Prince of Lies - James Lowder [60]
"Cyric is another matter completely, Lady," the Patron of Bards said, his voice a thousand mournful dirges. "You were brave to stand against him in the meeting of the Circle, but I'm afraid my opinion on that matter hasn't changed. It would be foolish for you or me to strike openly. In fact, caution will be needed now if we are to avoid a war in the heavens and catastrophe in the mortal realms."
"Caution?" Mystra scoffed. "Would you sit by, weighing your options, while Cyric looses the Chaos Hound in your courtyard? What if he were to siege this library? Would you be cautious then, Oghma?"
"There would be no question of patience then, Lady," the Binder said. The chorus of his voice had become a threatening basso rumble. "The book he is attempting to create threatens the spread of true knowledge, so I am doing what I can to thwart it. But, as yet, the Lord of the Dead has put no new plots against me into action."
Oghma conjured an image of Everard Abbey, a lonely, ramshackle retreat in the Caravan Lands. The phantasm floated in midair between the two gods.
"It would take Cyric's assassins but a few hours to ride from Iriaebor to this humble place," the Binder began. "If I stand with you now, before the Lord of the Dead has struck a blow against me directly, will you give the men and women in the abbey magic to turn aside the assassins' blades? Cyric will most certainly send them to Everard, and to every other temple and library built in my name."
He leaned forward, looming over the ghostly image of the abbey. "And I would have to rely on your help to protect my faithful, Lady, for the rest of the Circle will say I overstepped my office in battling Cyric. This is a matter for Tyr perhaps, since freeing Kezef broke a law. It's just not a concern for the God of Knowledge."
"That's ridiculously near-sighted, Oghma," Mystra shouted. She banished the conjured abbey. "You're dooming your worshipers."
"No," the Binder replied flatly. "I'm serving my worshipers. If they perceived battles as the most important aspect of life, they would worship Tempus. They value knowledge and art, Lady, and this matter has yet to threaten a single historian's notebook, a single verse of the most wretched Sembian poetry. When it does, I will turn all the power their faith gives me to stopping Cyric."
A brooding silence settled over the two gods. "Mystra," the Binder said after a time, "you should know I can do nothing about the matter. It doesn't directly concern knowledge or bardcraft. I told you in the pavilion-"
That the gods were more limited than I suspected," she said softly. "I am hearing how true that is right this moment. Most of the Circle mirrors your stand, Binder. As you said, only Tyr will help me against Cyric, because freeing Kezef broke a law." She held out her wounded hand to Oghma. "If you realize the gods can only see from a limited perspective, why can't you break out of yours? Why can't you see that the world is more than poetry and histories?"
"Knowing the truth is not the same as being empowered to act upon it," Oghma noted. "I realize my kingdom has boundaries that my perspective might not be the same as yours or Lathander's or Mask's – but I cannot imagine what those other views reveal. No matter how hard I try, I cannot make my eyes see the universe as anything but a vast library."
Mystra dispelled the wards around the throne. "You can bargain with the rest of the Circle about Kezef on your own, but I'll have no more part of it," she said bitterly. "If it's going to fall on me to counter Cyric's insanity, I won't waste time in endless debates."
The Goddess of Magic vanished just before chaos swept through Concordant. As it did each day at this time, the facade on the House of Knowledge changed, and along with it the trappings