蛛后之战(被遗忘的国度系列英文版)-第22部分

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neck。
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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　and　sisters；〃　he　repeated。　〃Since　the　founding　of　this　city；　the　Menzoberranyr　have　held　our　peoples　in　bondage　or　in　conditions　equally　degraded。　They　work　us　until　we　die　of　exhaustion。　They　torture　and　kill　us　on　a　whim。　They　condemn　us　to　starve；　sicken；　and　live　in　squalor。〃
The　audience　growled　its　agreement。
〃You　witness　our　misery　everywhere　you　look；〃　the　hooded　orator　continued。　〃Yesterday；　I　walked　through　Manyfolk。　I　saw　a　hobgoblin　girlchild；　surely　no　older　than　five　or　six；　trying　to　pick　up　a　scrap　of　mushroom　from　the　street。　With　her　teeth　Her　hands　wouldn't　serve。　Some　drow　had　magically　fused　them　together　behind　her　back　so　she　would　live　and　die　a　cripple　and　a　freak。〃
The　crowd　snarled　in　outrage；　even　though　their　races　monly　engaged　in　tortures　equally　cruel；　albeit　far　less　varied　and　imaginative。
〃I　walked　through　Narbondellyn；〃　the　Prophet　said。　〃I　saw　an　ore；　paralyzed　in　some　manner；　lying　on　the　ground。　A　dark　elf　slit　his　chest；　spread　the　flaps　of　skin；　cut　some　ribs　with　a　saw；　and　whistled　his　riding　lizard　over　to　feed　on　the　stillliving　thrall's　ans。　The　drow　told　a　panion　that　he　gave　the　reptile　one　such　meal　every　tenday　to　make　it　a　faster　racer。〃
The　audience　howled　its　wrath。　One　female　ore；　transported　with　fury；　gashed　her　cheeks　and　brow　with　a　piece　of　broken　glass。
The　Prophet's　litany　of　atrocities　ran　on　and　on；　and　Ryld　gradually　felt　a　strange　emotion　overtaking　him。　He　knew　it　couldn't　be　guilt—no　dark　elf　experienced　that　ridiculous　condition—but　perhaps　it　was　a　kind　of　shame；　a　disgust　at　the　sheer　waste　and　childishness　manifest　in　Menzoberranzan's　abuse　of　its　undercreatures　and　a　desire　to　rectify　the　situation　if　he　could。
The　feeling　was　irrational；　of　course。　The　goblins　and　their　kin　existed　only　to　serve　the　pleasure　of　the　drow；　and　if　you　ruined　one；　you　just　caught　or　bought　another。　The　weapons　master　gave　his　head　a　shake；　clearing　it；　then　turned　to　Pharaun。
Even　through　his　ore　mask；　the　wizard's　amusement　was　apparent。
〃Resolved　to　mend　your　wicked　ways？〃
〃I　gather　you　feel　the　influence；　too；〃　said　Ryld。　〃What's　happening？〃
〃The　Prophet　has　magic　buttressing　his　oratory；　again；　in　a　sort　of　configuration　I　don't　quite　understand。〃
〃Right；　but　what's　the　point　of　all　this　bellyaching？'
〃I　assume　he'll　get　around　to　telling　us。'
The　speaker　continued　in　the　same　vein　a　while　longer；　goading　the　crowd　to　the　brink　of　hysteria。
At　last　he　cried；　〃But　it　does　not　have　to　be　that　way'
The　undercreatures　howled；　and　for　a　moment；　until　he　pushed　the　feelings　away；　Ryld　felt　his　magically　induced　disgust　blaze　up　into　savage　bloodlust。
〃We　can　be　avenged　Cast　down　the　drow　to　be　our　slaves　We'll　sack　Menzoberranzan；　and　afterward　those　of　us　who　wish　it　will　return　to　our　own　peoples　laden　with　treasure；　while　the　rest　of　us　rule　the　cavern　as　our　own〃
Not　likely；　thought　Ryld。　He　turned　to　say　as　much　to　Pharaun；　then　blinked　in　surprise。　The　wizard　looked　as　if　he　was　taking　this　diatribe　seriously。
〃They're　just　venting　their　resentment　in　the　form　of　a　fantasy；〃　the　warrior　whispered。　〃They'd　never　dare；　and　we'd　crush　them　in　a　matter　of　minutes　if　they　did。〃
〃So　one　would　assume；〃　Pharaun　replied。　〃e　on；　I　want　a　closer　look。〃
They　started　working　their　way　forward　through　the　agitated　throng。　Some　of　their　fellow　spectators　plainly　resented　their　shoving。　Ryld　had　to　toss　one　hobgoblin　down　onto　the　floor　of　the　sunken　arena；　but　no　one　seemed　to　think　it　odd　that　they　wanted　to　get　closer　to　the　charismatic　leader。　Others　were　doing　the　same。
The　Prophet　continued　his　oration。
〃I　thank　you　for　your　work　and　your　patience；　which　soon　will　reap　their　reward。　Word　of　our　revolt　has　reached　every　street　and　alley。　We　have　warriors　everywhere；　and　each　understands　what　he　is　to　do　when　he　hears　the　Call。　Meanwhile；　the　drow　suspect　nothing。　Their　arrogance　makes　them　placent。　They　won't　suspect　until　it's　too　late；　until　the　Call　es　and　we　rise　as　one—until　we　burn　them。〃
Ryld　and　Pharaun　had　forced　their　way　close　enough　to　see　the　Prophet　pick　up　a　sandstone　rod　and　anoint　the　end　with　an　oil　from　a　ceramic　bottle。　The　rod　burst　into　yellow；　crackling　flame　as　if　it　were　made　of　dry　wood；　that　exotic　bustible　product　of　the　World　Above。　The　master　of　MeleeMagthere　squinted　at　the　sudden　flare　of　light。
〃Eyes　of　the　Goddess〃　Pharaun　exclaimed。
〃It's　a　neat　trick；〃　Ryld　said；　〃but　surely　nothing　special　by　your　standards。〃
〃Not　the　fire；　those　two　bugbears　standing　behind　the　Prophet。〃
〃His　bodyguards；　I　imagine。　What　of　them？〃
〃They're　Tluth　Melarn　and　one　Alton　the　cobbler；　two　of　our　runaways。　They're　wearing　veils　of　illusion；　too；　but　of　a　simpler　nature。　I　can　see　past　theirs。〃
〃Are　you　serious？　What　are　drow；　even　rogues；　doing　aiding　the　instigator　of　a　slave　revolt？〃
〃Perhaps　we'll　find　out　when　we　tail　the　Prophet　and　his　entourage　away　from　here。〃
〃I　taught　you　how　to　use　the　fire　pots；〃　the　orator　continued；　〃and　my　friends　and　I　have　brought　plenty　of　them。〃　He　gestured　toward　several
hovering　floatchests。　〃Take　them　and　hide　them　until　the　day　of　reckoning。
The　bright　notes　of　a　brazen　glaur　horn　blared　through　the　air。　For　a　moment；　confused；　Ryld　thought　〃the　Call〃—whatever　that　was—had　arrived；　then　a　thrill　of　panic；　or　at　least　the　memory　of　it；　reminded　him　what　the　trumpet　truly　portended。　Judging　by　the　goblins'　babbling　and　frantic　peering　about；　they　knew；　too。
〃What　is　it？〃　Pharaun　asked。
〃You're　nobly　born；〃　said　Ryld；　hearing　a　trace　of　an　old　bitterness　in　his　voice。　〃Didn't　you　ever　go　hunting　through　the　Braeryn；　slaying　every　wretch　you　could　catch？〃
The　wizard　smiled　and　said；　〃Now　that　you　mention　it；　but　it's　been　a　long　time。　It　occurs　to　me　that　this　is　probably　Greyanna's　doing。　Not　a　bad　tactic；　really；　even　though　it　involves　a　lot　of　waste　motion。　Once　I　shielded　us　our　hunters　couldn't　pinpoint　our　location；　but　they　knew　our　mission　would　bring　us　to　the　Braeryn　so　they　anized　a　hunt　for　a　party　of　nobles。　The　idea　is　that　all　the　turmoil　is　likely　to　flush　us　out　and　send　us　scrambling　frantically　through　the　streets；　at　which　point　they'll　have　a　better　chance　of　spotting　us。〃
〃What's　more；〃　said　Ryld；　making　sure　his　swords　were　loose　in　their　scabbards；　〃your　sister　gives　us　the　choice　of　retaining　our　veils　of　illusion　and　being　harried　by　our　own　kind；　or　casting　them　off　and　facing　the　wrath　of　the　undercreatures。　Either　way；　someone　might　do　her　killing　for　her。〃
The　Prophet　raised　his　hands　for　calm；　and　the　undercreatures　quieted　a　little。
〃My　friends；　in　a　moment　we　will　scatter　as　we　must；　for　a　little　while　longer；　but　before　you　go；　take　the　fire　pots。　Once　the　danger　is　past；　share　the　weapons　and　news　of　our　gathering　with　all　those　who　were　unable　to　attend。　Remember　your　part　in　the　plan　and　wait　for　the　Call。　Now；　go〃
Some　of　the　rebels　bolted　without　further　delay；　but　at　least　half　lingered　long　enough　to　take　a　jug　or　two　from　the　hovering　boxes。　One　ore　lost　his　footing　in　the　press；　then　screamed　as　other　goblinoids　trampled　him　in　their　haste。　Meanwhile；　the　Prophet　and　his　bodyguards　slipped　out　a　door　in　the　back　wall。
〃Shall　we？〃　said　Pharaun；　striding　after　them。
〃What　of　Greyanna　and　all　the　hunters？〃　asked　Ryld。
〃We'll　contend　with　them　as　necessary；　but　I'll　be　damned　if　I　hide　in　a　hole　while　two　of　the　boys　we　worked　so　hard　to　find　vanish　into　the　night。〃
The　masters　stalked　out　onto　the　street。　The　Braeryn　already　echoed　with　more　trumpeting；　the　sporting　cries　of　dark　elves；　and　the　screams　of　undercreatures。
The　teachers　shadowed　the　Prophet　and　the　rogues　for　half　a　block。　The　trio　moved　briskly　but　without　any　trace　of　panic。　Evidently　they　were　confident　of　their　ability　to　elude　the　hunters。　Ryld　wondered　why。
Then　the　night　gave　him　other　things　to　think　about。
He　and　Pharaun　skulked　by　a　house　where　several　shouting　goblins　pounded　on　the　granite　front　door。　As　was　the　mon　practice　during　a　hunt；　the　inhabitants　refused　to　admit　them。　They　wouldn't　let　in　anyone　but　folk　who　actually　lived　there。　Otherwise；　a　rush　of　terrified　refugees　flooding　into　the　already　crowded　warren　might　trample　or　crush　some　of　the　residents—or　the　influx　might　make　the　house　a　more　provocative　target。　It　had　happened　before。
Finally　Ryld　heard　the　small；　longarmed　creatures　turn　away　from　the　structure。　They　cried　out；　then　broke　into　a　run；　their　rapid　footsteps　drumming　on　the　ground。
Ryld　had　no　idea　why1　the　goblins　were　charging　him　and　Pharaun。　Perhaps　the　creatures　had　mistaken　them　for　tenants　of　the　house　that　had　denied　them　entry　and　thus　appropriate　targets　for　revenge。　Maybe　they　simply　wanted　to　take　their　frustrations　out　on　someone。
Not　that　it　mattered。　The　brutes　were　no　match　for　masters　of　Tier　Breche。　The　dark　elves　would　kill　them　in　a　trice。
Ryld　drew　Splitter　from　its　scabbard　and　came　on　guard；　meanwhile　taking　in　his　assailants'　pitiful　makeshift　weaponry　and　lack　of　armor。　It　was　pathetic；　really；　so　much　so　that　the　next　few　seconds　would　almost　be　a　bore。
Two　goblins　spread　out；　trying　to　flank　him。　He　stepped　in　and　swung　Splitter　left；　then　right。　The　undercreatures　fell；　one　dropping　its　crowbar　to　clang　against　the　ground　and　the　other　keeping　hold　of　its　mallet。
The　next　two　bateared　creatures　hesitated。　They　should　have　turned　and　run；　because　Ryld　couldn't　stand　and　wait　for　them　to　ponder　whether　they　still　wanted　to　fight。　The　Prophet　and　the　rogues　were　getting　farther　away　by　the　second。
He　stepped　in　and　cut　downward。　A　goblin；　this　one　possessed　of　a　short　sword—a　proper　warrior's　weapon；　and　some　martial　training　to　go　with　it—lifted　the　weapon　to　parry。　It　didn't　matter。　Splitter　sheared　right　through　its　blade　and　streaked　on　into　its　torso。
Knife　in　hand；　the　fourth　goblin　dodged　behind　its　foe。　Sensing　its　location；　Ryld　kicked　backward。　His　boot　connected　solidly；　snapping　bone；　and　when　he　turned　the　creature　lay　motionless　on　the　ground；　likely　dead　of　a　broken　back。
Ryld　turned　to　survey　the　battlefield。　His　eyes　widened　in　shock　and　dismay。
Pharaun　too　was　on　the　ground。　Three　goblins　crouched　over　him　on　their　bandy　legs。　One　scabrous　creature　had　blood　on　the　iron　spike　that　served　it　as　a　poniard。
Ryld　bellowed　a　war　cry；　sprang　at　them；　and　struck　them　down　before　they　could　do　any　more　damage。　He　kneeled　beside　his　friend。　Beneath　the　elegant　piwafwi；　Pharaun's　equally　geous　robe　had　two　punctures　in　it；　and　was　dark　and　wet　from　breastbone　to　thighs。
〃I　heard　them　ing　a　moment　after　you　did；〃　the　wizard　wheezed。　〃I　didn't　turn　around　fast　enough。〃
〃Don't　worry；〃　said　Ryld。　〃It's　going　to　be　all　right。〃
In　reality；　he　wasn't　at　all　sure　of　that。
〃The　goblin　thrust　through　the　gap　between　the　wings　of　my　cloak。　The　little　bastard　hurt　me　when　Greyanna　and　her　followers　couldn't。　Isn't　that　silly？〃
　　
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T　W　E　　L　V　E
When　Quenthel　had　decided　she　must　don　armor；　she　had　performed　the　task　as　methodically　as　she　did　everything　else。　She'd　put　on　a　cunningly　crafted　adamantine　get；　a　Baenre　heirloom；　beneath　her　chain　mail　and　piwafwi；　and　it　was　likely　that　protective　c