“Ramus, are you—?” Whoever had broken into his home tripped as they reached for his sleeproom door. They grunted, fell into the door and knocked it open.

Ramus pressed his knife to the invader's throat.

“Ramus, by all the gods, it's me!”

“Nomi?” Ramus fell back and dropped his knife, appalled. Was I really going to slice her throat? Maybe, maybe not. Like his dreams, his true intentions already seemed to be fading away, and for that he was glad.

“I think I've broken my wrist.”

“You scared the shit out of me, Nomi!”

“Can we have some light in here? I need to see if the bone's sticking out.”

“If the bone were sticking out you'd be doing more than whimpering about it.” Ramus stood and went to the window. He drew the curtain aside to let in death-moonlight, its pale yellow glow revealing more of the room's shape and depth.

Nomi was still sitting on the floor by the open door, nursing her left arm. “Don't you have a lamp?”

“Running low on oil.”

“I'll give you some money for oil, Ramus.”

Ramus sparked his lamp and turned it up. He sheathed the knife and retied the weapon roll. Nomi mumbled something and Ramus looked at the back of her head. She seemed bedraggled and flustered, which was rare for her. Not good for her image.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Came to see you.” Nomi held her hand up, flexed her fingers and sighed, seemingly happy that her wrist was not shattered.

“I doubt it'll even bruise,” Ramus said. “Nomi, it's obvious that you've come to see me. But why break in? And why sneak around in my rooms like a thief?”

She stood and brushed herself down, smiling contritely. “I suppose I look like a fool. But I came to tell you something. Ask you something.” She sighed, sitting on the bed and brushing loose hair back from her face.

“Spit it out,” Ramus said. Nomi had been to his home a hundred times before, but this was the first time she had been in his sleep-room. It made him uncomfortable.

“I'm not thinking straight,” she said. “Give me a beat. Something like this doesn't happen every night.”

“You got humped!” Ramus said, mock-elated. He threw his hands in the air and reached for a bottle of wine on a shelf.

“Ramus, this is important!”

He popped the cork with his teeth and sat on a chair. “Fine,” he said, taking a swig of wine. It was good—a gift from Nomi following her latest importation of Ventgorian grapes—but the first taste always made him cringe. He offered her the bottle and she accepted, taking a long draught herself. “So tell me.”