蛛后之战(被遗忘的国度系列英文版)-第4部分

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d　already　cut　one　hand；　and　had　to　employ　it；　throbbing　and　streaming　blood；　to　maim　the　other　。　。　。。
〃No〃
Surprised　by　the　outburst；　Quenthel　peered　to　see　who　had　spoken。　The　mass　of　wouldbe　truants　obliged　her　by　dividing　in　the　center；　opening　a　lane　to　the　willowy　female　standing　in　the　back。　It　was　Drisinil　Barrison　Del'Armgo；　she　of　the　sharp　nose　and　green　eyes；　whom　Quenthel　had　from　the　first　suspected　of　instigating　the　mass　elopement。　Somehow　the　longlegged　novice　had　smuggled　a　sizable　dagger；　more　of　a　short　sword　really；　into　the　disciplinary　session。　She　held　it　ready　in　a　low　guard。
Quenthel　reacted　as　would　any　dark　elf　in　the　same　situation。　She　yearned　to　accept　the　challenge　and　kill　the　other　female；　felt　the　need　like　a　sensual　tension　pressing　for　an　explosive　release。　Either　responding　to　her　surge　of　emotion　or　else　themselves　vexed　by　Drisinil's　temerity；　the　whip　vipers　reared　and　hissed。
The　problem　was　that；　despite　Quenthel's　assertions　to　the　contrary；　the　students　were　not　altogether　devoid　of　importance。　They　were　the　raw　but　valuable　ore　sent　to　the　Academy　to　be　refined　and　hammered　into　useful　implements。　No　one　would　fret　over　a　few　amputated　pinkies；　but　the　matron　mothers　did　expect　that；　for　the　most　part；　their　children　would　survive　their　education；　an　assumption　the　idiot　Mizzrym　renegade　had　already　called　into　question。　True；　Pharaun　had　only　lost　males；　but　still；　by　any　sensible　reckoning；　he　had　used　up　the　school's　quota　of　allowable　deaths　for　several　years　to　e。
At　this　juncture　it　would　be　a　poor　idea　for　Quenthel　to　kill　any　student；　certainly　a　scion　of　the　powerful　Barrison　Del'Armgo。　Quenthel　didn't　want　to　stir　up　discord　between　the　Academy　and　the　noble　Houses　when　Menzoberranzan　already　perched　on　the　brink　of　dissolution。
Besides；　she　was　a　bit　concerned　that　the　other　failed　runaways　might　take　it　into　their　heads　to　jump　into　the　fight　on　their　ringleader's　side。
Quenthel　quieted　the　vipers　with　a　thought；　fixed　Drisinil　with　her　steeliest　stare；　and　said；　〃Think。〃
〃I　have　thought；〃　Drisinil　retorted。　〃I've　thought；　why　should　we　spend　ten　years　of　our　lives　cooped　up　on　Tier　Breche　when　there's　nothing　for　us　here？〃
〃There　is　everything　for　you　here；〃　said　Quenthel；　maintaining　the　pressure　of　her　gaze。　〃This　is　where　you　learn　to　be　all　that　a　lady　of　Menzoberranzan　must　be。〃
〃What？　What　am　I　learning？〃
〃At　the　moment；　patience　and　submission。〃
〃That's　not　what　I　came　for。〃
〃Evidently　not。　Consider　this；　then。　All　the　priestesses　of　Menzoberranzan　are　currently　playing　a　game；　and　the　object　of　the　game　is　to　convince　others　that　nothing　is　amiss。　If　a　student　leaves　ArachTinilith　prematurely；　as　none　has　ever　done　since　the　founding　of　the　city；　that　will　seem　peculiar；　a　hint　that　all　is　not　as　it　ought　to　be。〃
〃Perhaps　I　don't　care　about　the　game。〃
〃Your　mother　does。　She　plays　as　diligently　as　the　rest　of　us。　Do　you　think　she　will　wele　you　home　if　you　jeopardize　her　efforts？〃
Drisinil's　emerald　eyes　blinked；　the　first　sign　that　Quenthel's　stare　was　unsettling　her。　〃I　。。。　yes；　certainly　she　would〃
〃You；　a　traitor　to　your　House；　your　city；　your　sex；　and　the　goddess　herself？〃
〃The　goddess—〃
〃Don't　say　it〃　Quenthel　snapped。　〃Or　your　life　ends；　and　your　soul　is　bound　to　torment　forevermore。　I　speak　not　only　as　Mistress　of　ArachTinilith；　but　as　a　Baenre。　You　remember　Baenre；　Barrison　Del'Armgo？　We　are　the　First　House；　and　you；　merely　the　Second。　Even　if　you　should　succeed　in　departing　ArachTinilith；　even　if　your　gross　and　uncouth　dam　should　be　so　unwise　as　to　accept　you　back　into　that　hovel　you　Del'Armgo　call　a　home；　you　will　not　survive　the　month。　My　sister　Triel；　Matron　Mother　Baenre；　will　personally　attend　to　your　destruction。〃
It　was　no　less　than　the　truth。　There　was　no　love　lost　between　the　two　Baenre　sisters；　but　when　it　came　to　maintaining　the　supremacy　of　their　House；　they　supported　one　another　absolutely。
Drisinil　swallowed　and　lowered　her　eyes　a　hair。　〃Mistress；　I　mean　no　disrespect。　I　just　don't　want　to　mutilate　myself。〃
〃But　you　will；　novice；　and　without　any　further　delay。　You　really　have　no　other　option　。　。　。　and　isn't　it　convenient；　you　already　have　a　knife　in　your　grasp。〃
Drisinil　swallowed　again；　and；　her　dagger　hand　shaking　a　little；　brought　the　blade　into　position　to　saw　at　her　little　finger。　Quenthel　thought　the　procedure　might　go　easier　if　the　novice　walked　a　few　steps　and　braced　her　pinkie　atop　the　nearby　table；　but　apparently　she　was　taking　〃without　any　further　delay〃　quite　literally；　and　that　was　fine　with　the　high　priestess。　In　her　imagination；　she　was　already　savoring　the　first　slice　when　a　blare　like　a　sour　note　blasted　from　a　hundred　glaur　horns　split　the　air。
For　an　instant；　Quenthel　faltered；　not　frightened　but　disoriented。　She　had　been　told　what　this　ugly　noise　was　but　had　expected　never　to　actually　hear　it。　To　the　best　of　her　knowledge；　no　one　ever　had。
The　priestesses　of　Menzoberranzan　enjoyed　a　plex　relationship　with　the　inhabitants　of　the　Abyss。　Some　infernal　entities　were　the　knights　or　handmaidens　of　Lolth；　and　during　worship　were　venerated　as　such；　but　on　other　occasions　the　clerics　did　not　scruple　to　snare　spirits　with　their　summoning　spells　and　pel　them　to　do　their　bidding。　Sometimes　the　creatures　stalked　the　physical　plane　of　their　own　volition；　slaughtering　any　mortal　who　crossed　their　path；　not　excepting　the　drow；　who　were　by　some　accounts　their　kindred。
The　founders　of　the　Academy　had　shielded　Tier　Breche　in　general　and　ArachTinilith　in　particular　with　enchantments　devised　to　keep　out　any　spirit　save　those　the　occupants　saw　fit　to　wele。　Countless　generations　of　priestesses　had　deemed　those　wards　impregnable；　but　if　the　earsplitting　alarm　told　true；　the　barriers　were　falling　one　by　one。
The　blare　seemed　to　be　ing　from　the　south。　The　pleasures　of　chastisement　fotten；　Quenthel　ran　in　that　direction　past　countless　chapels；　altars；　and　icons　of　Lolth　in　both　her　dark　elf　and　spider　forms；　past　the　classrooms　where　the　faculty　gave　instruction　in　dogma；　ritual；　divine　magic；　torture；　sacrifice；　and　all　the　other　arts　the　novices　needed　to　learn。　Their　books；　chalkboards；　and　whimpering；　halfdissected　slave　victims　fotten；　some　of　the　teachers　and　students　appeared　on　the　brink　of　venturing　out　to　investigate　the　alarm；　while　others　still　looked　startled　and　confused。
The　blaring　stopped。　Either　the　demon　had　given　up　attempting　to　force　its　way　in；　or　else　it　had　breached　every　single　ward。　Quenthel　suspected　the　latter　was　the　case；　and　when　the　screaming　started；　she　knew　she　was　right。
〃Do　you　know　what's　breaking　through？〃　she　panted。
〃No；〃　hissed　Yngoth；　perhaps　the　wisest　of　the　whip　vipers。　〃The　intruder　has　shielded　itself　from　the　Sight。〃
〃Wonderful。〃
The　echoing　cries　led　Quenthel　into　a　spacious　candlelit　hall　filled　with　towering　black　marble　sculptures　of　spiders；　set　there　to　make　the　temple's　entryway　as　impressive　as　possible。　The　battered　valves　of　the　great　adamantine　double　door　in　the　curved　south　wall　gaped　crookedly；　half　off　their　hinges；　affording　a　glimpse　of　the　plateau　outside。　Several　priestesses　lay　battered　and　insensible　on　the　floor。　For　a　moment；　Quenthel　couldn't　make　out　what　had　caused　the　mess；　then　the　culprit　scuttled　across　her　field　of　vision　toward　another　hapless　servant　of　Lolth。
The　intruder　was　a　gigantic　spider　bearing　a　close　resemblance　to　the　gleaming　black　effigies　around　it；　and　upon　seeing　it；　Quenthel　scowled　at　an　unfamiliar　and　unwele　pang　of　doubt。
On　the　one　hand；　the　demon；　if　that　was　what　it　truly　was；　was　attacking　her　pupils　and　staff；　but　on　the　other；　it　was　a　kind　of　spider；　sacred　to　Lolth。　Perhaps　it　was　even　her　emissary；　sent　to　punish　the　weak　and　heretical。　Maybe　Quenthel　should　simply　step　aside　and　permit　it　to　continue　its　rampage。
It　sensed　her　somehow；　turned；　and　rushed　toward　her　as　if　it　had　been　looking　for　her　all　along。　Though　many　spiders　possessed　several　eyes；　this　one；　she　observed；　was　exceptional　beyond　the　point　of　deformity。　The　head　behind　the　jagged　mandibles　was　virtually　nothing　but　a　mass　of　bulging　eyes；　and　a　scatter　of　others　opened　here　and　there　about　the　creature's　shiny　black　bulb　of　a　body。
Its　peculiarities　notwithstanding；　the　spider's　manifest　hostile　intent　resolved　Quenthel's　uncertainty　in　an　instant。　She　would　kill　the　freakish　thing。
The　question　was；　how？　She　did　not　feel　weak—she　never　had　and　never　would—but　she　knew　it　was　scarcely　the　optimal　time　for　her　to　fight　such　a　battle。　On　top　of　any　other　disadvantages；　she　wasn't　even　wearing　her　mail　tunic　or　piwafwi。　She　rarely　did　within　the　walls　of　ArachTinilith。　For　the　most　part；　her　minions　feared　her　too　much　to　attempt　an　assassination；　and　she　had　always　been　confident　that　she　wouldn't　need　armor　to　disappoint　any　who　did　not。
As　she　backed　away　from　the　charging　spider；　her　slim；　gleaming　obsidian　hands　opened　the　pouch　at　her　belt；　extracted　a　roll　of　vellum；　and　unrolled　it　for　her　scrutiny；　all　with　practiced　ease　and　likewise　with　a　certain　annoyance；　for　the　magical　scroll　was　a　treasure；　and　she　was　about　to　use　it　up。　But　it　was　necessary；　and　the　parchment　was　scarcely　the　only　magical　implement　hoarded　within　those　walls。
Rapidly；　but　with　perfect　rhythm　and　pronunciation；　she　read　the　verses；　the　golden　characters　vanishing　from　the　page　as　she　spoke　the　words。　Dark；　heatless　flame　leaped　from　the　vellum　to　the　floor　and　shot　across　that　polished　surface　faster　than　a　wildfire　propagating　itself　across　a　stand　of　dead；　dry　fungus；　defining　a　path　that　led　from　herself　to　the　demon。
The　black　conflagration　washed　over　the　demon's　dainty　bladed　feet。　It　should　also　have　driven　the　manyeyed　creature　helplessly　backward；　but　it　didn't。　The　arachnid　kept　ing　nimbly　as　before；　which　was　to　say；　considerably　faster　than　the　best　effort　of　a　drow。
〃The　spirit　has　defenses　against　the　magic〃　cried　K'Sothra；　perhaps　the　least　intelligent　of　the　whip　vipers　and　certainly　the　one　most　inclined　to　belabor　the　obvious。
Quenthel　wouldn't　have　time　to　attempt　another　spell　before　the　spider　reached　her；　nor　could　she　outrun　it。　She　would　have　to　outmaneuver　it　instead。　Dropping　the　useless　sheet　of　parchment；　she　turned　and　dived　beneath　the　belly　of　one　of　the　statues。　Unless　it　had　the　power　to　shrink　or　shape　shift；　the　invader　wouldn't　be　able　to　negotiate　the　same　low　space。
She　slid　on　the　floor；　rubbing　her　elbows　hot。　One　of　the　snakes　cursed　foully　when　its　scaly；　wedgeshaped　head　rapped　against　the　stone。　She　rolled　over　and　saw　that　she　had　only　bought　herself　a　moment。　No；　the　demon　couldn't　slip　under　the　statue　but；　clustered　eyes　glaring；　it　was　rapidly　clambering　over　the　top　of　it。　Up　close；　it　had　a　foul；　carrion　smell。
Quenthel　knew　that　if　she　permitted　the　spider　to　pounce　down　on　her；　the　monster　would　hold　her　down　and　snip　her　apart　with　its　mandibles。　She　sprang　to　her　feet　and　swung　her　whip。
The　vipers　twisted　in　flight　to　bring　their　fangs　to　bear。　Those　poisonous　spikes　plunged　deep　and　ripped　downward；　tearing　gashes　in　some　of　the　demon's　bulging；　clustered　eyes　before　yanking　free。　The　ans　gushed　fluid　and　collapsed；　and　the　serpents　thrashed　in　joy。
Quenthel　could　feel　their　exultation　through　the　psio