhaps not. She was not certain either way, and the uncertainty played with her imagination, painting images that she did not welcome. And he was out there somewhere now, riding ahead of them with Lulah, and perhaps plotting fresh assaults to slow their progress even more. The thought of the Serians fighting one another seemed almost alien to her, but she also knew how persuasive Ramus could be if he wanted. In the unknown wilds of the Pavissia Steppes, perhaps Serian steel would be tainted with Serian blood.

Ramus was like a ghost, gone from her life but haunting her all the more. He could be watching her right now. She looked right, across the rolling plains, toward the sea that lay well beyond the horizon. To her left the land was more undulating, with a thousand hiding places and endless possibilities. And ahead . . .

Marsh wisps? Marauders? Ramus, furious and perhaps mad, buying charms when he claimed never to believe in their worth?

She had a horse to herself again, and though more comfortable, she missed the nearness and warmth of Beko's body.