'Fouad's a friend.'
'A friend who betrayed you.'
'At Sabra's insistence.' I felt the joints of my spine stretch and pop. 'She was a little hard to turn down when she got a bug up her butt. Hoolies, even I was going to do what she wanted.' Die in the circle, facing Abbu Bensir.
'But you had a choice.'
I clasped hands behind my head and pushed it forward against resistance. 'Sure I did. I forswore all my oaths as a seventh-level sword-dancer. I don't think cantina keepers have any oaths. Though I suppose there could be some secret society dedicated to all the arcane secrets of selling liquor and hiring wine-girls.'
Del had been leaning on one elbow. Now she shoved herself upright. 'Speaking of wine-girls, you made reference to me—'
I cut her off before we could take that route. 'Certainly not.'
'Certainly, yes,' she said dryly. 'You also mentioned something about Fouad selling wine-girls to sword- dancers.'
'Well, I suppose 'rented' would be a more accurate term.'
'And I assume you 'rented' your share?'
'Nah,' I replied off-handedly. 'None of them ever charged me.'
After a moment of stunned silence, Del said something highly explicit in uplander.
I changed the subject hastily. 'Do you really want to kill Fouad?'
'No. But I do want to know why you've encumbered us with a two-thirds ownership of a cantina.' She paused, considering. 'Unless you figure it entitles you to free aqivi.'
'Well, it does. Might save me a little money.' I shrugged prodigiously, repeatedly, loosening the muscles running from neck to shoulders. 'It's not an encumbrance, bascha. All we have to do is drop in four times a year and pick up our share of the profits.'
Fortunately Fouad had been prevailed upon to give us an advance, since, having arranged for horse boarding, human lodging, and some food, we now needed money to pay for it all.
'But why, Tiger? You've never indicated any interest in owning property before. A cantina?'
'I like cantinas.'
'Well, yes; you spend enough time in them . . . but why own one?'
'I told you. Financial security.' I stopped loosening up and faced her. 'I doubt I'll be taking on any jobs as a sword-dancer any time soon. I'm kind of proscribed from that.'
Del was perplexed. 'You told me you wanted to rebuild your shodo's place. Alimat. And take on students.'
'I do. But that presupposes there will be students to teach and that they'll have money to pay me. We need to buy things, bascha. Fouad's cantina will at least cover expenses.' I gave her a quizzical look. 'Isn't that the responsible thing to do?'
'Of course it's the responsible thing to do,' she agreed. 'It's just very unlike you to be responsible.'
I scowled. 'Short of killing him, and he wouldn't be around to suffer or feel remorse if I did that, it's also about the direst punishment I could think of for Fouad. He's a pinch-coin.'
'Is there anyone else you want to punish? Are we likely to wind up owning a weaver's shop, a vegetable plot, or a flower cart?'
'I doubt it. None of those people has ever drugged my wine and set me up to be taken by a spoiled, bloodthirsty, murderous little bitch bent on seeing me killed in the circle.' I rolled my neck, feeling tension loosen. 'What color of curtains were you thinking, bascha?'
Del made a sound of derision. 'As if any cantina would boast curtains in the windows. Likely some drunkard would set them on fire the first fight he got into. And we, now partners with your faithful friend Fouad, would have to bear two-thirds of the cost of damages.'
I hadn't thought about that.
'I knew it,' Del said in deep disgust. 'Men. All they ever think about are the profits. Not about all the work that goes into such things.'
Well, no. 'That's why we have Fouad,' I said brightly. 'He'll take care of all that.'
Del scowled. '1 still say it was foolish to go to Fouad's. Word will be out by morning, just like in Haziz.'
'It won't be Fouad who spreads it.'
'Of course it will be Fouad—'
'No.'
'Why, because you're his partner now?'
'Because we really were friends, bascha. And because he feels guilty.'
'As well he should!'
'You don't know you wouldn't have done what he did, faced with Sabra.'
After a moment, Del declared, 'I find that observation incredibly offensive.'
I grinned at her, continuing to work out the tension in my body; going to Fouad's had kept me on edge, regardless of what I admitted. 'You didn't face Sabra.' Not in the same way, at any rate. By the time Del and Sabra were in close proximity, Sabra was unconscious and tied to a saddle.
'I'd have killed her,' Del said shortly.
A sudden and very intriguing image rose before my eyes: Del and Sabra. One small and dark, one tall and fair. Two dangerous, deadly women. Except Del was far more honest when she killed: she did it herself.
'Word will get out,' I said, 'but it won't be Fouad.'
'Such a trustworthy soul,' Del said dryly.
'Let me see your wrist.'
Obligingly, Del extended an arm. I shut my hand upon the wrist and squeezed. Tightly. Very tightly.
After a moment, she asked, 'Are you purposely attempting to break my wrist?' She wiggled fingers. 'Let go, Tiger.'
Smiling, I let go.
Del sighed. 'Point taken.' 'I should hope so.'
'But it will still be different,' she cautioned. 'More difficult.' 'I agree, bascha.'
And it was very likely, I knew, I'd discover how different tomorrow. Because word was bound to get out. The Sandtiger is back. Yes. He was.
FIVE
DEL and I were only just crawling out of bed in the morning when a scratching sounded at the door. I might have said vermin, except it was too repetitive. I dragged on dhoti and unsheathed my sword even as Del hastily swirled a blanket around her nudity.
The scratching came again, coupled with a woman's soft voice asking if the sword-dancer and the Northern woman were in there. No names. Interesting.
A glance across my shoulder confirmed a well wrapped Del was prepared with sword in hand. She nodded. I unlocked the door and opened it, blade at the ready. It wasn't impossible someone might use a woman as a beard. Such things as courtesy and honorable discourse were no longer required.
The woman in the narrow corridor winced away from the glint of sharp steel. She displayed the palms of her hands in a warding gesture, displaying innocent intent. I blinked. It was Silk, the wine-girl from Fouad's cantina, swathed in robes and a head covering when ordinarily she wore very little.
'I'm alone,' she blurted. 'I swear it.'
Her nerves were strung tight as wire. I opened my mouth to ask what she was doing here when I saw her gaze go beyond me to Del. She registered that Del was nude under the thin blanket, with white-blond hair in
