Jafar could see that his shots had hit home, and for the first time in many tense minutes he allowed himself the luxury of a small smile. He had managed to plant a seed of doubt, one of the world’s quickest-growing crops. All he had to do now was tend it, nurture it, and then—with Oromasd’s blessing—reap its harvest.
“Assuming, just for the moment, that such a thing were possible,” Akar said, his voice more even and thoughtful now, “what good would the urn be to someone who didn’t have the abilities to use it properly?”
“I might as well ask what use is the knowledge of names to a blind man,” Jafar countered. “A talent lost can later be regained, just as people who confess their sins and are absolved can go out and sin all over again. It’s a lucky thing for us Oromasd is infinitely mercif
