"What just happened?" I asked Riina.

  She kept her face impassive, almost like a protégé, but her breaths were rapid and shallow and her right eyelid kept twitching. Not much, but enough for me to notice.

  Riina worried. That scared me.

  We were sitting in the same golden-leafed bower with the red seats that Traz and I had spent our time in. This time, there were two gold-liveried servants outside. They held trays bearing smoked meats and small, yellow, mango-like fruits, but I could recognize guards when I saw them.

  We were prisoners. I conjured a thread of force, feeling for other guards, but couldn't sense any. Either they were warded against magic scrying, or they weren't there. Maybe the Dromoni had such low thoughts about Galactics that they thought two golden trays was enough to overpower us.

  Or they relied on customs, and couldn't imagine us wanting to run. Crudmunching place.

  "I don't know," Riina said. She tapped her foot hard, twice, cracking her shoe hard enough against the stones to create minute echoes. "Our situation has blown into the sands," she said. "Master Draud seems to have played a game on Master Saradon."

  "To the cold void with Draud," I said.

  To my surprise, Riina rounded on me, her face cold and hard, her hand up. Was she really going to slap me?

  "You are speaking of a master of Dromond," she said. "You will address him as Master Draud. Do you understand?"

  In those last words, she looked aside, at the servants standing in the opening to the bower. Guards. Prisoners. Status.

  Right.

  "My apologies, mistress," I said, playing along, but the words still left a sour taste in my mouth. I wanted to get my hands around Draud's throat and choke, not guard my tongue when speaking of him.

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  The tongue he'd poisoned. I noticed that Riina hadn't called for the servants to bring food or drink. Wise.

  "What do we do now?" I said.

  "Wait," Riina said. She leaned in toward me and lowered her voice. "What do you understand of the situation?"

  I leaned toward her, completing the very image of a loving couple. Or a pair of very clumsy conspirators.

  "Draud got Saradon to accept us into his house," I whispered. "By first poisoning me, then provoking me to scream at him. But I'd be consigned to the cold void if I can understand how he knew what to do."

  Riina snorted, reminding me of Hao.

  "You're a man," she said. "And one who thinks himself a warrior. Bring in a beautiful woman, a competitor to roughen her up, and then gloat. I'm surprised you didn't punch his teeth out."

  "I tried," I admitted. "Traz stopped me."

  "That's a good sign at least," Riina said. "If they didn't care for us, they'd have let us get killed. Maybe the situation can still be saved. Master Martens was willing to listen to my pleas, the short moment I got with him and Master Saradon. What else do you understand?"

  "So they'd give us the supplies?" I said. "My screaming was enough to count as a challenge, which Draud accepted, and then shifted to Saradon. I don't know why. Shouldn't that lose him status in the eyes of his peers? It's not like I'm willing to kill Saradon."

  "They have supplies to spare," Riina said. "They might have given them to us. Now? I doubt it. Especially not if we are set up to duel Master Martens only child."

  And if we didn't return with supplies, at least enough to get the Belithain to limp to a different system where we could beg for aid, everyone on board would likely die. It would be up to Hao and me to try stealing something to keep them alive. If we could, and could do it in time. The air filters on the Belithain hadn't looked too fresh when I'd worked on them last.

  "We need the supplies," I said. "I'll go see if we can't beg Saradon. He seemed to like me."

  "I think he does," Riina said. "Master Martens seemed positive as well. Master Draud wishes to bring down their house, which you dueling Master Saradon will do, in some way."

  "How?" I said.

  "I'm not sure," Riina said, and that worried me, too.

  The way I figured, Draud wanted Saradon dead, and didn't want to do the deed himself. But why he thought I'd be the one to kill a kid who'd been kind to me, I couldn't guess. And I'd better find out. I needed to talk to Traz.

  I got up and walked to the servants. As I approached, they leaned in against each other, ever so slightly. Scared, yet willing to remain at their post.

  "My mistress needs a message delivered," I said. "To Traz, protégé of Master Saradon."

  I stood back, crossing my arms and holding my space as if I had all the right in the world to be there. The servants stood frozen, trying to stare me down. A minute later, they held a brief, whispered conference, and one of them left.

  I'm a crudmunching good starer.