They headed south. The plains rose and fell in gentle undulations as far as they could see, and maybe twenty miles in the hazy distance they saw the darker smudge of thickly forested slopes. The trees seemed to be various shades of red, and clouds hid the tops of whatever hills or mountains they skirted.

As they walked, Nomi thought of the Sleeping God. Without the parchment pages—and without Ramus's ability with languages—there was no way for her to tell where the mythical God was supposed to be. This plateau was huge. Twenty miles deep at least, and if it truly ran from east coast to west, several hundred miles wide. But they had seen firelight on the cliff that first night, and assuming it was Ramus and Lulah, they were climbing only miles apart. That gave her confidence. If Ramus had found a reason to climb in this particular place, then she could find it as well.

But as they walked south, a whole new aim presented itself in her mind. They were not only on top of the Great Divide, but also heading toward whatever might lie beyond. The joy of discovery was clear in her mind, a very sharp aim that had been temporarily appeased upon reaching the head of the Divide, but which now bit harder than ever before. South, there were hills or mountains, and beyond those . . . who knew? More mountains? Another new world?

She knew that at some point she would have to return to Long Marrakash, but such a return could wait.

“Shouldn't you be recording this somehow?” Beko asked as they walked.

“Can you draw, Captain?” Nomi asked, smiling.

“Badly.”

“Can you write?”

“Barely.”

“Badly and barely are about my limits as well. But I can see, feel and smell. And that's good enough for me.”

“But what will they say when we go back? What about the Guild?”

Nomi was silent for a while, thinking about what she wanted to say and what it really meant. It felt good and pure, but there was also an aspect of separation that she had not yet vocalized to anyone. “I'm doing this for me,” she said. “Voyaging . . . it's about fame or fortune, or perhaps both. For me, the Ventgorian trips were about fortune, and I've made that. But now we've found this place, I realize how superficial that really is. I've never known the true heart of voyaging, not like . . .”

“Ramus,” Beko finished.