Dirk stared, and suddenly felt incredibly dense. "I… I thought… I don't know. The jelly children…"

"Garse hit me, not Gwen," Vikary said.

"I would do it again," Janacek added in a surly voice.

"But," said Dirk, "but then, what was going on? Last night? This morning?"

Janacek rose and walked to Dirk's end of the couch to loom over him. "Friend Dirk," he said in slightly venomous tones, "this morning I told you the truth. Gwen went out with Arkin Ruark, to work. The Kimdissi had been calling for her all throughout yesterday. He was most frantic. The tale he told to me was that a column of armor-bugs had begun to migrate, undoubtedly in response to the growing cold. This is said to be very rare even on Eshellin. On Worlorn, of course, such an event is unique and cannot be recreated, and Ruark felt that it had to be studied at once. Now do you comprehend, my friend Dirk t'Larien, now?"

"Uh," said Dirk. "She would have said something."

Janacek returned to his seat with his gaunt hatchet face screwed up in a scowl. "My friend calls me a liar," he said.

"Garse speaks the truth," Vikary said. "Gwen said she would leave word for you, a note or a tape. Perhaps in the excitement of her preparation she forgot. Such things happen. She is very involved in her work, Dirk. She is a good ecologist."

Dirk looked at Garse Janacek. "Hold on," he said. "This morning you said you were keeping her from me. You admitted it."

Vikary looked puzzled also. "Garse?"

"Truth," Janacek said grudgingly. "He came up and pressed and pressed, forced his way inside with a transparent lie. More, he clearly wanted to believe that Gwen was being held captive by the foul Ironjades. I doubt that he would have believed anything else." He sipped carefully at his wine.

"That," Jaan Vikary said, "was not wise, Garse."

"Untruth given, untruth returned," Janacek said, looking smug.

"You are not being a good friend."

"I will henceforth be better," said Janacek.

"That pleases me," Vikary said. "Now, t'Larien, will you be keth to Garse?"

Dirk considered it for a long moment. "I guess," he finally said.

"Drink then," Vikary said. The three men raised their glasses simultaneously-Janacek's was already half drained-and the wine flowed hot and a little bitter over Dirk's tongue. It was not the best wine he had ever tasted. But it was good enough.

Janacek finished his glass and stood. "We must talk of the duels."

"Yes," Vikary said. "This has been a bitter day. Neither of you has been wise."

Janacek leaned up against the mantel below one of the leering gargoyles. "The greatest lack of wisdom was yours, Jaan. Understand me, I have no fear of duel with Bretan Braith and Chell Empty-Arms, but it was not needed. You deliberately provoked it. The Braith had to issue challenge after your words, lest even his own teyn spit upon him."

"It did not go as I had hoped," Vikary said. "I thought perhaps Bretan feared us, that he might let pass his duel with t'Larien in order to avoid us. He did not."

"No," said Janacek, "he did not. I could have told you, had you asked. You pushed him too far and came perilously close to duel-breaking."

"It is within the code."

"Perhaps. Yet Bretan was correct; there would have been great shame for him if he had ignored t'Larien's trespass in fear of you."

"No," said Vikary. "That is where you and all our people are wrong. There should be no shame in avoiding a duel. If we are ever to achieve our destiny, we must learn that. Yet, in a sense, you are right-in consideration of who and what he was, he could give no other answer. I misjudged him."

"A serious misjudgement," Janacek said. A grin split his red beard. "It would have been better to let t'Larien duel. I saw to it that they will fight with blades, did I not? The Braith would not have slain him for such a trifling offense. A man like Dirk, ah, there would have been no honor in it. One blow only, I would have said. A cut would do t'Larien good. A lesson for him, a lesson about mistakes. It would add character to his face, a small cut." He looked at Dirk. "Now, of course, Bretan Braith will kill you."

He was still grinning and he made his final comment with casual elan. Dirk tried not to choke on his wine. "What?"

Janacek shrugged. "As first-challenged, you must duel first, so you cannot hope that Jaan and I will slay them before they get to you. Bretan Braith Lantry is as widely known for his skill in duel as he is for his striking good looks. In truth, he is notorious. I suppose he is here hunting mockmen with Chell, but he is not really much a hunter. He is more comfortable in the death-square than in the wild, from all that I have heard of him. Even his own kethi find him difficult. In addition to being ugly, he took Chell fre-Braith to teyn. Chell was once a highbond of great power and honor. He outlived his betheyn and his original teyn. Today he is a superstitious dodderer with a small mind and great wealth. The holdfast rumors say the wealth is the reason Bretan Braith wears Chell's iron-and-fire. No one tells this to Bretan openly, of course. He is said to be quite touchy. And now Jaan has made him angry as well, and perhaps he is a bit frightened. He will have no mercy for you. I hope that you can manage to cut him a bit before you die. That would make it easier for us in the duel to follow."

Dirk was remembering the confidence that had filled him up on the roof; he had been quite certain that neither of the Braiths was a real danger. He understood them; he felt sorry for them. Now he began to feel sorry for himself. "Is he right?" he asked Vikary.

"Garse jokes and exaggerates," Vikary said, "yet you are in danger. No doubt Bretan will try to kill you, if you let him. This need not happen. The rules of your mode and weaponry are quite simple. The arbiter will chalk a square upon the street, five meters by five, and you and your enemy will start from opposite corners. At a word from the arbiter, each of you will advance with your sword toward the. center. When you meet, you fight. To satisfy the requirements of honor, you must take one blow and deal one. I would advise you to cut at his foot or at his leg, since this will indicate that you have no wish for a true death-duel. Then, after you have taken his first blow-try to deflect it with your sword, if you can-you can walk to the perimeter of the square. Do not run. There is no honor in running, and the arbiter will rule the duel a death-victory for Bretan, and then the Braiths will kill you. You must walk, calmly. At the perimeter line, once beyond it, you are safe."

"To achieve this safety you must reach the perimeter line," Janacek said. "Bretan will kill you first."

"If I deal my one blow, and take one, then can I drop my sword and walk away?" Dirk asked.

"In such a case Bretan will kill you with a puzzled look on his face, or what remains of it," said Janacek.

"I would not do that," Vikary cautioned.

"Jaan's suggestions are folly," Janacek said. He walked slowly back to the couch, retrieved his glass, and poured himself more wine. "You should keep your sword and fight him. Consider, the man is blind on one side. Surely he is vulnerable there! And see how awkwardly he nods or turns his head."

Dirk's glass was empty. He held it out and Janacek filled it with wine. "How will you duel them?" Dirk asked.

"The rules for our mode and weaponry differ from yours," Vikary said. "The four of us must stand at the four corners of the death-square with dueling lasers or other sidearms. We may not move except to step backwards, outside the square, to safety. And that we may not do until each man within the square had taken one shot. That done, the choice is ours. Those who remain within, if they still stand, may continue to fire. It can be a harmless mode, or a very deadly one, depending on the will of those participating."