I scoffed. "I am no more your grandson than you are gods-descended."

Her eyes gleamed. "Truth means nothing," she said. "Perception is all."

"And since you are accepted as gods-descended …"

"If you would be accepted as my heir," she said quietly, "you might consider behaving as one worthy of the place. I have requested you teach Herakleio the responsibilities of a man, not to encourage him to behave as a boy by behaving as one yourself."

"For what it's worth," I declared, "I didn't start the fight."

"Perhaps not. But neither did you end it."

No. That had been Del.

"Maybe you should hire her, " I muttered between my teeth.

For the first time since I'd met her, the metri laughed. "But I have. Should you not go meet her now? She is waiting in the circle."

I found Del on the terrace where I'd begun teaching Herakleio. As requested of Simonides, the stones were swept and scrubbed clean. My bare feet, trained to such things, appreciated the surface. I was callused from years of dancing on all sorts of footing, but nonetheless my body responded. It felt right.

She sat upon the low wall encircling the terrace. Wind rippled linen, set hair to streaming. Her face was bared, unobscured by stray locks or scowls, or even the mask she wears when uncertain of surroundings; she was at ease, and her expression reflected it. She was lovely in the sunlight, laughing at something her companion was saying.

He, unlike me, had taken time to set himself to rights. Freshly bathed, clothed, shaved, and showing few signs of the fight the night before, save for one modest bruise beginning to darken a cheekbone and a slightly swollen lip.

Hoolies, maybe I should have taken the time to clean myself up. "Excuse-"

But Herakleio was up and taking his leave of Del before I could finish the sentence, thereby depriving me of the opportunity to send him on his way. I stared after him sourly as he strode smoothly away. Then recalled why I was here, and why Del was here.

I rounded on her. "What in hoolies do you mean by hiring on with the metri?"

"Work," she replied matter-of-factly, unperturbed by my thunderous expression. But then, she's seen it before.

"But a sword-dance? With me?" I paused. "Against me? Why? Why would you? What do you hope to gain, Del-some bizarre form of reparation for something I've done that I've forgotten I've done? Or something you expect me to do, today or ten years from now?" I glared down at her, locking fists onto my hips. "If you think for one moment I intend to step into a circle with you, you've gone loki. You know I won't. You know why. You know why I can't. I refuse. I told the metri I refuse. You knew I'd refuse; so, what?-is this a plot hatched by you and the metri, women both, to manipulate me into staying here longer? Some kind of wager? An idle whim? A trick to make me step into a circle with you?" I sucked in a noisy breath. "Just what is it you hope to gain?"

"Swords," she replied.

"Of course, swords," I said testily. "That's why it's called a sword-dance. Swords are required. It's not a knife-dance, or a just-dance, now, is it? It's a sword-dance. Which I've vowed never to undertake against you. Again. Ever."

"Well," she said musingly, "I thought this might be the easiest way to get swords. On an island where there don't appear to be any."

"Which makes a whole lot of sense! It's a little difficult to undertake a sword-dance when there are no swords."

"Exactly," Del said.

"Then we can't dance."

"That's true."

"Which means nothing can be settled."

"That's also true."

"So why did you accept when the metri offered the dance?"

"She didn't offer the dance. I suggested it to her as a means of settling the question of extended service."

"You suggested it? Why?"

Del smiled a little. "Swords."

"Yes, but we don't have any…" And then I ran out of fuel altogether. My face got warm all at once and, I didn't doubt, red as a Southron sunset. I said something self-castigatory in succinct and vulgar Desert, the tongue of my youth, and plopped myself down on the wall. After a moment I cleared my throat. "Was there any particular reason you allowed me to make such a fool of myself?"

"You were having such a grand time getting all hot and bothered that I didn't dare stop you." She paused. "Besides, you do it so well."

"And did you find it amusing?"

Del grinned. "Yes."

I sighed, shuffled callused feet against grit-free stone. "So."

"So."

"So the metri will find us swords."

"So the metri will."

"Thereby saving us coin we don't have."

"And time, and effort."

I squinted into the morning sun. "I knew there was a reason for keeping you around."

Del made an exceptionally noncommittal noise.

"So," I said again, "now that we've figured out how we're to get ourselves swords-" As expected, she cast me a pointed sidelong glance. "-there's something else we have to do."

"What is that?"

I caught her hand, pulled her up from the wall. "Go see a man about a horse. Or, in this case, a woman about a ship."

"Why?"

"To test a theory."

"What theory?"

"The one that says the metri can't sink every ship." I tugged. "Come on."

Del resisted. "What are you talking about? Why would she sink every ship? Why would she sink any ship?"

"It's a figure of speech," I said. "Will you come?"

"I've already been aboard one ship that sank out from under me," Del said darkly, arm tensed against my grasp. "I'm not interested in repeating the experience."

"Our ship is fine. It's Herakleio's that's sinking. Bascha-will you come on? "

Reluctantly she allowed me to pull her up and toward the nearest narrow stairway leading into the house. "Tiger, whenever you get cryptic, it means there's trouble on the horizon."

"Not this time. I just want to see if there's a ship on the horizon."

"And if there is?"

"See what it would cost to sail on it."

"Last time it cost us everything we had."

"She owes me," I explained, "for that and other things. It's her fault I'm in this mess."

"That won't convince her to do anything."

"Oh, I'll think of something."

Whatever Del said by way of observation was declared in idiomatic Northern, and I didn't understand a word. Which was probably for the best, being as how the bascha has as great a gift for malediction and vilification as I do.

TWENTY-TWO

WHEN IT became clear Prima Rhannet was not in the household, I dug up Simonides and asked where she was. He responded by asking what I wanted her for; possibly he could help me instead.

Since I knew very well he could not and would not give me any kind of answer that might permit Del and me to hire the renegada captain to sail us away from Skandi-and by default away from the metri and her spoiled godling-I simply said I needed to ask Prima Rhannet a question.

Whereupon Simonides, with unctuous courtesy, said perhaps I might ask him the question, as perhaps he might know the answer.

Impasse. We exchanged a long, speaking look, measuring one another's determination not to say what each of us wanted to say, and our respective experiences with outwaiting others in identical situations. Whereupon Del sighed dramatically and inquired as to how old we were to be before the verbal dance was settled. Which reminded me all over again that the metri expected Del and me to dance with swords to settle the question of my "term of service," which in turn made me anxious to be going.

"Never mind," I said. "We can walk."

Simonides' expression transformed itself from confident servitude to startiement, followed rapidly by mounting alarm. "Walk?"

"One step after another all strung together until you get somewhere else," I clarified. Then added, "Somewhere you want to be."