war of the spider queen 3 condemnation-第2章

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estesses　and　matriarchs　and　did　all　they　could　to　stay　well　clear　of　the　politics　of　the　great　Houses。　At　the　moment；　Valas　was　crouched　over　a　small　pile　of　dry　brush；　working　to　start　a　fire。
　　　〃Is　there　any　chance　we　will　be　pursued？〃　Ryld　said　into　the　icy　wind。
　　　〃I　doubt　it；〃　Quenthel　muttered。　〃The　whole　House　fell　after　we　used　the　portal。　How　could　we　be　followed？〃
　　　〃It　is　not　impossible；　dear　Quenthel；〃　Pharaun　replied。　〃A　petent　wizard　might　be　able　to　discern　where　the　portal　led　to；　even　though　it　was　destroyed。　He　might　even　be　able　to　repair　the　portal　sufficiently　to　make　use　of　it。　I　suppose　it　depends　on　how　badly　we　are　missed　in　Ched　Nasad。〃　He　glanced　up　at　Halisstra　and　asked；　〃What　about　it；　my　lady？　Don't　you　think　it　likely　that　your　kinfolk　will　hold　us　to　blame　for　the　unfortunate　events　of　the　last　few　hours？　Won't　they　go　to　great　lengths　to　exact　vengeance　upon　us？〃
　　　Halisstra　looked　at　him。　The　question　made　no　sense　to　her。　Who　could　possibly　be　left　to　fix　blame　for　the　duergar　attack　on　the　party　of　Menzoberranyr？　House　Melarn　had　fallen；　and　House　Nasadra　as　well。　She　became　aware　of　a　great　weariness　in　her　body；　a　leaden　feeling　in　her　heart　and　a　fog　in　her　mind；　and　she　allowed　herself　to　sink　to　the　sand　across　from　the　others。
　　　〃Anyone　still　in　Ched　Nasad　has　greater　things　to　concern　herself　with　than　your　whereabouts；〃　she　managed。
　　　〃I　think　the　lady　has　put　you　in　your　place；　Pharaun；〃　Ryld　said；　laughing。　〃The　world　and　all　within　it　do　not　revolve　around　you；　you　know。〃
　　　Pharaun　accepted　the　jibe　with　a　sardonic　grin　and　a　gesture　of　self…deprecation。
　　　〃Just　as　well；〃　he　said　lightly。　He　turned　to　Valas；　who　patiently　struck　sparks　at　his　pile　of　brush。　〃Are　you　sure　that's　wise？　That　fire　will　be　visible　from　quite　a　distance。〃
　　　〃It's　not　much　later　than　midnight；　unless　1　miss　my　guess；〃　the　scout　replied　without　looking　up　from　his　task。　〃If　you　think　it's　cold　now；　wait　until　the　hours　before　dawn。　We　need　fire；　regardless　of　the　risk。〃
　　　〃How　do　you　know　how　late　it　is；〃　Quenthel　asked；　〃or　how　cold　it'll　get？〃
　　　Valas　struck　a　spark　and　quickly　crouched　to　shelter　it　from　the　wind。　In　a　few　moments；　the　brush　crackled　and　burned　brightly。　The　scout　fed　it　carefully　with　more　brush。
　　　〃You　see　the　pattern　of　stars　to　the　south？〃　he　said。　〃Six　of　them　that　look　a　little　like　a　crown？　I　hose　are　winter　stars。　They　rise　early　and　set　late　this　time　of　year。　You'll　note　that　they're　near　the　zenith。〃
　　　〃You've　traveled　on　the　surface　before；〃　Quenthel　observed。
　　　〃Yes；　Mistress；〃　Valas　said；　but　did　not　elaborate。
　　　〃If　it's　the　middle　of　the　night；　what　is　that　glow　in　the　sky？〃　she　asked。　〃Surely　that　must　be　the　dawn。〃
　　　〃A　late　moonrise。〃
　　　〃It's　not　the　sun　ing　up？　It's　so　bright！〃
　　　Valas　looked　up；　smiled　coldly；　and　said；　〃If　that　was　the　sun；　Mistress；　the　stars　would　be　fading　from　half　the　sky。　Trust　me；　it's　the　moon。　If　we　stay　here；　you'll　e　to　know　the　sun　soon　enough。〃
　　　Quenthel　fell　silent；　perhaps　chagrined　by　her　mistake。　Halisstra　didn't　hold　it　against　her…she　had　made　the　same　mistake　herself。
　　　〃That　raises　an　excellent　question；〃　said　Pharaun。　〃Presumably；　we　do　not　wish　to　stay　here　for　very　long。　So；　then；　what　shall　we　do？〃
　　　He　looked　deliberately　at　Quenthel　Baenre；　challenging　her　with　his　question。
　　　Quenthel　didn't　rise　to　the　bait。　She　gazed　off　at　the　silver　glow　in　the　east；　as　if　she　hadn't　heard　the　question。　Moon　shadows　faint　as　ghosts　began　to　grow　from　weathered　walls　and　crumbling　columns；　so　dim　that　only　the　eyes　of　drow　accustomed　to　the　gloom　of　the　Underdark　could　perceive　them。　Quenthel　reached　down　to　the　sand　beside　her　and　let　a　handful　run　between　her　fingers；　watching　the　way　the　wind　swept　away　the　silver　stream。　For　the　first　time；　it　occurred　to　Halisstra　that　Quenthel　and　the　other　Menzoberranyr　might　feel　something　of　the　same　weariness；　the　same　desolation；　that　lay　over　her　own　heart；　not　because　they　felt　her　loss；　but　because　they　understood　that　they　had　witnessed　a　loss；　a　great　and　terrible　one。
　　　The　silence　stretched　out　for　a　long　time；　until　Pharaun　shifted　and　opened　his　mouth　as　if　to　speak　again。　Quenthel　spoke　before　he　could；　her　voice　cold　and　scornful。
　　　〃What　shall　we　do；　Pharaun？　We　shall　do　whatever　I　decide　we　should　do。　We　are　exhausted　and　wounded；　and　I　have　no　magic　to　restore　our　strength　and　heal　our　wounds。〃　She　grimaced；　and　let　the　rest　of　the　sand　slip　through　her　fingers。　〃For　now；　rest。　I　will　determine　our　course　of　action　tomorrow。〃
　　　
　　　Hundreds　of　miles　from　the　desert　ruins；　another　dark　elf　stood　in　another　ruined　city。
　　　This　was　a　drow　city；　a　jutting　bulwark　of　black　stone　that　thrust　out　from　the　wall　of　a　vast；　lightless　chasm。　In　arrangement　it　had　once　been　something　like　a　mighty　fortress　built　upon　a　great　rocky　hilltop；　only　turned　on　its　side　to　glower　out　over　an　empty　space　where　foul　winds　from　the　unplumbed　abyss　below　howled　up　into　unseen　caverns　above。　Though　its　turrets　and　spires　leaned　boldly　out　over　a　horrifying　precipice；　the　place　did　not　seem　frail　or　precarious　in　any　sense。　Its　massive　pier　of　rock　was　one　of　the　bones　of　the　world；　a　thick　spar　rooted　so　securely　in　the　chasm　wall　that　nothing　short　of　the　unmaking　of　Toril　would　tear　it　loose。
　　　Those　few　scholars　who　remembered　the　place　knew　it　as　Chaulssin；　the　City　of　Wyrmshadows；　and　even　most　of　them　forgot　why　the　city　was　called　that。　In　the　lightless　fortress　on　the　edge　of　an　abyss；　the　shadows　themselves　lived。　Inky　pools　of　midnight　blacker　than　a　drow's　heart　curled　and　flowed　from　tower　to　tower。　Whispering　darkness　slithered　like　a　gigantic；　hungering　dragon　in　and　about　the　needle…like　spires　and　the　open…sided　galleries　of　the　dead　city。　From　time　to　time　the　living　shadows　swallowed　portions　of　the　city　for　centuries；　drawing　a　palace　or　a　temple　deep　into　a　cold　place　beyond　the　circles　of　the　world。
　　　Nimor　Imphraezl　climbed　deliberately　through　Chaulssin's　deserted　galleries；　seemingly　oblivious　to　the　living　black　curtains　that　danced　and　writhed　in　the　city's　dark　places。　The　maddening　howl　of　the　endless　hurricane　rising　up　past　the　city　walls　ripped　at　his　cloak　and　sent　his　long　silver　hair　streaming　from　his　head；　but　he　paid　it　no　mind。　This　was　his　place；　his　refuge；　and　its　perils　and　madness　simply　familiar　features　undeserving　of　his　attention。　Nimor　wore　the　shape　of　a　slim；　almost　boyish　dark　elf；　which　was　to　say　that　he　was　short　of　stature　and　slender　as　a　reed。　The　top　of　his　head　would　barely　reach　the　nose　of　a　typical　female；　and　any　female　with　a　little　height　to　her　would　tower　over　him　head　and　shoulders。
　　　Despite　his　graceful　build；　Nimor　virtually　radiated　power。　His　small　frame　seemed　to　burst　with　a　precise　strength　and　lethal　quickness　far　out　of　proportion　to　his　body。　His　face　was　narrow　but　handsome；　almost　beautiful；　and　he　carried　himself　with　the　supreme　arrogance　of　a　noble…born　drow　who　feared　nothing　in　his　path。　It　was　a　part　he　played　well；　being　a　drow　of　a　high　House；　a　prince　of　his　ruined　city。　If　he　was　something　else；　something　more；　well　。　。　。　those　few　dark　elves　who　lived　there　with　him　were　much　the　same。
　　　Nimor　reached　the　end　of　the　gallery　and　turned　inward；　climbing　up　a　grand　stairway　cut　through　the　heart　of　the　monolithic　spur　to　which　Chaulssin　clung。　The　cacophony　of　the　winds　outside　faded　quickly　to　a　distant　but　deep　whispering；　sibilant　and　penetrating。　There　was　no　place　one　could　go　within　Chaulssin　to　escape　the　sound。　He　set　his　hand　on　the　hilt　of　his　rapier　and　followed　the　spiraling　black　steps　up　into　a　great　dark　chamber；　a　vaulted　cathedral　of　shadows　in　the　heart　of　the　city。　Flickering　torches　of　everburning　fire　in　bronze　sconces　cast　faint；　ruddy　pools　of　light　along　the　ribbed　walls；　streaks　of　red　that　faded　into　the　blackness　of　the　vault　overhead。　Up　there　the　shadows　were　close　indeed；　a　roiling　well　of　blackness　that　even　Nimor's　eyes　could　not　penetrate。
　　　〃Nimor。　You　are　late。〃
　　　Standing　in　a　circle　in　the　center　of　the　room；　the　seven　Patron　Fathers　of　the　Jaezred　Chaulssin　turned　as　one　to　watch　Nimor　approach。　On　the　far　side　of　the　circle　stood　Patron　Grandfather　Mauzzkyl；　a　hale　old　dark　elf　with　broad　shoulders　and　a　deep　chest；　his　hair　thinning　to　a　sharp　widow's　peak。
　　　〃The　Patron　Fathers　do　not　wait　on　the　pleasure　of　the　Anointed　Blade　of　the　Jaezred　Chaulssin；〃　Mauzzkyl　said。
　　　〃Revered　Grandfather；　my　delay　was　unavoidable；〃　Nimor　replied。
　　　He　joined　the　circle　in　the　place　that　had　been　left　for　him；　offering　no　obeisance　and　expecting　none　from　the　others。　As　the　Anointed　Blade　he　answered　only　to　the　Patron　Grandfather；　and　in　fact　stood　higher　among　the　Jaezred　Chaulssin　than　any　of　the　Patron　Fathers　except　Mauzzkyl。
　　　〃I　am　lately　e　from　Menzoberranzan；〃　he　added；　〃and　tarried　as　long　as　I　could　to　observe　events　before　departing。〃
　　　〃How　stand　matters　there？〃　asked　Patron　Father　Tomphael。　He　was　slender　and　rakish；　much　like　Nimor　in　appearance；　but　he　preferred　the　robes　of　a　wizard　to　the　mail　of　a　fighter；　and　he　possessed　a　streak　of　caution　that　sometimes　verged　on　cowardice。　〃How　does　our　revolt　fare？〃
　　　〃Not　as　well　as　I　might　like；　but　about　as　well　as　I　expected；〃　admitted　Nimor。　Tomphael's　divinations　had　no　doubt　revealed　that　much。　Did　the　Patron　Father　hope　to　catch　the　Anointed　Blade　concealing　a　failure？　Nimor　almost　smiled　at　the　simplicity　of　it。　〃The　slaves　were　crushed　easily　enough。　Gromph　Baenre　took　an　interest　in　things；　and　his　agents　seem　to　have　destroyed　or　driven　off　our　illithilich　friend。　On　the　positive　side；　we　did　expose　something　of　the　spider…kissers'　weakness　to　the　mon　Menzoberranyr；　which　is　promising；　and　the　priestesses　obliged　us　by　using　a　significant　amount　of　their　hoarded　magic　to　destroy　their　own　rebellious　slaves。　The　city　is　weakened　thereby。〃
　　　〃You　might　have　taken　a　more　direct　hand　in　the　affair；〃　said　Patron　Xorthaul；　who　wore　the　black　mail　of　a　priest。　〃If　you　had　slain　the　archmage's　lackeys…〃
　　　〃The　revolt　we　sponsored　still　would　have　been　crushed；　and　I　would　have　put　them　on　their　guard　too　soon；〃　Nimor　interrupted。　〃Remember；　Patron　Xorthaul；　this　was　never　intended　to　be　anything　other　than　a　simple　feint；　easily　deflected；　by　which　we　might　assay　the　real　strength　of　the　matron　mothers　of　Menzoberranzan。　The　next　blow　will　be　the　one　that　beats　down　their　guard　and　slices　deep　into　flesh。〃　He　decided　to　turn　the　topic　and　set　someone　else　on　the　defensive。　〃As　I　am　the　last　to　arrive；　I　have　no　news　of　how　affairs　proceed　in　the　other　cities。　What　of　Eryndlyn？　Or　Ched　Nasad？〃
　　　Cold　smiles　twisted　cruel　faces。　Nimor　blinked。　It　wasn't　often　that　the　patron　fathers　encountered　an　event　in　which　they　could　collectively　take　pleasure。　Grandfather　Mauzzkyl　himself　broke　the　news。
　　　〃Eryndlyn　proceeds　much　as　we　expected…Patron　Father　Tomphael　brought　tidings　not　dissimilar　to　your　own…but　Ched　Nasad。　。　。　。　From　Ched　Nasad；　Patron　Father　Zammzt　returns　in　triumph。〃
　　　〃Really？〃　drawled　Nimor；　impressed　despite　himsel