"Your pardon?" Saradon said.

  "I accept Mistress Riina's challenge," Draud said.

  Riina merely raised her chin, glancing at Draud then looking away as if he wasn't worthy of her time.

  "As expressed by her protégé, of course," Draud said.

  My heart skipped a beat. No, I hadn't challenged Draud to anything. Had I?

  Saradon paled. Saradon's father dropped his hand from Saradon's shoulder.

  "I believe," Draud continued, "that the exact words were 'I'm gonna smash that crudmucker's void-loving brains out.'"

  Void. I had said that. Draud even did a credible imitation of my voice.

  "Is he challenging me to a duel?" I whispered to Traz.

  "No," he said. "You challenged him."

  Crud. But I'd flown into this asteroid field myself. I'd have to deal with it.

  "Fine," I said. "I can blast that smug grin off his face."

  Traz's impassive face twitched.

  "Master Draud is an expert duelist," he said. "Having killed twelve men already. It is your challenge. He will get the first shot."

  "Crud," I said.

  "True," Traz said. "More than you realize."

  The Dromoni nobles were coalescing on the two sides again, and this time, Draud's side had a definite advantage, having garnered most of the blue-cuffed nobles. Things were turning against Saradon, and by extension, us.

  "I'll still fight him," I said. Because Draud would need to do more than hit me. His ridiculously underpowered bullet from his ridiculously large gun would need to penetrate the warded magearmor I wore beneath my dull brown Dromoni tunic. It wasn't a full suit, like I had warded into my leather jacket back on the Bucket, but it would stop a bullet. Two, even. And if they confiscated that, I could always ward a plate in a hurry before the duel. I stood up. Traz tried to push me down. Too late.

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  "Does the protégé wish to sign into service with a new master?" Draud taunted.

  "No," I said. That much I'd understood of Traz's lecture. I wasn't going to serve Draud, no matter what.

  "I am sorry," Saradon whispered, coming to stand beside me. "It was a slick trap. I did not foresee its consequences."

  "Not your fault," I said, echoing his earlier words to Traz. "What happens now?"

  "Now you have a choice whether to consent to the duel. If you do not, it will bring shame to your Mistress, and she would have to consent or let someone outside Master Draud's circle stand in your stead. Either that or you may bow to Master Draud and accept your culpability for his displeasure."

  "I can do that," I said. Which was the truth. Honor, customs and mores are only important to the people who live by them. I would happily accept culpability for Master Draud's rear end if that got him out of my cockpit.

  "Please do not," Saradon said. "It will bring much shame on your Mistress, and by extension, on our house and party."

  "Oh," I said. Meaning that we'd melt all our engines with the Dromoni, and especially the ones who'd shown the most kindness to us. "Then let him come. I will happily shoot him."

  Saradon laughed.

  "Kudos to your Mistress," he said. "You could have been Dromoni." He raised his voice so it carried over the entire plaza. "Let it be known that Jakob of Santa Kylie, protégé to Mistress Riina and Invited into the house of Trevalon, will duel Draud Akula upon his wish."

  A wave of whispers and nods passed over the gathering. I could see a few hands quickly clasped. Apparently betting on duels was a thing on Dromond.

  "What happens now?" I said.

  "Now Master Draud makes a speech, taunting you, praising his own valor, and decides when and where you will duel," Saradon said.

  Crud. Another long-winded speech. Better to get the shooting over with immediately. I could feel my hands starting to twitch, their customary pre-battle reaction.

  Draud took a few steps forward, then hesitated and withdrew back to his own side of the gathering. He let his head fall forward, hiding his face.

  "Masters of Dromond," he said. "I am shamed."

  If the whispers and nods had been a wave before, they become a sea of sound. Everyone was whispering, moving away from or toward Draud. The gathering of Dromoni looked like a heap of rusted iron before a 'dozer blade.

  "I fear this strange Galactic gunman," Draud continued, shouting to be heard over the murmur, his head still bowed. "I cannot stand against him. Yet honor forbids me from forfeiting this duel."

  Here, he lifted his head, suddenly in complete control of himself, everyone's attention on him.

  "Master Saradon," Draud said. "Upon your honor and the honor of Dromond itself. Will you stand in my stead?"

  In a great, brown wave, the Dromoni flowed away from Saradon to gather around Draud.