“I've not heard of that,” Nomi said.

“Then you don't drink in the right taverns. I've heard the tale from a few people—Serians, traders, a mercenary—and it's much the same whoever does the telling: the ghosts of children run here when the death moon's full. They say they were sacrificed to the moon a long time ago. Though the mercenary told me that the children are only recently dead. Still suffering their sacrifice, he said.” Konrad grinned. “But then, he was very drunk.”

Nomi shivered. “So why do people suddenly see this as a place of remembrance if it's so haunted?”

“Maybe because it's close to beyond,” Ramus said. He had ridden up quietly on his horse, and now sat an arm's stretch from Nomi. She wanted to touch him, but she was not sure how he would react.

“I don't like it,” she said. “I did, but now I don't.” The strips decorating the stone circle clearing suddenly made her uneasy, and all she wanted to do was move on.

“Different colors from different faiths,” Ramus said. “Death moon, life moon, the land. Sleeping Gods.”

“Which color for them?” Nomi asked.

“I think probably the black ones.”

“Shall we move on?” Beko asked. “It will be good to get through the forest in time for lunch.”

They skirted around the clearing. It did not feel right to break the circle.

NOMI FOUND HERSELF riding alone. Beko went on ahead with Lulah, the short woman dwarfed by her huge horse, and Nomi heard them talking in subdued tones. Behind her rode the other Serians, mostly in silence but sometimes responding to comments or jokes from Ramin. She was already warming to most of them—though Lulah seemed cold and distant—and she hoped Ramus would become more friendly. They would be spending a long time together as a group, and she would far prefer that it was on good terms.

Ramus still brought up the rear. Nomi glanced back now and then, and noticed that Ramus's movement on his horse was awkward. He still had to find his rhythm. He'd be sore after today's ride. Nomi's thighs and rump were already warm from the unaccustomed exercise, but her movements had quickly fallen in tune with her horse, and she sensed that the animal was at ease with her. Almost fifteen hundred miles, she thought. It was seven hundred miles there, assuming they did not have to divert for anything. Coming back, the same; and who knew what they may be carrying on their return journey? She clicked her tongue and the horse's ears twitched.

“So, I hear women make better Voyagers than men,” Rhiana said. She had ridden up beside Nomi and now kept pace, moving with grace and poise. Even the cruel angles and curves of her weapons did not seem out of place.

“Of course,” Nomi said. “We don't have anything to prove.” She smiled, but Rhiana's answering grin did not seem all humor.