蛛后之战(被遗忘的国度系列英文版)-第3章

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s；　and　rather　wondered　why；　for　the　view　was　as　spectacular　as　ever。
Tier　Breche；　home　to　the　Academy　since　that　institution's　founding；　was　a　large　cavern　where　the　labor　of　countless　spell　casters；　artisans；　and　slaves　had　turned　enormous　stalagmites　and　other　masses　of　rocks　into　three　extraordinary　citadels。　To　the　east　rose　pyramidal　MeleeMagthere；　where　Ryld　and　others　like　him　turned　callow　young　drow　into　warriors。　By　the　western　wall　stood　the　manyspired　tower　of　Sorcere；　where　Pharaun　and　his　colleagues　taught　wizardry；　while　to　the　north　crouched　the　largest　and　most　imposing　school　of　all；　ArachTinilith；　a　temple　built　in　the　eightlimbed　shape　of　a　spider。　Inside；　the　priestesses　of　Lolth；　goddess　of　arachnids；　chaos；　assassins；　and　the　drow　race；　trained　dark　elf　maidens　to　serve　the　deity　in　their　turn。
And　yet；　magnificent　as　was　Tier　Breche；　considered　in　the　proper　context；　it　was　only　a　detail　in　a　scene　of　far　greater　splendor。　The　Academy　sat　in　a　side　cavern；　a　mere　nook　opening　partway　up　the　wall　of　a　truly　prodigious　vault。　The　primary　chamber　was　two　miles　wide　and　a　thousand　feet　high；　and　filling　all　that　space　was　Menzoberranzan。
On　the　cavern　floor；　castles；　hewn　like　the　Academy　from　natural　protrusions　of　calcite；　shone　blue；　green；　and　violet　amid　the　darkness。　The　phosphorescent　mansions　served　to　delineate　the　plateau　of　Qu'ellarz'orl；　where　the　Baenre　and　those　Houses　nearly　as　powerful　made　their　homes；　the　West　Wall　district；　where　lesser　but　still　wellestablished　noble　families　schemed　how　to　supplant　the　dwellers　on　Qu'ellarz'orl；　and　Narbondellyn；　where　parvenus　plotted　to　replace　the　inhabitants　of　West　Wall。　Still　other　palaces；　cut　from　stalactites；　hung　from　the　lofty　ceiling。
The　nobles　of　Menzoberranzan　had　set　their　homes　glowing　to　display　their　immensity；　their　graceful　lines；　and　the　ornamentation　sculpted　about　their　walls。　Most　of　the　carvings　featured　spiders　and　webs；　scarcely　surprising；　Ryld　supposed；　in　a　realm　where　Lolth　was　the　only　deity　anyone　worshiped；　and　her　clergy　ruled　in　the　temporal　sense　as　well　as　the　spiritual　one。
For　some　reason；　Ryld　found　the　persistence　of　the　motif　vaguely　oppressive；　so　he　shifted　his　attention　to　other　details。　If　a　drow　had　good　eyes；　he　could　make　out　the　frigid　depths　of　the　lake　called　Donigarten　at　the　narrow　eastern　end　of　the　vault。　Cattlelike　beasts　called　rothe　and　the　goblin　slaves　who　herded　them　lived　on　an　island　in　the　center　of　the　lake。
And　there　was　Narbondel　itself；　of　course。　It　was　the　only　piece　of　unworked　stone　remaining　on　the　cavern　floor；　a　thick；　irregular　column　extending　all　the　way　to　the　ceiling。　At　the　start　of　every　day；　the　Archmage　of　Menzoberranzan　cast　a　spell　into　the　base　of　it；　heating　it　until　the　rock　glowed。　Since　the　radiance　rose　through　the　stone　at　a　constant　rate；　its　progress　enabled　the　residents　of　the　city　to　tell　the　time。
In　their　way；　the　Master　of　MeleeMagthere　supposed；　he　and　Pharaun　were；　if　nowhere　near　as　grand　a　sight　as　the　vista　before　them；　at　least　a　peculiar　one　by　virtue　of　the　contrasts　between　them。　With　his　slender　build；　graceful　manner；　foppish；　elegant　attire；　and　intricate　coiffure；　the　Mizzrym　mage　epitomized　what　a　sophisticated　noble　and　wizard　should　be。　Ryld；　on　the　other　hand　was　an　oddity。　He　was　huge　for　a　member　of　his　sex；　bigger　than　many　females；　with　a　burly；　broadshouldered　frame　better　suited　to　a　brutish　human　than　a　dark　elf。　He　pounded　his　strangeness　by　wearing　a　dwarven　breastplate　and　vambraces　in　preference　to　light；　supple　mail。　The　armor　sometimes　caused　others　to　eye　him　askance；　but　he'd　found　that　it　maximized　his　effectiveness　as　a　warrior；　and　that；　he'd　always　believed；　was　what　really　mattered。
Ryld　and　Pharaun　walked　to　the　edge　of　Tier　Breche　and　sat　down　with　their　legs　dangling　over　the　sheer　dropoff。　They　were　only　a　few　yards　from　the　head　of　the　staircase　that　connected　the　Academy　with　the　city　below；　and　at　the　top　of　those　steps；　beside　the　twin　pillars；　a　pair　of　sentries—lastyear　students　of　MeleeMagthere—stood　watch。　Ryld　thought　that　he　and　Pharaun　were　distant　enough　for　privacy　if　they　kept　their　voices　low。
Low；　but　not　silent；　curse　it。　Ever　the　sensualist；　the　mage　sat　savoring　the　panorama　below　him；　obviously　prolonging　his　contemplation　well　past　the　point　where　Ryld's　mouth　had　begun　to　tighten　with　impatience；　and　never　mind　that　on　the　walk　up；　he'd　admired　the　view　himself。
〃We　drow　don't　love　one　another；　except　in　the　carnal　sense；〃　Pharaun　remarked　at　last；　〃but　I　think　one　could　almost　love　Menzoberranzan　itself；　don't　you？　Or　at　least　take　a　profound　pride　in　it。〃
Ryld　shrugged。　〃If　you　say　so。〃
〃You　sound　less　than　rhapsodic。　Feeling　morose　again　today？〃
〃I'm　all　right。　Better；　at　least；　now　that　I　see　you　still　alive。〃
〃You　assumed　Gromph　had　executed　me？　Does　my　offense　seem　so　grievous；　then？　Have　you　never　annihilated　a　single　specimen　of　our　tender　young　cadets？〃
〃That　depends　on　how　you　look　at　it；〃　Ryld　replied。　〃bat　training　is　inherently　dangerous。　Accidents　happen；　but　no　one　has　ever　questioned　that　they　were　accidents　occurring　during　the　course　of　MeleeMagthere's　legitimate　business。　The　goddess　knows；　I　never　lost　seven　in　a　single　hour；　two　of　them　from　Houses　with　seats　on　the　Council。　How　does　such　a　thing　happen？〃
〃I　needed　seven　assistants　with　a　degree　of　magical　expertise　to　help　me　perform　the　summoning　ritual。　Had　I　called　upon　fullfledged　wizards；　they　would　have　joined　the　experiment　as　equal　partners。　They　would　have　emerged　from　the　ritual　possessed　of　the　same　newly　discovered　secrets　as　myself；　equally　able　to　conjure　and　control　the　Sarthos　demon。　Naturally　I　wished　to　avoid　such　a　sharing；　so　I　opted　to　use　apprentices　instead。〃
Pharaun　grinned　and　continued；　〃In　retrospect；　I　must　admit　that　it　may　not　have　been　a　good　idea。　The　fiend　didn't　even　require　seven　heartbeats　to　smash　them　all。〃
An　updraft　wafted　past　Ryld's　face；　carrying　the　constant　murmur　of　the　metropolis　below。　He　caught　its　scent　as　well；　a　plex　odor　made　of　cooking　smoke；　incense；　perfume；　the　stink　of　unwashed　thralls；　and　a　thousand　other　things。
〃Why　perform　such　a　dangerous　ritual　in　the　first　place？〃　he　asked。
Pharaun　smiled　as　if　it　was　a　silly　question。　Perhaps　it　was。
〃To　bee　more　powerful；　of　course；〃　the　wizard　answered。　〃At　present；　I'm　one　of　the　thirty　most　puissant　mages　in　the　city。　If　I　controlled　the　Sarthos　demon；　I'd　be　one　of　the　five。　Perhaps　even　the　first；　mightier　than　dreary　old　Gromph　himself。〃
I　see。
Ambition　was　an　essential　part　of　the　drow　character；　and　Ryld　sometimes　envied　Pharaun　his　stillpassionate　investment　in　the　struggle　for　status。　The　warrior　supposed　that　he　himself　had　achieved　the　pinnacle　of　his　ambitions　when　he　became　one　of　the　lesser　masters　of　MeleeMagthere；　for　certainly　he；　born　a　moner；　could　never　climb　any　higher。　From　that　day　forward；　he'd　stopped　peering　hungrily　upward　and　concentrated　on　looking　down；　to　guard　against　all　those　who　wished　to　kill　him　in　hopes　of　ascending　to　his　position。
Pharaun　was　a　Master　of　Sorcere　as　Ryld　was　a　Master　of　MeleeMagthere；　but　perhaps；　being　of　noble　blood；　Pharaun　really　did　aspire　to　assassinate　the　formidable　Gromph　Baenre　and　seize　his　office。　Even　if　he　didn't；　wizards；　by　the　nature　of　their　intricate　and　clandestine　art；　maintained　a　rivalry　that　enpassed　more　than　who　was　a　master；　who　was　chief　wizard　in　a　great　House；　and　who　was　neither。　They　also　cared　about　such　things　as　who　could　know　the　most　esoteric　secrets；　could　conjure　the　deadliest　specter；　or　see　most　clearly　into　the　future。　In　fact；　they　cared　so　deeply　that　they　occasionally　sought　to　murder　each　other　and　plunder　one　another's　spell　books　even　when　such　hostilities　ran　counter　to　the　interests　of　their　Houses；　severing　an　alliance　or　disrupting　a　negotiation。
〃Now；〃　Pharaun　said；　reaching　inside　the　elegant　folds　of　his　piwafwi　and　producing　a　silver　flask；　〃I'll　have　to　turn　my　back　on　the　Sarthos　demon　for　a　while。　I　hope　the　poor　behemoth　won't　be　lonely　without　me。〃
He　unscrewed　the　bottle；　took　a　sip；　and　passed　the　container　to　Ryld。
Ryld　hoped　the　flask　didn't　contain　wine　or　an　exotic　liqueur。　P