蛛后之战(被遗忘的国度系列英文版)-第29部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！

but　this　was　the　first　time　such　entities　had　posed　a　threat　to　them；　and　they'd　realized　they　hadn't　truly　known　the　ferocious　beings　at　all。
No　doubt　some　of　the　females　had　also　been　perceptive　enough　to　recognize　that　they　themselves　had　been　in　paratively　little　danger　until　Quenthel　mustered　them　in　what　was　more　or　less　her　personal　defense。　If　so；　their　resentment；　like　their　uneasiness；　was　irrelevant。　They　were　her　underlings；　and　it　was　their　duty　to　serve　her。
〃It's　the　wrath　of　Lolth　herself；〃　whispered　Minolin　FeyBranche；　a　fifthyear　student　who　wore　her　hair　in　three　long　braids。　Obviously；　she　didn't　intend　for　her　voice　to　carry　to　the　front　of　the　procession。　〃First　she　strips　us　of　our　magic；　then　sends　her　fiends　to　kill　us。〃
Quenthel　whirled。　Sensing　her　anger；　her　whip　vipers　rose；　weaving　and　hissing。
〃Shut　up〃　she　snapped。　〃The　Spider　Queen　may　be　testing　us；　eliminating　the　unfit；　but　she　has　not　condemned　her　entire　temple。　She　would　not。〃
Minolin　lowered　her　eyes。　〃Yes；　Mistress；〃　she　said　tonelessly。
Quenthel　noticed　that　no　one　else　looked　reassured；　either。
〃You　disgust　me；〃　the　Baenre　said。　〃All　of　you。〃
〃We　apologize；　Mistress；〃　said　Jyslin。
〃I　remember　my　training；〃　Quenthel　said。　〃If　a　novice　showed　a　hint　of　cowardice　or　disobedience；　my　sister　Triel　would　make　her　fast　for　a　tenday；　and　eat　rancid　filth　for　another　after　that。　I　should　do　the　same；　but　unfortunately；　with　ArachTinilith　under　siege；　I　need　my　people　strong。　So　all　right；　though　it　should　shame　you　take　it；　you　can　have　another　rest。　You'll　fill　your　bellies；　and　it　had　better　stiffen　your　spines。　Otherwise；　we'll　see　how　many　of　you　I　have　to　flog　before　the　rest　cease　their　cringing　and　whining。　e。〃
She　led　them　on　to　a　classroom　where　the　kitchen　staff　had　set　a　table。　She'd　ordered　them　to　prepare　a　cold　supper　and　leave　it　at　various　points　around　the　temple；　so　that　the　weary　sentinels　could　at　least　refresh　themselves　with　food；　and　the　cooks　had　done　a　decent　job　of　it。　On　a　silver　salver　lay　pink　and　brown　slices　of　rothe　steak　steeped　in　a　tawny　marinade；　their　aroma　peting　with　ArachTinilith's　omnipresent　scent　of　incense。　Other　trays　and　bowls　held　raw　mushroom　pieces　with　a　creamy　dipping　sauce　and　a　salad　of　black；　white；　and　red　diced　fungus；　while　the　pitchers　presumably　contained　wine；　watered　as　per　her　mand。　Quenthel　hoped　the　alcohol　would　hearten　those　residents　whom　Lolth's　absence　and　the　incursions　of　the　past　two　nights　had　terrified；　but　she　didn't　want　any　of　the　temple's　defenders　sloppy　drunk　and　incapacitated。
Some　of　Quenthel's　minions　fell　to　as　if　they　expected　this　to　be　their　last　meal。　Others；　likely　as　certain　of　their　fate；　seemed　too　tense　to　do　more　than　pick　at　the　viands。
The　mistress　of　the　Academy　supposed　that；　though　she　intended　to　survive　the　night；　in　a　sense；　she　belonged　to　the　latter　party。　Her　stomach　was　somewhat　queasy；　and　the　long　hours　of　edgy　anticipation　had　killed　her　appetite。
e　on；　demon；　she　thought；　let's　get　this　over　with。　。　。　。
The　entity　failed　to　respond　to　her　silent　plea。
She　decided　her　throat　was　a　little　parched；　caught　Jyslin's　eye；　and　said；　〃Pour　me　a　cup。〃
〃Yes；　Mistress。〃
The　secondyear　novice　performed　the　service　with　mendable　alacrity。　She　filled　the　silver　goblet　too　high　for　gentility's　sake；　but　Quenthel　expected　no　better　from　a　moner。　The　Baenre　accepted　the　cup　with　a　nod　and　raised　it　to　her　lips。
Her　whip　of　fangs　hung　from　her　wrist　by　the　wyvernhide　loop　that　pierced　its　handle。　She　felt　a　thrill　of　alarm　surge　across　the　psionic　link　she　shared　with　the　vipers。　At　the　same　instant；　the　snakes　reared　and　dashed　the　goblet　from　her　grasp。　She　stared　at　them　in　amazement。
〃Poison；〃　Yngoth　said；　his　slitpupiled　eyes　glinting　in　their　scaly　sockets。　〃We　smelled　it。〃
Quenthel　looked　around。　Her　followers　had　heard　the　serpent's　declaration　and　were　gawking　at　her　and　the　reptiles　in　consternation。　They　appeared　to　be　in　perfectly　good　health；　but　she　trusted　the　vipers　and　knew　it　wouldn't　last。
〃Purge　yourselves；〃　she　said。　〃Now〃
They　never　got　the　chance。　Almost　as　one；　they　succumbed　to　the　toxin；　swaying；　staggering；　and　collapsing。　Some　retched　involuntarily　as　the　sickness　hit　them；　but　it　didn't　help。　They　passed　out　like　the　rest。
Quenthel　shifted　the　whip　back　to　her　hand；　peered　in　all　directions；　and　bade　the　vipers　do　the　same。　She'd　realized　her　demonic　assailants　were　supposed　to　suggest　the　several　dominions　of　the　goddess；　and　therefore　an　〃assassin〃　of　some　sort　would　turn　up　sooner　or　later。　Still；　she　foolishly　assumed　that　being　would　attack　in　some　obvious　way　just　as　the　〃spider〃　and　〃darkness〃　had。　She　hadn't　expected　it　to　employ　stealth　and　attempt　to　poison　her；　though　in　retrospect；　that　tactic　made　perfect　sense。
The　question　was；　had　the　demon　done　all　it　planned　to　do；　or；　since　its　first　ploy　had　failed；　would　it　strike　at　her　in　some　other　way？
Off　to　the　west；　someone　screamed；　the　sound　echoing　down　the　stone　halls。　Quenthel　had　her　answer；　and　it　was　the　one　she'd　expected。
Her　heart　beat　faster；　her　mouth　felt　drier　still；　and　she　realized　she　wasn't　eager　to　confront　this　new　intruder；　certainly　not　without　the　support　of　her　personal　guards。　Yet　she　was　mistress　in　these　halls；　and　it　was　unthinkable　to　turn　tail　and　let　an　invader　make　free　with　her　domain。
Besides；　if　she　fled；　the　cursed　thing　would　probably　track　her　anyway。
Leaving　her　fallen　patrol　with　their　useless　magical　treasures　strewn　about　them　on　the　floor；　she　strode　toward　the　noise。　She　shouted　for　other　underlings　to　attend　her；　but　no　one　responded。
In　a　minute　or　so；　she　entered　a　long　gallery；　where　wall　carvings　told　the　history　of　Lolth　as　it　had　occurred　and　as　it　was　prophesied：　her　seduction　of　Corellon　Larethian；　chief　deity　of　the　contemptible　elves　of　the　World　Above；　their　union　and　her　first　attempt　to　overthrow　him；　her　discovery　of　her　spider　form　and　her　descent　into　the　Abyss；　her　conquest　of　the　Demonweb　and　her　adoption　of　the　drow　as　her　chosen　people；　and　her　future　triumph　over　all　other　gods　and　ascendancy　over　all　creation。
A　silhouette　appeared　in　the　arched　entry　at　the　far　end　of　the　hall。　It　changed　color　and　shape—humanoid；　quadruped；　blob；　worm；　cluster　of　spikes—from　one　instant　to　the　next。　Somehow　perceiving　Quenthel；　it　let　out　a　cry。　Its　voice　sounded　like　a　wavering；　cacophonous　jumble　of　every　noise　she'd　ever　heard　and　some　she　hadn't。　Within　the　first　discordant　howl　she　caught　the　shrill　note　of　a　flute；　the　grunt　of　a　rothe；　a　baby　crying；　water　splashing；　and　fire　crackling。
Quenthel　recognized　the　demon　for　the　profound　threat　it　was；　but　for　a　moment；　she　was　less　concerned　for　her　safety　or　fired　with　a　fighter's　rage　than　she　was　surprised。　Poison　surely　suggested　an　assassin；　yet　the　demon　before　her　was　plainly　an　embodiment　of　chaos。
The　spirit　started　down　the　gallery；　and　the　walls　bulged；　flowed；　and　changed　color　around　it。　Quenthel　reached　into　the　leather　bag　hanging　from　her　belt　and　brought　out　a　scroll；　then　something　hit　her　hard　in　the　back　of　the　neck。
*　　　*　　　*
Ryld　peered　about　the　room。　Judging　from　the　sunken　arena　in　the　center　of　the　floor；　the　ruinous　place　had；　in　another　era；　served　as　a　drinking　pit—one　of　those　rude　establishments　where　dark　elves　of　every　station　went　to　fet　about　caste　and　grace　for　a　few　hours；　guzzle　raw　spirit；　and　watch　undercreatures　slaughter　one　another　in　contests　that　were　often　set　up　in　such　a　way　as　to　give　them　a　ical　aspect。　
In　other　words；　it　would　have　been　a　crude　sort　of　place　by　the　standards　of　elegant　Menzoberranzan；　but　it　had　grown　cruder　since　the　goblinoids　had　taken　it　over。　Scores　if　not　hundreds　of　them　packed　into　the　space；　and　the　mingled　stink　of　their　unwashed　bodies；　each　race　malodorous　in　its　own　particular　fashion；　was　sickening。　The　loud　gabbling　in　their　various　harsh　and　guttural　languages　was　nearly　as　unpleasant。　It　all　but　drowned　out　the　rhythmic　thuds　that　filtered　through　the　ceiling；　but　of　course　the　shaggy　gnoll　drummer　on　the　roof　wasn't　playing　for　the　folk　already　inside　but　to　guide　others　still　in　transit。
To　Ryld's　surprise；　a　fair　number　of　the　creatures　assembling　there　hailed　from　outside　the　Braeryn。　He　observed　plain　but　relatively　clean　and　intact　garments　suggestive　of　Eastmyr；　and　even　liveries；　steel　collars；　shackles；　whip　marks；　and　brands—the　stigmata　of　thralls　who'd　sneaked　away　from　their　mistresses'　affluent　households。　Obviously；　those　who'd　e　from　beyond　the　district　couldn't　have　heard　the　drum　through　the　magical　buffers。　Some　runner　must　have　carried　word　to　them。
Still　magically　disguised　as　ores；　though　not　the　same　ones　who'd　tricked　the　two　bugbears；　the　masters　of　Tier　Breche　had　squeezed　into　a　corner　to　watch　whatever　would　transpire。
Certain　no　one　would　hear　him　over　the　ambient　din；　Ryld　leaned　his　head　close　to　Pharaun's　and　said；　〃I　think　it's　just　a　party。〃
〃Do　you　see　them　celebrating？〃　Pharaun　replied。　His　new　porcine　face　had　a　broken　nose　and　tusk。　〃No；　not　as　such。　They'd　be　considerably　more　boisterous。　They're　waiting　for　something；　and　eagerly；　too。　Observe　those　female　goblins　chattering　and　passing　their　bottle　back　and　forth。〃　Pharaun　nodded　toward　a　trio　of　filthy；　bandylegged　creatures　with　flat　faces　and　sloping　brows。　〃They're　aquiver　with　anticipation。　If　they're　still　as　giddy　after　the　gathering　breaks　up；　we　may　want　to　seek　solace　for　our　frustrations　in　their　hairy；　misshapen　arms。〃
Certain　his　friend　was　joking；　Ryld　snorted　。　。　。　then　realized　he　wasn't　quite　sure　after　all。
〃You'd　have　relations　with　a　goblin〃
〃A　true　scholar　always　seeks　new　experiences。　Besides；　what's　the　point　of　being　a　dark　elf；　a　lord　of　the　Underdark；　if　you　don't　exploit　the　slave　races　to　the　utmost？〃
〃Hmm。　I　admit　they　might　be　no　worse　than　one　of　those　priestesses　who　demand　you　grovel　and　do　exactly　as　you're—〃
〃Hush〃
The　drum　had　stopped。
〃Something's　happening；〃　Pharaun　added。
Ryld　saw　that　his　friend　was　correct。　A　stir　ran　through　the　crowd　and　they　started　to　shout；　〃Prophet　Prophet〃
The　master　of　MeleeMagthere　didn't　know　what　he　expected　to　see　next；　but　it　certainly　wasn't　the　figure　in　the　nondescript　cloak　and　hood　whose　upper　body　appeared　above　the　heads　of　the　crowd。　Perhaps　he'd　climbed　up　on　a　bench　or　table；　or　maybe　he'd　simply　levitated；　for　this　〃Prophet；〃　plainly　beloved　of　the　lower　orders；　appeared　to　be　a　handsome　drow　male。
The　Prophet　let　his　followers　chant　and　shout　for　a　minute　or　so；　then　he　raised　his　slender　hands　and　gradually　they　subsided。　Pharaun　leaned　close　to　Ryld　again。
〃It's　possible　the　fellow's　not　really　one　of　us；〃　the　wizard　said。　〃He's　wrapped　in　a　glamour　somewhat　like　ours；　but　his　spell　makes　every　observer　perceive　him　in　a　favorable　light。　I　imagine　the　goblins　see　him　as　a　goblin；　the　gnolls；　as　one　of　their　own；　and　so　forth。〃
〃What's　inside　the　illusion？〃
〃I　don't　know。　The　enchantment　is　peculiar。　I've　never　encountered　anything　quite　like　it。　I　can't　see　through　it；　but　I　suspect　we're　about　to　learn　his　intentions。〃
〃My　brothers　and　sisters；〃　the　Prophet　said。
His　voice　sparked　another　round　of　cheering；　and　he　waited　for　it　to　run　its　course。
〃My　brothers　a