She wasn’t pleased. “And I will ask it again. Again and again, if need be. I must regain my focus.”
“If you mean to strip all the humanity away just to make yourself capable of killing Ajani, maybe it’s not worth it.”
Blue eyes flickered minutely. The mouth went hard and flat. “I have sworn oaths.”
I sighed. “All right. I give up. Do what you have to do.” I eyed her askance, assessing her commitment. “But if distance is what you want, don’t play games with me. I hate women who play games.”
“I never play games.”
She never had; that was true. It didn’t mean she couldn’t.
I shoved the jug across the table. “Drink.”
Del appropriated my cup. “Do you really have a son?”
“I told you before, bascha: not as far as I know.”
“Yes, I remember … it’s not something you think about.”
“And I don’t plan to talk about it—at least, not with you.” I recaptured the jug and drank straight out of it, gulping aqivi down.
Del sipped her share. “But you could,” she observed.
I scowled. “I could, yes. I could have several sons. I could have many sons; why? Do you want to go find them all?”
“No. But they—or even just he—might want to find you.” She glanced across at Kima, now sitting on another man’s knee. “He obviously knows who you are, if he’s bragging about you in cantinas.”
I thought about it. Maybe if I had a famous father I’d brag about him, too—but I wasn’t so sure I liked being the subject. It’s one thing to be bragged about; it’s another thing having a total stranger claim himself close kin. The closest of kin.
Del sipped delicately. “The innkeeper asked a fortune. When I threatened to take our business elsewhere, he gave me leave to go, saying the inn was nearly full, and it was the same all over Harquhal because of the Oracle. That everyone’s coming here.”
Still thinking of my “son,” I shifted attention with effort. “What?”
“The Oracle,” she repeated. “Do you recall what the holy man in Ysaa-den foretold?”
“Oh. That.” I waved a dismissive hand. “There’s no reason for us—or anyone else—to go to Iskandar. Oracle or no.”
Del studied her cup. “People are going,” she said.
“I thought you just said people are coming here.”
“First,” she agreed. “Do you know where Iskandar is?”
“Someplace off over there.” I waved my hand again: northeasterly.
“A little more that way.” Del mimicked my gesture, but indicated a slight shift in direction to north-northeast. “The innkeeper said Harquhal is the last true settlement before Iskandar, so people are stopping here to buy supplies.”
“Iskandar is a ruin.”
“That’s why they’re buying supplies.”
I upended the jug and drank more aqivi. Then thumped the jug back down. “And I suppose this chatty innkeeper believes in this Oracle. Believes in this messiah.”
Del shrugged. “I don’t know what he believes. I know only what he told me, which is that people are going to Iskandar.”
I couldn’t hide my disgust. “Because the jhihadi is coming again.”
She turned her cup in circles, watching her fingers move. “People need things, Tiger. For some it is religion, for others it is the dreams born of huva weed. I say nothing about what is good and bad, or right and wrong—only that people need in order to survive.” Her voice was very quiet. “For me, after Ajani’s attack, I needed revenge. That need helped me to live.” Now her gaze left the cup and came up to meet my own. “You have needed, too. It’s how you survived your enslavement. It’s how you survived Aladar’s mine.”
I didn’t answer for a long moment. And then when I did, I said nothing about myself or the months spent in the mine. “So, you’re saying that people need this Oracle to be right. Because they need a jhihadi.”
Del lifted a shoulder. “A messiah is a very special kind of sorcerer, is he not? Can he not do magical things? Can he not heal the sick and cure the lame and make rain to replenish a land sucked dry by years of drought?”
I grunted. “Is that what he’s supposed to do?”
Del shifted on her stool. “When I walked to the inn, I heard talk on the street of the Oracle. When I came back the same way, I heard talk of the jhihadi.” She shrugged. “The Oracle has foretold the coming of a man who can change sand to grass.”
“Sand to grass? Sand to grass?” I frowned. “What for, bascha?”