Prince of Lies - James Lowder [59]
Oghma dropped his hand onto Mask's shoulder. "Mystra is correct. This is a matter for the Circle." The God of Knowledge held out the glowing parchment. "Here is the information you requested. My payment shall be your silence about the Chaos Hound until the Circle has had a chance to discuss the matter."
"Wait," Mystra said. "The intermediate and lesser powers should be warned so they can set guards along their borders."
"In time, Lady," Oghma replied. "We'll only panic them if we don't offer a plan of attack along with the warning." He turned to the Lord of Shadows. "If you require such arcane texts in the future, Mask, I would appreciate the offer of some lost lore of equal obscurity in return. I'm sure your groundlings occasionally uncover useful tomes when rooting for coins in long-forgotten tombs."
"You're right. Thievery is no honest labor, not compared to copying the words of others in some dank monastery," Mask said, his normally smooth voice thick with disdain. He took the parchment in his gloved hands and disappeared into the shadows of the arch.
Mystra scowled in consternation. "You were telling the truth back in the Pavilion of Cynosure. You aren't a flatterer. Why insult him so? The Circle will need his help against Cyric and Kezef."
"My house is open to all," Oghma replied blandly, "but by his nature Mask seeks to obscure, to cloak minds in the shadows of ignorance. There has never been true peace between us." He dismissed the matter with practiced casualness. "Now, what's this about Kezef?"
As she passed under the arch into Oghma's throne room, Mystra explained what had transpired in Pandemonium. The library at the heart of the House of Knowledge was infinite, with shelves rising as high as anyone – mortal or immortal-could see. The Binder's faithful spent millennia cataloguing every bit of information they had learned in life. Others kept careful track of the library's ever-growing hoard of knowledge. The shades of bards and writers studied these volumes of obscure lore and distilled the facts into brilliant tales and songs, as captivating as they were enlightening.
In keeping with the palace's Zakharan facade, the library was decked out in exotic finery. Shades soared from shelf to shelf on flying carpets, huge stacks of books balanced precariously in their arms. Readers stretched out in luxurious piles of pillows. Small air sprites known as djinnlings whisked between patrons. The blue-tinged elementals fulfilled every whim of the scholars crowded there, scribing notes, fetching food and drink, or seeking out myriad priceless tomes.
"You were wise to flee," Oghma noted. He slid into the ornate, high-backed throne then shifted uncomfortably. "I do hope these furnishings change soon. The setting's far too gaudy for my tastes. Too many distractions to lure my faithful away from their work…"
Mystra waved away a genie bearing a decanter of ambrosia. "The rest of the Circle is discussing the matter with me now," she said, then traced an enigmatic sign in the air. Invisible wards sprang up around the two gods, shielding them from prying ears or scrying magic. "I would like to tell them you are ready to strike against Cyric as soon as we've recaptured the Chaos Hound."
"I will provide all the information I can on Kezef," the Binder said. "And if the rest of the pantheon will give me certain bits of knowledge I seek, I will be glad to act alongside them in capturing the beast."
Mystra sighed. "Yes, I expected as much. The rest are asking for concessions, too. I suppose we can work something out."
"By rights, we cannot imprison the Hound until he has struck against one of the gods' faithful. Even when that has happened, don't count on a treaty too quickly," Oghma warned. "When we last hunted Kezef, it took us nearly a year of mortal time to hammer out the pact. Talos is always the problem. He gets fixated on blowing up the moon, and, well, you've been to enough councils to know how he gets…"
Though she was fighting