蛛后之战(被遗忘的国度系列英文版)-第54章

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ousehold　was　relatively　small。　Otherwise；　they　wouldn't　have　had　enough　pilfered　garments　to　go　around。
She　and　her　lieutenants　sported　the　finery　of　the　Ousstyl　dignitaries；　while　the　mon　soldiers　had　donned　piwafwi’s　and　mail；　and　carried　the　arms　of　Talindra's　bodyguards。
The　outlanders　stowed　provisions　beneath　their　mantles。　The　quantity　was　insufficient；　for　they　couldn't　conceal　all　that　much。　With　luck；　they'd　be　able　to　hunt　and　forage　on　the　trail。　They　headed　for　the　mansion's　enclosed　stable；　where　Talindra　had　left　her　driftdisc。
Faeryl　noticed　that　some　of　her　retainers　were　sweaty　and　wideeyed。　Though　she　was　careful　not　to　show　it；　she　still　felt　just　as　apprehensive　herself。　Was　she　mad　to　flout　Triel　Baenre's　express　mand；　especially　when　she　and　her　subordinate　priestesses　had　virtually　no　magic　implements　left？
Well；　no。　It　would　be　lunacy　to　sit　on　her　rump　and　do　nothing；　knowing　that　Triel　would　eventually　get　around　to　ordering　her　arrest。　Even　if　Faeryl　weren't　concerned　about　her　own　fate；　with　every　passing　hour　she　grew　more　anxious　to　learn　what　had　halted　all　traffic　from　Ched　Nasad；　and　not　just　because　the　trade　was　important　in　its　own　right。　Absurd　as　it　seemed；　she　couldn't　shake　the　irrational　fear　that　some　misfortune　had　befallen　the　City　of　Shimmering　Webs　itself。
She　had　to　know。　Any　great　event　affecting　Ched　Nasad　could　conceivably　injure　House　Zauvirr　and　diminish　her　own　status。　Moreover；　though　she　would　never　admit　it　to　another；　she　cared　about　her　homeland　for　its　own　sake。　Not；　she　assured　herself；　that　she　suffered　from　love；　loyalty；　or　any　other　soft；　undrowlike　emotion。　Yet　Ched　Nasad　had　shaped　her　into　the　person　she　was。　It　was　a　part　of　her；　and　anything　that　harmed　the　city　would　trouble　her　as　well。
In　any　case；　having　assaulted　and　robbed　her　dinner　guests；　the　die　was　cast。
The　pack　and　riding　lizards　hissed　and　grunted　when　the　party　entered　the　stable。　Faeryl　dearly　wished　she　could　take　some　of　the　reptiles　with　her；　but　since　Talindra　hadn't　brought　any　such　beasts　along　with　her；　it　was　out　of　the　question。
The　matron's　driftdisc　was　a　round；　flat　stone　with　an　ivory　throne　fastened　on　top；　the　whole　floating　about　a　foot　above　the　floor。　The　device　glowed　with　a　soft　white　light　tinged　ever　so　faintly　with　green。
Since　it　was　Faeryl　who'd　appropriated　Talindra's　attire；　she　hopped　up　on　the　driftdisc；　sat　in　the　ornate　cushioned　chair；　and　mentally　manded　the　apparatus　to　levitate　up　to　the　proper　dignified　height。　She　endured　a　bad　moment　during　which　nothing　happened；　and　she　was　sure　the　Ousstyl　had　rigged　the　vehicle　in　such　a　way　as　to　keep　anyone　else　from　riding　it；　then　the　circular　platform　rose。　It　was　just　sluggish；　about　what　you'd　expected　of　the　equipment　of　the　Fiftysecond　House。
Two　of　Faeryl's　soldiers　threw　open　the　gates；　and　the　party　ventured　out　into　the　open；　her　retainers　forming　a　proper　column　around　her　as　soon　as　they　had　the　room。
They　marched　away　from　the　luminous　keep　that　had　been　their　home　for　fourteen　years；　past　the　alleyway　where　Umrae　had　died；　and　onward。　Faeryl　couldn't　see　Triel's　watchers；　but　she　could　feel　their　eyes　on　her。　She　felt　all　but　certain　they　would　recognize　her。
But　maybe　not。　Most　people　saw　what　they　expected　to　see。　The　spies　had　watched　the　Ousstyls　enter　the　residence；　and　just　as　anticipated；　the　petty　nobles　were　departing。　Why　would　anyone　bother　to　peer　closely　when　he　was　sure　he　already　knew　what　was　going　on？
That　was　the　theory；　anyway。　At　the　moment；　it　seemed　a　dubious　notion　on　which　to　gamble　her　life。
Her　pany　left　the　immediate　vicinity　of　the　residence　without　anyone　trying　to　hinder　them；　which　proved　nothing。　The　watchers　wouldn't　pop　out　of　hiding　and　confront　the　fugitives　themselves；　They'd　scurry　away　to　rouse　a　pany　of　warriors；　who'd　intercept　the　daughters　and　sons　of　Ched　Nasad　in　the　street。
Thus；　while　her　expression　conveyed　the　proper　mix　of　serenity　and　haughtiness；　her　muscles　were　stiff；　and　her　mouth　dry　as　she　floated　down　the　avenues。　For　the　moment；　she　was　heading　for　Narbondellyn；　site　of　the　Ousstyls'　modest　citadel。　It　was　where　the　spies　would　expect　her　to　go。
Drow　did　their　best　to　clear　the　way　for　the　matron　of　even　a　minor　House。　She　was　grateful　for　that。　Still；　heavily　laden　carts　and　the　like　could　only　pull　aside　so　quickly。　The　impostors'　progress　was　necessarily　and　nerverackingly　sedate。
Finally；　though；　they　passed　Narbondel　itself；　where　the　magical　glow　had　climbed　three　quarters　of　the　way　to　the　top　of　the　great　stone　column。　Faeryl　spotted　Talindra's　fortress　and　turned　her　pany　aside。　If　they　actually　approached　the　place；　some　guard　peering　down　from　the　ramparts　was　bound　to　penetrate　their　disguises。
They　marched　south；　still　without　interference。　If　someone　was　chasing　them；　the　ambassador　was　sure　it　would　have　bee　apparent　by　then。　Faeryl　took　a　deep　breath；　told　herself　her　ruse　had　succeeded；　and　tried　to　relax。　She　couldn't；　quite。　Perhaps　when　she　reached　the　Bauthwaf；　or　better　still；　escaped　Menzoberranyr　territory　altogether　。　。　。
The　outlanders'　route　carried　them　to　the　west　of　the　elevation　that　was　Qu'ellarz'orl；　its　slopes　thick　with　enormous　mushrooms。　Then；　at　last；　they　reached　one　of　the　city's　hundred　gates　to　the　tunnels　beyond。　The　Menzoberranyr　defended　all　of　them；　but　this　one　at　least　was　a　minor　exit。　It　boasted　fewer　guards　than　most。
The　fugitives　approached　boldly；　as　if　they　had　every　legitimate　expectation　of　the　sentries　ushering　them　through。　The　guards　must　have　wondered　why　a　high　priestess　would　wear　an　elegant　cloak　and　gown　and　ride　her　ceremonial　transport　for　an　excursion　into　the　dirty；　dangerous　caves　beyond　the　city；　but　a　matron's　whim　was　law　in　Menzoberranzan。　They　offered　her　obeisance；　then　set　about　the　cumbersome　process　of　unbarring　the　graniteandadamantine　valves—or　most　of　them　did。
One　officer　eyed　Faeryl　thoughtfully。　He　had　a　foxy；　humorous　face　and　was　smaller　than　most　males；　which　apparently　didn't　hinder　him　when　wielding　the　heavy　broadsword　hanging　from　his　baldric。　Though　he　carried　the　blade　of　a　warrior；　he'd　eschewed　mail—which　could　disrupt　arcane　spells—for　a　cloak　and　jerkin　possessed　of　the　countless　telltale　pockets　of　a　wizard。　Evidently　he　was　fighter　and　wizard　both。　When　she　gazed　directly　at　him；　he　respectfully　lowered　his　head　but　resumed　his　scrutiny　as　soon　as　she　turned　her　head。
She　pivoted　around　to　face　him　and　asked；　〃Captain；　is　it？〃
The　small　male　gave　her　a　smart　salute。
〃Captain　Filifar；　my　lady；　at　your　service。〃
〃Please；　e　here。〃
Filifar　obeyed。　If　he　betrayed　any　wariness；　it　was　only　in　his　eyes。　The　two　gigantic　spiders　graven　in　the　leaves　of　the　gate　stirred　ever　so　slightly。　Faeryl　realized　they　would　emerge　from　the　carving　and　fight　for　him　if　manded。
〃You　have　the　look　of　an　intelligent　male；〃　she　said；　gazing　down　at　him　from　atop　the　driftdisc。
〃Thank　you；　my　lady。〃
〃Perhaps　you　received　orders；〃　she　continued；　〃to　refuse　passage　to　the　delegation　from　Ched　Nasad。〃
〃No；　my　lady。〃
Filifar's　hand　twitched　ever　so　slightly。　It　wanted　to　reach　for　either　the　hilt　of　his　sword　or　the　spell　ponents　in　one　of　his　pockets。
〃Your　subordinates　were　content　to　receive　their　instructions　and　let　it　go　at　that；　but　not　a　sharp　boy　like　you。　Somehow　you　contrived　to　find　out　what　the　ambassador　looks　like；　thus　making　sure　you'd　be　able　to　recognize　her　if　she　came　this　way。〃
Filifar's　mouth　tightened。　〃My　lady；〃　he　said；　〃my　pany　is　well　armed　and　well　trained。　You　may　also　have　observed　the　spiders　graven—〃
She　raised　her　hand。　〃Don't　agitate　yourself；　Captain。　I　mean　you　no　harm。　We're　just　two　Menzoberranyr　idly　chatting；　passing　the　time　it　takes　your　fellows　to　open　the　gate。〃
〃I　regret；　my　lady；　that　now　that　I've　seen　you　up　close；　I　can't　allow　them　to　do　that。〃
He　took　two　careful　steps　back；　retreating　beyond　her　reach；　then　pivoted　to　shout　the　order。
Faeryl　stopped　him　dead　by　displaying　a　gaudy　ruby　brooch；　formerly　Talindra's　property。
〃I　said　you　were　an　intelligent　lad；　Captain　Filifar；　but　I　don't　believe　you're　a　prosperous　one。　You　wear　no　jewelry；　and　your　clothing　is　made　of　mon　stuff。〃
〃You'r