accounting somewhere, some sort of an inventory of them. Sedric was fastidious in his record keeping. But where? Or had they taken that along with the precious artifacts with them when they’d run off together?
Damn them! Of course they had. It all made sense now. Sedric’s insistence that Alise be allowed to make her useless journey to the Rain Wilds. His foolish quarreling with Hest that had led to Hest ordering him to go with her. Of course. He ground his teeth in fury. They’d collaborated against him, made him a fool in his own home, with his own money. Well, they’d see that he was not to be trifled with. He’d track them down and get his own back, leave them penniless and shamed!
His breath was coming fast, his heart hammering high in his chest. He forced himself to stand still, took deep calming breaths, and then paused a few moments to tug his jacket straight and arrange his collar and cuffs. He didn’t know who the Chalcedean in his visiting chamber might be, but it was possible he was a loose end in Sedric’s plot against him. And if so, Hest intended to get every bit of information out of the man that he could. Then he’d have Ched throw him out of the house.
Calm and composed, at least on the surface, he entered the chamber, a blandly polite smile on his face. The Chalcedean man who awaited him was young and muscular. He wore a brocaded vest over a loose white shirt. His flowing trousers were quilted silk, his short boots of gleaming black leather. The blade that rode at his hip was neither sword nor knife but something curved and nasty between the two. The hilt was black, wrapped in leather. Not decorative but very functional. On the floor beside him was a satchel bearing the device of the Duke of Chalced. The man looked up from ransacking the drawers of Hest’s desk. His close-cropped dark hair and trimmed beard did nothing to hide the scarlet scar that ran from the corner of his left eye down across his cheek and over his mouth and chin. It appeared to be a recent injury, and his lips had not healed well. The edges of the scar were rubbery and bulging and, when he spoke, caused his words to be badly formed.
“Where is the promised merchandise? You will not get another chance simply to deliver it. Every day that it is delayed will cost you.”
Hest’s outrage at finding someone pawing through his desk abruptly shifted to fear as the man’s hand settled on the hilt of his weapon. Neither he nor Hest spoke for a long moment. When Hest found his voice, the words had no force behind them. “I don’t know what you are talking about. Get out of my house or I’ll summon the City Guard.”
The man looked at him, his gray eyes flat and considering. No fear, no anger. Only evaluation. It was chilling.
“Get out!”
The Chalcedean wheeled away from the desk and its disarrayed contents. As the man started past him, Hest pointed a disdainful hand at the door that still stood ajar. In one fluid and continuous motion, the man seized Hest’s wrist with his left hand as his right drew his blade and cut the captive hand, a long shallow slice from Hest’s palm to the tip of his index finger. Then the stranger released his wrist and sprang back.
Blood sheeted from the long gash and the pain was exquisite. Hest bent over his hand, roaring with pain as the Chalcedean walked over to the window and casually wiped his blade on the curtain. He spoke over his shoulder, unconcerned how Hest might be reacting. “A little reminder not to lie. The reminder not to be late on promised merchandise would be much more severe. More on the scale of the reminder that the Duke’s swordsman gave to me when I was forced to report that I had not received any recent word from either Begasti Cored or Sedric of Bingtown.”
Hest had a tight grip on his wrist, trying to throttle the searing pain that was shooting up into his arm. Blood was pouring from his hand, dribbling off his fingers onto the expensive carpets in the study. He took a breath. “Ched!” he shouted. “Ched! I need help! Ched!”
The door began to swing open, but with a catlike spring the Chalcedean was there, stopping the door before it could open fully. He wedged his body into the opening. “Tea and biscuits! How thoughtful. I’ll take them, and please see we are not disturbed. This is an extremely confidential matter that your master and I are discussing.”
“Sir?” Ched’s querulous tone infuriated Hest.
“Save me!” he shouted as the Chalcedean whirled, his hands full with a tea tray. Without spilling a drop, the man set the tray at his feet and then spun back to shut and bolt the door.
“Sir? Are you all right?” Ched’s confused voice barely reached through the heavy doors.
“No! He’s mad, get help!”
“Sir?”
Before Hest could draw breath, the Chalcedean was standing before him. This time the drawn knife was at his throat. The Chalcedean smiled, stretching his scars. Blood broke out on his lower lip, the injuries were so recent. He spoke in a soft, rational voice. “Tell your slave that you are fine, that we must have quiet and he is to go away. Tell him
Hest gasped and drew breath to scream. The man slapped him abruptly, an open-handed blow to his cheek.
The doorknob rattled uselessly. “Sir? Should I fetch help, sir?”
The Chalcedean was smiling, and the knife was back, weaving a pattern before Hest’s eyes. The man was damnably fast. “No!” Hest shouted as the knife dabbed at the end of his nose, and then, as it went back to the hollow of his throat, “NO, Ched, no! You misunderstood me! Leave us! No disturbance. Leave us!”
The door handle stopped its jiggling dance. “Sir? Are you certain, sir?”
“Leave us!” Hest bellowed as the knife blade traced a line up his throat. “Go away!”
“As you wish, sir.”
And then silence. But still the knife tip rested under Hest’s chin, lifting him up onto his toes, and still his hand burned and throbbed and the blood dripped from his fingers. An eternity passed in that motionless torment, before the Chalcedean abruptly swept his knife to one side. In two swift strides, he was at the door again and hope leaped in Hest that he was going to leave, his mad rampage over. Instead the man stooped and lifted the tea tray. He brought it to Hest’s desk, stepping over his satchel and carelessly sweeping papers from the desktop to set it down. He watched Hest with his cold gray eyes as he flicked up a clean white napkin and wiped his knife on it. It left a scarlet stripe on the linen. He snapped it toward Hest. “Bind your hand. And then it will be time for you to deliver the promised merchandise.”
Awkwardly, Hest wrapped his injured hand. It was agony to put the cloth against the cut. Blood blossomed through the napkin. He drew a ragged breath and swiped his sleeve across his face, feigning that he wiped sweat, not tears, from his eyes. He could not show weakness. The foreigner was mad and capable of anything. His sleeve came away bloody and Hest suddenly realized, “You cut my nose! You cut my face.”
“A tiny jab, the smallest prick of the knife’s tip. Pay no mind to it.” The Chalcedean poured steaming tea into a cup for himself, sniffed it thoughtfully, and then took a sip. “Boiled leaves. I do not understand it, but it does not taste so bad on a chilly day like this one. So. The merchandise. Now.”
Hest retreated on shaking legs. “Truly, sir, I’ve no idea what you are talking about.”
The Chalcedean followed him, teacup in one hand and knife in the other. He herded Hest away from the heavily draped windows and backed him into the corner. Hest’s heartbeat thundered in his ears. The man took a sip of tea and smiled.
“I will listen,” he said conversationally. “For the time it takes me to drink this cup. Then you and my blade will tread the dance of truth.”
“I cannot tell you anything. I don’t know anything.” Hest heard his own trembling voice and did not recognize it.
“Then let us summon your slave Sedric. He was the one, was he not, who struck this bargain with Begasti Cored?”
Hest’s mind raced. Begasti. A balding man with extremely bad breath. “I’ve had dealings with Begasti Cored, but those were in the past. And Sedric is not my slave, he’s my. . assistant. And. .” The connection between the names formed in his mind, and suddenly he knew what it was all about. He spoke quickly, his eyes on the hovering knife. “And he betrayed me and ran off with some very valuable scrolls. To the Rain Wilds. He may have struck a bargain of his own with Begasti Cored. The little traitor probably did. I suspect he did a lot of business behind my back and without my knowledge. Sedric is the man you should be speaking to about this. . merchandise.” Dragon parts. That was what the man expected him to hand over. Dragon liver and dragon blood, bone and teeth and
