"Sometimes intentionally. But it is those times when it is not intentional, when it is merely a reflection of ignorance-"

"Like believing women are mostly suited for bedding?"

"That," Del confirmed. "And other things."

"Like believing a woman can't handle a sword the way a man can?"

"And other things."

"Like believing-"

"Tiger, if it has taken three years to train you out of such things, it will surely take three additional years to declare them!"

I grinned. "This seems a good place to spend three years."

She went very still. "Do you want that? To stay?"

"Don't you mean do I want to knock Herakleio out of the running and let the metri name me heir?" I scratched at the skin beneath chest hair. "It's an idea."

Del clearly did not know how to answer.

"But then there's you," I said.

"Me?"

"What do you want to do?"

"Me," she said again.

I waited.

"I don't know," she answered eventually.

"Stay?" I asked. "Go?"

"I don't know."

"But you have that choice, Del."

"Yes," she said, frowning.

"You don't have to stay if you don't want to."

"I know that."

"Which means you could go down to the dock and take ship today, if you wanted to."

"I have no coin."

"Oh, let's not be practical, " I said severely. "We're discussing the heart, here, not the head."

"We are?"

"And the heart is never practical."

"It isn't."

"The heart, in fact, is a rather perverse part of the body, when you think about it. A heart wants to do all manner of things the head doesn't want any part of."

"It does."

"My heart, just now, isn't sure what it wants. It's in conflict."

"It is?"

"In fact, it's very curious as to what your heart wants."

"My heart," she said faintly.

I very nearly laughed at the expression on her face. "Del, what do you want to do?"

"Until we know-"

"Not 'we,' " I interrupted. "You."

She was getting exasperated. "What do you want me to say?"

"No, no." I waved a finger at her. "That's not it, bascha. This is about what you want. This is not about what I want, or what I want you to say-which, for the sake of argument, is to decide for yourself."

Del's brows locked together. "Who have you been talking to?"

"Are you suggesting I can't come up with such questions on my own?"

"The captain," she said suspiciously. "You drank wine together, and discussed-me?"

"We discussed all manner of things, the captain and I. Men, women, you, me, Nihko, Herakleio." I gestured. "She mentioned you were sisters of the soul."

"In some things, yes. We believe in freedom of choice, regardless of whether we are male or female. The freedom to follow our hearts."

"Yes!" I nodded vigorously. "That's what I'm talking about. And I want to know what your choice is. What your heart wants."

Del eyed me closely. "Did Herakleio hit you in the head when I wasn't looking?"

"Can't you just answer the question?"

She opened her mouth. Shut it. Scowled at me and mutinously held her silence.

"Del," I said gently, "you're different now."

The flesh of her face startled into hardness. "What do you mean?"

"You're not the same woman I met three years ago."

"Nor are you the same man."

"But we're not talking about me."

She thought about not responding. But did it anyway. "I do feel-different. But what do you mean by it?"

"Not as driven." I raised my hand. "I don't mean you've gotten soft, bascha. The edge is there when you need it, when you summon it … I only mean that you seem less-" I hesitated, said it anyway. "-obsessed. Than you were even two months ago."

Del looked into the depths of the water. "My song is done."

So the captain had said. "All of it?"

"Oh, there is more song yet to be sung. The undiscovered song, made as we move. But-what I was, the song I sang all those years I honed my body and mind and swordskill, is finished."

"And?"

"And," she said, "I am learning what it is I am to be. Who I am to be."

"You are you, Delilah. Always."

"More," she said. "And less. Depending on the day."

"Today?"

"Today," she said tartly, "I am somewhat confused by your mood."

I grinned. Then asked, "Why is it that you can admit to Prima Rhannet how you feel and what you want, but you can't admit it to me?"

Color crept into her face. When she is angry or embarrassed, her fair skin often betrays her, despite her best efforts to lock away her feelings so no one else can read them.

Eventually Del said, "Sisters of the soul."

"Is that different from being bedmates?"

"Oh, yes," she answered at once, so easily that I knew it was the unadorned truth. "Women can-talk."

"And men and women can't? Isn't that a bit unfair, telling things to women you won't tell to men?"

"Don't men tell men things they won't tell women?"

"Almost never, bascha. But that's because men don't generally talk much to one another about anything serious."

Now she was perplexed. "Why?"

"Men just don't."

"But they could."

"Sure they could. They don't." I shrugged. "Usually."

"Sometimes?"

"Maybe a little. But not very much. Not very often."

"But-you talk to me, Tiger."

This time it was my truth, and as unadorned. "You make me want to."

Del understood that truth, the emotion that prompted it. I saw the quick-springing sheen of tears in her eyes, though they were hastily blinked away. "It should be so," she said firmly. "Between men and women. Always the truth. Always the wanting to say what is in the heart."

I stood now at the side of the pool, hands gripping the lip of stone. "Then let me tell you what's in mine."

"Wait-" she blurted, as if abruptly afraid to hear such honesty.

"I want you with me," I said simply, "wherever I go. But not if the cost is the loss of your freedom."

"Tiger-"

"Do what you wish to do. Go where you wish to go. Be what you wish to be."

"With you," she said quietly. "With you, of you. As much as I have ever wanted anything."

It was more than I expected to hear from her. Ever. It shocked me. Shook me.

"That," I said lightly, unable to show her how profound the relief, "doesn't sound very practical to me."

"Practicality has nothing to do with the heart," she countered loftily, taking up the wooden sword. Del's eyes were bright as she smacked me lightly atop the skull. "And now you will tell me what prompted such serious talk."

"Herakleio."

"Herakleio? "

"And vanity. Age." I shrugged as she rested the blade on my shoulder. "I look at him and see what I was. What I can never be again."

"Tiger, you are hardly old!"

"Older," I said. "In horse parlance, I've been ridden hard and put away wet."

Del stared searchingly at my face, into my eyes. Then in one smooth motion she flipped the wooden sword aside and stretched out upon the stone, fingers curled over the edge. I could feel her breath upon my face. "I'll ride you hard," she declared, and pulled herself off the stone into my arms.

Air-billowed linen skirts floated to the surface and proved to be no impediment.

When Herakleio came into the bathing chamber, Del-fortunately-had gone. I was out of the pool but not yet dry, dripping onto pale stone. I slicked hair back out of my eyes and over my skull, paused to note the intensity of his interest in my body. After talking with Prima Rhannet about such things, I couldn't help the question. "Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

He put his chin up, eyes glittering. "She said you have no keraka."

It took me a moment to sort out the who and the what: the metri and her examination of me the first night of my arrival. "No, no keraka. Whatever this keraka is."

"We have it, each of us." He paused pointedly. "Those who are Stessoi, and thus gods-descended. From the gods'-" he paused, translating. "-caress, bestowed upon us before birth."