Prince of Lies - James Lowder [69]
"And that's three."
The compass Mask had inscribed upon the roof appeared again, its curves and points etched in radiance more dazzling than the morning sunlight streaming over the City ofSplendors. The lines of the pattern folded together. They engulfed Kezef like a huge fishing net. An unbreakable knot sealed the net above the Hound, and the remaining wyvern skulls fused to form an intricate seal over that.
Mask stood over the nobleman's gory, armless corpse. "Sorry, Chess, but the enchantment really did call for you to do a lot more than prick your thumb. Rest easy, though. You played your part perfectly."
The God of Intrigue turned to the Chaos Hound. "We would have used this to trap you last time, Kezef, but the pathetic bleeding hearts like Mystra refused to go along with human sacrifice."
Mask erased the runic symbol with his foot. The destruction of the glyph, which had never provided Lord Chess the least bit of protection, closed the final part of the trap. A crimson flame lit the last of the three candles, trailing a thick, pungent smoke that balled like a giant's fist above the tower. The fist closed over the howling, struggling Chaos Hound and drew him swiftly into the candle.
"Cyric!" Kezef screamed as he disappeared into the waxy prison. "Avenge me!"
"Oh, he'll avenge this slap all right, but not against me." Mask kicked the corpse of Lord Chess onto its back. The hound had ravaged the nobleman's face, but there was just enough flab left for the Lord of the Dead to identify him. "I'm not quite ready to challenge the Prince of Lies, not without allies, anyway."
He touched the seared flesh around the dead man's throat and a silver-white chain appeared. The disk dangling from the chain held a circle of eight stars with a trail of mist bleeding from its center – the holy symbol of Mystra.
"Why, Lord Chess. You were a secret member of theChurchofMysteries! Treachery in Cyric's holy city, and at the highest levels. Tsk. He will be disappointed… Still, I'll take your soul in. After all, we wouldn't want you telling your former liege how I, er, encouraged your work with the Lady of Mysteries."
A sheet of parchment created from moonlight appeared in Mask's hand. On it was inscribed the ancient and complicated rite by which a god could contain a power such as Kezef, but only with the cooperation of a mortal. Mask changed the traitor mentioned in the spell to a faithful minion and erased the necessity for blood to be shed; he knew Cyric would never buy Mystra killing traitors or murdering innocents to seal an enchantment. Obviously, Chess's death was an unfortunate accident. After all, the Hound's teeth marks were all over the poor fool.
With narrowed eyes, the Lord of Shadows surveyed his work. Yes, this would do nicely. When the shielding spell was lifted and Cyric discovered his faithful dog had been waylaid… Mask smiled. The Prince of Lies would be swift in showing his displeasure with both Mystra and Zhentil Keep.
The tallow prison firmly in one gloved hand, the God of Intrigue melted into the lengthening shadows next to the corpulent remains of Lord Chess. The mystery he left in his wake atopBlackstaffTowerwould baffle sages and gossips in the City ofSplendorsfor decades. Its effects were felt throughout the heavens in mere moments.
X
DUEL-EDGED SWORD
Wherein Cyric investigates the waylaying of the
Chaos Hound, Gwydion speaks the name of
the wrong person at the worst possible instant,
and the identity of Kelemvor's strange
jailor is finally revealed.
Cyric threw the two spent candles and the holy symbol at Jergal. The seneschal didn't raise a hand to deflect the missiles, didn't flinch when they rebounded painfully from his smooth gray face.
"Of course this is a trick!" the Prince of Lies shouted. "Mystra isn't fool enough to