Prince of Lies - James Lowder [58]
And in the midst of this ordered chaos stood the house and the lands of Oghma, Patron of Bards, God of Knowledge. As Mystra appeared before the open gates of the vast estate, she noted with little surprise that the place had taken on yet another facade she had never before seen.
The House of Knowledge resembled a palace from the desert lands of Zakhara. A high fence wrought of thin iron strands surrounded the estate. The bands curved and twisted in gorgeously intricate patterns, seemingly flimsy, but unbreakable by even the most mighty of giants. Beyond the open gates stretched a long, azure pool, filled by fountains that drew their water from the cool, peaceful flow of the River Oceanus. The water reflected the columned portico of Oghma's palatial home, its high, slender minarets and squatting, mushroom-shaped domes.
Mystra hurried through the courtyard, past clusters of scholars who debated the finer points of one obscure theory or another. Nearby, brightly clad bards competed for the attention of passersby. The visitors to the House of Knowledge gave way before the goddess, sensing the urgency of her mission. An angel of the dwarven god Berronar bowed to the Lady of Mysteries, his alabaster beard flowing to the ground, and his short, iron wings parting gracefully over his stocky shoulders. At the venerable dwarven spirit's side, a tanar'ri lord nodded gruffly. The Abyss-spawn had the body and wings of a huge fly, with vaguely elven features and a pair of human hands. In one of those hands it gripped a roll of parchment detailing the past battle plans of a rival warlord.
The doors to Oghma's palace were, as always, unguarded. The goddess rushed into the cavernous entry hall, beneath a vaulted ceiling inscribed with an unending roll of the faithful residing in the palace. Two sets of stairs wound away to the right and left. They led to the chambers reserved for the shades of Oghma's blessed scholars and bards.
"The alignment of the stars must be fortunate indeed to bring you to my home," Oghma announced, his melodious voice filling the hall.
The God of Knowledge stood framed by the ornate arch that opened from the entry hall into his library-throne room. His clothes matched the exotic facade on his palace – a flowing caftan, cinched at the waist with a sash of purest sky-blue silk; slippers with curling, pointed toes; and a sultan's turban, pinned with a sapphire the size of a dwarf's fist. A parchment page wrought of moonlight glowed in his left hand.
"This isn't a social call," Mystra replied without prelude. "The faithful of all the gods are in peril."
Oghma's broad, welcoming smile drooped into a frown. "You've been wounded," he said, gesturing with a ring-heavy finger to the glittering slashes on Mystra's hands and shoulders. "Cyric?"
"Yes, but don't worry. These are nothing that a few moments of meditation won't heal." She took the Binder's arm. "We need to mobilize, and quickly. I left the bastard in Pandemonium, at the wall to Kezef's prison."
"Then he truly is mad," came a smooth whisper.
Mystra turned to find Mask standing at her shoulder. The Patron of Thieves was wrapped in a cloak of shadows, his face hidden by a loose-fitting black mask. "I have heard rumors of a battle in Pandemonium near Kezef's prison. I'd hoped they were untrue." His red eyes narrowed as he bowed perfunctorily. "I have waited for a chance to undo the aid I once provided the Prince of Lies. Perhaps now I shall be of service to the rest of the pantheon…"
"I'm sure you're anxious to help," Mystra replied stiffly. "I'll mention that to the rest of the Circle."
Mask bowed again. "As you wish. But do not forget the Chaos Hound will devour the honored thieves in the darkened alleys of my domain as well as the sages in your weave-wrought castle of magic. I'm certain