war of the spider queen 3 condemnation-第2节

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　Quenthel's　weapon。
　　　The　wizard　Pharaun　intrigued　Halisstra　greatly。　The　study　of　arcane　lore　was　something　that；　like　swordplay；　was　traditionally　left　to　males。　A　powerful　wizard　merited　a　certain　amount　of　respect　despite　the　fact　that　he　was　male。　In　fact；　Halisstra　knew　of　more　than　one　instance　in　which　the　matron　mother　of　an　important　house　ruled　only　with　the　consent　of　the　powerful　male　wizards　of　the　family；　a　situation　that　had　always　struck　her　as　perverse　and　dangerous。　Pharaun　acted　as　if　he　manded　that　kind　of　power　and　influence。　Oh；　he　deferred　to　Quenthel　quickly　enough；　but　never　without　a　sardonic　smile　or　an　insincere　remark；　and　at　times　his　disrespectful　carriage　verged　on　outright　rebellion。　That　meant　that　he　was　either　a　plete　fool…hardly　likely；　since　he'd　been　hand…picked　in　Menzoberranzan　for　the　dangerous　journey　to　Ched　Nasad…or　he　was　powerful　enough　to　hold　his　own　against　the　natural　tyranny　of　a　noble　female　like　Quenthel。　Pharaun　struck　Halisstra　as　a　potentially　critical　ally　against　Quenthel；　if　it　turned　out　that　she　and　Quenthel　could　not　reach　an　understanding。
　　　It　seemed　to　Halisstra　that　Ryld　Argith　was　to　Pharaun　what　Jeggred　was　to　Quenthel。　A　powerfully　built　weapons　master　whose　stature　matched　Halisstra's　own；　Ryld　was　a　fighter　of　tremendous　skill。　Halisstra　had　seen　that　for　herself　in　the　escape　from　Ched　Nasad。　Like　most　males；　he　maintained　a　properly　deferential　demeanor　in　Quenthel's　presence。　That　was　a　good　sign　to　Halisstra。　Ryld　might　easily　transfer　loyalties　to　another　woman　of　high　birth　in　a　pinch。　She　couldn't　count　on　Ryld　turning　against　either　Pharaun　or　Quenthel；　but　pure　drow　were　less　steadfast　in　their　loyalties　than　the　average　draegloth。　。　。　。
　　　The　last　and　the　least　of　the　party　from　Menzoberranzan　was　the　scout；　Valas　Hune。　A　small；　furtive　male；　he　said　little　and　observed　much。　Halisstra　had　seen　his　type　before。　Useful　enough　in　the　sort　of　tasks　they　excelled　at；　they　wanted　nothing　to　do　with　the　machinations　of　priestesses　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　c