war of the spider queen 1 dissolution-第115章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　that　would　surely　destroy　her　and　conceivably　even　House　Baenre　along　with　her。
Yet　did　it　matter？　She　sensed　the　ecstasy　implicit　in　letting　go。　If　she　pernotmitted　it；　the　demon　would　exalt　her；　and　even　if　she　perished　an　hour　later；　what　difference　would　it　make？　She'd　find　more　joy　in　that　brief　span　that　in　centuries　of　mundane　life。
For　what　seemed　a　long　while；　she　wavered；　uncertain　whether　to　manotnipulate　the　wand　or　cast　it　aside；　take　up　her　whip；　and　go　hunting。　In　the　end；　one　consideration　enabled　her　to　choose　the　former。　No　matter　how　sweet　the　temptation　to　bee　a　pure　and　transcendent　being；　doing　so　would　be　to　surrender　to　the　will　of　her　phantom　enemy；　allowing　the　faceless　spellcaster　to　dominate；　transform；　and　ultimately　destroy　her。　Quenthel　Baenre　could　not　embrace　defeat。
Instead；　she　snapped　the　length　of　bone　in　two。
An　instant　later；　she　felt　an　extraordinary　lightness　and　clarity　in　her　head；　a　sign　that　the　demon　had　departed；　as；　in　fact；　her　eyes　confirmed。　Vaguely　visible　at　last；　a　misshapen　shadow　without　a　source；　the　entity　floated　in　front　of　her；　then；　without　turning　or　shifting　any　of　its　amornotphous　limbs；　receded　quick　as　a　bow　shot。　It　was　tiny；　a　dot；　and　gone。　Quenthel　felt　a　pang　of　loss；　but　it　only　lasted　a　moment。　Then　she　smiled。
Gromph　sat　before　one　of　the　enchanted　windows　in　his　hidden　chamnotber。　He'd　crossed　his　feet　atop　a　hassock　and　held　a　crystal　goblet　of　black　wine　in　his　hand。　He'd　thrown　the　strangely　carved　ivory　casements　wide　and　supposed　he　must　look　like　the　soul　of　ease　awaiting　some　pleasant　entertainment。
Well；　that　was　the　hope；　but　despite　himself　the　Archmage　of　Menzoberranzan　was　growing　used　to　disappointment。
He　hadn't　made　any　progress　in　finding　the　runaway　males。　His　divinanottions　were　so　oblique　and　contradictory　as　to　be　useless。　Apparently　some　able　spellcaster　had　forestalled　his　efforts。　His　genuine　spies　had　turned　up　nothing；　indeed；　had　managed　to　get　themselves　strangled　in　Eastmyr　by　parties　unknown。　The　only　satisfaction；　if　one　could　call　it　that；　was　that　his　decoy　was　still　on　the　loose；　still　occupying　the　priestesses'　attention。　Why　Pharaun　Mizzrym　had　deemed　it　expedient　to　slaughter　a　patrol　from　the　Academy；　though；　was　more　than　Gromph　could　prehend。
The　Baenre　wizard　hadn't　yet　managed　to　kill　Quenthel；　either。　For　the　past　few　nights；　he'd　dispatched　his　conjured　minions；　then　settled　before　the　window　to　watch　them　do　his　bidding。　Impossibly；　even　stripped　of　her　magic；　his　sister　had　disposed　of　the　first　three　spirits　and　the　traitors　he'd　inspired　as　well。　Like　some　bungler　in　a　farce；　Gromph　had　only　mannotaged　to　account　for　a　few　lesser　clerics　with　whom　he　had　no　quarrel；　who　would　otherwise　have　gone　on　to　contribute　to　the　strength　of　Menzober…ranzan　and　the　House　that　controlled　it。　It　was　maddening！
This　night；　he　prayed；　would　be　different。　Quenthel　had　turned　out　to　be　petent　at　disposing　of　spirits　wearing　some　semblance　of　material　form；　but　surely　she　would　prove　more　vulnerable　to　an　assailant　that　slipped　imperceptibly　into　her　mind。
The　enchanted　window　afforded　Gromph　a　view　of　the　interior　of　Arach…Tinilith　as　if　he　were　but　a　few　feet　away。　He　watched　his　sister　and　her　squad　encounter　wretches　whom　the　spirit　had　already　overwhelmed　with　the　infusion　of　an　evil　more　profound　than　any　mortal；　even　a　dark　elf；　could　readily　bear。　He　looked　for　some　sign　that　Quenthel　was　grownoting　afraid。　The　indication　would　be　subtle　if　she　let　it　slip　at　all；　but　pernothaps　a　brother　would　spot　it。
He　didn't；　and　eventually　Quenthel　ordered　her　minions　to　evacuate　the　building　and　sat　down　to　meditate。
The　Archmage　frowned。　Evidently　the　imperious　bitch　had　figured　out　what　was　going　on　and　had　in　a　sense　responded　appropriately。　But　it　shouldn't　matter。　He'd　withstood　contact　with　the　ultimate　essence　of　evil；　but　he　was　the　greatest　wizard　in　the　world　and　had　taken　precautions。　Quenthel　enjoyed　neither　advantage。
In　time；　a　sublime　cruelty　twisted　her　features。　Gromph　exclaimed　in　triumph；　for　the　netherspirit　plainly　had　her　in　its　gras