Ramus nodded and looked down at his arm. If he looked up he'd be with everyone else; at least if he could not see them he could pretend he was on his own. Hiding, he thought, and the shame warmed his skin as well as the fire did. Someone had piled more wood and firestones into the blaze, and now it threw sparks skyward and lit the entire camp. Sway rapidly fading, it seemed that events had brought an end to sleep.

What was I thinking? The memory came back to him, Beko and Nomi entangled in the moonlight, skin pale with a silvery sheen, gasps like wraiths in the night. What a fool, he thought. That's what they'll think of me. A fool who gets swayed and loses control.

He glanced across at Nomi. She was sitting on her saddle, elbows on knees, leaning forward and staring into the flames. Over the years, the more he considered they could be together as more than friends, the less likely that scenario seemed. And they were good friends, the best. If only he could have been content with that.

Ramus rose, standing still for a moment to make sure he had his balance. Then he walked a dozen steps to where Nomi sat, knelt down and waited for her to look at him.

She knew he was there, but her gaze never left the flames.

“Nomi,” Ramus began, but he got no further.

“You've always been jealous of me,” Nomi said. Her voice was low but filled with bitterness. Still she stared into the flames. “My money, my lovers, my friends. They always make you feel low and sad, and pathetic.”

“No,” Ramus said, shaking his head.

“Yes. And my voyages.”

“Your voyages?” He laughed, and it sounded more mocking than he'd intended. “Why would I be jealous of them? You've been out twice, and you came back with nothing but meaningless maps and fruit.”

“And what's wrong with that?” She had turned from the flames to stare at him now, and fire still seemed to dance in her eyes.

“It's hardly pushing the boundaries of discovery,” Ramus said. He was aware of heads turning as he and Nomi raised their voices.

“And that's another reason you resent me,” she said. “You go out and strive to be famous—discover things, write books, bring back news of places and people and things never seen or known before. But what do you have? Piss all. You walk around a mountain range for a year and return with news of rock and snow.”

“I don't resent you for being a wine trader,” he said.

“And why shouldn't I benefit from my voyages? You have this belief, Ramus, that true explorers need to suffer for their calling.”

“Not suffer. It's about purity of purpose.”

“My purposes are pure. I go out and discover, and if something I find can make me some money, I see nothing wrong in that.”

Ramus stood and turned away. “I only came to apologize.”