蛛后之战(被遗忘的国度系列英文版)-第18部分

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Faeryl　turned　to　keep　the　foe　with　her　crushed；　halfflayed　head　in　view。　What　is　it　going　to　take　to　stop　this　thing？　the　ambassador　wondered。　Can　I　stop　it？
Yes；　curse　it
When　she　was　a　child；　her　cousin　Merinid；　weapons　master　of　House　Zauvirr；　dead　these　many　years　since　her　mother　tired　of　him；　had　told　her　that　any　opponent　could　be　destroyed。　It　was　just　a　matter　of　finding　the　vulnerable　spot。
Umrae　lunged。　Once　again；　the　ambassador　snapped　out　the　folds　of　her　frail；　flapping　shield。　The　cloak　entangled　one　of　the　servant's　hands。　The　other　raked；　rasping　and　snagging；　across　Faeryl's　coat　of　fine　adamantine　links。　The　winged　ghoul's　touch　sowed　cramping　sickness　in　its　wake；　but　the　claws　hadn't　quite　sheared　through　the　sturdy　mail；　and　the　sensation　only　lasted　an　instant。
Faeryl　swung　at　Umrae's　withered　chest　in　its　covering　of　filthy；　crumbling　cloth。　If　she　couldn't　slay　the　ghoulthing　with　a　strike　to　the　head；　then　the　heart　must　be　the　vulnerable　spot；　just　as　with　a　vampire。　Or　at　least　she　hoped　so。
To　her　surprise；　Umrae　denied　her　the　chance　to　find　out　one　way　or　the　other。　It　looked　as　if　the　traitor　had　so　mitted　to　her　attack　that　she　would　find　it　impossible　to　defend　against　a　riposte。　Yet　she　interposed　her　withered　arm　to　take　the　shock　of　the　war　hammer；　then　stooped　to　claw　at　Faeryl's　unarmored　knee。
The　envoy　avoided　that　potentially　crippling　attack　with　a　fast　retreat；　meanwhile　ripping　the　cloak　away　from　her　foulsmelling　adversary。　The　garment　was　starting　to　look　more　like　a　bunch　of　ribbons　than　one　coherent　piece　of　silk。　The　duelists　resumed　circling；　each　looking　for　an　opening。　Occasionally　Faeryl　let　the　tattered　piwafwi　slip　or　droop　out　of　line；　offering　an　invitation；　but　Umrae　proved　too　canny　to　attack　when　and　how　her　opponent　wished　her　to。
Faeryl　realized　she　was　panting　and　did　the　best　to　control　her　breathing。　She　wasn't　afraid—she　wasn't—but　she　was　impressed　with　her　servant's　potioninduced　prowess。　Formidable　from　the　moment　she　imbibed　it；　Umrae　was　truly　getting　the　hang　of　her　borrowed　capabilities　as　the　battle　progressed。
While　still　maneuvering　and　keeping　an　eye　on　Umrae；　Faeryl　nevertheless　entered　a　light　trance。　With　a　sense　that　was　neither　sight；　hearing；　nor　any　faculty　prehensible　to　those　who'd　never　pledged　her　service　to　a　deity；　she　reached　into　that　formless　yet　somehow　jagged　place　where　she　had　once　been　accustomed　to　touch　the　shadow　of　the　goddess。
The　presence　of　Lolth　had　absented　itself　from　the　meeting　ground；　leaving　a　vacancy　that　somehow　throbbed　like　a　diseased　tooth。　Still；　it　seemed　an　appropriate　domain　in　which　to　pray。
Dread　Queen　of　Spiders；　Faeryl　silently　began；　I　beg　you；　reveal　yourself　to　me。　Restore　my　powers；　even　if　only　for　a　moment。　Has　Menzoberranzan　offended　you？　So　be　it；　but　I'm　not　one　of　her　daughters。　I'm　from　Ched　Nasad。　Make　me　as　I　was；　and　I'll　give　you　many　lives—a　slave　every　day　for　a　year。
Nothing　happened。
Umrae　sprang　in；　clawing。　Faeryl　jerked　the　part　of　her　spirit　that　had　groped　in　the　void　back　into　her　body。　Retreating；　she　blocked　the　undead　creature's　claws　with　her　cloak　and　struck　a　couple　blows　with　the　war　hammer。　She　didn't　withdraw　quickly　enough　to　take　herself　pletely　out　of　harm's　way；　nor　did　she　settle　into　a　strong　stance　and　swing　as　hard　as　she　could　have。　She　wanted　the　ghoul　to　feel　on　the　brink　of　overwhelming　her　opponent　and　keep　ing。　If　Umrae　grew　too　eager；　she　might　open　herself　up　for　an　effective　counterattack。
Umrae's　talons　whizzed　through　the　air；　tearing　scraps　from　the　sheltering　cloak　until　it　was　the　size　of　a　ragged　hand　towel。　Unexpectedly；　the　spy　beat　her　riddled　wings；　hopped　in　close；　and　struck　at　Faeryl's　face。　The　noble　recoiled；　but　even　so　the　claws　streaked　past　a　fraction　of　an　inch　before　her　eyes；　so　close　she　could　feel　the　malignancy　inside　them　as　a　pulse　of　headache。
Still；　it　was　all　right；　because　she　thought　Umrae　was　finally　open。　She　sidestepped　and　swung　her　stoneheaded　hammer　at　the　ghoul's　rib　cage—
—to　no　avail；　even　though　Faeryl　had　been　correct；　Umrae　couldn't　swing　her　hands　around　in　time　to　block　the　blow。　Instead；　she　took　another　stride；　slapped　the　ambassador　with　a　flick　of　her　wing；　and　sent　her　reeling。
Faeryl's　head　rang；　and　the　world　blurred。　As　she　struggled　to　throw　off　the　stunning　effects　of　the　blow；　she　thought　fleetingly　how　unfair　it　was　that　Umrae；　who　had　long　ago　forsaken　bat　training　as　a　humiliating　exercise　in　futility；　was　demolishing　a　female　who　still　doggedly　reported　to　her　captainoftheguard　for　practice　once　a　tenday。
After　what　seemed　a　long　time；　her　head　cleared。　She　whirled；　certain　that　Umrae　was　about　to　attack　her　from　behind。　She　wasn't。　In　fact；　the　animate　corpse　was　nowhere　to　be　seen。
Plainly；　Umrae　had　taken　to　the　air。　Had　she　finally　done　the　sensible　thing　and　fled？　Faeryl　couldn't　believe　it。　Umrae　hated　her。　The　envoy　didn't　know　why；　but　she'd　seen　it　in　the　traitor's　eyes。　Such　being　the　case；　Umrae　wouldn't　break　off　when　she　had　every　reason　to　believe　she　was　winning　and　close　to　making　the　kill。　No　drow　would；　which　meant　she　was　still　hovering　somewhere　overhead；　poised　to　swoop　down　and；　she　undoubtedly　hoped；　catch　her　mistress　by　surprise　and　smash　her　to　the　ground。
Her　heart　pounding；　Faeryl　peered　upward　and　saw　nothing。　She　listened　for　the　beat　of　the　creature's　wings　but　heard　only　the　eternal　muffled　whisper　of　the　city　as　a　whole。　She　wasn't　entirely　surprised。　The　undead　were　famously　stealthy　when　stalking　their　prey。
A　black　sliver　momentarily　cut　the　line　of　violet　luminescence　adorning　a　spire　of　the　castle　of　House　Vandree。　The　obstruction　had　surely　been　the　tip　of　one　of　Umrae's　wings。
Faeryl　stared　for　another　moment；　then　jumped　when　she　finally　spotted　Umrae。　Her　tattered　cloak　flapping　between　her　wings；　the　transformed　secretary　was　already　hurtling　down　like　a　raptor　from　the　World　Above　diving　to　plunge　its　talons　into　a　rodent。
Hoping　Umrae　hadn't　seen　her　react　to　the　sight　of　her；　Faeryl　kept　turning　and　peering。　When　she　felt　the　disturbance　in　the　air；　or　perhaps　simply　the　urgent　prompting　of　her　instincts；　she　jumped　aside；　pivoted；　and　swung　the　war　hammer　in　an　overhand　blow。
Under　those　circumstances；　she　had　little　chance　of　smashing　the　thing's　heart；　but　she'd　seen　that　Umrae　could　suffer　pain。　Perhaps　the　initial　blow　would　freeze　the　undead　thing　in　place　for　an　instant；　affording　Faeryl　the　opportunity　for　what　she　prayed　would　be　the　finishing　stroke。
The　ambassador　had　timed　the　move　properly；　and　the　weapon's　basalt　head　smashed　into　Umrae's　flank。　Deprived　of　her　victim；　unexpectedly　battered；　the　ghoul　slammed　into　the　smooth　stone　surface　of　the　street　with　a　satisfying　crash。　Scraps　of　flesh　broke　away　from　her　raddled　body；　releasing　a　fresh　puff　of　stench。
Faeryl　marked　her　target；　the　place　on　Umrae's　chest　beneath　which　her　heart　ought　to　lie；　and　swung　Mother's　Kiss　back　for　the　followup　attack。　The　traitor　rolled　and　scrambled　to　her　knees。　Faeryl　struck；　and　Umrae　lashed　out　with　a　taloned　hand。　The　ghoul　caught　the　war　hammer　in　midflight；　tore　it　out　of　the　ambassador's　grip；　and　sent　it　spinning　to　clack　down　on　the　ground　ten　feet　away。
Faeryl　felt　a　crazy　impulse　to　turn　and　go　after　the　thing；　but　she　knew　Umrae　would　rip　her　apart　if　she　tried。　She　back　stepped　instead。　The　inhumanly　gaunt　spy　leaped　to　her　feet—she　looked　like　a　pile　of　sticks　spontaneously　assembling　themselves　into　a　crude　facsimile　of　a　person—　and　pursued。
While　retreating；　Faeryl　started　edging　around　in　a　looping　course　that　might　ultimately　bring　her　to　the　spot　where　the　hammer　lay。　Leering；　Umrae　moved　sideways　right　along　with　her　in　a　way　that　demonstrated　she　knew　exactly　what　her　mistress　had　in　mind　and　would　never　permit　it。
Well；　the　aristocrat　still　had　one　weapon—pitifully　inadequate　to　the　situation　though　it　was—a　knife　hidden　in　the　belt　that　gathered　her　light；　supple　coat　of　mail　at　the　waist。　The　gold　buckle　was　the　hilt；　and　when　she　pulled　on　it；　the　stubby　adamantine　blade　would　slide　free。　She　started　to　reach　for　it；　then　hesitated。
Against　Umrae's　talons；　long　reach；　and　resistance　to　harm；　the　dagger　really　would　be　useless　。　。　。　unless　Faeryl　could　get　in　close　enough　to　use　it；　and　unless　she　attacked　by　surprise。
But　how　in　the　name　of　the　Demonweb　was　she　to　acplish　that？　Umrae　was　rapidly　closing　the　distance；　snapping　her　wings　every　few　steps　to　lengthen　a　stride；　and　for　three　unnerving　backward　paces；　Faeryl's　mind　was　blank。
Then　she　remembered　the　cloak；　or　rather；　the　remnants　of　it；　still　clutched　in　her　offhand。　Perhaps　she　could　employ　it　to　conceal　her　drawing　of　the　knife。　The　piwafwi　was　just　a　sad　little　mass　of　tatters；　and　she　was　no　juggler　adept　at　sleightofhand；　but　curse　it；　if　clumsy　Umrae　had　palmed　a　potion　vial　without　her　mistress　noticing　until　it　was　too　late；　surely　the　mistress　could　do　as　well。
Faeryl　had　been　reflexively　moving　the　cloak　around　the　whole　time；　so　it　shouldn't　look　suspicious　for　her　to　cover　her　waist　with　it。　At　the　same　time；　she　hooked　the　fingers　of　her　weapon　hand　in　the　oval　hollow　at　the　center　of　the　buckle　and　pulled。　She　had　never　before　had　occasion　to　employ　this　last　desperate　means　of　defense；　but　in　the　sixteen　years　since　an　artisan　had　made　it　to　her　specifications；　she　had　always　kept　the　knife　and　scabbard　oiled；　and　the　blade　easily　slid　free。
She　studied　Umrae。　As　far　as　the　envoy　could　tell；　the　imitation　ghoul　hadn't　seen　her　bare　the　dagger；　but　she　doubted　she　could　keep　it　hidden　for　more　than　a　second　or　two。　She　had　to　manufacture　a　chance　for　herself　quickly　if　she　was　to　have　one　at　all。
She　pretended　to　stumble。　She　hoped　her　unsteadiness　looked　genuine。　Umrae　had　touched　her；　after　all；　so　it　might　seem　credible　that　her　strength　was　failing。
The　ghoul　took　the　bait。　She　leaped　forward　and　seized　Faeryl　by　the　forearms。　This　time；　her　claws　punched　through　the　envoy's　layer　of　mail　and　jabbed　their　tips　into　her　flesh。　At　once；　a　surge　of　nausea　wracked　Faeryl；　then　another。　Retching；　she　wasn't　sure　she　could　still　use　the　knife　in　any　sort　of　controlled　manner。　Perhaps　she'd　just　served　herself　up　to　her　foe　like　a　plate　of　mushrooms。
Umrae　grinned　at　Faeryl's　seeming—or　genuine—helplessness。　The　envoy　felt　the　clerk's　fingers　tense；　preparing　to　flense　the　meat　from　her　bones；　even　as　she　pulled　the　noble　closer　and　opened　her　jaws　to　bite　down　on　her　head。
Fighting　the　sickness　and　weakness；　Faeryl　tried　to　thrust　her　hand　forward。　The　effort　strained　her　flesh　against　the　ghoul's　talons；　tearing　her　wounds　larger　and　bringing　a　burst　of　pain—but　then　her　arm　jerked　free。　The　blade　rammed　into　Umrae's　withered　chest；　slipping　cleanly　between　two　ribs　and　plunging　in　all　the　way　up　to　Faeryl's　knuckles。
Umrae　convulsed　and　threw　back　her　head　for　a　silent　scream。　The　spasms　jerked　her　hands　and　threatened　to　rip　Faeryl　apart　even　without　the　traitor's　conscious　intent。　Umrae　froze；　and　toppled　backward；　carrying　her　assailant　with　her。
In　contradiction　of　every　tale　Faeryl　had　ever　heard；　the　shape　shifter　didn't　revert　to　her　original　form　when　true　death　claimed　her。　Still　horribly　sick；　the　envoy　lay　for　some　time　in　the　ghoul's　fetid　embrace。　Eventually；　however；　she　mustered　the　trembling　strength　to　pull　free　of　the　claws　embedded　in　her　bleeding　limbs；　after　which　she　crawled　a　few　feet　away　from　the　winged　corpse。
Gradually；　despite　the　sting　of　her　punctures　and　bruises；　she　started　to　feel　a　little　better。　Physically；　anyway。　Inside　her　mind；　she　was　berating　herself　for　an　oute　that　wasn't　really　a　victory　at　all。
Given　that　she　needed　to　learn　what　Umrae　knew；　not　kill　her；　she'd　bungled　their　encounter　from　the　beginning。　She　supposed　she　should　have　agreed　to　the　traitor's　terms；　but　she'd　been　too　angry　and　too　proud。　She　should　also　have　spotted　the　vial　and　fought　more　skillfully。　If　not　for　luck；　it　would　be　she　and　not　her　erstwhile　scribe　lying　dead　on　the　stone。
She　wondered　if　her　sojourn　in　Menzoberranzan　had　diminished　her。　Back　in　Ched　Nasad；　she　had　enemies　in　and　outside　House　Zauvirr　to　keep　her　strong　and　sharp；　but　in　the　City　of　Spiders　none　had　wished　her　ill。　Had　she　fotten　the　habits　that　protected　her　for　her　first　two　hundred　years　of　life？　If　so；　she　knew　she'd　better　remember　them　quickly。
The　enemy　hadn't　finished　with　her。　She　wasn't　so　dull　and　rusty　that　she　didn't　recall　how　these　covert　wars　unfolded。　It　was　like　a　sava　game；　progressing　a　step　at　a　time；　gradually　escalating　in　ferocity。　Her　unknown　adversary's　first　move；　though　she　hadn't　known　it　at　the　time；　had　been　to　turn　Umrae　and　lie　to　Triel。　Faeryl's　countermove　was　to　capture　the　spy　and　remove　her　from　the　board。　As　soon　as　Umrae　missed　some　prearranged　rendezvous；　the　foe　would　know　her　pawn　had　been　taken　and　advance　another　piece。　Perhaps　it　would　be　the　mother。　Perhaps　the　foe　would　suggest　to　Matron　Baenre　that　the　time　had　e　to　throw　Faeryl　in　a　dungeon。
But　life　wasn't　really　a　sava　game。　Faeryl　could　cheat　and　make　two　moves　in　a　row；　which　in　this　instance　meant　truly　fleeing　Menzoberranzan　as　soon　as　possible；　before　the　enemy　learned　of　her　agent's　demise。
Lightheaded　and　sourmouthed　from　her　exertions；　Faeryl　dragged　herself　to　her　feet；　trudged　in　search　of　Mother's　Kiss；　and　wondered　just　how　she　would　acplish　that　little　miracle。
　
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Cloaked　in　the　semblance　of　a　squat；　leatheryskinned　ore；　whose　twisted　leg　manifestly　made　him　unfit　for　service　in　a　noble　or　even　merchant　House；　Pharaun　took　an　experimental　bite　of　his　sausage　and　roll。　The　unidentifiable　ground　meat　inside　the　casing　tasted　rank　and　was　gristly；　as　well　as　cold　at　the　core。
〃By　the　Demonweb〃　he　exclaimed。
〃What？〃　Ryld　replied。
The　weapons　master　too　appeared　to　be　a　scurvy；　brokendown　ore　in　grubby　rags。　Unbelievably；　he　was　devouring　his　vile　repast　without　any　overt　show　of　repugnance。
〃What？〃　The　Master　of　Sorcere　brandished　his　sausage。　〃This　travesty。　This　abomination。〃
He　headed　for　the　culprit's　kiosk；　a　sad　little　construction　of　bone　poles　and　sheets　of　hide；　taking　care　not　to　walk　too　quickly。　His　veil　of　illusion　would　make　it　look　as　if　he　were　limping；　but　it　wouldn't　conceal　the　anomaly　of　a　lame　ore　covering　ground　as　quickly　as　one　with　two　good　legs。　
The　longarmed；　flatfaced　goblin　proprietor　produced　a　cudgel　from　beneath　the　counter。　Perhaps　he　was　used　to　plaints。
Pharaun　raised　a　hand　and　said；　〃I　mean　no　harm。　In　fact；　I　want　to　help。〃
The　goblin's　eyes　narrowed。　〃Help？〃
〃Yes。　I'll　even　pay　another　penny　for　the　privilege。〃　he　said　as　he　extracted　a　copper　coin　from　his　purse。　〃I　just　want　to　show　you　something。〃
The　cook　hesitated；　then　held　out　a　dirtynailed　hand　and　said；　〃Give。　No　tricks。〃
〃No　tricks。〃
Pharaun　surrendered　the　coins　and　to　the　goblin's　surprise；　squirmed　around　the　end　of　the　counter　and　crowded　into　the　miniature　kitchen。　He　wrapped　his　hand　in　a　fold　of　his　cloak；　slid　the　hot　iron　grill　with　its　load　of　meat　from　its　brackets；　and　set　it　aside。
〃First；〃　Pharaun　said；　〃you　spread　the　coals　evenly　at　the　bottom　of　the　brazier。〃　He　picked　up　a　poker　and　demonstrated。　〃Next；　though　we　don't　have　time　to　start　from　scratch　right　now；