in their usual garb of thin woolen trousers, heavy boots and leather tunics. All colors were neutral, intended to act as camouflage in whatever terrains they may be crossing. Each carried the usual array of knives and short swords on wide belts around their waists, and three of them had bows strapped across their saddles. There were also several crossbow cases still waiting to be loaded, and some other equipment which Ramus did not recognize.
“So what do you think?” Nomi asked. “You've met Beko, yes?”
Ramus smiled. “He seems pleasant enough.”
“He is.” Nomi nodded, glancing away when Ramus caught her eye. He felt a pang of jealousy, as sharp as it was unexpected. “He's a good captain, his Serians respect him and I've worked with him before. He comes recommended by others too, and I've never heard bad words about him. You know how some of these Serians can get.”
Ramus nodded. Some Serians were occasionally prone to fits of temper, and sometimes rage. He'd never witnessed it himself, but he'd heard tales from Voyagers who had undertaken longer trips. He put it down to the normal pressures that any long journey would present; he'd heard of Voyagers losing their minds as well. He tried not to judge people by their faults, but by their qualities.
“Ramus!” Beko called, beckoning him over. “Please, come and meet my people.”
Besides Beko, there were three other men and two women. None of them looked like someone Ramus would want to pick a fight with.
“Noon,” Beko said. Ramus grasped hands with the short, stocky man and wished good journeys.
“Unusual name,” Ramus said.
Noon nodded. “The time of day I killed my seethe-gator.”
A tall woman appeared by Ramus's side, arriving like a shadow. “I'm Rhiana. Sharpshooter with a bow—more kills than anyone here—and a great cook.”
“She does do an impressive spiced rabbit stew,” Beko said, smiling.
Ramus held hands with Rhiana, examining her tunic. There were too many star studs to count, but he guessed thirty. “Impressive,” he said.
Rhiana smiled. “Thank you.” Her voice was cool and betrayed nothing.
“Over here are Konrad and Ramin,” Beko said. “They're cousins, hence the similarity.”
Ramus nodded at Konrad, trying not to let his surprise show. The left side of the man's face was raised in a dozen ugly circular ridged scars, each of them the width of a thumbnail. He held out his hands and the men shook.
“Striking scars,” Ramus said. Not mentioning them would be false, and he did not want to set off the wrong way with any of these Serians. Over the course of the voyage, it was likely he'd rely on them to protect his life.
Konrad smiled, but the scar tissue pulled it into a grimace. “You should have seen the ’gator.”
Ramin sighed and clapped Ramus on the shoulder. He was tall, dark-skinned and completely bald, and he looked nothing at all like Konrad. “The ’gator was a baby,” he said. “My cousin always likes to talk himself up. You have to forgive him, he can be . . .” He touched the side of his head and rolled his eyes.
“Rat piss, Ramin,” Konrad said.
Ramin laughed, startling the horses. “Ramus, give me your bags and I'll load up your mount.”
Beko touched Ramus's arm and inclined his head. He frowned slightly before he spoke. “And over here, meet Lulah.”
The short, slight Serian woman was strapping her gear to a huge sand-colored horse. She had long beaded hair, skin the color of Cantrassan chocolate, delicate hands. She glanced over her shoulder, and Ramus blinked back his surprise. She had only one eye. The other socket was covered by a brown leather patch, seemingly sewn into the skin and studded with one large metal star.
“Good journeys,” Ramus said, holding out his hands.
Lulah continued tightening the straps around a weapon roll, giving no sign that she had heard.
“Lulah?” Beko said, and the captain's voice was almost a plea.
Is he really in charge here? Ramus
“So what do you think?” Nomi asked. “You've met Beko, yes?”
Ramus smiled. “He seems pleasant enough.”
“He is.” Nomi nodded, glancing away when Ramus caught her eye. He felt a pang of jealousy, as sharp as it was unexpected. “He's a good captain, his Serians respect him and I've worked with him before. He comes recommended by others too, and I've never heard bad words about him. You know how some of these Serians can get.”
Ramus nodded. Some Serians were occasionally prone to fits of temper, and sometimes rage. He'd never witnessed it himself, but he'd heard tales from Voyagers who had undertaken longer trips. He put it down to the normal pressures that any long journey would present; he'd heard of Voyagers losing their minds as well. He tried not to judge people by their faults, but by their qualities.
“Ramus!” Beko called, beckoning him over. “Please, come and meet my people.”
Besides Beko, there were three other men and two women. None of them looked like someone Ramus would want to pick a fight with.
“Noon,” Beko said. Ramus grasped hands with the short, stocky man and wished good journeys.
“Unusual name,” Ramus said.
Noon nodded. “The time of day I killed my seethe-gator.”
A tall woman appeared by Ramus's side, arriving like a shadow. “I'm Rhiana. Sharpshooter with a bow—more kills than anyone here—and a great cook.”
“She does do an impressive spiced rabbit stew,” Beko said, smiling.
Ramus held hands with Rhiana, examining her tunic. There were too many star studs to count, but he guessed thirty. “Impressive,” he said.
Rhiana smiled. “Thank you.” Her voice was cool and betrayed nothing.
“Over here are Konrad and Ramin,” Beko said. “They're cousins, hence the similarity.”
Ramus nodded at Konrad, trying not to let his surprise show. The left side of the man's face was raised in a dozen ugly circular ridged scars, each of them the width of a thumbnail. He held out his hands and the men shook.
“Striking scars,” Ramus said. Not mentioning them would be false, and he did not want to set off the wrong way with any of these Serians. Over the course of the voyage, it was likely he'd rely on them to protect his life.
Konrad smiled, but the scar tissue pulled it into a grimace. “You should have seen the ’gator.”
Ramin sighed and clapped Ramus on the shoulder. He was tall, dark-skinned and completely bald, and he looked nothing at all like Konrad. “The ’gator was a baby,” he said. “My cousin always likes to talk himself up. You have to forgive him, he can be . . .” He touched the side of his head and rolled his eyes.
“Rat piss, Ramin,” Konrad said.
Ramin laughed, startling the horses. “Ramus, give me your bags and I'll load up your mount.”
Beko touched Ramus's arm and inclined his head. He frowned slightly before he spoke. “And over here, meet Lulah.”
The short, slight Serian woman was strapping her gear to a huge sand-colored horse. She had long beaded hair, skin the color of Cantrassan chocolate, delicate hands. She glanced over her shoulder, and Ramus blinked back his surprise. She had only one eye. The other socket was covered by a brown leather patch, seemingly sewn into the skin and studded with one large metal star.
“Good journeys,” Ramus said, holding out his hands.
Lulah continued tightening the straps around a weapon roll, giving no sign that she had heard.
“Lulah?” Beko said, and the captain's voice was almost a plea.
Is he really in charge here? Ramus
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