“Greeting, lord,” she said in a tone which had all the earmarks of suitable slave-girl humility, but somehow was not humble at all, “there is news of great moment.”
Tony felt inclined to groan. Among other things, he foresaw that he would be in for a bad time with his conscience presently.
“What is the news?” he asked drearily.
“The King of djinns has sent an embassy,” Ghail told him. “He offers greetings to the prince beyond the farthest sea. He admires your prowess and desires to look upon the champion who defeated Es-Souk in single combat. He has punished Es-Souk for attempting to slay a human in a merely private quarrel. He offers a truce, safe conduct, and an escort of his private guard.”
Tony’s conscience said indignantly that when an important message like this was at hand, Tony should be ashamed to be looking at Ghail and mooning about how much better looking she was in less costume.
“What should I do?” asked Tony. “As I recall it, I pledged myself to destroy him, the other day. Yesterday, in fact. Do I tell him I’m in conference?”
Ghail shook her head frigidly.
“You should accept,” she told him with no cordiality at all. “If you refused, he would think you were afraid.”
“To be honest about it,” said Tony, “I am. Have you any idea how I chased that djinn away last night?”
She looked at him in amazement.