“Piss!” the Serian said. “Everyone's got something to prove. But is it true? This is my third voyage, and the first two were with men.”

“How did they go?”

“First one was with a turd called Blaken.”

“I know him,” Nomi said, nodding slowly. A turd indeed.

“We went south across the Pavissia Steppes, heading for the unnamed lake at its southern edge. He wanted to camp on the shore and catalog its flora and fauna. But he hadn't researched the route, or even planned how long the voyage would take. We ran into a band of Steppe marauders, disturbed them attacking a farming village, and we lost three people.”

“Serians?”

“Two of my friends, and a woman from Long Marrakash, one of Blaken's soft friends. When we returned, it came out that the marauders were known to be working in that area. Reports had filtered back from an earlier voyage, but Blaken had paid them no heed.”

“What happened?”

Rhiana touched her leather tunic, finger circling a patch of bare leather. “Had a place just here for Blaken's stud. But Beko talked me out of it.”

“You're not the first Serian I've heard of who wanted Blaken's head. But good for Beko.”

The soldier offered a wry smile. “I suppose so. Killing a Voyager wouldn't have put me in good favor with the Guild.”

“It would have got you executed, most likely.”

“Well. So, that was the first. The second was little better. I can't even remember his name, but he was nothing to speak of. Sailed us out to The Spine, dug up some plants, shot a few birds, sailed us back.”

“And now you're on a voyage with a man and a woman Voyager.”

“I am.” Rhiana glanced back over her shoulder, then leaned across toward Nomi. Even then she rode with elegance, her long, tied hair swinging down across her shoulder. “He's a bit quiet,” she said.

“He does a lot of thinking.”

“And you?”

“What about me?”

“What's your drive?”

“To make women the best Voyagers, naturally.”

Rhiana stared at her for just too long. Then she grinned. “I'll help,” she said. She rode on ahead and joined Beko and Lulah, and Nomi wondered exactly what she meant.

WHEN THEY PASSED the ruin, Nomi knew that they were almost out of Clyst Forest. The remains had stood here for as long as anyone could remember, and it was said that this had once been a temple to the Violet Dogs, a race of monstrous invaders that had swarmed the Western Shores before history began. There was very little left now: a few scattered piles of carved building blocks, a heavy lintel half buried in the soil and one portion of a wall still standing. It was home to creeping vegetation and a colony of rock ants, weaving their sticky tube tunnels through grooves and cracks in the old stone.