蛛后之战(被遗忘的国度系列英文版)-第12部分

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e；　a　spiked　mace　all　but　crackling　with　mystic　force　in　her　hand。　Left　to　her　own　devices；　she　might　hear　her　superior's　distress　and　try　to　intervene；　and　the　spirit　decided　to　prevent　such　an　occurrence。　It　rose　around　the　priestess；　blinding　her；　thickened　a　length　of　itself；　and　whipped　it　around　her　neck。
The　female　thrashed　a　little；　then　passed　out　for　want　of　air。　Her　assailant　laid　her　down　and　slid　beneath　the　door。
Scores　of　costly　icons　decorated　Quenthel's　private　rooms；　so　many　that　the　place　seemed　a　temple　of　Lolth　in　its　own　right。　Beyond　that；　however；　the　suite　was　sparsely　furnished；　albeit　with　exquisite　pieces；　as　if　the　Mistress　of　ArachTinilith　practiced　an　asceticism　at　odds　with　the　habits　of　the　average　sybaritic　Menzoberranyr。
The　darkness　sent　an　intangible　ripple　of　itself　probing　ahead。　At　once　it　discovered　an　element　of　Quenthel's　personal　defenses。　It　was　not；　as　the　spirit　might　have　expected；　a　hidden　mantrap　woven　of　potent　divine　magic　but　a　simple　set　of　crystal　wind　chimes　rendered　invisible　and　hung　at　a　point　where　any　oblivious　intruder　would　be　sure　to　bump　his　head　on　them。　Apparently　the　Baenre　priestess　believed　that　so　long　as　an　assassin　gave　her　a　second's　warning；　she　would　be　able　to　handle　the　threat　herself。
Maybe　she　could。　The　netherspirit　would　never　know；　because　it　had　no　intention　of　informing　her　of　its　ing。　It　took　a　certain　ironic　amusement　in　sliding　its　smoke　like　form　directly　through　the　dangling　crystals　without　disturbing　them　in　the　slightest。
Eyes　closed；　in　Reverie　no　doubt；　Quenthel　sat　straightbacked　and　crosslegged　on　a　rug。　Along　the　back　wall；　pulses　of　mystical　force　throbbed　from　a　pair　of　iron　chests　and　from　behind　a　theoretically　secret　door。　The　high　priestess　had　invoked　some　formidable　magic　to　protect　her　valuables。　It　was　too　bad　she　wasn't　similarly　careful　with　her　life。
Gromph's　agent　flowed　forward；　and　something　reared　hissing　atop　a　round　little　table。　It　was　the　five　vipers　prising　an　enchanted　whip。　Distracted　by　the　magical　power　blazing　at　the　back　of　the　chamber；　the　netherspirit　had　missed　feeling　the　lesser　emanations　of　the　vipers。
Fortunately；　it　didn't　matter。　The　animate　darkness　had　skulked　too　close　to　its　prey　for　anything　to　balk　it。　It　solidified　a　twisting　strand　of　itself　and　slapped　the　table　over；　sending　the　whip　flying。　At　the　same　time　it　darted；　stretching；　to　pounce　on　Quenthel。
Her　slanted　eyes　opened　but　of　course　saw　only　blackness。　She　opened　her　mouth　to　speak　or　shout；　and　the　demon　shoved　a　tendril　inside。
　
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S　E　　V　E　　N　
For　an　instant；　the　world　blazed　bright　and　hot；　searing　Pharaun's　skin。　However；　when　the　flame　was　gone　it　left　little　more　than　a　tactile　memory　of　pain。　Gasping；　the　wizard　took　stock　of　himself。　Except　for　a　blister　or　two；　he　was　all　right。　Some　bination　of　the　protective　enchantments　woven　into　both　his　vest　and　piwafwi；　his　innate　drow　resistance　to　hostile　magic；　and　the　silver　ring　he　wore　bearing　the　insignia　of　Sorcere；　had　saved　him　from　fatal　burns。
Ryld　had　drawn　Splitter。　An　arrow　whizzed　down　from　a　rooftop　across　the　street；　and　the　burly　swordsman　batted　it　out　of　the　air。　A　huge　flying　mount　wheeled　overhead；　vanishing　from　view　before　Pharaun　could　get　a　good　look　at　it。
〃Are　you　all　right？〃　Ryld　asked。
〃Just　singed　a　little；〃　Pharaun　replied。
〃Here　are　your　rogues；　not　so　canny　after　all。　We'll　either　have　to　rise　into　the　air　after　them　or　pull　them　down　to　the　street。〃
〃We'll　do　neither。　Follow　me。〃
〃Run？〃　the　weapons　master　asked；　swatting　away　another　arrow。　〃I　thought　we　wanted　to　catch　one　of　them。〃
〃Just　follow。〃
Pharaun　began　moving　down　the　street；　meanwhile　peering　upward；　looking　for　his　attackers。　Ryld　scowled　but　trailed　along　behind　him。
The　Master　of　Sorcere　glimpsed　a　swirling　motion　from　the　corner　of　his　eye。　He　pivoted。　Crouched　on　the　edge　of　a　roof；　a　spell　caster　spun　his　hands　in　fluid　mystic　passes。
Gesturing；　speaking　rapidly；　Pharaun　rattled　off　his　own　incantation。　He　was　racing　the　other　mage；　and　he　finished　his　magic　first。　Five　darts　of　azure　light　leaped　from　his　fingertips；　shot　at　the　spell　caster；　and　plunged　into　his　chest。　From　that　distance；　he　couldn't　tell　how　badly　he'd　hurt　his　colleague；　but　at　the　least　his　foe　flailed　his　arms　in　pain。　The　Academician's　attack　had　disrupted　his　spell。
Ryld　knocked　another　arrow　away；　and　only　then　did　Pharaun　realize　that　this　time；　the　shaft　had　been　hurtling　at　him。　An　instant　later；　a　studded　mace　seemingly　made　of　shadow　flew　out　of　nowhere　and　swung　itself　at　his　head。　Splitter　flicked　over　and　tapped　that　manifestation。　As　conjured　objects　often　did；　the　war　club　vanished　at　the　great　sword's　touch。
〃In　here；〃　Pharaun　said。
The　two　masters　ran　to　the　arched　sandstone　door　of　one　of　the　modest　houses　on　the　street。　Pharaun　suspected　that　the　tenants　had　locked　it　at　the　first　sign　of　trouble；　and　evidently　Ryld　agreed；　because　he　didn't　bother　trying　the　handle。　He　simply　booted　the　door　and　broke　the　latch。　The　weapons　master　scrambled　inside。
The　front　room　of　the　home　was　crowded。　Pharaun　might　have　expected　that。　The　population　of　the　city　had　grown　considerably　since　its　founding　but　the　number　of　stalagmite　buildings　was　of　necessity　fixed。　The　poor　had　to　squeeze　in　wherever　they　could。
Thus；　an　abundance　of　paupers　lived　in　the　hovel；　and　a　goodly　number　of　them　had　gathered　in　this　mon　space；　either　to　relax　or　to　dip　rothe　stew　from　the　iron　caldron　on　the　trestle　table。　Surprisingly；　the　simple　meal　actually　smelled　appetizing。　The　aroma　made　Pharaun's　mouth　water　and　reminded　him　that　he　hadn't　dined　in　several　hours。
Ryld　brandished　Splitter　at　the　occupants　of　the　house　with　a　flashy　facility　calculated　to　quell　aggressive　impulses。
〃We　apologize　for　the　intrusion；〃　Pharaun　said。
The　weapons　master　glowered　at　him。　〃Why　are　we　running？〃
〃That　pillar　of　fire　was　divine　magic；　not　arcane。〃　Pharaun　lifted　his　hand；　displaying　the　silver　Sorcere　ring　and　reminding　his　friend　of　its　power　to　identify；　not　just　protect　him　from；　magic。　〃It's　priestesses　attacking　us。　Killing　them　would　call　attention　to　us；　make　the　Council　even　more　eager　to　put　a　stop　to　our　inquiry。　It　might　even　make　them　want　to　kill　us　irrespective　of　how　our　mission　turns　out　or　of　what　Gromph　decides。〃
Pharaun　grinned　and　added；　〃I　know　I　promised　you　glorious　mayhem；　but　that　will　have　to　wait。〃
Ryld　replied；　〃It's　a　difficult　thing　to　sneak　away　from　foes　who　hold　the　high　ground。〃
〃I'm　an　inexhaustible　font　of　tricks；　haven't　you　noticed？〃　Pharaun　beamed　at　the　assembled　paupers　and　said；　〃How　would　you　all　like　to　assist　two　masters　of　the　Academy　engaged　in　a　mission　of　vital　importance？　I　assure　you；　Archmage　Baenre　himself　will　wax　giddy　with　gratitude　when　I　inform　him　of　your　aid。〃
His　audience　stared　back　at　him；　fear　in　their　eyes。　One　of　the　female　moners　produced　a　bonehandled；　graniteheaded　mallet　and　threw　it。　Ryld　caught　it　and　hurled　it　back。　The　makeshift　weapon　thudded　into　the　center　of　the　laborer's　forehead；　and　she　collapsed。
〃Would　anyone　else　care　to　express　a　reservation　of　any　sort？〃　Pharaun　asked。　He　waited　a　beat。　〃Splendid；　then　just　stand　still。　I　assure　you；　this　won't　hurt。〃
The　Master　of　Sorcere　pulled　a　wisp　of　fleece　from　a　pocket　and　recited　an　incantation。　With　a　soft　hissing；　a　wave　of　magical　force　shimmered　through　the　room。　When　it　touched　the　paupers；　they　changed；　each　into　a　facsimile　of　Ryld　or　Pharaun　himself。　Only　a　single　child　remained　unaffected。
〃Excellent；〃　said　Pharaun。　〃Now　all　you　have　to　do　is　go　outside；　at　which　point；　I　remend　you　scatter。　With　luck；　many；　if　not　all　of　you；　will　survive。〃
〃No〃　cried　one　of　Ryld's　doubles　in　a　high；　agitated　voice。　〃You　can't　make　us—〃
〃But　we　can；〃　said　Pharaun。　〃I　can　fill　the　house　with　a　poisonous　vapor；　my　friend　can　start　chopping　you　to　pieces。　。。。　So　please；　be　sensible；　go　now。　If　the　enemy　breaks　in　here；　your　chances　will　be　significantly　worse。〃
They　looked　sullenly　back　at　him。　He　smiled　and　shrugged；　and　Ryld　hefted　Splitter。　The　moners　began　to　scurry　toward　the　door。
The　two　masters　fell　in　at　the　back　of　the　crowd；　prepared　to　chivvy　folk　along　as　necessary。
〃Shadows　of　the　Pit；〃　murmured　Pharaun；　〃I　wasn't　at　all　sure　they　would　actually　do　it。　I　am　a　persuasive　devil；　aren't　I？　It　must　be　my　honest　face。〃
〃Decoys　aren't　a　bad　idea；〃　said　Ryld；　〃but　now　that　I　think　of　it；　why　not　just　turn　us　invisible？〃
Pharaun　snorted。　〃Do　I　tell　you　which　end　of　the　sword　to　grip？　Invisibility's　too　mon　a　trick。　I'm　sure　our　foes　are　prepared　to　counter　it。　Whereas　the　illusion　may　work。　It's　one　of　my　personal；　private　spells；　and　we　Mizzrym　are　famously　deft　with　phantasm。　Now；　when　we　get　outside；　don't　lose　track　of　me。　You　don't　want　to　go　skipping　off　with　the　wrong　Pharaun。〃
Most　of　the　moners　had　vacated　the　house。　Pharaun　drew　a　deep　breath；　steadying　himself；　and　he　and　Ryld　plunged　out　into　the　open。
The　moners　were　scattering　as　directed。　As　far　as　Pharaun　could　tell；　no　one　had　attacked　any　of　them。　Perhaps；　as　he'd　hoped；　the　enemy　was　entirely　flummoxed。
The　masters；　fleeing　like　the　rest；　turned　one　corner　and　another。　Pharaun　was　beginning　to　feel　the　smugness　that　es　from　outwitting　an　adversary　when　something　rattled　and　rustled　above　his　head。　He　looked　up　in　time　for　it　to　slam　him　in　the　face　and　knock　him　down。　Dropped　from　a　fair　height；　the　thick；　coarse　strands　of　rope　prising　the　net　struck　with　the　force　of　a　club。
Also　trapped；　Ryld　cursed；　the　language　vulgar　enough　to　make　the　Braeryn　proud。
Pharaun　needed　a　second　to　shake　off　the　shock　of　the　impact；　and　he　realized　his　current　situation　was　even　more　unfortunate　than　he'd　initially　thought。　The　net；　woven　in　a　spider　web　pattern；　was　animate。　Scraping　his　skin；　striving　to　render　him　pletely　immobile；　the　heavy　mesh　shifted　and　tightened　around　him。
A　foulwing　landed　on　the　street。　In　the　saddle　sat　an　otherwise　handsome　priestess　with　a　scarred　face—a　Mizzrym　face；　lean；　intelligent；　and　sardonic。　Strangely；　she　wore　a　domino　mask；　and　Pharaun　suspected　he　knew　why。
Grinning；　the　female　said；　〃I　knew　you'd　try　to　trick　me　with　illusions；　Pharaun。　That's　why　I　brought　a　talisman　of　true　seeing。〃
Though　he　wasn't　sure　she　could　see　it　from　outside　the　net；　Pharaun　made　it　a　point　to　smile　back　when　he　said；　〃And　you　were　correct。　Hello；　Greyanna。〃
Quenthel　was　immune　to　fear。　She　did　not；　could　not；　panic。　Or　so　she　had　always　believed；　and　in　fact；　she　wasn't　panicking；　but　she　was　as　desperate　and　bewildered　as　any　illwisher　could　desire。
She　wasn't　certain；　but　she　believed　the　vipers'　hissing　and　a　bump　and　clatter　had　roused　her　from　her　trancelike　state　of　repose。　She'd　opened　her　eyes　and　seen　nothing。　Evidently　someone　had　conjured　a　patch　of　darkness　around　her；　or　worse；　cursed　her　with　a　blindness　spell。　She　opened　her　mouth　to　speak　to　the　whip　snakes；　and　something　cold　and　thick　jammed　itself　inside。
Her　throat　clogged；　she　was　suffocating。　Meanwhile；　something　else；　something　that　felt　like　the　cool；　dexterous　tip　of　a　demon's　tentacle；　slid　around　her　wrist。
She　yanked　her　hand　away　just　before　the　unseen　member　could　lock　around　it　and　thrashed　to　keep　her　limbs　free　of　the　other　tendrils　that　began　to　grope　after　them。　None　of　it　helped　her　breathe。
She　battered　furiously　at　the　space　around　her。　Logic　told　her　that　her　attacker　had　to　be　there；　but　her　fists　merely　swept　through　empty　space。　Her　chest　ached　with　the　need　for　air；　and　she　felt　unconsciousness　nibbling　at　her　mind。
She　did　the　only　thing　left。　She　bit　down。
At　first；　she　couldn't　penetrate　the　mass；　but　she　strained；　snarled　in　her　throat　with　effort；　and　her　teeth　sank　into　something　leathery　and　oily。
In　an　instant；　it　vanished。　It　didn't　yank　itself　free；　it　just　melted　away。
Quenthel's　teeth　snapped　together　with　a　clack。
Scrambling　to　her　knees；　she　sucked　in　a　couple　deep　breaths；　then　called；　〃Whip〃
〃Here〃
〃I　understand。〃
At　least　she　wasn't　blind。　She'd　heard　of　demons　made　of　darkness　itself；　though　she　had　never　had　occasion　to　summon　one。　They　were　said　to　be　hard　to　catch　and　even　harder　to　bind。
〃Guard〃　she　called。
This　time　she　didn't　hear　an　answer　and　wasn't　surprised。　The　invader's　presence　suggested　the　sentry　was　either　a　traitor　or　dead。
Quenthel　sensed　something　rushing　at　her。　She　flung　herself　sideways；　and　something　crashed　against　the　patch　of　wall　immediately　behind　the　space　she'd　just　vacated。　The　stone　floor　chilled　her　through　her　gauzy　wisp　of　a　chemise。
As　planned；　she　fetched　up　against　the　stand　where　she　kept　certain　small　pieces　of　her　regalia。　She　leaped　up　and　groped　about　the　rectangular　stone　tabletop。　To　her　disgust；　a　couple　items　rattled　to　the　floor；　but　then　her　fingers　closed　on　a　medallion　of　beautifully　cut　glass。
Squinting；　she　invoked　the　trinket's　power。　A　dazzling　glare　blazed　through　the　room。　Quenthel　had　to　shield　her　own　eyes；　hoping　the　terrible　light　would　destroy　a　living　darkness　altogether。
The　magic　light　and　the　equally　supernatural　darkness　made　for　a　split　second　when　the　lighting　in　the　room　was　as　it　was　before　the　creature　had　entered。　At　least　Quenthel　could　open　her　eyes。
Her　assailant；　seemingly　unaffected　by　the　light；　was　a　ragged　central　blot　with　long；　tattered　arms　snaking　throughout　the　room；　ubiquitous　as　smoke。　Drinking　in　all　the　glow；　reflecting　none；　it　was　dead　black　and　deceptively　flatlooking。　It　thrust　a　long；　thin　probe　at　the　medallion　and　Quenthel　jerked　the　token　aside。　The　shaft　of　blackness　veered；　pensating；　and　struck　the　medallion　hard　enough　to　knock　it　out　of　her　hand。　The　light　died　instantly　when　the　glass　medallion　shattered　on　the　floor。
Fortunately；　the　illumination　had　lasted　long　enough　for　her　to　note　the　locations　of　several　other　objects　on　the　stand。　She　instinctively　ducked；　the　tentacle　swept　over　her　head　and　tousled　her　hair；　and　she　grabbed　a　scroll。　As　before；　she　would　regret　expending　any　of　the　spells　contained　therein；　but　she'd　regret　dying　even　more。
Conversant　with　the　contents　of　the　parchment；　she　didn't　need　to　see　the　trigger　phrase　to　〃read〃　it。　She　recited　the　words；　and　a　shaft　of　yellow　flame　roared　down　from　the　ceiling　through　the　spot　where　the　core　of　the　demon　had　been　floating。　The　firelight　showed　that　it　was　still　there。　The　blaze　passed　right　through　it；　and　all　its　arms　and　streamers　of　murk　convulsed。
The　column　of　flame　vanished　after　a　moment；　leaving；　despite　the　care　the　drow　had　taken　to　shield　her　eyes；　a　haze　of　afterimage　bisecting　her　vision。　It　took　her　a　second　to　realize　that　dull；　wavering　stripe　was　the　only　thing　she　could　see。　The　darkness　had　survived。　It　had　clotted　its　essence　around　her　to　seal　her　eyes　once　more。
You're　a　tough　one；　she　thought；　sending　the　unspoken　words　to　the　mind　of　the　demon　as　she；　a　divine　emissary　of　Lolth；　was　trained　to　do。
There　was　no　response；　and　Quenthel　felt　no　connection　made　between　her　mind　and　the　consciousness　of　the　demon。　This　was　no　servant　of　Lolth's。
Alive　and　impossible　to　mand；　it　would　surely　grab　or　strike　at　her；　and　this　time　intuition　was　failing　her。　She　had　no　idea　from　where　the　attack　would　e；　so　she　didn't　know　which　way　to　dodge　to　evade　it。　She　simply　had