Ramus nodded at Konrad, trying not to let his surprise show. The left side of the man's face was raised in a dozen ugly circular ridged scars, each of them the width of a thumbnail. He held out his hands and the men shook.

“Striking scars,” Ramus said. Not mentioning them would be false, and he did not want to set off the wrong way with any of these Serians. Over the course of the voyage, it was likely he'd rely on them to protect his life.

Konrad smiled, but the scar tissue pulled it into a grimace. “You should have seen the ’gator.”

Ramin sighed and clapped Ramus on the shoulder. He was tall, dark-skinned and completely bald, and he looked nothing at all like Konrad. “The ’gator was a baby,” he said. “My cousin always likes to talk himself up. You have to forgive him, he can be . . .” He touched the side of his head and rolled his eyes.

“Rat piss, Ramin,” Konrad said.

Ramin laughed, startling the horses. “Ramus, give me your bags and I'll load up your mount.”

Beko touched Ramus's arm and inclined his head. He frowned slightly before he spoke. “And over here, meet Lulah.”

The short, slight Serian woman was strapping her gear to a huge sand-colored horse. She had long beaded hair, skin the color of Cantrassan chocolate, delicate hands. She glanced over her shoulder, and Ramus blinked back his surprise. She had only one eye. The other socket was covered by a brown leather patch, seemingly sewn into the skin and studded with one large metal star.

“Good journeys,” Ramus said, holding out his hands.

Lulah continued tightening the straps around a weapon roll, giving no sign that she had heard.

“Lulah?” Beko said, and the captain's voice was almost a plea.

Is he really in charge here? Ramus thought.

The woman turned fully and stared at Ramus. She looked him up and down with her one good eye—it was a startling gold color, contrasting against her skin like the sun rising at night—and then stepped forward. Her expression did not change. “Good journeys, Ramus,” she said, holding out her hands. They shook and she pulled away, turning back to her horse and continuing to load her gear.

Ramus swapped glances with Nomi. Some stories to hear from that one, he thought. He wondered who or what she had killed to get the stud in her eye patch.

A huge man walked down the slope toward them. He carried a leg of some unidentifiable meat, chewing as he came, smiling through the grease and scraps of skin that clung to his beard. Several children hovered around him, eyeing the group of Serians with a mixture of awe and fear.

“Have you ever seen a group of finer horses?” the man said, spreading his arms as if to hug them all.

“Pancet, you've done me proud,” Nomi said. “And all on a promise slip.”