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Busying his mind, Seth started scanning the stalls for any sign of valuable arcane goods. He spotted arcane lamps and counting machines, food cooling boxes and other home devices, but nothing that a traveler would have sold.
The merchants and shoppers regarded Seth with curious (and sometimes wary) dark eyes. He stood out here, even with the kaftan draping his arcane clothing. Some of them, noting the sword pommel jutting above his right shoulder, probably knew what he was. Others, taking in his light brown hair and green eyes, only knew that he was foreign. And big.
As Seth was perusing the offerings of a bookseller, he felt the slight, telltale pressure of a pickpocket. He spun, but Raider had already grabbed the culprit by his collar and snatched Seth’s multi tool from the boy’s hand.
“See?” he said. “Brats.”
“Mm-hm.”
“Please don’t hurt me,” the boy begged with obviously practiced drama.
“Oh, go on,” Raider muttered, releasing him.
Grinning, the boy vanished into the crowd to steal from someone else.
“You know,” Raider said as he reached inside Seth’s kaftan to slide the multi tool back into its place in Seth’s belt, “you need to keep better track of that thing.”
“Apparently. There are a lot of light fingers around here.”
Raider’s light fingers lingered at Seth’s belt and, for the first time all day, he met Seth’s gaze. What Seth saw in Raider’s eyes terrified him—because he saw confusion and grief. Or fear? Seth’s throat constricted.
Don’t leave me, Seth begged silently. Don’t fucking leave me.
Raider’s fingers tightened on Seth’s belt. His lips parted, but words seemed to catch in his throat. After a moment, he said, “I’m still hungry. The lamb smelled good.”
Seth felt a strange mixture of disappointment and relief. It was, if nothing else, a stay of execution, so he said, “I’m hungry, too.”
The corner of Raider’s mouth tugged. “I’m out of money.”
Seth owed Raider money, quite a lot of money, but he couldn’t bring himself to say that, even teasingly, so he only said, “I’ll buy this time.”
“That would save me some trouble.”
“Oh, please. You love stealing from me. You love knowing that you can do it. You love having me know that you can do it.”
“You have me all figured out, huh?”
Seth was spared having to reply to that by the unexpected sound of a cat meowing from around their feet. They both looked down to the sight of a large, handsome tabby staring up at them with brilliant citrine eyes. The cat wound its way between Raider’s legs, arching its back to rub against him.
“You should find somewhere else to be,” Raider advised the cat and nudged it away with a dusty, sandaled foot.
The cat came straight back, threading now through Seth’s legs.
“Go away,” Raider said.
“How can you not like cats?” Seth chided, bending to scoop up the tabby. Sensing receptivity, Seth turned the animal onto its back to cradle it in his arms. He hadn’t felt a purr in months.
“I do like cats,” Raider said, eyeing the rumbling feline in Seth’s arms. “But that is not a cat.”
“What are you talking about?”
Seth scratched the tabby’s chin. The cat tilted its head back and closed its eyes in pleasure.
“I don’t know what that is, Seth, but that is not a cat.” As though it had understood, the tabby opened its citrine eye and turned its head to look at Raider. “I think that’s an ifrit.”
“What?” Seth gripped the cat gently around its ribcage and lifted it. It stared at him with bright, unblinking eyes.
“Put it down.”
