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 now.” The knife flicked and Hest’s collar was suddenly loose. The sting of sliced skin and flow of warm blood followed a heartbeat later.

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.”