"Master Draud won," Traz said. "Expertly."

  He'd come to the bower, followed by two servants dressed in silver with trays that held a selection of crumbly, pungent cheeses, small red and green fruits I didn't recognize, and bowls of hot soup that smelled wonderfully of sour cabbage and fried sausages, accompanied by a large kettle of steaming black tea. I poured myself a cup, and wrapped my hands around it, letting my skin drink its warmth. The cup trembled slightly, sending circles dancing atop the tea. I didn't dare to drink it.

  "Drink," Traz said, ladling cabbage soup into his mouth. "Until the duel, we are under the circle's protection. Poisoning us now would bring extreme censure."

  "But not before?" I said.

  "Intoxicating a Galactic of little standing would bring minimal censure, if any," Traz said. "It is a thing youths do for laughs at the spaceport."

  I gave him a dirty look, but the smell of the tea brought me around and I sipped. It was full-bodied, with a long, well-rounded aftertaste and almost no bitterness. If this was the last tea I ever drank, it would be a fitting cup to end my life.

  "This is good," I said.

  "The best leaves house Akula has to offer," Traz said. "For their champion, Master Saradon of house Trevalon."

  "So I drink Draud's tea then tell him to stick his head in a warpstone engine," I said. "Then I demand to face Draud. I'm not dueling Saradon."

  "Master Saradon," Traz corrected gently. I noticed he didn't require any such honorific before Draud's name.

  "Master Saradon," I said.

  "You can't," Traz said. "Any duelist may call on someone outside his opponents circle to stand in his stead. You are a Galactic. Everyone on Dromond is outside your circle."

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  I considered what I knew of honor societies.

  "Doesn't that lose Draud honor?" I said.

  "Normally, it would have lost him standing, but this..." Traz sighed. "Expertly done."

  "Explain it to us," Riina said, daintily sipping tea from her own gold-enameled cup.

  Traz swallowed his soup. I took a spoon of my own. The sweet and sour cabbage together with the fatty, spiced sausage was both smooth and sharp at the same time. A fantastic combination. When I died, I wanted to come back as a cook on Dromond.

  Which might be sooner than I would have liked.

  "I'm not shooting Master Saradon," I repeated.

  "I appreciate that," Traz said. "As does he. But it will not be enough."

  He put his bowl aside.

  "If Master Saradon refuses the duel, he brings shame to house Trevalon and the Clear Harmony party. If he kills you, he harms a master invited to his father's house and table. If you kill him, a master invited to the Trevalon house and table has breached the peace of the house, bringing shame upon both houses."

  "So I refuse the duel," I said, stating the obvious. To the cold void with their customs, I'd lick boot-soles with the best of them if it got us supplies for the Kylians.

  "You cannot," Traz said. "If you refuse the duel, it will win status for your opponent, master Draud, and bring shame to your Mistress and her sponsors."

  "Meaning Master Saradon and his father," I said. "When is the duel supposed to be held?"

  "Tomorrow, at dawn," Traz replied. "Master Draud devised the trap masterfully."

  I gave him a glare.

  "To the cold void with Draud," I said, loud enough for him to hear, low enough that the guards wouldn't.

  Traz hesitated, glanced at the guards, leaned in to me.

  "Dromond isn't like this," he said. "Master Draud is an exception. Master Saradon would never do something like this. He is a good man, as is Master Martens, and I am proud to serve them."

  I nodded slowly, to show him that I appreciated the candor. Traz really cared for Saradon, and for how I viewed Saradon and Dromond. It made me feel ashamed for my earlier low thoughts about him, and his world. Traz was no brainless grunt, he was good people, and so was Saradon. Every place, every group, had good people and bad people. Dromond was no different.

  "So the duel is tomorrow," I said.

  "At dawn," Traz replied, standing up. "For what it's worth, I am sorry, and so is Master Saradon."

  "And so am I," I said, holding out my palm to him. "Please convey to Master Saradon that I had wished things were different, and I have no wish to harm him."

  "Neither does he," said Traz, holding out his palm too.

  I clasped and shook. If felt like a goodbye.