He did not answer for a while and Nomi glanced sideways, thinking she may have surprised him. But he seemed calm, wearing his usual slight smile.

“Happier today than yesterday,” he said. “I like to see the land. I like to work. Wandering has been in my blood since I left Mancoseria twelve years ago, and I sometimes think the farther I am from that place, the better. So yes, happier today than yesterday.”

“And yesterday?”

He smiled. “Yesterday wasn't so bad.”

“I'm glad.” It's good to be riding with you again, she almost said. But that could imply more than she meant . . . or more than she really wanted to say right now.

“These are good horses,” Beko said, saving her. “You must know Pancet well.”

“I know what he is,” she replied. “And I know how to play men like him.”

“He's a thug.”

“Yes. And a murderer, if all the stories are true.”

“You know how to play murderers?”

Nomi looked across at Beko's innocent smile. “Captain, are you trying word games with me already?”

“Mam Hyden, I talk straight; you know that well.”

Nomi laughed.

Not long after setting out they entered Clyst Forest. It would take them until midday to ride through, and then the rest of their route out of Marrakash would be across the vast Clyst Plain: a hundred miles of grassland and moorland rolling through valleys and over gentle hills. It was an easy ride, and the dangers were few. There were a dozen small settlements between here and the border with Pavissia Steppes, and they would have tracks to follow and farmsteads at which to stop and buy food. Marrakash always offered a gentle start to a voyage, and Nomi was glad of the gradual change.

The shadows closed around them, the trees grew high and there was a pleasant chill to the air. Ferns grew between the trees, taller than a person in places, and they swayed in time with tune birds singing in harmony. Every song was different, and some claimed that the birds felt the same emotion a person would whilst listening. The song this morning was upbeat and bright.

There was a path through the woods—a much-traveled route worn down to the rock in places. Before long, they passed a group of people going the other way, the men carrying heavy baskets on their heads, while the women bore tools and water skins.

“Nolan berries?” Beko asked.

The lead man carefully lowered his basket to the ground, nodding. He was sweating and breathing hard, but he offered a smile.

“Can I buy some?” Beko patted his stomach. “I've had breakfast, but Nolans lose their freshness so quickly.”

“Help yourself,” the man said. “Good crop this year, and I'll not take money for something you can pick a few hundreds steps on.” He lifted the basket back onto his head and leaned against Beko's horse.

Beko chose a dozen fat berries, handing a few to Nomi. “Good journeys.”