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“I can’t reach it.”
Seth tested the solidity with his toe then took another step.
“Stop! Lay on your belly if you want to get any closer. You’re too heavy to be on your feet anywhere near that.”
Seth halted, both at the words, which were probably true, and at the panicked tone. He did as Raider said, lying flat and edging forward until he could dig through the crust with his knife.
When he hit the slop of quicksand, he plunged the alembic’s extractor hose into it and flicked the switch for the pump. Creeping back, he guided the dispensing hose into the leather bucket.
When the bucket was full, Seth carried it back to where Raider waited with the horses. As Seth’s gelding plunged his nose into the water, Seth eyed Raider. His dark eyebrows, instead of having their usual, teasing arch, were down over his amber eyes.
After the gelding had drained the bucket, Seth turned to make another foray with the alembic.
Raider stopped him with an intent, “Be careful. It’s dangerous.”
Seth might have said something about Raider being one to talk after the jackal incident. He could have kept it comfortably argumentative. But Raider was genuinely worried. Raider was looking out for him—and it wasn’t the first time.
So Seth promised, “I’ll be careful.”
And Raider, damn the man, said earnestly, “Thank you.”
***
“Last chance to turn back,” Raider said as the hard-packed earth softened to sand a few hours later. Dunes rose in the distance, cutting an undulating line against the blue sky.
Seth urged his gelding onward. “You say these things to irritate me. Can you possibly imagine me responding with, ‘Oh, Raider, you’re right, let’s turn back’?”
Raider grinned, undaunted. “If you’re going to develop an immunity to my teasing, I’ll have to try harder. All I really meant was: there’s nothing but trouble ahead.”
“There’s plenty of trouble behind—and more than enough right beside me.”
Raider’s grin deepened. “You know, I wasn’t sure at first, but you do actually have a sense of humor, even if it is a bit dry. Is that a Curator thing? Do you all sit around at the tavern, zinging each other with your wit, totally stone faced?”
Seth raised an eyebrow. “Is that how you imagine my free time?”
“How do you spend your free time? Please tell me you don’t just train with your weapons all day.”
Rather than admit that, yes, he did often do that, Seth said, “I like to read.”
“Read?”
“It’s a simple process. You open a book—”
“Don’t be an ass. It surprised me, that’s all. So why aren’t you a scholar if you like to read? You could have studied something instead of running errands for the Arcanum.”
“First of all, being a scholar isn’t about enjoying reading. It’s about focused study of a single subject for years. That would bore me. I like to learn new things, and I don’t care about being an expert in any of them.
“Secondly, I do not run errands for the Arcanum. I research and track down arcane objects. This mission,” Seth raised his voice when Raider tried to interrupt, “may be slightly different in focus, but it’s still important.”
“Is it though?” Raider asked skeptically as he led the way to a ridge that proved to be a stony shelf, the footing easier for the horses than deep sand.
The ridge forced them into single file, so Seth had to speak to Raider’s back. “I realize that you don’t think bringing a fugitive to justice is important, but—”
“Important enough to send you on a deadly trek across the Kesh?” Raider twisted in his saddle to look at Seth. “Hell no.”
“A man was murdered.”
“And this is unusual? It happens every fucking day.”
