The old charm breather had asked him whom the knotted rope was for, and Ramus had found it difficult talking about Nomi. The details of why he wanted to buy it for her, what she meant to him and perhaps what he meant to her, none of these were easy to scrutinize or describe. His words had ended up tripping over one another, and in the end he said nothing. But the woman had nodded sagely and reached for the charm, almost without looking. She was fooling with me, he thought, but that did not feel right. The rope had grown heavier the closer he rode to Nomi, and when he finally handed it to her, he had barely been able to hold it up. She had not noticed such weight.

He had met a hundred charlatans for every true charm breather, and he knew they all had their ways and means. A look from the old woman's eyes could have set a fugue of weight in his arms. A sprinkle of certain herbs from her hand could have made him momentarily weak without feeling tired. But he had found this woman to be more convincing than any he had ever met. Most of the alleged charmers in Long Marrakash were there for the money, but camped beside a forest path that was far from busy, she seemed to live for the charm of it.

“But what is it?” he whispered. His horse's ears twitched as it snorted, and he rubbed its nose. Travel charm, friendship whisper . . . ?

Konrad and Ramin came across the field with their own horses, arriving at the stream and giving Ramus a cautious smile and nod.

“A good morning,” Ramin said. “I usually like to start the day with a bath in whores' breast milk, a meal fit for the richest of rich and a good humping. This morning? A wash in cold water, breakfast cooked by Lulah—which if we're lucky won't kill us until this afternoon—and my cock's too cold to rise.”

“Morning, Ramus,” Konrad said.

Ramus smiled. “I enjoyed your tale yesterday.”

“Thank you. Never an easy one to tell, but the difficult ones are always the best.”

Ramus nodded.

“Just look at it!” Ramin said. He had stripped to wash and was staring down at himself, hands held out as if afraid to touch.

“Brisk mornings like this,” Ramus said, “you can almost wonder how we continue as a species.”

Konrad laughed, Ramin grinned and Ramus led his horse back across the field.

He knew that Serians led an extreme lifestyle. In their work, they were often involved in violence and death, and their play was hard as well. As such, their extremes of personality were to be expected. He was used to it. It made him feel as though they really were back out in the wilds, even though they would still be within Marrakash's borders for at least a couple more days.