“Weeks ago I offered you your mother’s jewels. You refused.” Zabb removed a long, flat box from an inner pocket. “I hope this time you’ll accept. You should be properly adorned for the ball, as befits an Ilkazam princess.”

Tis had frozen at the sight of the blue-and-orange box with its embossing of moonstones in the design of flowers. A memory held her. Tisianne standing on his mother’s lap. Ts’ara heedless of the damage his muddy shoes were doing to her dress. Pressing and twisting the pretty gems with tiny child’s fingers. She had told him that they were a ship’s tears. He knew better now. Ships don’t cry. Tisianne wanted to.

Tis accepted the box and snapped it open. Rings, ear-tips, necklaces, bracelets. A riot of glittering, sparkling color. She lifted out a five-strand choker of pearls. Frowned.

“Wait,” she said. Zabb paused, almost out the door. “There’s a mistake, these weren’t hers -”

Without looking back he said, “They’re yours. I had them made for you. Wear them for me.”

Tis sank speechless into a chair. Stared at the closed door.

Roxalana lifted the pearls from her nerveless fingers and clasped them about her throat.

“Enjoying yourself?” Zabb inquired, handing Bounty and Tis iced silamums.

Tis accepted the drink gratefully. The windows of the ballroom were fogged, trapped as they were between a room full of bodies, and the snow-buried gardens outside, and she was finding conversation with a Master Trader to be emotionally draining. Oh, the creature was everything charming and proper, but she couldn’t control the skin creep that told her this was the enemy.

“Most assuredly,” Bounty said. “I’m measuring my experiences against the memories of the last Master Trader on Takis.”

“Eight thousand years,” Zabb said, a pointed reminder.

“Have the Takisians changed much?” Mark asked.

“Yes and no. Technologically they’re a good deal more advanced.” Bounty paused and watched the intricate dance unfolding in the center of the ballroom. “Their family affiliations seem to have become far more rigid. There used to be more flux between families. Overall it’s still a warrior culture overlaid with the trappings of civilization.”

“Are you implying we are not civilized?” Zabb asked.

“I’m saying it’s only skin-deep.”

“Why?” Tis asked.

“Your highest loyalty is reserved for the vow between individuals, usually within your own clan. That’s a hallmark of a primitive society.”

“It’s worked rather well for us,” Zabb said.

“But has it?” the Master Trader mused. “You’ve never really managed to forge long-term and broad alliances that would enable you to undertake colonization projects, exploration.” Bounty set his empty glass on the tray of a passing Tarhiji waiter. “Well, I think it’s time to talk business.”

“You don’t let up, do you?” Zabb asked. “And there is nothing to discuss. I will not return.”

“I think your vaunted Takisian honor is a sham if you can violate your promise to me.”

“Bluntly, you’re not worthy to receive my sworn word.”

Mark suddenly snapped his fingers. “I finally figured it out. What you guys remind me of. I thought Renaissance Italy, and Saudi Arabia, and a little samurai stirred in, and there are facets of all of that, but mostly you’re like the Mafia.”

Zabb and the Master Trader were looking confused. Tis knew her face was a study in embarrassment because Mark was absolutely right. She laughed. “Oh, Ideal, what does that make me? A Mafia princess?”

“Of Mars,” Mark added, and laughed. “It’ll be the next Hollywood hit.”

“Raiyis, I don’t wish to fight,” Bounty said. “But -”

A sudden thought struck Tisianne. “Bounty, when my cousin was found, he was adrift in a dying ship. Life support was dying with Hellcat. He had to sign that contract. Which makes it duress, which makes it unconscionable, which makes it illegal.”

“No, that’s not duress. Duress is if I held a gun to his head and said I’ll kill you if you don’t sign. His own misfortune is not my fault.”

“But you’d take advantage?” Tis asked.

“Of course, that’s business.”

“Oh, man, you’re making corporate America look benevolent.” Mark sadly shook his head. “Maybe you guys aren’t so groovy.”

Bounty frowned. “Where are you from?”

“Oh, I’m an Earthman.”

“Interesting.”

Zabb pulled the Master Trader back from his thoughtful contemplation of Mark. “I don’t want trouble, and it’s no secret I can’t afford a fight with you right now. So what will it take to make you go away? Money, jewels, pharmaceuticals?”

“Your currency is worthless to me. Your jewels and drugs I can synthesize.” Bounty considered. “I want another pilot.”

“I can’t force any of my people to serve you. I’ll give you a Tarhiji.”

Bounty shook his head. “I want a telepath.”

“What about art?” Tis suggested. “That’s unique.”

“Personal service or real estate. That’s what I prefer.”

“You’re doomed to disappointment,” Zabb said, and tucking Tisianne’s arm beneath his he drew her away. They walked in silence for several moments, then Zabb said, “Thank you, cousin, for speaking up on my behalf. I was a little surprised, but thank you.”

“Sorry it didn’t do any good. They really are the most awful barbarians.” He was staring at her so intently that she could almost feel the pressure of his eyes on her skin. Nervously she changed the subject. “You know, other than my usurpation this room was the site of one of the most humiliating moments in my life.”

“Again delivered courtesy of me.”

“Naturally.”

“Sixty years ago, wasn’t it?” Zabb asked.

“Something like that.”

“Well, let’s see if I can make it up to you.” Zabb bowed and vanished into the crowd. Tis leaned against a wall and watched the dancing. Eventually Mark found her.

“I’ve discovered the source of my sensual pleasure in the sound of these skirts.” She shook hers. “It’s a child’s memory of his mother. All I can really remember is her perfume, and the whisper of her elaborate clothing.”

“It’s, like, really romantic looking. Doc… maybe I shouldn’t say this, but Zabb is, like, really -”

“I know. I realized the signals I’ve been sending are very much damsel distressed.” She looked up at the human. “Mark, I need a therapist. I’m losing my mind. I’m losing my self” His fingers tightened comfortingly around hers.

The music intruded into her reverie. A melody she recognized. Tri’ava and Pandasala swooped down on her like diving parrots, each grabbing her beneath an arm, and began tugging her toward the center of the ballroom…

“Come,” Panda said.

“He’s waiting,” Tri’ava said.

“You’ll never believe,” Panda burbled.

“What he’s done,” they finished in chorus.

Alarmed, Tis went rushing ahead. Zabb was indeed waiting. There was an unholy light in his gray eyes as he held out a pair of crystal-heeled slippers. As the heels struck, the air was filled with a sweet chiming. Tis started retreating, stepped on her hem, and went down in a welter of skirts.

Zabb grinned down at her. “Tis, you’re looking like a clumsy oaf again.”

“No!” She fended him off with both hands. “Oh, no.

“Let’s see if you can get through ‘Crystal Flowers’ this time without making a fool out of yourself,” Zabb said, removing her dancing shoes.

“You fiddled with my shoes. Wrecked the tones.”

He struck the heels together again, playing an ascending scale. “I haven’t this time.” He slipped her foot into a shoe.

“I don’t remember it.” Gray eyes met gray eyes. “And I’ve certainly never danced it from the woman’s side.”

The other shoe went on, and Zabb pulled her to her feet. “Rely on me. I’ll get you through it.”

Pandasala on one side, and Cillka on the other, caught up her skirts so her feet would be free.

“You’ve been a chair warmer long enough tonight,” Cillka said.