“Then say it. Say you're sorry.”

The Serians were watching them, and to Ramus their faces all suddenly seemed the same.

“Tell me you're sorry for interrupting me and Beko while we humped, Ramus!”

He shook his head. “Not when you're like this.”

“Like what? Angry because you act like some spurned lover? If you think like that sometimes, then I'm sorry, but it's only you. We're friends, that's all. And sometimes barely that.”

“Maybe you're right,” he said.

“Of course I am.” But he heard hesitation in Nomi's voice, and that allowed him to defeat his self-doubt.

Ramus turned back to face Nomi. “But maybe not. Because I think the truth is, it's you who are jealous of me.”

ME, JEALOUS OF him? Does he really mean that? Does he really believe . . . ? Nomi laughed and shook her head, but the uncertainty lingered. There was his illness, after all.

“Don't be a fool,” she said.

“It's you!” Ramus said, voice louder now. “I came here to apologize, because I was wrong. Who you fuck is up to you, not me, and you're right, it really is none of my business. But don't accuse me of being jealous of you . . . your safe little voyages . . . your fancy wine and nice home and mindless friends. What could I possibly want with any of that, Nomi? Your life is a blank, and you're barely a shade across it.”

“I like my life,” she said, and she told the truth. She did like her life. What was there to not like?

“But I'm a real Voyager,” Ramus said. “And you're jealous of that. You covet my knowledge, my intelligence, my ability to read, the places I've been and the things I've seen.”

“And your humility?” But this was ice that could not be broken.

Ramus shook his head sadly. “I'm just saying what I see, and what I know you feel. You want to be a Voyager who'll be remembered, but I've given more back to the Guild than you'll ever attain.”

“And now we're out here without the Guild,” she said. “Explain that.”

“We both know this is beyond even them. We talked about it, and agreed. And you wouldn't have a clue about where we're going if it weren't for me.”

“Ha! Don't give yourself all the credit, Voyager. Ten brought the pages to me, not you, so—”

“And you still don't have a clue. Not an inkling. This is just another little adventure for you, and you'll be looking with money eyes. The importance of what we may find is nothing to you, so long as you can still have your wine, and your humps, and as long as your safe rich friends are ready to congratulate you if we ever get home.”

“Of course we'll get home,” she said, nervous at where this was going. Two days out from Long Marrakash and already Ramus was announcing their possible doom. Surely he could not mean that. He was angry and confused, and probably embarrassed.