Akar knew he had other methods at his disposal. He could resort to torture or place Jafar under a truth spell, or any of a dozen other possibilities. But the matching of wits with this roguish upstart intrigued him. Could he, by guile alone, pierce the armor of words and learn Jafar’s secrets?
Of course, time was of some importance, too. If Jafar al-Sharif did not have the urn, that meant someone else did, and it would only be a matter of time before he opened it. If Akar had not found the truth within the next day or two he would have to resort to more painful methods of extracting it. That would be a failure of sorts, he knew, but retrieving the urn would more than make up for his injured pride. And by that time, Jafar and his daughter would be beyond anything’s making up for what would
