The Chalcedean took a perch on the corner of the desk and sat looking down on Hest. He smiled. “I see a bit of anger there, now. You are thinking, ‘his blood should be soaking this napkin, not mine.’ I am right, am I not? So. Summon your slave and let us apply this pain where it belongs.”

Hest fought to keep his voice steady. “I told you. He ran off. He stole from me and he ran off. I have nothing to do with him now. Whatever bargain he struck with Begasti Cored, he negotiated on his own. It’s nothing to do with me.” Sudden outrage that Sedric could have precipitated this disaster gave him courage. He leaned forward in his chair and shouted, “You, sir, have made a serious mistake!”

The Chalcedean was unimpressed. He cocked his head and leaned closer, smiling a thin-lipped smile. But his amusement did not seem to reach his eyes. “Have I? But not as grave as yours. You are responsible and you will be held responsible. What a man’s slave does or does not do reflects on his master. You have let one of yours run off and make bargains and steal from you and done nothing to correct him. So you must pay, just as if your horse had run wild in a market or your dog bitten a child’s face. Do you not know the saying, ‘When a slave lies with your tongue, it is still your mouth it is cut from’? What your man did in your name, you must answer for. Perhaps with a finger, perhaps with your hand . . . perhaps with your life. It is not up to me to decide how heavily you must pay, but answer you will.”

“If he signed a contract with Begasti Cored, I have no knowledge of it. I am not legally bound by it.” Hest fought to keep his voice steady.