“But you might have come across something when you were younger and forgotten you’d read it,” Ziara pointed out. “That’s happened to me. And where we don’t have any history, we’ll probably never know if you’re right or wrong.”

“I see,” Thrawn said, his voice suddenly subdued. “I’m…I thought this would be interesting to you. I’m sorry if I wasted your time.”

“I didn’t say that,” Ziara protested, eyeing him as a sudden idea occurred to her. “But I’m a practical person, and when I hear a new theory I like to give it a test.”

“Shall we ask the Ascendancy to declare war on someone?”

“I was thinking a little smaller,” she said. “Come on.”

She headed toward the exit. “Where are we going?” Thrawn asked as he caught up with her.

“My quarters,” she said. “I do a little wire sculpting in my spare time to relax. You can study it and see how well you can read my personal strategies and tactics.”

Thrawn was silent a couple of steps. “Are you assuming we’ll someday be at war with each other?”

“Yes, and sooner than you think,” Ziara said with a smile. “Because after you finish, we’re going to go downstairs to the dojo and go a couple of rounds.”

“I see,” Thrawn said. “Stick, or unarmed?”

Ziara gave him the choice. He chose stick.

“Okay,” Ziara said, bouncing a few experimental steps on the mat and swinging the two short sticks in her hands to loosen up her wrists. The lightweight face and chest protectors didn’t interfere with her movements, and the soft-coat sticks felt sturdy in her hands, with the same weight and balance as actual combat sticks. “And if you’ve found some recordings of my combat sessions, say so now before I call cheats on you.”

“I’ve never seen you fight,” Thrawn assured her. “You may choose when the bout is over.”

“Thank you,” Ziara said. “And that was your first—mistake!” she shouted as she leapt forward. A quick head–ribs–head combo should end the fight before he lost too much of his dignity.

Only it didn’t. Thrawn blocked all three attacks, putting his sticks up in the right spots and in the right order. Her ribs–head–elbow–feint–ribs combo didn’t get through, either. Neither did her best feint–feint–hip–ribs–head–feint–stomach.

She scowled, taking a step back to regroup and reassess. Beginner’s luck, obviously, but it was starting to become a bit worrisome. So far he was just standing there, casually blocking her attacks but launching none of his own. But that would change soon enough. Time to crank things up a notch, get an attack through, force him to counterattack or at least make him move his damn feet. She leapt forward again, slipping into a feint–rib–feint—