Ortega held up the bottle. "Life is more than mere survival. All you need is the water, after all. Why drink beer?"

"You ever tasted the water in this town?"

He almost smiled. "Touché."

I turned the plain brown bottle around in my fingers. "I don't want this," I said.

"The duel?"

I nodded.

Ortega leaned an elbow on the bar and considered me. "Neither do I. This isn't personal. It isn't something I want."

"So don't do it," I said. "We could both walk."

"And the war would go on."

"It's been going on for nearly two years," I said. "It's mostly been cat and mouse, a couple of raids, rights in back alleys. It's like the Cold War, only with fewer Republicans."

Ortega frowned, and watched Mac cleaning the grill behind the bar. "It can get worse, Mister Dresden. It can get a great deal worse. And if the conflict escalates, it will threaten the balance of power throughout the worlds of flesh and spirit alike. Imagine the destruction, the loss of life that could ensue."

"So why not contribute to the peace effort? Starting with this duel. Maybe we could get some beads and some fringe and make signs that say 'Make blood not war' or something."

This time, Ortega did smile. It was a weary expression on him. "It's too late for that," he said. "Your blood is all that will satisfy many of my peers."

"I can donate," I said. "Let's say once every two months. You provide cookies and orange juice."

Ortega leaned toward me, the smile fading. "Wizard. You murdered a noble of our Court."

I got angry. My voice gained heat. "The only reason-"

Ortega cut me off, lifting his hand. "I do not say that your reasons were not valid. But the fact of the matter is that you appeared in her home as a guest and representative of the Council. And you attacked and eventually killed both Bianca and those under her protection."

"Killing me won't bring her back," I said.

"But it will slake the thirst for vengeance that plagues many of my kinsmen. When you are no more, they will be willing to at least attempt a peaceful resolution."

"Dammit," I muttered, and fiddled with the bottle.

"Though …" Ortega murmured. His eyes became distant for a moment. "There might be another way."

"What other way?"

"Yield," Ortega said. "Yield to the duel and let me take you into custody. If you are willing to work with me, I could place you under my protection."

"Work with you," I said. My stomach flip-flopped. "You mean become like you."

"It is an alternative to death," Ortega said, his expression earnest. "My kinsmen may not like it, but they could not argue against it. For taking Bianca's life, you could replace it with your own."

"As one of you."