Rickard only shakes his head. He's been to parts of the Blasted Lands, but the distances the region covers is immense. To claim he is well-acquainted would be arrogant and best. He assumes the question is more rhetorical than anything; not many of the order spent a lot of time in the forsaken lands. Those who ventured beyond usually had a very stringent plan to follow, where the slightest deviation could lead to trouble. 
At least that held true in his own past experiences. 

His interest was piqued, at least. Thank the heavens they weren't being ushered off to some other far-flung village where the end results were liable to be the same as their last job. The end results were often the same as their last job. Dangerous as the Blasted Lands are alleged to be, it's a change of pace.

He clasps his hands behind his back and peers down at the map the Master was withdrawn, its edges curling with age. Septus has done a fair enough job speaking so far, and he allows this to continue for as long as possible. If he's lucky, he can leave the entirety of the conversation to Septus, though he doubts he'll make it out that lucky. He tends to become curious in the planning stages, always one with a question or two.
There is nothing to ask as of yet, and so he remains silent, his eyes roving over the paper, only one of them registering the images.