“Yes—yes, Lord.” Some of the terror drained from the man’s face. He swept faster, trying to gather up every last shard and white splinter.
“However,” Hymneth continued, “while I could care less about a plate, you broke something else. Something much more valuable.”
“Something else, Lord?” The attendant looked around helplessly, seeing nothing but broken crockery and spilled baked goods. Next to him, the other servant was already backing away, straining desperately to make himself invisible, discorporeal, nonexistent.
“Yes.” The Possessed sat up straighter in his grand chair. “My train of thought. And that I cannot abide.” One huge, powerful arm rose slowly.
“No, Lord, please!”
The other attendant turned away and wrapped his arms around his head so he would not be able to see what was coming. A twitch of sickly green leaped from Hymneth’s armored hand, writhing and coiling like a giant heartworm. It struck the kneeling servant on the back of his neck. Instantly his entire body arched rearward as if struck by a heavy hammer. With a muffled scream he snapped forward to lie prone on the floor, arms outstretched to both sides, unconscious.
Wearied by this constant need to discipline his staff, Hymneth slumped back into his chair and waved diffidently. “Take him out of here. Then come back and clean up the rest of this mess.”
Shaking violently, the other servant slowly removed his hands from around his head and straightened. When he saw the figure of his friend lying on the floor, he screamed. It caught halfway in his throat, broken by the realization that the noise might offend the looming figure seated at the head of the table.