The Oracle Year(110)

T?r?kul stared fiercely at Will.

“The imams teach that you are no true prophet. It is one of the few points upon which all sects of Islam agree. They say that you lie with every word, that you are the devil’s child, casting evil words into the hearts and minds of men.

“So,” he said. “Lie to me.”

T?r?kul spat, the impact on the ground clearly audible.

“I will listen, and when I refuse you, these soldiers will kill me. That is apparently the will of God, and what choice do I have but to accept it?”

“The will of God,” Will repeated. “I know more than I want to about the will of God.”

Will stopped thinking. Nothing he could say would make things worse. He just spoke.

“I have nothing to do with the devil, T?r?kul,” Will said. “I’m just a man. But I am a man who can see the future, and the things I see happen.

“The biys will be twenty-three to twelve in favor of returning your mosque to you and your people. I don’t know when the council will come back. I don’t know if they will meet your deadline. I only know the results. Twenty-three to twelve in your favor.”

Will leaned forward, doing his best to look directly into the other man’s eyes.

“I am asking you to wait. If you launch your missile, the entire world will burn. You have to know this. But wait until the biys return, and you will get what you want. You have my word.”

Will waited while the translation filtered through to T?r?kul and watched the man’s expression harden.

“So. You want a favor,” T?r?kul said. “Interesting.”

He looked away, out of frame. A long, long pause.

Will gripped the armrest of his seat.

T?r?kul looked back at the screen, back at the Oracle.

“You do not understand the reason I fight. You do not know anything about me. You just want me to do something for you. To keep you safe, in your soft homes in your soft land across the sea.”

T?r?kul took a step forward, toward the screen. His face was twisted in a snarl.

“Fuck you, Oracle. I do not care if you are safe. I do not care if your children are safe. They mean nothing to me. Everything that matters to me and my people is here, and here is where I must act.

“And, so, as I promised, I refuse your request. You have only two choices, false prophet. Kill me now, and the Sword of God flies within the hour. Your world will burn, and I will laugh at you from hell.

“Or, release me, and gamble that I will not launch my weapon just because you have offended me. It is your choice, but I am done with waiting. I have power, and I must use it to help my people.”

T?r?kul crossed his arms and, unbelievably, smiled.

Will stared at him in silence and tried to figure out what the fuck he had been thinking when he assumed a twentysomething white American guy would be able to convince a Central Asian warlord with a nuclear missile pointed at a city to do anything at all. T?r?kul was never going to listen to him, would never believe a word he said. It had been so goddamn arrogant to think that the Oracle could say a few words and boom, happy ending. The Site had been taking care of him for so long—keeping him alive, protecting him from presidents and lunatics in Laundromats and assassin grandmothers—that he just hadn’t really even considered that this might not work.

But it hadn’t—of course it hadn’t. Arrogant.

Why had the Site spent so much time and effort, burned through so many lives, just to bring the world to the brink?

Either the Site wanted chaos, or it didn’t. If it didn’t, then there had to be an answer. There had to be a way to balance the scales.

And with that thought, Will understood. At last, the pattern became clear.

Yes, the Site had done everything it possibly could to bring fear and misery into the world. It killed people, it made them afraid, it took away things they loved, it made them wonder if the future would even arrive at all.

But that was not all it had done.

The Site had created balance. It had created a roiling, spinning engine of chaos and doom, but it had also created a person with the power to stop it.

Love him, hate him, fear him. It didn’t matter. Will Dando, the Oracle, was the most powerful person in the world, and it was time to stop fighting the future.

“Leuchten,” Will said.

Tony Leuchten stepped into the circle of light. He didn’t say anything, but his body language communicated immense fury—he was almost quivering.

“Look at T?r?kul,” Will told Leuchten.

Tony inclined his head and narrowed his eyes, but he did what he was told.

“T?r?kul,” Will said. “You know who this man is?”

T?r?kul nodded.

“He is your president’s”—the translator hesitated for a moment—“special friend,” the soldier finished, obviously choosing a diplomatic way to express the term T?r?kul had actually used.

Will saw Leuchten’s hands clench.

“He is the chief adviser to the leader of America,” Will said. “He speaks for the president. He is an extraordinarily powerful man.”

T?r?kul nodded.

“Yes, I know this. So he told me. This is why he was sent to treat with me.”

“Here, T?r?kul,” Will said, “a gift.”

Will took a breath, held it, let it go.

“Captain, stop translating,” Will said.