Pakt left. Nolan pushed his way through the other technicians to Melina’s side. Varella was cradling the dark head against her shoulder, but Melina’s tears looked more like rage than pain.

“Let me see her,” Nolan said, and Varella pulled back. Melina lifted her head and let Nolan examine her cheek and scalp. There was a huge welt across her face and a lump under the hairline, but no blood. Nothing irreparable. “Pakt wants to know if you need a doctor.”

“I need a gun,” she said in a wild voice.

“I think you’re all right,” Nolan said, ignoring that comment. “What did he say to you? Pakt will ask.”

“Gilder trash,” Melina said viciously under her breath. Even Varella looked shocked. “I wouldn’t repeat it if it would save my grandmother from hanging.”

“Your grandmother’s dead,” Nolan said calmly. “You can say anything you like.”

Varella smothered another gasp, and Melina actually gave a weak laugh. “But I am too much of a lady.”

“What do you want me to tell Pakt?”

“I’ll tell him myself,” she said haughtily, “when he gets that gilderman out of his office.”

“Say it again,” Nolan said, “and I’ll hit you myself.”

Now Varella was affronted. “How dare you,” she said coldly. “Even to joke about violence to an indigo woman.”

But Melina was watching him with those wide, intelligent eyes. They understood each other absolutely; they always had. They came from a background so similar as to almost make them brother and sister. “No, he’s right,” she said slowly. “I am too much of a lady. Nothing excuses such language. I would not want to shame my mother.”

“Or yourself,” Nolan added. “So tell the truth, when you tell Pakt your side of the story. Colt won’t lie, you know, even if he’s the one to blame. He never lies.”

“Pakt will side with Colt no matter what he says,” Varella said.

Nolan shook his head. Melina was still watching him. “What Pakt wants is harmony,” he said. “And he’ll do what it takes to keep Colt in line. But not if this was something Melina started.”

“I didn’t—”

“Well, one of you said something.”

Melina lifted her chin. “He insulted me. And Julitta.”

Ah, the cultural gulf again. Not much Pakt could do to solve that. “What did you say about Julitta?” Nolan wanted to know, but he guessed the answer before she spoke.

Melina twirled the end of a new silver chain, showing off the pendant at the end. A stylized arrangement of color and pattern; it must be Julitta’s family heraldry. “I showed him my necklace. How was I supposed to know—”

Nolan held up both hands for silence, for peace. “Tell it to Pakt,” he said. “But I think he’ll say you should have known.”