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Raider’s gut knotted briefly at the thought, but he turned his attention to the crystal clear morning and the rhythm of Umae’s walk. He started working through the micro movements that helped loosen the quicksilver in his joints.
Around midmorning, Raider turned Umae south along the foot of a familiar hill. “There’s water up here.”
“I can see the birds,” Seth replied, his tone ever so slightly short.
Raider smiled, even though Seth couldn’t see it. Birds usually indicated water. The point, then, was that Seth could have found the well on his own.
Raider had nicked Seth’s pride yesterday with his changes to the gear and supplies, and the man was still a bit touchy, it seemed, on the subject of competence.
The watering hole was a natural well tucked behind a rocky outcropping. A scrub hawk that had been drinking spread its brown wings and flapped away at their approach.
Raider leaped down from Umae and led her to the pool. She swung her haunches into the path of Seth’s horse. She snaked her head around to send the gelding an ears-back warning for good measure.
“There’s enough room for both of them if you’d make her behave,” Seth grumbled, throwing back his kaftan’s hood.
“He can wait for one minute. You don’t hassle a mare unless you have to.”
Raider knelt to scoop up the clear water. It made a lovely, cool track down his throat.
Seth muttered, “Geldings are so much nicer than mares.”
“Geldings argue too,” Raider pointed out, sucking down another scoop of water.
“Yes, but you can tell them no and they’ll listen ninety percent of the time. Mares require constant negotiation.”
“And a little finesse. I can see why they’d be a poor fit for you.”
Seth flushed and looked away. He didn’t say anything more, and Raider had the distinct feeling that he’d shamed him. Raider frowned. That hadn’t been his intention.
When Umae had drunk her fill, Raider drew her away to let Seth bring his gelding to the water. After attaching the reins to Umae’s saddle so they wouldn’t get stepped on, Raider let the mare set to work cropping at the tough grasses surrounding the small pool.
He went to settle in a patch of shade and watched idly as the Curator tended his own horse. Then, water skin in hand, Seth headed toward the only other patch of shade.
It was tempting, oh so tempting, to let the man sit under the yellow-flowering quiva. The shrub, in full, intoxicating bloom, was dripping its pollen all over the ground.
But …
Raider called, “Don’t sit there.”
Seth halted and frowned, scanning the area. “Why? The bush?”
“Quiva.”
“Toxic?”
“An aphrodisiac.” Raider grinned. “Potent enough to be dangerous.”
There was supposedly an antidote that rich men kept on hand so they could indulge without the risk of overdose—which could overstimulate the body into delirium, or oblivion.
Seth looked skeptical. “Most supposed aphrodisiacs don’t really do anything.”
Raider felt his grin turn wicked. “Then by all means, test it out.”
Seth still didn’t look convinced, but he turned away from the quiva. With a sigh of resignation that might have wounded a more sensitive soul than Raider, Seth came to join him in the quiva-free shade.
Because fresh grass wasn’t to be wasted while traveling, they would stay until Umae and the gelding had mowed the area. The two horses would clear it in a quarter hour. Plenty of time for Raider to capitalize on having Seth trapped in the shade beside him.
Yet, somehow, Raider didn’t want to. The man was pensive. Raider knew how to deal with intensity, even hostility, but he had no idea what to do with this.
