ON HER WAY home, Nomi called in to the runners' rooms. She sent a runner to Pancet's Stables, south of the city, with an order and promise token for ten good horses, riding and camping equipment and all the climbing gear Pancet could procure in the next day and night. She deflected queries about why she was not going to the Guild with a handful of coins. The runners needed to make a living as well, and they were known for their honesty.

Then she returned home, readying herself to say good-bye. She lived in the hills above the river, her home one of twenty in a structure built around a central courtyard. In the courtyard were several young weeping trees growing from a small pond, and ducks and frogs made the high grasses and reeds their home. It was not a cheap place to live, but Nomi had the money. She'd been through a lot on her voyages, and she saw no shame in profiting from her travels. Let Ramus frown upon her all he wished. If it weren't for her, they wouldn't be able to undertake the journey they were planning right now.

Still, as she entered her home a moment of doubt assailed her. Should I really have told Ramus about this? I could have gone on my own, perhaps with Ten as companion. But the Great Divide was a huge distance to travel for a fool's treasure. She needed Ramus's wisdom, his knowledge of language and the printed histories of words, to tell whether the parchments were real.

Sometimes, she wished she were wise like him.

She walked around her main room, examining artifacts she had brought back from her two voyages. Carvings hung on the walls; woven materials in the shape of a hawk swished from the ceiling; a steam sculpture repeated itself in a tray of heated water. Bottles of her own Ventgorian wine lay aging in one dark corner. A marsh harp, impossible to play unless you were a true Ventgorian, hung above her fire. All precious items. No books, no crumbling scrolls like Ramus had in his own little hovel.

Nomi felt at home here, surrounded by the rewards of her life's chosen path.

If only Timal were still here, she thought. He was the greatest reward. But Timal had left her a year earlier, saying nothing, never returning. She heard from a mutual friend that he had left for Pengulfin Landing and the rich crystal farms that had started to thrive on its eastern shores. She still had some of his clothes in her sleep-room, and on nights when she was most lonely she smelled them and imagined him beside her.

She sighed. If he were still here he would not approve of this latest voyage, and maybe she would not even go. She'd let Ramus have the parchments and go on his own, make the find, reap the glory.