I reached the quarters of house Trevalon soon after, peeking out from behind a tree in a small grove. The servants wore the right silver livery, and the nobles all had diamonds on their cuffs. The only thing I didn't see was Saradon.

  If he was in seclusion, he wouldn't come out, but maybe Traz would. I waited fifteen minutes, watching the servants clean and the nobles drift off to their quarters. The house was settling down for the night. If I didn't find Saradon and Traz soon, I might not find them before the duel.

  Maybe I'd need to stop a servant. But they'd know who I was. How many other Galactics wandered about in their Hall of Unity? None, I'd wager.

  Another fifteen minutes went by. Fewer and fewer people were visible. I'd have to make up my mind, soon. Was house loyalty a big enough thing to breach dueling etiquette? Or were the loyalties open to interpretation. I wished I'd studied the Dromoni the way Riina and her analysts had. When I got back to the Belithain, I'd be a good man, forget about warding and complete all the boring work I'd put off. Like reading that brief. But right now, I had to make a decision.

  I was about to knock on the window where only a single servant, a young man in a silver tunic, was setting out plates for tomorrow's breakfast, when I spotted a familiar face.

  The doctor had come out on a balcony on the second floor.

  "Psst," I hissed. "Doctor."

  He looked down, and I waved. Moments later, the balcony door shut.

  I had time to wonder whether I'd made a big mistake, when he walked out a door hidden behind a trellis of white flowers.

  "You shouldn't be here," he said.

  "So people keep telling me," I replied. "I need to speak to Master Saradon. Or Traz."

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  "They are in seclusion," the doctor said.

  My frustration boiled over.

  "What does that even mean?" I said.

  "It means that they are secluded during the duelist's peace so that no one may influence the bets," the doctor said.

  "The what?" I'd expected some ceremony or religious dogma, not betting.

  "Bets," The doctor said.

  "Oh," I said. "I had expected something serious."

  Or at least something on par with getting shot by a lead slug the size of my thumb.

  "Breaching the duelist's peace is a very serious matter," the doctor said flatly. "Houses have fallen for less."

  His indignation annoyed me. I hadn't crawled through dirt and thorn bushes to get a lecture. Not from a flunky that smelled of flowers and fried fish. And liquor.

  "Do you realize what will happen tomorrow?" I said. "If Master Saradon shoots me, he loses status, if he refuses to duel, he loses status, if-"

  The doctor gave me a cool look.

  "We are all aware of the facts," he said. "The masters are looking for a solution."

  "I've found one," I said.

  That got me a moment of silence as the doctor's mind spun in circles, his eyes jerking left and right, his mouth trying to form words. A range of emotions I couldn't interpret chased each other across his face. Relief? Disbelief? Fear? I couldn't tell.

  "Have you truly?" he said. "Can you save the house Trevalon?"

  "I can," I said, "but I need to talk to Saradon."

  The doctor thought this over, whistling softly to himself.

  "It cannot be done," he finally said. "There are too many spies in the household, or servants willing to sell such news."

  Crud. I hated petty politics.

  "Can you get a message to him?" I said in desperation, fingering the bullets I had next to my warded plates.

  "I could," the doctor said after a moment. "It would be unusual, but not dangerously so. Doctors do visit the duelists before their time."

  In the moment, I decided to trust him. I pulled one of the warded bullets from my pocket, and handed it to the doctor.

  "Tell Master Saradon to shoot this at me, and shoot true," I said. "He must shoot true, this exact bullet, from the furthest distance he is allowed. If he hesitates, tell Traz that I had wished things were different, and I have no wish to harm Master Saradon, and neither does he. Can you say it exactly like that?"

  The doctor nodded, and I had him repeat my words to make sure. With that, he reached out to slap me.

  It took me a moment to realize he wanted me to grab his hand. I did, and he lifted and dropped it twice, very distinctly. I had no idea what that meant, but I smiled when he smiled, and that seemed to satisfy him, for he let go of my hand and withdrew back into the Trevalon quarters.

  Strange customs in a strange place. I skulked back to my own berth.