Prince of Lies - James Lowder [94]
Tyr nodded and stroked his long white beard. "Do you have anything to say in your defense regarding the capture of the inquisitors, Lady?"
"They were threatening everyone's worshipers," Mystra replied. "They had to be stopped."
"The inquisitors didn't single out your lackeys," Cyric said. "They struck down anyone who spoke against me. If some of your faithful were harmed, they brought it upon themselves." The Lord of the Dead turned to the crowd. "As I see it, the inquisitors were like a force of nature – like one of Talos's storms. Surely Mystra doesn't reserve the right to counter any force that might harm her worshipers. If this is the case, there can be no deep water, no poisonous plants, no weapons or-"
"We understand," Shar interrupted. The Mistress of the Night stretched languidly. "Come now, Mystra. You must be able to offer up a better reason why these clockwork warriors concern the Goddess of Magic."
"The armor is constructed to withstand all enchantments," Mystra replied. "By their very nature the inquisitors attempt to prove craft's supremacy over the Art."
Tyr paused to consider that claim. "True enough," the God of Justice noted after a moment. "And you might have been able to sway us with that argument – had you yourself not sought the aid of Gond in combating the inquisitors. The cages you had the Wonderbringer construct endanger the place of magic in the world, too, if we follow your logic."
When Mystra failed to offer another reason for her actions, Tyr rapped the podium with his bony knuckles. "It's clear, then, that the goddess went beyond the boundaries of her office in battling Cyric." The rest of the Circle chorused their agreement. "Now," Tyr added darkly, "we must consider the threat this posed to the Balance."
Before the God of Justice finished speaking, Cyric was on his feet, demanding to be heard. "Zhentil Keep holds the largest and most important gathering of my faithful in the mortal realms. If heretics should succeed in turning the city against me, I'd lose so much power I might be unable to prevent a revolt in the City ofStrife."
The Prince of Lies turned his seared, hellish features to the greater gods gathered on the pavilion floor. "All of you know that my realm in Hades is in perpetual unrest. And all of you know, too, what would happen if a revolt amongst my denizens caused my downfall: total destruction of the Balance. Until a new god could be found and placed on the throne in Bone Castle, no one in the mortal realms could die, no matter how grievous his wounds. All the newly dead would rise as undead, preying upon the living until – well, the scene is too gruesome to contemplate."
In the grim silence that followed his speech, Cyric sank slowly to his seat.
"Showmanship was always one of your strong suits, Cyric," Mystra noted dryly. "But this has nothing to do with a revolt in Hades."
"Yes, it does," Tyr said. "It has everything to do with Cyric and his realm." He took hold of the podium once more, bony knuckles white from his vicelike grip. "The crux of the evidence against you is this: You have taken it upon yourself to punish Cyric, to thwart whatever plans he hatches to further strife and death in the world. In doing so, you've forgotten two important facts. First, it is Cyric's office to create such discord in the mortal realms. Second, it is not your office to prevent that discord. You are the Goddess of Magic, Lady Mystra, not the harbinger of peace or the avenger of those done harm by Cyric's actions."
"The book he is forcing his minions to craft, that will affect all of you," Mystra said coldly. "But only a few of you have spoken out against Cyric for that. Where's the justice, then? When does the Balance swing against the whims of the Lord of the Dead?"
"As I have told you before, Lady, you must have patience," Oghma offered. "We've countered the book's creation so far, have we not? As for Cyric's other crimes