Ramus closed his eyes and let the imagery wash around in his head. His mind's eye opened onto a blank gray slate, and the images from the parchments floated there. He let them arrange themselves at first, then he began shuffling and changing, altering shapes here and there or turning them upside down, left to right. He touched the stone charm resting around his neck, wondering who else had worn it and when.

By the time Lulah returned, Ramus was feeling a closer affinity to the language. It was as though the truth lay a hundred miles away, but he was slowly drawing closer. If he watched, and listened, perhaps he would see it soon.

“All quiet,” Lulah said. She squatted by the fire, hands held out to warm.

“But something still bothers you,” Ramus said.

Lulah laughed, a short bark. “Plenty bothers me about this voyage.”

“But here and now?”

The Serian glanced at him, her eye glittering in the firelight. “Just a niggle,” she said, touching her cheek below her missing eye.

“Seeing something that isn't there?”

“I've learned to trust my intuition. And something around here feels out of step.”

“It's a different land,” Ramus said. “The smells aren't the same, the air is heavier. Perhaps the unknown carries weight.”

“I like strange lands. I thought you would too, Voyager.” She shook her head and reached for a water skin. “Just something odd. But I'm not too worried. Perhaps daylight will tell us more.”

“You can't stay awake all night,” Ramus said.

“Just for tonight. Then tomorrow it can be your turn to lead my horse.”

“I can keep watch, maybe—”

“Have you ever killed anyone, Ramus? Fired an arrow into a man's face? Fought off something come to eat your flesh?”

He shook his head.

“I can look after you, but let me do it my way.”

Ramus watched her leave. She's so strong, he thought. But she doesn't trust me at all.

He revealed the pages again and narrowed his eyes, letting firelight illuminate the unfamiliar language. He picked up the journal and began making marks. Words flowed, old languages combined, his knowledge of writing and past times acted as the filter through which the parchment images were sorted. And soon he began to discern sense in chaos.

WHEN LULAH RETURNED again, the fire had burned down, and Ramus had never felt so awake.

“Some of this is speaking to me!” he said.

“That's good, Ramus. But you need sleep.”

“No. No! This is vital, Lulah. I need to read these pages for us to get where we're going.”

“I know how to get there,” she said. “South till we hit the Divide.”

“And then?” he asked, wide-eyed.

“And then you do your Voyager things, and we go home.”

“No. We reach the Divide, and then up.”

“Up?” He saw realization dawn. “Are you truly mad?”

Ramus shook his head. “There's sense here,” he said. “Sit down, look.”

“I really don't know anything about—”