The great throne was occupied, now. The Queen sat on it. Soldiers in baggy trousers, wearing slippers and carrying flintlock guns, regarded Tony with the affection of men who have expected to fight a losing battle against the djinns, and now find that they can stay comfortably at home with their families. The courtiers of Barkut regarded him with no less approval. The Queen sat composed and non-committal on her throne.
“Majesty,” said the Queen sedately, as Tony came to a stop before her, “we wish to offer you the thanks of the humans of Barkut for our liberation, and for the liberation of the nation from the fear of the djinns. We wish to express our admiration and our affection. We wish to ask if there is anything which it is in our power to do, which will add to your satisfaction or happiness.”
Tony looked uneasily around. He did not see Ghail.
“I told you today, in the letter,” he said awkwardly, “that if by any means I could secure the freedom of the slave girl Ghail, that I would wish to do that. If you will make her no longer a slave—”
The Queen nodded toward a side door. It opened. Two male slaves escorted Ghail to the dais before the throne. She was very pale. The Queen addressed her gently:
“His Majesty the King of the Djinns has asked your freedom as the price of his aid to us. He desires also to marry you.”
Ghail’s lips moved a little, but she did not look at Tony.
“Majesty,” said the Queen, to him, “we can refuse you nothing. I make the slave girl Ghail free on one condition. If she does not marry you, she becomes again a slave. You would not impose that condition, but we can do no less!”
“But dammit—” began Tony indignantly.
“I—I can have no choice,” said Ghail almost inaudibly. “I—I will marry him.”