Prince of Lies - James Lowder [23]
As Torm spoke, Mystra found herself wondering exactly how the God of Duty saw the pavilion. Breaking into the demipower's thoughts proved much easier than the Goddess of Magic expected. His mind was a simple and orderly fortress of purest white stone, built around a vast temple to duty and honor. Armored knights stood silent vigil upon the walls. Whether they didn't sense Mystra's presence or dismissed her as an ally was unclear, but they let her pass through the gates unchallenged. Once inside, she could look out through Torm's eyes.
To the God of Duty, the Pavilion of Cynosure appeared as a pillared extension of his own castle. Marble columns lined the hall, with thrones at the foot of each. In these rested the gods, huge armored warriors with shields bearing their holy symbols. Some, like Tyr, wore bright plate mail, magnificent and glittering. The less the god supported law, the dimmer the gloss on his armor, the shabbier his cloak and boots and gloves.
Torm kneeled in the center of this impressive gathering. His plate mail shone less brightly than Tyr's, but it was much more ornate and weighted with badges of honor. Mystra was awed by the overwhelming sense of duty that pressed down on the demipower. And as the goddess looked closer, she saw thin chains of shimmering gold linking the God of Duty to each of his fellow deities. Some chains were thicker than others, but these links of obligation extended from Torm's hands to every other god in the pavilion.
"What says the Goddess of Magic to Torm's proposal?"
The words registered in another part of Mystra's mind, a section she had left focused on the demipower's speech. Like all the other deities, Mystra possessed an intellect capable of performing a hundred different tasks simultaneously. While a small part of her mind had explored Torm's perspective, another facet listened intently for the prayers of her faithful. Others kept vigil over the magical weave surrounding Faerun, or monitored the progress of Cyric's book, or catalogued each new spell and enchantment created in the world. The most important of these facets, the nexus of her being, controlled the various lesser incarnations, creating or destroying them as necessary.
Now the Goddess of Magic abandoned Torm's perspective and focused more fully on the Circle. Tyr had once again taken the podium. His blind eyes were directed at her. "Do you think we can force Cyric to free this Gwydion fellow and the other souls wrongly imprisoned in the Wall of the Faithless?"
"Possibly," Mystra said.
Torm stepped forward again, blustering happily, "Of course, this great wrong can be righted! The laws established in the Realm of the Dead for the treatment of the Faithless-"
"Were ratified by the Circle of Greater Powers when Myrkul reigned in the City ofStrife," Oghma noted coldly. "Cyric has always claimed himself free of laws established by the trio of powers he replaced."
"Besides, the whole point of forcing Cyric to do anything in his realm is moot," Lathander added glumly. He stood and straightened his robes. "We have no power in the City ofStrife. We can't even enter it unless we're invited. And the Wall of the Faithless is clearly within the boundaries of Cyric's kingdom." He sighed. "Do you think logic or reason will persuade him to free those souls, with no threat of force behind it? I'm not one to abandon hope, but even I see this as futile."
Mystra shook her head in disbelief. "If we band together, we can show Cyric our displeasure. If we're silent, we're tacitly consenting."
She stalked toward the podium. Both Torm and Tyr gave her a wide berth. "When Cyric started work on his infernal book," Mystra began, "I denied him the use of magic to create it on his own. Oghma denied him the services of the eternal scribes to complete it in the heavens. This left him to call upon his worshipers to create the Cyrinishad. These sanctions worked, did they not? The book remains but a dark grail for him."
"I would not discount the possibility of one of his mundane servants writing the tome he desires," Oghma warned. "As