“Don’t underestimate the security chief just because she’s a female.”

“If anything, I’m tracking her doubly close because she’s a female, Suzi.”

“I thought so!” The robot sniffed haughtily.

Hosato secured the last camera in the storage compartment and began unfastening his tunic. As he did, the door of the compartment slid shut, then reopened, exposing an entirely different storage area.

“I wish you’d use the normal doors when we’re on assignment,” Hosato commented. “It’s supposed to be a secret that you can rearrange your internals.”

“It is a secret,” the robot retorted. “I told you, no one’s watching.”

Hosato ignored the rebuff. His attention was devoted instead to the two swords displayed in this compartment. The dueling epees. No matter how often he saw them, whether as a student or after the maestro had presented them to him, they always gave him a vague chill.

The swords had been used over the centuries for sixty-three bloodings and thirty-one kills. A total of ninety-four duels—no, make that ninety-five. He had forgotten to include the latest duel, the one that immediately preceded this contract…

It had all started on Mitchum’s planet There were four of them waiting by the designated rock. Even though they were still in sight of the spaceport, no crowd gathered to watch. Apparently duels such as this were not uncommon.

Hosato studied the group as he approached them. Suzi floated silently at his side, her disapproval displayed by the absence of her traditional comments and observations.

Three of the men were obviously the Scale brothers. Their flashy, stylish clothes disguised neither the family resemblance nor the arrogant slouch of habitual bar toughs. They were long-limbed and broad-shouldered; their build and manner set them apart from the fourth man, even more than their obvious difference in color.

The fourth man stood slightly apart from the others. He was bald and Negroid, his ramrod-stiff posture marking him as military. His face was impassive, but his well-muscled, compact body and poised readiness were enough to cause anyone to give him wide berth. It was obvious to the most casual observer that the worn holster of his blaster had not been purchased used, but had aged the hard way.

The bald man moved forward to meet Hosato. “Mr. Mathers?” he asked.

“I am Hayama,” said Hosato. “I have been retained by Mr. Mathers to settle this affair.”

The bald man swept him with a speculative glance before replying. “I am Moabe, Mr. Hayama. I have been asked to serve as umpire.”

Hosato inclined his head slightly in formal acknowledgment.

“Hey. Are you one of Mathers’ seconds?”

Hosato turned to face the speaker. “Might I ask whom I am addressing?” he queried.

“I’m Harry Scale, the challenger. These are my brothers, Casey and Tom.”

Hosato inclined his head to them. “I am Hayama.”

One of the brothers, Tom, snorted derisively. The other studied Hosato carefully.

“You didn’t answer Brother Harry’s question,” he commented quietly.

“I have been retained by Mr. Mathers to settle this affair,” Hosato replied. “He sends his regrets over last night’s incident and states he is ready to make public apology under any condition you might set forth.”

Tom grinned and began making clucking noises like a chicken.

Harry was more to the point. “No deal, Hayama. He’s not getting off the hook that easy. I challenged him and he accepted, so he’s going to have to fight. You just go back and tell him we’ll wait here one more hour. If he isn’t here by then, we’ll come and get him.”

Hosato smiled. “That will not be necessary. As I said, I have been instructed by Mr. Mathers to settle the affair. If possible, this was to be done with an apology. If not…” He shrugged and let the sentence hang in the air.

“What do you mean—?” Harry began.

“He’s taking Mathers’ place,” interrupted Casey.

“What?” exploded Tom, finally coming to life. “He can’t do that. Mathers was challenged, and he’s got to be the one to fight.”

Hosato looked at the umpire.

“It is not without precedent,” Moabe ruled, “for a challenged party to appoint a champion to fight in his stead.”

The brothers bit off their objections and huddled together for a quick conference.

Hosato smiled to himself. He found a certain ironic justice in the situation. If thugs tried to use the format of a duel to cloak a murder, it was only fitting they find themselves bound by the rules and traditions governing that form of combat. He caught Moabe’s eye. The black looked at him impassively for a moment, then slowly closed one eye in a conspiratorial wink. Hosato was not the only one present who appreciated the humor of the situation.

“Okay, Hayama!” Harry called. The huddle was breaking up. “It’s your funeral. If you want to die instead of Mathers, that’s your privilege. We’re willing to settle this with you.”

Moabe was suddenly between them, one hand on the butt of his blaster.

“A duel is individual combat,” he said levelly. “The seconds are to serve as witnesses only, and are not to take an active part in the battle,”

“Hey, Moabe!” Tom protested. “Remember, we’re the ones who are paying you.”

“That’s right,” Moabe retorted, “and you’re paying me to umpire this duel, which means I guarantee the rules are strictly followed by both sides.”

“Shut up, Tom!” Casey interrupted. “Don’t worry, Moabe. This is Harry’s fight. He’d probably shoot us himself if we interfered.”

His smile was not convincing.

“Very well, gentlemen,” Hosato replied, as if there had been no interruption. “As representative of the challenged party, I believe I have choice of weapons. I choose epees.”

“What?” bellowed Harry.

“Epees,” said Moabe. “Swords. Not only is it an acceptable dueling weapon, it is one of the original dueling weapons.”

“Go ahead, Harry,” called Casey. “It’s like using a long knife.”

“But I don’t have a sword,” protested Harry.

Hosato was already at Suzi’s side, opening one of her many storage compartments.

“I happen to have a matched set of dueling epees.

Mr. Moabe, if you would be so good as to inspect them for acceptability?”

He passed the weapons to Moabe, who examined them closely. The Negro’s eyebrows shot up with surprised appreciation before he caught himself and restored his normal unmoved expression.

“Yes. These weapons are acceptable,” he ruled. “Mr. Scale, as your opponent has provided the weapons, you have first choice.”

He offered both weapons to Harry, who scowled suspiciously, then made a large show of examining them closely before choosing.

“My client will accept first blood in settling this matter,” Hosato announced.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tom demanded.

“Duels may be settled by first, second, or third blood,” Moabe informed him. “First blood means just that—the duel is ended when blood is drawn, however trivial. Second blood means the duel will be fought to the first serious injury. Third blood is a duel to the death, and the fight will continue until one of the combatants is dead, even if it means the seconds have to hold a wounded duelist up until the death blow is struck.”

“Oh!” said Tom, properly mollified.

Casey had been studying Hosato suspiciously throughout the exchange. “You seem to know an awful lot about this stuff, Hayama,” he commented.

“This is not my first duel,” Hosato admitted.

“Hayama!” Harry exploded in sudden recognition. “Hey. I’ve heard of you. You’re a professional duelist!”

Hosato inclined his head in acknowledgment. There was a pregnant moment of silence as the brothers exchanged glances.

“Mr. Scale,” said Moabe, stepping forward, “do you wish to reconsider accepting Mr. Mathers’ apology?”

Harry started, then brandished his sword. “Why?

I’m not scared of him. Come on, Hayama. Let’s get this thing over with.”