蛛后之战(被遗忘的国度系列英文版)-第2部分

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an；　but　her　body　was　made　of　soft；　wet；　glistening　eyeballs　adhering　together。　About　half　of　them　had　the　crimson　irises　characteristic　of　the　drow；　while　the　rest　were　blue；　brown；　green；　gray—a　miscellany　of　the　colors　monly　found　in　lesser　races。
Her　body　flowing；　her　shape　warping；　Beradax　flung　herself　at　her　summoner。　Fortunately；　she　couldn't　pass　beyond　the　edge　of　the　pentacle。　She　slammed　into　an　unseen　barrier　with　a　wet；　slapping　sound；　then　rebounded。
Undeterred；　she　lunged　a　second　time　with　the　same　lack　of　success。　Her　resentment　and　malice　infinite；　she　would　spring　a　million　times　if　left　to　her　own　devices。　Gromph　had　caught　her；　trapped　her；　but　something　more　was　needed　if　they　were　to　converse。　He　shoved　the　ritual　dagger　into　his　belly。
Beradax　reeled。　The　eyeballs　prising　her　own　stomach　churned　and　shuddered。　A　few　fell　away　from　the　central　mass　to　fade　and　vanish　in　the　air。
''Kill　you〃
〃No；　slave；　you　will　not；〃　Gromph　said。　He　realized　the　chanting　and　incense　had　parched　his　throat；　and　he　swallowed　the　dryness　away。　〃You'll　serve　me。　You'll　calm　yourself　and　submit；　unless　you　want　another　taste　of　the　blade。〃
〃Kill　you〃
Beradax　sprang　at　him　again　and　kept　springing　while　he　pulled　the　athame　back　and　forth　through　his　abdomen。　Finally　she　collapsed　to　her　knees。
〃I　submit；〃　she　growled
〃Good。〃　Gromph　extracted　the　athame。　It　didn't　leave　a　tear　in　his　robes　or　in　his　flesh；　which　was　to　say；　the　knife's　enchantments　had　worked　precisely　as　expected；　hurting　the　demon　rather　than　him。
Beradax's　belly　stopped　heaving　and　shaking。
〃What　do　you　want；　drow？〃　the　creature　asked。　〃Information？　Tell　me；　so　I　can　discharge　my　errand　and　depart。〃
〃Not　information；〃　the　dark　elf　said。　He'd　summoned　scores　of　netherspirits　over　the　past　month；　and　none　had　been　able　to　tell　him　what　he　wished　to　know。　He　was　certain　Beradax　was　no　wiser　than　the　rest。　〃I　want　you　to　kill　my　sister　Quenthel。〃
Gromph　had　hated　Quenthel　for　a　long　time。　She　always　treated　him　like　some　retainer；　even　though　he　too　was　a　Baenre；　a　noble　of　the　First　House　of　Menzoberranzan；　and　the　city's　greatest　wizard　besides。　In　her　eyes；　he　thought；　only　high　priestesses　deserved　respect。
His　antipathy　only　intensified　as　the　two　of　them　attempted　to　advise　their　mother；　Matron　Mother　Baenre；　the　uncrowned　queen　of　Menzoberranzan。　Predictably；　they'd　disagreed　on　every　matter　of　policy　from　trade　to　war　to　mining　and　had　vexed　one　another　no　end。
Gromph's　animus　intensified　still　further　when　Quenthel　became　Mistress　of　ArachTinilith；　the　school　for　priestesses。　The　mistress　governed　the　entire　Academy；　Sorcere　included；　and　thus　Gromph　had　found　himself　obliged　to　contend　with　her—indeed；　to　suffer　her　oversight—in　this　onetime　haven　as　well。
Still；　he　might　have　endured　Quenthel's　arrogance　and　meddling　indefinitely；　if　not　for　their　mother's　sudden　and　unexpected　death。
Counseling　the　former　matron　mother　had　been　more　an　honor　than　a　treat。　She　generally　ignored　advice；　and　her　deputies　were　lucky　if　she　let　it　go　at　that。　Often　enough；　she　responded　to　their　suggestions　with　a　torrent　of　abuse。
But　Triel；　Gromph's　other　sister　and　the　new　head　of　House　Baenre；　had；　over　time；　proved　to　be　a　different　sort　of　sovereign。　Indecisive；　overwhelmed　by　the　responsibilities　of　her　new　office；　she　relied　heavily　on　the　opinions　of　her　siblings。
That　meant　the　Archmage；　though　a　〃mere　male；〃　could　theoretically　rule　Menzoberranzan　from　behind　the　throne；　and　at　long　last　order　all　things　to　please　himself。　But　only　if　he　disposed　of　the　matron's　other　counselor；　the　damnably　persuasive　Quenthel；　who　continued　to　oppose　him　on　virtually　every　matter。　He'd　been　contemplating　her　assassination　for　a　long　time；　until　the　present　situation　afforded　him　an　irresistible　opportunity。
〃You　send　me　to　my　death〃　Beradax　protested。
〃Your　life　or　death　are　of　no　importance；〃　Gromph　replied；　〃only　my　will　matters。　Still；　you　may　survive。　ArachTinilith　has　changed；　as　you　know　very　well。〃
〃Even　now；　the　Academy　is　warded　by　all　the　old　enchantments。〃
〃I'll　dissolve　the　barriers　for　you。
1　won’t　go
〃Nonsense。　You've　submitted　and　must　obey。　Stop　blathering　before　I　lose　my　patience。〃
He　hefted　the　athame；　and　Beradax　seemed　to　slump。
〃Very　well；　wizard；　send　me　and　be　damned。　I'll　kill　her　as　I　will　one　day　butcher　you。〃
〃You　can't　go　quite　yet。　For　all　your　bluster；　you're　the　lowliest　kind　of　nether　spirit；　a　grub　crawling　on　the　floor　of　Hell；　but　tonight　you'll　wear　the　form　of　a　genuine　demon；　to　make　the　proper　impression　on　the　residents　of　the　temple。〃
〃No？”
Gromph　lifted　his　staff　in　both　hands　and　shouted　words　of　power。　Beradax　howled　in　agony　as　her　mass　of　eyeballs　flowed　and　humped　into　something　quite　different。
Afterward；　Gromph　descended　to　his　office。　He　had　an　appointment　with　a　different　kind　of　agent。　
As　Pharaun　Mizzrym　and　Ryld　Argith　strolled　through　the　cool　air；　fresher　than　that　pent　up　in　MeleeMagthere；　the　latter　looked　about　Tier　Breche；　realized　he　hadn't　bothered　to　set　foot　outside　in　days；　and　rather　wondered　why；　for　the　view　was　as　spectacular　as　ever。
Tier　Breche；　home　to　the　Academy　since　that　institution's　founding；　was　a　large　cavern　where　the　labor　of　countless　spell　casters；　artisans；　and　slaves　had　turned　enormous　stalagmites　and　other　masses　of　rocks　into　three　extraordinary　citadels。　To　the　east　rose　pyramidal　MeleeMagthere；　where　Ryld　and　others　like　him　turned　callow　young　drow　into　warriors。　By　the　western　wall　stood　the　manyspired　tower　of　Sorcere；　where　Pharaun　and　his　colleagues　taught　wizardry；　while　to　the　north　crouched　the　largest　and　most　imposing　school　of　all；　ArachTinilith；　a　temple　built　in　the　eightlimbed　shape　of　a　spider。　Inside；　the　priestesses　of　Lolth；　goddess　of　arachnids；　chaos；　assassins；　and　the　drow　race；　trained　dark　elf　maidens　to　serve　the　deity　in　their　turn。
And　yet；　magnificent　as　was　Tier　Breche；　considered　in　the　proper　context；　it　was　only　a　detail　in　a　scene　of　far　greater　splendor。　The　Academy　sat　in　a　side　cavern；　a　mere　nook　opening　partway　up　the　wall　of　a　truly　prodigious　vault。　The　primary　chamber　was　two　miles　wide　and　a　thousand　feet　high；　and　filling　all　that　space　was　Menzoberranzan。
On　the　cavern　floor；　castles；　hewn　like　the　Academy　from　natural　protrusions　of　calcite；　shone　blue；　green；　and　violet　amid　the　darkness。　The　phosphorescent　mansions　served　to　delineate　the　plateau　of　Qu'ellarz'orl；　where　the　Baenre　and　those　Houses　nearly　as　powerful　made　their　homes；　the　West　Wall　district；　where　lesser　but　still　wellestablished　noble　families　schemed　how　to　supplant　the　dwellers　on　Qu'ellarz'orl；　and　Narbondellyn；　where　parvenus　plotted　to　replace　the　inhabitants　of　West　Wall。　Still　other　palaces；　cut　from　stalactites；　hung　from　the　lofty　ceiling。
The　nobles　of　Menzoberranzan　had　set　their　homes　glowing　to　display　their　immensity；　their　graceful　lines；　and　the　ornamentation　sculpted　about　their　walls。　Most　of　the　carvings　featured　spiders　and　webs；　scarcely　surprising；　Ryld　supposed；　in　a　realm　where　Lolth　was　the　only　deity　anyone　worshiped；　and　her　clergy　ruled　in　the　temporal　sense　as　well　as　the　spiritual　one。
For　some　reason；　Ryld　found　the　persistence　of　the　motif　vaguely　oppressive；　so　he　shifted　his　attention　to　other　details。　If　a　drow　had　good　eyes；　he　could　make　out　the　frigid　depths　of　the　lake　called　Donigarten　at　the　narrow　eastern　end　of　the　vault。　Cattlelike　beasts　called　rothe　and　the　goblin　slaves　who　herded　them　lived　on　an　island　in　the　center　of　the　lake。
And　there　was　Narbondel　itself；　of　course。　It　was　the　only　piece　of　unworked　stone　remaining　on　the　cavern　floor；　a　thick；　irregular　column　extending　all　the　way　to　the　ceiling。　At　the　start　of　every　day；　the　Archmage　of　Menzoberranzan　cast　a　spell　into　the　base　of　it；　heating　it　until　the　rock　glowed。　Since　the　radiance　rose　through　the　stone　at　a　constant　rate；　its　progress　enabled　the　residents　of　the　city　to　tell　the　time。
In　their　way；　the　Master　of　MeleeMagthere　supposed；　he　and　Pharaun　were；　if　nowhere　near　as　grand　a　sight　as　the　vista　before　them；　at　least　a　peculiar　one　by　virtue　of　the　contrasts　between　them。　With　his　slender　build；　graceful　manner；　foppish；　elegant　attire；　and　intricate　coiffure；　the　Mizzrym　mage　epitomized　what　a　sophisticated　noble　and　wizard　should　be。　Ryld；　on　the　other　hand　was　an　oddity。　He　was　huge　for　a　member　of　his　sex；　bigger　than　many　females；　with　a　burly；　broadshouldered　frame　better　suited　to　a　brutish　human　than　a　dark　elf。　He　pounded　his　strangeness　by　wearing　a　dwarven　breastplate　and　vambraces　in　preference　to　light；　supple　mail。　The　armor　sometimes　caused　others　to　eye　him　askance；　but　he'd　found　that　it　maximized　his　effectiveness　as　a　warrior；　and　that；　he'd　always　believed；　was　what　really　mattered。
Ryld　and　Pharaun　walked　to　the　edge　of　Tier　Breche　and　sat　down　with　their　legs　dangling　over　the　sheer　dropoff。　They　were　only　a　few　yards　from　the　head　of　the　staircase　that　connected　the　Academy　with　the　city　below；　and　at　the　top　of　those　steps；　beside　the　twin　pillars；　a　pair　of　sentries—lastyear　students　of　MeleeMagthere—stood　watch。　Ryld　thought　that　he　and　Pharaun　were　distant　enough　for　privacy　if　they　kept　their　voices　low。
Low；　but　not　silent；　curse　it。　Ever　the　sensualist；　the　mage　sat　savoring　the　panorama　below　him；　obviously　prolonging　his　contemplation　well　past　the　point　where　Ryld's　mouth　had　begun　to　tighten　with　impatience；　and　never　mind　that　on　the　walk　up；　he'd　admired　the　view　himself。
〃We　drow　don't　love　one　another；　except　in　the　carnal　sense；〃　Pharaun　remarked　at　last；　〃but　I　think　one　could　almost　love　Menzoberranzan　itself；　don't　you？　Or　at　least　take　a　profound　pride　in　it。〃
Ryld　shrugged。　〃If　you　say　so。〃
〃You　sound　less　than　rhapsodic。　Feeling　morose　again　today？〃
〃I'm　all　right。　Better；　at　least；　now　that　I　see　you　still　alive。〃
〃You　assumed　Gromph　had　executed　me？　Does　my　offense　seem　so　grievous；　then？　Have　you　never　annihilated　a　single　specimen　of　our　tender　young　cadets？〃
〃That　depends　on　how　you　look　at　it；〃　Ryld　replied。　〃bat　training　is　inherently　dangerous。　Accidents　happen；　but　no　one　has　ever　questioned　that　they　were　accidents　occurring　during　the　course　of　MeleeMagthere's　legitimate　business。　The　goddess　knows；　I　never　lost　seven　in　a　single　hour；　two　of　them　from　Houses　with　seats　on　the　Council。　How　does　such　a　thing　happen？〃
〃I　needed　seven　assistants　with　a　degree　of　magical　expertise　to　help　me　perform　the　summoning　ritual。　Had　I　called　upon　fullfledged　wizards；　they　would　have　joined　the　experiment　as　equal　partners。　They　would　have　emerged　from　the　ritual　possessed　of　the　same　newly　discovered　secrets　as　myself；　equally　able　to　conjure　and　control　the　Sarthos　demon。　Naturally　I　wished　to　avoid　such　a　sharing；　so　I　opted　to　use　apprentices　instead。〃
Pharaun　grinned　and　continued；　〃In　retrospect；　I　must　admit　that　it　may　not　have　been　a　good　idea。　The　fiend　didn't　even　require　seven　heartbeats　to　smash　them　all。〃
An　updraft　wafted　past　Ryld's　face；　carrying　the　constant　murmur　of　the　metropolis　below。　He　caught　its　scent　as　well；　a　plex　odor　made　of　cooking　smoke；　incense；　perfume；　the　stink　of　unwashed　thralls；　and　a　thousand　other　things。
〃Why　perform　such　a　dange