It was he and Nomi who changed their positions most among the group. They could decide whether they wanted to be alone or in company, chatting to a Serian or to each other. Ramus was already starting to find the Serians' ordered riding somewhat cloying. Others he had ridden with were much more casual, unless the situation called for more caution. Beko, their captain, had started the voyage as he meant to go on.

Ramus fell back and waited for the Serians to pass him by. Nomi had taken up position at the rear of the line midmorning,

and she had remained there ever since.

Lulah passed by without a glance. She had stripped to woolen trousers and a soft vest, and he could see now that the missing eye was not her only wound. Her entire left shoulder and upper arm were a mass of scar tissue, twisted and ugly in the blazing sunlight. Her beaded hair hung across it, and the textures of hair and skin matched.

“Hot today,” he said, wishing he could think of a better silence breaker.

Lulah glanced sidelong at him, up at the sun, and then forward again.

Ramus shrugged, waited until Nomi drew close, then fell in beside her. “She's so quiet,” he said.

“Beko tells me there's some betrayal in her past,” Nomi said.

How free Beko is with his words to you, he thought. “Maybe that's why she's so quiet during the day.”

“Of course,” Nomi said. “But don't you hear her at night?”

Ramus frowned, shrugged.

“She doesn't sleep all night. She spends some of it praying to the death moon.”

“Praying for what?”

“What do moon worshippers usually pray for?”

“Same thing as most other people who choose one god over another,” Ramus said. “Health, wealth, good harvests. Luck.”

They rode silently for a while, both watching Lulah moving easily on her horse.

“Somehow I think she prays for more than that,” Nomi said.

THEY RODE THROUGH lunch, eating the bread left over from breakfast. It was still fresh, the crusts crispy. Rhiana leaned almost sideways in her saddle to pluck some tall, yellow flowers, discarding the petals and crushing the rest inside her bread.

Ramus glanced down at the flowers as he passed, but he knew that he would end up falling from his saddle and making a fool of himself.

Around mid-afternoon, well on their way across the Marrakash plains, Beko rode back to speak to Ramus and Nomi. They had been riding in silence for a while, and Ramus welcomed the conversation. He did not know how Nomi felt, but sometimes the silence between them seemed to seethe.

“There's an old temple ruin a mile from here,” Beko said. “I visited it once on a voyage several years ago. Deep, interesting, and it's relatively untouched.”

“What sort of temple?” Ramus asked.

“It's said that it's an ancient shrine to the Sleeping Gods.”