Dirk frowned. "Arkin, you don't understand. I didn't pick this fight. It's all some sort of mistake. I tried to apologize, but Bretan wouldn't listen. What else am I supposed to do?"

"Do? Why, leave, of course. Take sweet Gwen and leave; get off Worlorn as soon as you can. You owe her, Dirk, you know it, truth. She needs you, yes, no one else can help. How do you help her? By being as bad as Jaan? By killing yourself? Eh? You tell me, Dirk, you tell me."

It was getting all confused again. When he had been drinking with Janacek and Vikary, everything had seemed so very clear, so easy to accept. But now Ruark was saying it was all wrong. "I don't know," Dirk replied. "I mean, I turned down Jaan's protection. So I have to protect myself, don't I? Who else is responsible? I made the choices and all that; the duel is set. I can't very well back out now."

"Of course you can," Ruark said. "Who is to stop you? What law, eh? No law on Worlorn, no, none. Utter truth! Could these beasts hunt us with a law? No, but is no law, so everyone is in trouble, but you don't have to duel unless you want to."

The door clicked open, and Dirk turned in time to see Gwen enter. His eyes narrowed, while Ruark beamed. "Ah, Gwen," the Kimdissi said, "come with me, talk sense into t'Larien. This utter fool intends to duel, truth, like he was Garsey himself."

Gwen came forward and stood between them. She wore pants of chameleon cloth (dark gray now) and a black pullover, with a green scarf knotted in her hair. Her face was freshly scrubbed and serious. "I told them I was coming down to run over some data," she said, the tip of her tongue flicking nervously over her lips. "I don't know what to say. I asked Garse about

Bretan Braith Lantry. Dirk, the chances are very good that he'll kill you out there."

Her words chilled him. Somehow hearing it from Gwen made it different. "I know," he said. "It doesn't change anything, Gwen. I mean, if I wanted to be safe, I could just be korariel of Ironjade, right?"

She nodded. "Yes. But you rejected it. Why?"

"What did you say in the forest? And later, again? About names? I didn't want to become anyone's property, Gwen. I am not korariel."

He watched her. Very briefly her face darkened, and her eyes nicked down to the jade-and-silver. "I understand," she said in a voice that was almost a whisper.

"I do not," Ruark said in a snort. "So be korariel. What is it? Some word only! Then you are alive, eh?"

Gwen looked at him, up on his perch on his stool. He looked faintly comic in his long gown, clutching his drink and scowling. "No, Arkin," she said. "That was my mistake. I thought betheyn was only a word."

He flushed. "All right, so! So Dirk is no korariel, fine, he is no one's property. It does not mean he must duel, no, utter not. The Kavalar honor code is nonsense, great high stupidness in truth. So, you are bound to be stupid, Dirk? To die and be stupid?"

"No," Dirk said. Ruark's words bothered him. He did not believe in the code of High Kavalaan. Why then? He was far from sure. To prove something, he thought, but he did not know what or to whom. "I have to, that's all. It is the right thing to do."

"Words!" Ruark said.

"Dirk, I don't want to see you dead," Gwen said. "Please. Don't put me through that."

The pudgy Kimdissi chuckled. "No, we will talk him out of it, us two, eh?" He sucked at his wine. "Listen to me, Dirk, will you do that much?"

Dirk nodded sullenly.

"Good. First, answer me this, do you believe in code duello? As a social institution? As a moral thing? Tell me, in truth, do you?"

"No," Dirk said. "But I don't think Jaan does either, from some of the comments he's made. Still, he duels when he has to. Anything else would be cowardice."

"No, no one thinks you are a coward, or him even. Jaantony may be Kavalar, with all the bad that is in that, but even I do not say he is coward. But there are different kinds of courage, no? If this tower caught fire, would you risk your life to save Gwen and maybe me? Garse too, perhaps?"

"I'd hope so," Dirk said.

Ruark nodded. "See then, you are courageous man. It is not needed, a suicide, to prove that."

Gwen nodded. "Remember what you said that night in Kryne Lamiya, Dirk, about life and death. You can't go off and kill yourself after that, can you?"

He frowned. "Damn it, this isn't suicide."

Ruark laughed. "No? Same thing, close enough. You think you will outduel him, maybe?"

"Well, no but-"

"If he drops his sword, sweat on his fingers, or such, will you kill him?"

"No," Dirk said. "I-"

"That would be wrong, yes, in truth? Yes! Well, to let him kill you, that is just as wrong. Even to give him the chance. Stupid. You are no Kavalar either, so point me not at Jaantony. Misgivings or no, he is still a killer. You are better, Dirk. And he has an excuse, something he thinks he fights for maybe, to change his people. A big savior complex, Jaan, but we will not mock at him, no. But you, Dirk, you have no reason like that. Do you?"

"I guess not. But damnit, Ruark, he's doing the right thing. You didn't look so good up there when he told you how the Braiths would have hunted you down except for his protection."

"No, and I did not feel so good either, no lie. That changes nothing. So I am korariel maybe, so the Braiths are worse than the Ironjades, so Jaan uses violence to stop worse violence, maybe. Is that right? Ah,

I cannot say. Tough moral issue, utter truth! Maybe Jaan's duels serve some purpose, eh, for his people, for us. But your duel is utter folly, serves nothing, just gets you dead. And Gwen stays with Jaan and Garse forever, until they lose a duel maybe, and then it is not so pleasant for her."

Ruark paused and finished his wine, then swiveled around on his stool to pour himself another glass. Dirk sat very still, Gwen's eyes on him, her patient stare heavy enough to feel. His head pounded. Ruark was confusing everything, he thought again. He had to do the right thing, but what was it? Suddenly all his insights and his decisions had evaporated on him. The silence lay thick over the workroom.

"I won't run," Dirk said at last. "I won't. But I won't duel, either. I'll go there and tell them my decision, refuse to fight."

The Kimdissi swirled his wine and chuckled. "Well, a certain moral courage is in that. Utter truth. Jesus Christ and Socrates and Erika Stormjones and now Dirk t'Larien, great martyrs of history, yes. Maybe the Redsteel poet will write something on you."

Gwen gave a more serious answer. "These are Braiths, Dirk, Braith highbonds of the old school. On High Kavalaan itself you might never be challenged to duel. The highbond councils recognize that offworlders don't adhere to then: code. But this is different. The arbiter will rule you forfeit, and Bretan Braith and his holdfast-brothers will kill you or hunt you down. By refusing to duel, in their eyes, you'll have proven yourself a mockman."

"Ican't run," Dirk repeated. His arguments were all gone suddenly; he had nothing left but emotion, a determination to face the dawn and see it through.

"You push away your only sanity, yes, in truth. It is no cowardice, Dirk. The bravest choice of all, think that way, to risk their scorn by flight. Even then, you face peril. Probably they hunt you, Bretan Braith if he lives, the others if not, you know? But you'll live, avoid them maybe, help Gwen."

"I can't," Dirk said. "I promised them, Jaan and Garse."

"Promise? What? That you'd die?"

"No. Yes. I mean, Jaan had me promise to be a brother to Janacek. They wouldn't be in this duel if Vikary hadn't been trying to get me out of trouble."

"After Garse pushed you in," Gwen said bitterly, and Dirk started at the sudden venom in her quiet tones.