The time would come when he should tell her what they might find at journey's end. But until he could make more sense of the parchments, he would keep such possibilities to himself.

HE SLEPT WITH the holed stone still around his neck, and that night he dreamed of the Widow. She was younger than she had been when he met her, and there was something almost beautiful about her appearance. But she was still aloof and alone, exuding a haughty indifference when he tried to tell her of things beyond the mountains. He had Ten's pages in his mind, though he did not speak of them, and the Widow came close, fixing him with bright green eyes that would fade to gray with age. Do not fool with curses you do not know, she said. And he smiled, because he did not believe in curses.

But you do believe in charms? the Widow asked. That gave Ramus pause, because even in the dream he felt that weight around his neck.

He awoke to darkness, the dream melted away, and he understood that the Widow's warning and question were really his own.

THE SMELL OF cooking roused Ramus from a light doze, and when he exited his tent he found Lulah stirring a stew of the leftover rabbit. She looked edgy and nervous, and she barely acknowledged him when he sat on his saddle beside the fire.

“Have you slept at all?” he asked.

Lulah shook her head. “You could?”

“A little.”

“Daylight makes me more nervous,” the Serian said. She dished a portion of stew into Ramus's bowl, then stood, strolling slowly around the camp while he ate. “There's no real threat, but my guts ache, and I know there's something wrong.”

“You've seen or heard nothing?”

She shrugged.

“Then we break camp and go on. I'll lead your horse and—”

“I won't be sleeping until I feel better about this.”

“That may be a long time,” Ramus said. “You've not been here before. The Pavissia Steppes is a strange place. Have you heard it called the Land of the Lost?”

Lulah shook her head.

“It's a Voyager name. Foolish, perhaps, but it shows how uncertain people are about traveling this way. Many have vanished here, and not every disappearance is due to marauders. Some have witnessed their traveling companions fade away in a blink, as though passing through a doorway from Noreela to somewhere else. Others have fallen victim to rokarian traps.”

“Rokarians?” Lulah shook her head. “Myth. There are no plants big enough to eat a person whole.”

“True, I've not seen one myself,” Ramus said. “But the Pavissia Steppes hides its secrets well.”

Lulah fixed him with her eye, then shook her head and looked away. “I'd still rather stay awake,” she said. “If the time comes when I have to sleep, I will.”