Read Online Crucible: The Trial of Cyric the Mad by Troy Denning - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Troy Denning
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the events in the Pavilion of Cynosure, and so was greatly confused. “Am I to be tried for-” In my fear, I could not bring myself to repeat the blasphemies I had uttered that morning.
“Your trial?” His words exploded with such fury that I was hurled against the portcullis. “You dare worry about yourself? You are nothing to them!”
By what he had stated earlier, I took “them” to be his fellow gods. They were not “begging for mercy” now, and I realized the trial at dawn was to be Cyric’s. But I did not see how the Dark Sun would save himself by recovering the Cyrinishad. His fellows would never read it. They knew the awesome power of its truth and would go to any length to avoid looking upon its pages, for they were all vain and arrogant and had no wish to serve a master greater than themselves. Nor could they be tricked into reading the sacred book, even by the awesome cunning of the One. They were great gods, after all, and clever enough to avoid any hazard they knew so well.
I was wiser than to speak these doubts aloud, as Cyric would not suffer gladly the skepticism of a mortal. I merely inclined my head and awaited the Dark Sun’s next command. “Go on,” he said. “Dawn is not far off.” Thinking he had created some passage for me, I turned to find it. The Low Gate stood as before. But now I could see the sentries turning toward me, ever so slowly. To say their heads were inching around would have been a great exaggeration. When one man blinked, the act took as long as all that had passed between the One and me.
“What are you waiting for?” asked Cyric. “Dawn is coming!” My answer was sure to displease. Still, I had no choice but to give it, since I could not pass through the gate as it was.
“Forgive me, Almighty One, for I have the wits of an ass and just one good eye.” Naturally, I made no mention of whose doing this was. “But I thought you might provide me some way to enter.”
Cyric’s burning black eyes flared in the empty sockets beneath his brow. “Idiot! If I could do that, I would get the book myself. If I were to endow you with my power, Oghma’s magic would make you as blind to the book as it does me. Only a mortal-an unaided mortal-can find the Cyrinishad.”
“Unaided?” I gasped. “But I am no thief, no warrior! Even if I get into the citadel, how am I to defeat the book’s guardians?” “How does not matter.”
This was a terrible thing to hear, and not only on my own account. I was shrewd in the ways of cheating the scale and claiming one cargo is another, but I had never stolen a thing from another man’s home, nor killed any person except through the exchange of gold, nor was I certain how to accomplish these things. Counting on someone like me in such a great and dangerous matter was more than folly-it was insane! Cyric could only be as mad as his enemies claimed, and if I obeyed him, I would certainly be killed.
I threw myself at his feet and wrapped my arms about his legs. “Holy One, I beg you! Find one more worthy! If you rely on me, you will never see the Cyrinishad again!”
“I will. Look what you have done already. Who else would have left his mansion to live in the mud? Given up his fortune to beg for his dinner? Forsaken the envy of his peers to grovel before strangers?” The thousand voices of the One spoke with unaccustomed gentleness. “You will do this thing not because I command it-though I do-but for the same reason you have done all these other things: because you have no choice.”
The One reached down and grasped my arms with great delicacy, and I dared not speak as he pulled me to my feet. “And, Malik, you will succeed. Do you know why?”
I could but shake my head.
“You will succeed, because if you do not-if you fail me, or merely die trying-I will let Kelemvor take your Faithless soul.”
Five
Mystra and Kelemvor manifested themselves outside Oghma’s palace, which never looked the same on any two
“Your trial?” His words exploded with such fury that I was hurled against the portcullis. “You dare worry about yourself? You are nothing to them!”
By what he had stated earlier, I took “them” to be his fellow gods. They were not “begging for mercy” now, and I realized the trial at dawn was to be Cyric’s. But I did not see how the Dark Sun would save himself by recovering the Cyrinishad. His fellows would never read it. They knew the awesome power of its truth and would go to any length to avoid looking upon its pages, for they were all vain and arrogant and had no wish to serve a master greater than themselves. Nor could they be tricked into reading the sacred book, even by the awesome cunning of the One. They were great gods, after all, and clever enough to avoid any hazard they knew so well.
I was wiser than to speak these doubts aloud, as Cyric would not suffer gladly the skepticism of a mortal. I merely inclined my head and awaited the Dark Sun’s next command. “Go on,” he said. “Dawn is not far off.” Thinking he had created some passage for me, I turned to find it. The Low Gate stood as before. But now I could see the sentries turning toward me, ever so slowly. To say their heads were inching around would have been a great exaggeration. When one man blinked, the act took as long as all that had passed between the One and me.
“What are you waiting for?” asked Cyric. “Dawn is coming!” My answer was sure to displease. Still, I had no choice but to give it, since I could not pass through the gate as it was.
“Forgive me, Almighty One, for I have the wits of an ass and just one good eye.” Naturally, I made no mention of whose doing this was. “But I thought you might provide me some way to enter.”
Cyric’s burning black eyes flared in the empty sockets beneath his brow. “Idiot! If I could do that, I would get the book myself. If I were to endow you with my power, Oghma’s magic would make you as blind to the book as it does me. Only a mortal-an unaided mortal-can find the Cyrinishad.”
“Unaided?” I gasped. “But I am no thief, no warrior! Even if I get into the citadel, how am I to defeat the book’s guardians?” “How does not matter.”
This was a terrible thing to hear, and not only on my own account. I was shrewd in the ways of cheating the scale and claiming one cargo is another, but I had never stolen a thing from another man’s home, nor killed any person except through the exchange of gold, nor was I certain how to accomplish these things. Counting on someone like me in such a great and dangerous matter was more than folly-it was insane! Cyric could only be as mad as his enemies claimed, and if I obeyed him, I would certainly be killed.
I threw myself at his feet and wrapped my arms about his legs. “Holy One, I beg you! Find one more worthy! If you rely on me, you will never see the Cyrinishad again!”
“I will. Look what you have done already. Who else would have left his mansion to live in the mud? Given up his fortune to beg for his dinner? Forsaken the envy of his peers to grovel before strangers?” The thousand voices of the One spoke with unaccustomed gentleness. “You will do this thing not because I command it-though I do-but for the same reason you have done all these other things: because you have no choice.”
The One reached down and grasped my arms with great delicacy, and I dared not speak as he pulled me to my feet. “And, Malik, you will succeed. Do you know why?”
I could but shake my head.
“You will succeed, because if you do not-if you fail me, or merely die trying-I will let Kelemvor take your Faithless soul.”
Five
Mystra and Kelemvor manifested themselves outside Oghma’s palace, which never looked the same on any two
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