The brewed ceyrat leaves—a favorite of predators before the hunt—buzzed into their muscles and limbs and chased away any shred of sleep that remained. By the time they finished, the sun was pouring across the field. Long shadows from last night swayed in the opposite direction, and the light in between was brighter and fresher, and somehow more alive. Dawn breathed a heated promise of the day to come, and Ramus enjoyed the feel of it on his face.

They broke camp, packing tents and cooking equipment and leaving the bundles for Ramin and Noon to load onto the packhorses. The Serians worked efficiently and silently, and it was only when they were ready to move out that the banter began again.

Lowkie and his wife came to bid them farewell. The farmer's eyes were narrow and the skin around them dark, and Ramus smiled. Too much of his own wine.

“Stop by when you return!” he said. “The wine will be better settled by then, I'm sure.”

Nobody answered with anything other than a wave. When we return, Ramus thought. How many of us will there be? He blinked at the weight behind his eyes, but his vision today was good, the pain absent, and if he did not think too deeply, he could even believe that he would see this place again.

They rode out, Lulah and Ramin moving on ahead to make sure the trail was clear. Ramus and Nomi rode side by side, excited that the first full day of their voyage had begun, comfortable in each other's company and relishing the feel of sunlight and open air on their skin.

Ramus noticed the rope charm still hanging exposed on Nomi's saddle.

“A good camp,” he said. “I've not eaten so well in ages.”

“I always think I eat well,” Nomi said. “You know me—the best food, the best wine rooms. But there's something about food cooked outside, the fresh ingredients, the meat just killed, eggs just laid, the smells . . .”

“It's called having a wandering soul,” Ramus said.

Nomi uttered a sharp laugh. “That's us! Wandering souls.”

He had found his horse's rhythm much quicker this morning, and even before the Lowkie farmstead passed from view behind them, Ramus was riding with a smooth, fluid pace.

“Did you sleep well?” Nomi asked.

“I did. Fresh air. The excitement too, I think, knocked me out.”

“And the wine,” Nomi said.

Ramus nodded, but when he looked across Nomi seemed distant and concerned. “What is it?” he asked.

She stared into his eyes as though she had never seen them before. “Are you really scared?”

“Yes.” There was no reason to lie.

She lowered her voice. “But the Sleeping God . . . you don't believe in things like that.”

“Just because I choose not to worship them doesn't mean I don't believe. There's too much written about them to discard them entirely.”

“We'll be fine,” Nomi said, but she seemed distracted.

“What is it?”