“I don't know. I know nothing.” Ramus touched one of the bodies and a thread of stone linking one exposed rib to the next crumbled between his fingers.

“Whatever these things are, I hope there are no living ones close by.” Lulah hefted her sword in one hand, a short knife in the other.

The atmosphere here was hot with steam, heavy with moisture and thick with thoughts neither of them could explain. Ramus's breath wheezed with the effort of breathing the saturated air, and every now and then he saw shapes that implied movement, direction and purpose. But when he blinked, the shapes resolved into nothing more than steam wisps. Lulah must have been seeing the same thing because she walked ahead of him, constantly dipping down into a defensive stance when a fresh breath of warm air passed by.

They passed several more stone things, none of them Noreelan. It was as if no Noreelan had ever been allowed to reach this place. Perhaps I really am the first person here, Ramus thought, but the idea did not thrill him as much as it should.

Another gush of warm air, more dancing shapes. And this time Ramus felt something through his feet, as though the ground itself rumbled to the scent of the breeze.

“What was that?” Lulah whispered.

“I don't know.” If Nomi were here with him she could tell him of the Ventgorian Steam Plains, how the ground acted there, what the sounds were and the smells, the feels and tastes, and perhaps she would even know the cause of those brief, haunting visions that plagued him.

A cloud of steam a hundred steps to his right swirled and dissolved around a shadow. Ramus blinked, expecting the shape to fade away into the air, but when he looked again, it was still there. It moved slowly, long arms and legs shifting up and down as though to mimic the shape of steam.

“Lulah,” Ramus whispered.

The Serian had already seen it. She crouched down before Ramus, wielding her sword and knife. The shape advanced. It was the same as the solidified creatures they had seen, only this one was whole. A rapid clicking noise came from its mouth, a chuckle or words in an unknown tongue, and Ramus was about to step forward and try to communicate with it when three more emerged from the steam around them.

They had been stalked, and now was the attack.

There was more movement underfoot as a sheet of steam hushed from the ground to their left.

And Ramus thought, Heartbeat.

HIS OWN HEART thundered in his chest. He wanted to help, but he could not. He clasped the charms that hung around his neck—animal bone, holed stone, Konrad's fingers—but he had never been a true charm breather, either, and they felt like nothing more than cheap trinkets.