I smiled. "Depends on the audience, I guess. Hmm—what about 'The Tiger's Tale'?" "Or The Tiger's Tail'?" I stuck my tongue out at her. "If you're asleep when the food and drink arrives, do you want me to wake you up?"

"I'm not going to sleep. I'm resting my eyes."

"Do you want me to wake you up from resting your eyes?"

"Sure," I mumbled, "a man's got to keep up his strength to satisfy his woman." And slid into the abyss before she could respond.

Del did indeed wake me up when the food and drink arrived. She slapped a cupped hand across my abdomen, making odd, hollowed, clapping sounds against my skin. Not entirely the most subtle way to awaken a sleeper.

"Up," she said. "Food's here."

I scrunched up against the wall at the head of the bed, inspecting the skin of my abdomen. Then I helped myself to the platter bearing bread-bowls of mutton stew, cheese, grapes, and a small jug of what turned out to be ale.

"Tiger, we need a door on this room."

I slugged down about half the ale, then licked the foam from my upper lip. "We have a door."

"That's a doorway . I mean a door. I'd like some privacy, if we're to stay here now and again."

"There's a curtain."

"I would like a wooden door. With a latch."

I plucked grapes from their stems with my teeth and spoke around them. "Why so formal?"

"Because unless you don't mind everyone else knowing our business, with all manner of false conclusions drawn about the fair-haired Northern bascha—for example, how much does Fouad charge for me?—I think we need a door. A wooden door. With a latch."

"You have a point." I dropped the denuded grape stems back on the platter. "I'll have a word with Fouad. Anything else you'd like, while we're at it?"

"Well, I'd recommend he dismiss all the wine-girls who double as whores, but I'm quite sure he would not agree to that."

"I think that's a safe conclusion. We'd probably lose all kinds of business and thus all kinds of profit. We'd have to close down."

"The gods forfend," Del said dryly, reaching for the other jug; water, no doubt.

I paused before putting a chunk of cheese in my mouth. "You don't sound particularly enamored of being a partner in a thriving cantina. Just think of the benefits!"

"What benefits? Other than free drinks for you?"

"We'll be the first to hear all rumors and reports of whatever may be going on in the world. At least, our little corner of it."

"That's a benefit?"

"It is when you know anywhere from ten to twenty men are bent on executing you."

"And you'll run back here to hide any time one of them comes into the cantina?"

"Oh, no. We'll clear all the furniture out of the common room, cut a circle into the hardpack, then charge admission for the dance. Plus take a percentage of the side bets." I grinned wickedly. "Rather like we used to do, when we needed money."

Del used her knife to carve curling strips of cheese from the hunk Fouad had sent along. "Those were not actual dances."

"Which means we can charge even more money for a real one."

Her eyes were on the cheese, but her idle tone was nonetheless underscored by solemnity. "What will it take to make them stop?"

"Once I kill enough of them, the rest will find other things to do."

"I'm serious, Tiger."

"So am I. It's true. I killed Khashi quickly and brutally in front of many witnesses. Then I won a difficult sword-dance against a very, very good young man, in front of a whole slug of sword-dancers. Once I kill a few more, most of them will stop coming."

"And will it be like Fouad suggested, that they'll want to stop you from resurrecting Alimat?"

"Very likely." I took up horn spoon and bread-bowl of stew and began scooping the contents into my mouth. Seeing Del's concern, I paused between bites. "I have to see it settled, bascha. We can't go North, and I have no desire to return to Skandi, where I'd likely be hauled off to ioSkandi again and stuck back atop the spires in Meteiera. I also have no desire to go haring off to foreign lands. The South, despite all its problems, is my home. Coming back made me realize that. I won't run away again."

She nodded, clearly troubled. "I know."

I sighed, set down the bowl and spoon. "Del, something happened to me. I became aware of it when I was Umir's 'guest.' I don't know how it happened, and I can't even be sure it will happen again, but when I danced, when I took up my sword—I felt as if I had all four fingers on each hand."

Blue eyes widened.

"I know it sounds impossible. But it's true. I mean, I know the fingers are gone—hoolies, I saw Sahdri throw them off the spire!—but when I dance, it feels as if I still have them."

Del was staring at my hands. One thumb, three fingers on each.

"I don't know, maybe I'm just imagining them there. But when I danced against Musa, I could have sworn I had all my fingers again."

She met my eyes. "Is it possible that it's—"

"—wishful thinking? Sure. And it could be. But it might also be something in me now, something that's a part of the magic. I conjured a living sandtiger out of carved bone once. Who's to say I can't conjure two fingers when I need them?"

"Does it—does it feel the same?"

"Not exactly. And when I look at them, I see the stumps, not the fingers. But when I take up the sword, I feel whole again. That my hands are whole again." I hitched one shoulder in a half-shrug. "I'm not saying I can't be defeated or that no one could use it against me. My grip is different. I'm not the same as I was before. Anyone looking at my hands would see only three fingers. But if I can dance as though I have four on each hand—"

"But you don't." Gently insistent, afraid I'd become complacent in something that didn't truly exist.

I heaved a sigh, ran one hand through my hair, scrubbing against my tattooed scalp. "I've heard men who've lost a limb talk about ghost pain. That they feel as if the missing limb is still attached, still functional. Maybe that's all it is. I sense the ghosts of my fingers somehow, and it helps." I tapped. "Up here, in my head."

Del nodded. "And if the ghosts ever go away?"

I laughed a little. "Bascha, I'm forty years old. I don't have many more good years left to me as a sword-dancer; and I'm not a sword-dancer, according to the oaths of Alimat. But I think I can teach."

The smile broke free from the tension in her face. "I still can't believe it. The Sandtiger, opening a school. . . and teaching!"

"Oh? What about you? You seem willing enough to stick in one place and take on students. Is that what you envisioned for yourself when you left Staal-Ysta?"

"I envisioned killing Ajani. Beyond that—?" She shook her head. "Nothing. My song ended that day in Iskandar. The South is not my home, but I can't go to the North. And it doesn't matter. I chose to be with you. If you want to restore Alimat and reopen a school, then I will be a part of it."

I was only half-joking. "Until Neesha steals you away from me."

Nothing in Del's expression suggested there was anything that supported what I'd suggested, even in the back of her mind. "Well, then we have a few weeks, at least."

Relief. I grinned, handed her the other bread-bowl, stuck the second horn spoon into it so it stood up in the center. "Here. Just don't eat up all our profits."