“But what spells, what rites could you use…?”
Jafar leaned forward and gave the wizard his sternest stare. “You and I, O Akar, are not in the business of divulging our formulas to colleagues and possible competitors, are we? We acquire secrets, we don’t tell them.”
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 m
