Tony had been standing. Now he sat down. He looked at Ghail. He said, changing the subject:
“What’s the matter, Ghail? You act as if I had bleeding gums or something equally repulsive. When you thought I was a djinn you didn’t act this way.”
Ghail said: “There’s nothing the matter.” Then she added pointedly, “Did you enjoy your breakfast this morning?”
“That roasted sheep wasn’t necessary,” admitted Tony. “The coffee and fruit would have been enough. Did you arrange it?”
“It was thought,” said Ghail coldly, “that since I had talked to you often I might know your likes and dislikes.”
“Hm…” said Tony. “You picked out those slaves—the two girls who were part of the present made by the Council?”
Her lips tensed. “I did. I hope they please you.”
“It evidently didn’t occur to you,” said Tony in gentle reproach, “that you could have included yourself in the gift. That is the only criticism I could offer.”
She stamped her foot.
“I am the personal property of the Queen!” she snapped. “The Queen is a prisoner of the djinn. I cannot be bought or given save of the Queen!”