Franz remained silent, uncertain what to think of this mixture of kindness and cruelty.
"Like the sailor whose name you've assumed," Franz said, changing the subject, "you pass your life traveling?"
"Yes. I made a vow long ago when I thought I'd never accomplish it." Sinbad's eyes gleamed with extraordinary ferocity. "I made others too, which I hope to fulfill in due season."
"You've suffered greatly?"
Sinbad stared at him. "What makes you think so?"
"Everything. Your voice, your look, your pallor, the life you lead."
"I live the happiest life possible, the real life of a pasha. I'm king of all creation. I'm free as a bird. My attendants obey my slightest wish. Sometimes I deliver bandits or criminals from the law's bonds. I have my own mode of justice, silent, sure, without respite or appeal. If you'd tasted my life, you'd never return to the world unless you had some great project to accomplish."
"Revenge, for instance?"
