Ten stared at him for some time, so long that Ramus looked away, unnerved.

“You don't believe me,” Ten said.

“I've met a lot of wanderers in my time, and they're known to . . . elaborate.”

“Ramus,” Nomi said, her voice bearing a warning.

“I'm telling the truth,” Ten said. “If any Voyager had made it back from that place, they'd tell you the same.”

“But you have more to tell,” Ramus said.

Ten glanced at Nomi, reached into his cloak and then decided against it. “I'll tell you first,” he said. “Then I'll show you.”

Ramus sat back and crossed his hands on his stomach.

“I walked back along the Divide. Camped here and there, ate well, listened to the tumblers in the north. It took me two moons to gather the courage to do what I knew I must.”

“You climbed,” Nomi said.

Ten nodded slowly. “Up into the foothills first. And then, where the hills ended and the cliffs began, I started up.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, long hair hanging down on either side of his face. “I never got very high, but I found signs that others had climbed before me.”

“What signs?” Ramus asked, but he could already guess.

“Bodies. Or what was left of them. Skeletons mostly, but some were . . . fresher. Looked as if they'd been chewed. And all badly broken, as if they had climbed higher, then fallen.”

“Fallen,” Ramus whispered. “How many?”

Ten shrugged. “Six? Eight? I climbed eight times at various points along the Divide. I made it three hundred steps high, maybe four hundred, and then . . .”

“No more routes,” Ramus said. “Like the cliffs were never meant to be climbed.”

Ten shook his head. “Not that, no. I could have gone farther on at least two occasions. But every time I found a body, I lost my nerve.”

“So you never got as high as the clouds?”

“Nowhere near.”

“And no one else did, either?”

“I can't know that. If they did, and did not fall, then . . .”

“Maybe they're still climbing?”

“Or maybe they reached the top.”

“It's believed there is no top,” Nomi said.

“Of course,” Ramus said. “If there was a top to the Great Divide, there would be something south of the cliff face. For most Noreelans, that's unthinkable. It's been a problem for thinkers for centuries. There are books full of it.”

“You've seen these books?” Ten asked.

“A couple. There's one in the Marrakash Library, not a mile from here. And I know people who keep books to themselves.”

“I could write one,” Ten said. “And I could give it an ending.”

Ramus laughed again. “You tell a good story, wanderer, but you need more than words and hearsay to—”

Ten reached into his cloak again, and this time his eyes were full of purpose. Nomi sat up straighter. She looked at Ramus, her eyes sparkling with something he had only ever rarely seen on her face: the thrill of discovery.