"What of it? It's not illegal to dispose of slaves in public," Herndon said.
"Only a special kind of man would do it, though," said Bollar Benjin. "A cruel man—or a foolhardy one. Which are you?"
"Both," Herndon said. "And now, if you'll let me pass—"
"Just one moment." The croaking voice suddenly acquired the snap of a whip. "Talk to me a moment. If you can spare a thousand stellors to buy a slave you kill the next moment, you can spare me a few words."
"What do you want with me?"
"Your services," Benjin said. "I can use a man like you. Are you free and unbonded?"
Herndon thought of the thousand stellors—almost half his wealth—that he had thrown away just now. He thought of the Seigneur Krellig, whom he hated and whom he had vowed so implacably to kill. And he thought of the wrinkled man before him.
"I am unbonded," he said. "But my price is high. What do you want, and what can you offer?"
Benjin smiled obliquely and dipped into a hidden pocket of his tunic. When he drew forth his hand, it was bright with glittering jewels.
"I deal in these," he said. "I can pay well."