City of Dragons

The man drank the last of his tea. He held the empty cup for a moment, and then casually tossed it over his shoulder. It fell on the rug and rolled in a half circle without breaking. Hest’s ears rang, and the room seemed to grow dim. When the man gestured with the razor-sharp knife, Hest could not contain the small sound in his throat. The Chalcedean appeared not to notice. He cocked his head at Hest and smiled like a flirtatious snake. “You will sit now, there, at your desk, and we will tease out a bit more of the truth here. I see it hiding in your eyes.”



“I don’t know the truth. I have suspicions, nothing more.” But the suspicions were rapidly weaving themselves into a logical pattern. Alise and her obsessive study of the dragons. Sedric’s sudden support for her ridiculous Rain Wild expedition to see the creatures. He’d even mentioned Begasti’s name, hadn’t he, in the midst of their last quarrel? Or the one before? Some foolishness about a fortune to be made . . . Hest made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. For the past few years, Sedric had watched him maneuver his way through the trading world. He’d run Hest’s errands, fetched his tea, brushed his jackets, and, yes, warmed his bed. But obviously he’d thought himself better and more deserving than that. He’d thought he was clever enough to cut this little side trade on his own. If he’d only put himself and Alise at risk, Hest might have found it amusing. But as he crossed the room on rubbery legs and took a seat at his desk, blood dripping from his slashed face and his mutilated hand, all he could feel was fury at Sedric’s incompetence and betrayal.



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.



“In Chalced, we care very little for what is legal in Bingtown. Here is what we do care about. The Duke, a wise and august personage, suffers from ill health. We know that the proper ministration of medicines made from dragon parts would restore him to health. Begasti Cored is one of our foremost merchants in exotic wares, and he was one of those honored with the mission of obtaining the necessary parts. To see that his mind was free of all cares while he undertook this errand, the Duke took Cored’s entire family under his protection. It is, as you can imagine, a large honor as well as a responsibility to be entrusted with such an undertaking. Nonetheless, for some time, little progress was made, despite great encouragement from the Duke and his nobles. So it was with satisfaction that we received the news that Begasti Cored had finally recruited a Bingtown Trader who had such a solid reputation to aid him in obtaining the required merchandise.” The Chalcedean and his knife came even closer as he added, “It was not just this Sedric who was mentioned to us, but you: Trader Hest Finbok. You are well known to so many of our merchants. You are, they all said, a versatile and resourceful merchant, one who drives a shrewd bargain but is able to obtain the finest-quality merchandise. So. Where is our merchandise?”



I don’t know. Hest bit down on the words before he could say them, suspecting the Chalcedean would react strongly to hearing them again. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to find a tactic that would extricate him from this situation. He fell back on an old Trader technique. Pretend to be able to meet the customer’s expectations. Later, one could make excuses. Or call the City Guard.