I never can, she thought. Some things die as secrets, and that's only right.

But then Ramus's smile stretched into a grin, and she thought that perhaps this was a time for all dead secrets to be given life one more time.

“ I KNEW ABOUT Marquella soon after my voyage plan was rejected,” Ramus said. “I knew you were somehow involved. And I never thought I was one for revenge. Such a clumsy, wasteful endeavor. But sometimes opportunities present themselves to you, and a few glasses of root wine . . . a few bad days . . .”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Nomi said.

“That's because I was always content keeping it a private vengeance. Keeping things even. But now, after this . . .” Though smiling, inside Ramus was nervous, like a boy dipping his cock for the first time. Perhaps his perceptions were still tinged with whatever had been in their meal, but this night seemed one of potential, and change, and he already knew that things between him and Nomi could never be the same again. Remember the voyage, he kept thinking, and don't destroy it. But perhaps events had already gone too far. Nomi's cavalier attitude toward her betrayal . . . her and Beko . . .

Inside, far from where the heat of the campfire could ever hope to reach, Ramus was on fire.

“Timal was no fool,” he said.

“Timal?” Nomi's face fell, going from defiant to vulnerable in a beat.

“He was good for you, Nomi.”

“Yes.”

“Appreciated the fine things, but he was also a wise young man. He can read, you know that?”

“Of course I know.”

“He's a future-seer. You know that too?”

“He told me he wrote stories.”

Ramus shook his head. “Not stories at all. Stories are tales from the past, twisted through the telling. Timal wrote projections.”

“Why are you talking about Timal?” she asked.

Ramus grinned at her, and he could see in her eyes that she already knew. How could she not? Because in reality, Nomi was also no fool. “He came to me,” Ramus said. “The night he left you, he came to me to talk.”

Nomi closed her eyes and lowered her head. Ramus looked around at the Serians, and they were all blank-faced. Not judgmental. Not yet. But everything was going to change. That frightened Ramus, but he also knew that it was now inevitable. It shamed him—the Great Divide and what may be sleeping up there meant so much more than him and Nomi—but he could not help being human.

“I was in the Bay Lee Tavern, and he found me sitting in the corner. I'd had a bottle of root wine by then, and the tavern owner had just started brewing his own golden ale. It tasted like sheebok piss but it was cheaper than wine, and it helped me travel in my mind. You know where I was dreaming of traveling right then, exactly when Timal came to see me?”