Rock of Ages by Walter Jon Williams

black hair as he left. Maijstral fingered the large semi-life patch that was extending its anesthetic tendrils into his damaged flesh and considered that, if he were Conchita Sparrow and saw Roman in his current state coming toward her with evil intent, he’d confess on the spot.
    He rose stiffly from his chair and lurched toward the service plate, where he summoned robots to carry his belongings to his rented flier. It was now impossible to stay at Joseph Bob’s estate. He would be moving to the next place on his itinerary, the Underwater Palace of Quintana Roo, where he had been invited for a weekend. He would be arriving a few days early, but fortunately that was all right with Prince Hunac, his host, who already had many guests in residence.
    There was a knock on the door, and Roberta stepped in without waiting for a reply. She kissed Maijstral’s cheek, thoughtfully choosing the undamaged one. “I’ve been talking to the Bubber,” she said. “I thought he and I had best establish a few protocols at the start.”
    “Very sensible,” Maijstral said. He was all in favor of protocols and technicalities, anything that would delay or complicate the situation long enough so that Maijstral could either find the real culprit and get the duel called off, or alternatively somehow fix the encounter’s outcome. Either way, as far as Maijstral was concerned, would prove satisfactory.
    He hobbled to the sofa and sat down with a sigh of pain. Roberta joined him. The latest-model Windsong robots entered the room on silent repellers, and on Maijstral’s instructions picked up his luggage in their invisible grapplers and carried it off.
    “Will doesn’t think you did it, either,” Roberta said. “He ventured the opinion that you’re a sufficiently good magician that, if you’d known the pistol was there, you could have kept anyone from finding it. So he’s inclined to help Joseph Bob see reason.”
    “And Joseph Bob?”
    “Disinclined to see any reason whatever, I’m afraid. And Roman’s knocking him silly didn’t help matters.”
    “Hmm.”
    “He insists that you’re at fault for ‘permitting your servant to attack him’ as I believe he phrased it.”
    Indignation flamed in Maijstral. “I don’t know how I could have stopped Roman, since I’d just been floored by His Highness’s sneaky punch,” he said. And then he realized he was being indignant and made an effort to suppress it. People torn by indignation didn’t wriggle out of duels, and that , he reminded himself, was what he was after.
    “It occurred to me to point this out,” Roberta said, “but I decided it wouldn’t improve matters, so I didn’t.”
    “Quite rightly,” Maijstral said.
    Roberta smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “Now, I suppose, we ought to discuss weapons.”
    Oh, why bring them into it, Maijstral thought.
    Still, best to get it clear. The array of dueling weapons permitted by Khosali High Custom was truly staggering, and there had to be some that would give Maijstral an advantage.
    “Joseph Bob is an expert pistol shot, and a fine swordsman,” he said. “I would prefer to leave those out of the picture entirely.”
    “Very well.”
    “I’d also like to delay the whole business,” Maijstral said. “Give tempers a chance to cool, and give me a chance to find the real culprit and prove it was she who stole the pistol.”
    “ She? ” Roberta’s eyebrows lifted. “Do you know who did it?”
    “A licensed burglar named Conchita Sparrow. She’s been trying to get herself hired as my tech, and I turned her down. By way of demonstrating her abilities, she broke in here two nights ago, interestingly enough by way of the same ventilator shaft in which Colonel Colt’s pistol was found.”
    Roberta cocked her head to one side as she considered this. “It sounds plausible, at least. You don’t have any other idea who might have been responsible?”
    “So far as I know, I don’t have an enemy in the world. Unless,