蛛后之战(被遗忘的国度系列英文版)-第7章

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ned　a　roiling　black。　She　put　her　arm　into　the　dark　fire；　and　her　flowing　gossamer　sleeve　caught　instantly。
Though　they　were　at　the　end　of　what　was；　thus　far；　the　nonburning　arm；　the　serpents　hissed　and　coiled　in　alarm。　Quenthel　brought　them　to　heel　with　a　brutal　thrust　of　her　will。　Feeling　naught　but　a　pleasant　warmth；　she　silently　manded　the　dark　fire。　A　portion　of　the　magical　stuff　flowed　down　her　arm　and　congealed　into　a　soft；　semisolid　ball　in　her　palm。　She　threw　it；　and　her　magic　shot　it　up　like　a　sling　bullet　to　strike　the　ceiling　fresco　where　it　splashed　into　a　great　gout　of　murky　flame。
Quenthel　followed　that　first　missile　with　a　steady　barrage。　Where　the　dark　fire　had　kissed　it；　the　fresco　began　to　burn　with　ordinary　yellow　flame；　suffusing　the　air　with　eyestinging　smoke　and　a　vile　stink　that　was　also　a　sickening；　throatclenching　taste　at　the　back　of　her　mouth。
She　was　throwing　blindly；　but　with　the　blaze　above　spreading；　it　shouldn't　matter。　Surely　the　spider　wouldn't　simply　sit　still　and　allow　itself　to　burn。　The　fire　ought　to　spur　it　into　motion　and　thus　into　visibility。
Unless；　of　course；　the　spider　wasn't　really　on　the　ceiling；　which　was　a　real　possibility。　Maybe　it　was　actually　hiding　elsewhere。　It　might　even　be　creeping　up　on　her　while　she　stared　at　the　burning　painting　and　the　nervous　vipers　worried　more　about　their　proximity　to　a　dark　fire　than　about　keeping　watch。
No；　her　intuition　had　pointed　her　in　the　right　direction。　She　spotted　the　spider　as　it　gathered　itself　to　spring　down　at　her；　and　having　flushed　it　out；　she　need　only　survive　its　renewed　attack。
She　dived　from　beneath　its　plummeting　form　and　rolled；　leaving　a　trail　of　black；　burning　scraps　of　cloth　behind　on　the　floor。　The　creature　with　its　tattered；　oozing　eyes　landed　with　a　thump；　its　eight　legs　flexing　to　absorb　the　impact。　
Quenthel　scrambled　up　and　backed　away　from　it。　Her　whole　gown　was　aflame；　nearly　her　entire　body　shrouded　in　dark　fire。　She　threw　another　ball　of　the　stuff；　which　spattered　on　the　demon's　back　and　streamed　down　its　flanks。　To　her　delight；　her　magic　affected　it　again。　The　spider　too　wore　a　mantle　of　shadowy　flame；　the　heat　rippling　the　air　above　it。
That　meant　it　ought　to　drop；　didn't　it；　or　at　least　flounder　about　in　helpless　agony？　The　fire　was　surely　damaging　it；　for　Quenthel　could　smell　its　flesh　charring　even　through　the　omnipresent　reek　of　burning　paint；　but　the　demon　turned　and　scuttled　after　her。
She　aimed　the　next　burning　missile　at　the　cluster　of　eyes　that　seemed　in　some　indefinable　way　to　constitute　the　very　core　of　the　thing。　The　spider　did　lurch　and　falter　when　the　burning　darkness　splashed　over　the　orbs；　but　only　for　a　second；　and　it　kept　ing。
Unable　to　outrun　it；　hoping　she'd　at　least　softened　it　up　a　little；　Quenthel　shouted　her　goddess's　name　and　lunged　to　meet　it。　Sheathed　in　darkfire；　her　whole　body　was　a　weapon　and　would　burn　the　spider　wherever　it　touched。　Where　the　black　flame　on　the　monster's　limbs　was　giving　way　to　yellow；　it　could　burn　her；　too；　but　not　if　she　didn't　let　it。　Their　natural　savagery　overing　their　fear　of　fire；　the　whip　vipers　lashed　and　struck　in　a　frenzy　of　bloodlust。
At　first；　swinging　the　whip；　ducking　and　dodging；　she　kept　herself　clear　of　the　spider's　mandibles。　She　shifted　left　when　she　should　have　jumped　right；　and　the　razorsharp　pincers　snapped　shut　around　her。
They　stopped　short　of　piercing　her　flesh。　Loath　to　clasp　her　blazing　body　and　be　seared　thereby；　the　spider　faltered　for　just　an　instant。　Before　it　could　muster　the　will　to　proceed；　Quenthel　struck　a　final　blow。
The　ophidian　lashes　crashed　through　the　demon's　charred　and　tattered　visage　and　bit　into　what　lay　beneath。　The　spider　jerked；　froze；　twitched　two　of　its　legs　in　a　purposeless　way；　and　the　burning　hulk　of　it　slowly　sank　to　the　floor；　just　as　Quenthel's　spell　elapsed　and　all　the　dark　fire　still　crackling　in　the　chamber　winked　out　of　existence。
She　shouted　in　exultation。　Equally　ecstatic；　only　a　little　singed；　the　vipers　danced　at　the　end　of　the　scourge。　Everyone's　good　mood　lasted　just　as　long　as　it　took　for　the　Baenre　priestess；　clad　primarily　in　smoke　and　ash；　to　turn　toward　the　door。　
Though　she'd　been　far　too　busy　to　notice　hitherto；　at　some　point　a　number　of　teachers　and　students　had　evidently　crowded　into　the　space　to　watch　the　battle。　They　were　watching　Quenthel　still；　eyes　wide；　faces　uncertain。
〃It　was　a　desecration；〃　said　Quenthel。　〃A　mockery。〃
She　stared　at　them　with　haughty　expectation。
They　peered　back　at　her　for　a　moment；　then　folded　their　hands　and　bowed　their　heads　in　obeisance。
　
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T　　H　　R　　E　　E
Tall　and　lithe；　the　left　side　of　her　otherwise　handsome　face　creased　with　an　old　battle　scar　of　which；　she　recognized；　she　was　rather　foolishly　proud；　Greyanna　Mizzrym　entered　her　mother's　presence　dirty；　sweaty；　and　still　clad　in　her　mail　shirt。　Greyanna　knew　Mother　didn't　like　for　her　daughters　and　other　chattels　to　e　to　meet　with　her　fully　armed；　but　she　had　an　excuse。　She'd　just　returned　from　an　inspection　tour　of　Mizzrym　operations　in　Bauthwaf—〃aroundcloak；〃　as　the　dangerous　network　of　tunnels　immediately　surrounding　Menzoberranzan　was　called—only　to　hear　from　a　frantic　　functionary　　bearing　the　　fresh　　marks　of　a　whip　of　　fangs　that　　the　　matron　mother　wished　to　see　her　as　soon　as　possible。
Actually；　even　knowing　the　articles　likely　wouldn't　save　her　if　things　went　horribly　wrong；　Greyanna　rather　liked　having　a　justification　to　walk　in　on　her　parent　with　her　mace　in　her　hand　and　her　shield　on　her　arm。　She　couldn't　think　of　any　reason　why　Mother　would　have　decided　to　kill　her　at　this　particular　point　in　time；　but　one　could　never　be　altogether　sure；　could　one？　
Certainly　not　with　Miz'ri　Mizzrym；　a　female　regarded　even　by　other　dark　elves　as　excessively　and　capriciously　cruel。　She　sat　enthroned　in　her　temple　with　all　of　her　weapons　and　protections　ready　to　hand；　the　sixheaded　whip　and　the　purple　rod　of　tentacles；　the　enchanted　rings　gleaming　on　her　fingers。　She　might　have　been　considered　ely　even　by　the　exacting　standards　of　her　exquisite　race；　except　that　her　mouth　drew　down　in　an　ugly　and　all　but　perpetual　scowl。　She　regarded　her　daughter's　martial　appointments　coldly　but　without　ment。
Greyanna　lowered　her　head　and　spread　her　hands；　offering　the　proper　obeisance；　and　said；　〃Matron　Mother。　You　wished　to　see　me？〃
〃I　wished　to　see　you　yesterday。〃
〃I　was　off　conducting　family　business。〃　Of　course；　Mother　knew　that　as　well　as　she　did。　〃We　have　to　keep　up　with　our　duties　even　now。　Especially　now—as　you　yourself　have　observed　on　more　than　one　occasion。〃
〃Watch　your　insolent　tongue〃
Greyanna　sighed。　〃Yes；　Mother。　I　apologize。　I　didn't　mean　to　speak　out　of　turn。〃
〃See　that　you　refrain　from　doing　so　again。〃
Miz'ri　fell　silent；　perhaps　to　gather　her　thoughts；　perhaps　simply　in　an　effort　to　rattle　her　daughter's　nerves。　Such　petty；　pointless　attempts　at　intimidation　were　virtually　a　reflex　with　her。
Greyanna　wondered　if　a　servant　had　been　instructed　to　fetch　her　a　chair　for　the　remainder　of　the　interview。　It　didn't　look　like　it。　That　was　typical　of　her　mother　as　well。
〃Your　brother　Pharaun　。。。〃　Miz'ri　said　at　last。
Greyanna's　eyes　opened　wide。　〃Yes？〃
〃I　think　it　might　finally　be　time　for　the　two　of　you　to　get　reacquainted。〃
The　younger　female　held　her　scarred　features　calm　and　posed。　It　was　rarely　a　good　idea　to　show　strong　emotion　to　anyone；　particularly　Mother。　If　you　showed　her　that　something　mattered　to　you；　she　would　find　a　way　to　hurt　you　with　it。　Even　so；　Greyanna　couldn't　quite　suppress　a　shiver　of　anticipation。
She　and　her　twin　sister　Sabal　had　loathed　one　another　from　the　cradle　onward。　Of　course；　in　the　noble　Houses　of　Menzoberranzan；　rivalry　between　sisters　was　expected　and　encouraged。　Certainly　Miz'ri　encouraged　it；　perhaps　simply　for　her　own　amusement。　But　for　some　reason—perhaps　it　had　something　to　do　with　the　fact　that　outwardly；　they　were　identical—　her　daughters'　enmity　far　transcended　even　her　expectations。　It　was　more　bitter　and　more　personal。　Each　yearned　to　injure　and　thwart　the　other　for　its　own　sake　at　least　as　much　as　to　improve　her　own　relative　standing　in　the　family。
All　but　choking　on　their　loathing　of　one　another；　they　fought　a　duel　that　la