I looked at him hard, not wanting to have to spell out for him what slavery would be like for someone who looked like him. “If I have to come and rescue you from the King of Persia’s zoo before anyone has a chance to try and make you breed with another giraffe,” I whispered back, very fast so that any of the Pylos people who heard me would struggle to follow in Theban dialect, “you will never live it down. I will follow you around, reminding you about it, even if I have to ride after you as you gallop free across the fucking savannah.”
