The Ring of Winter - James Lowder [115]
"I've hunted for the ring for a decade," Artus said, forcing calm into his voice. "I've wanted to turn its power to good. Now there's another reason for me to have it-to save Mezro, to rescue Lord Rayburton and Sanda and the others from the goblins."
The sorcerer took his empty hand from his pocket and waved away three warriors who were obviously coming over to see what the argument was about. "And who'll be there to rescue the city from you once you get the ring?" T'fima growled. "Rayburton couldn't control it. That's why he brought it here-he froze an entire village solid in Cormyr. Killed hundreds of people. That's why he gave it to me to hide, so he'd never be tempted to use it again."
Artus closed his eyes. The disaster Lord Rayburton had told him about-he had caused it! "Ancient history," he heard himself say. "Besides, I'm not Rayburton."
"I froze the jungle for miles around, made it snow for three days instead of the hour I had intended." T'fima grabbed the front of Artus's tunic. "Don't you see? I could control weather once-that was Ubtao's gift to me-and yet even I couldn't bend the ring to a good cause!"
Artus pushed T'fima away. "The reason you used the ring was so Osaw and the others wouldn't discover you weren't a bara any longer," he said. "If Kwalu was killed, they'd hold the ceremony to install a new paladin to replace him. Ubtao would have chosen two new barae, not one, and then they would have known."
T'fima's fury had returned, and his round form quivered in anger as he rumbled, "If they know I'm not a bara, then the Tabaxi outside the wall will have no voice in the councils. The wall will stay up forever, and they'll be robbed of their heritage!"
A grating sound, like metal shivering into a thousand fragments, rang out over the city, and Artus spun around to see Skuld break through another of the bars on his magical cage. The guardian spirit rolled his eyes and snarled like a straight-jacketed lunatic.
"There'll be nothing left of Mezro once he gets free," Artus said. He pointed to Skuld, who was sawing away at another bar with a glowing fragment from the one he had just broken. "And if the Ring of Winter is here, the man who controls that monstrosity will have it."
Ras T'fima bowed his head. "After I used it to cause the blizzard, I went to the temple and tossed it into the barado. No one goes in that room unless they're electing a new bara, so I thought it would be safe…"
When T'fima looked up, Artus was already gone.
"Keep the children away from the arrows!" the sorcerer snarled at a wounded warrior who was distributing weapons. After the woman hustled the two toddlers away from the arrows, T'fima glanced toward the temple. A wave of sadness swept over him, since there were just six active barae, the only way for Artus to escape the barado once he'd entered would be to pass Ubtao's test. If he succeeded, he would be the new bara of Mezro-and have the Ring of Winter. If he failed, Ubtao would kill him.
At the moment, Ras T'fima wasn't certain which would be worse for the city.
Sixteen
Artus stood in the Hall of Champions, poised before the archway that led everywhere in the temple. The boom of magical explosions and crash of sorcerous lightning rocked the place. Now and then swirls of hot air rushed through the hall as someone opened the door to the plaza. These newcomers scrambled past Artus and disappeared through the arch to some distant room, seeking medicine or weapons or a hiding place from the advancing goblin army. The explorer paid no attention to them. He stared into the absolute darkness bracketed by the arch, preparing himself to meet a god.
The Mezroan history written by King Osaw and translated by Lord Rayburton had been very clear about that: to enter the barado was to come face to face with Ubtao. It was forbidden