蛛后之战(被遗忘的国度系列英文版)-第26章

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〃No　You're　right；　why　should　I　die？〃
〃If　you　answer　my　questions；　perhaps　you　won't。〃
〃Yes。〃
Trembling　a　little；　her　nerve　having　been　broken；　the　clerk　raised　her　hand　to　her　face；　perhaps　to　massage　her　brow。　No—to　lift　a　tiny　vial　to　her　lips
Faeryl　pulled　the　trigger　and　her　aim　was　true；　but　by　the　time　the　quarrel　pierced　Umrae's　stomach；　the　secretary's　form　was　changing。　She　grew　even　thinner；　shriveling；　but　taller　as　well。　Her　flesh　cooled　and　stank　of　corruption；　leathery　wings　sprouted　from　her　shoulder　blades；　and　her　eyes　sank　into　her　head。　Even　her　garments　altered；　blurring　and　splitting　into　moldering　rags。　No　blood　flowed　from　the　wound　the　poisoned　dart　had　made；　and　it　didn't　seem　to　inconvenience　her　in　the　slightest。　She　didn't　even　bother　to　pull　the　missile　out。
Faeryl　was　furious　at　herself　for　allowing　Umrae　to　trick　her。　Next　time；　she'd　remember　that　even　a　dark　elf　devoid　of　beauty；　grace；　and　facile　wit；　seemingly　undone　by　fear；　was　yet　a　drow；　born　to　guile　and　deception。
The　potion　had　temporarily　transformed　Umrae　into　some　sort　of　undead；　in　which　form　she　likely　wouldn't　suffer　at　all　from　her　usual　clumsiness。　Had　Lolth　not　forsaken　her　priestesses；　Faeryl　might　have　controlled　the　cadaverous　thing　with　her　clerical　powers；　but　that　was　no　longer　an　option。　Nor　were　any　of　her　other　retainers　likely　to　notice　her　plight　and　dash　to　her　rescue。　She　had　them　all　too　busy　packing　up　the　house。
It　was　unfortunate；　because　like　most　undead；　except　for　the　lowly　corpses　and　skeletons　spell　casters　reanimated　to　serve　as　mindless　thralls；　Umrae　in　wingedghoul　form　could　probably　do　grievous　harm　with　any　strike　that　so　much　as　grazed　the　skin；　and　Faeryl　didn't　even　have　a　shield　to　fend　her　off。　How　was　she　to　know　the　spy　would　possess　such　a　potent　means　of　defense？
Umrae　took　a　shambling　step；　then；　with　a　clap　of　her　wings；　bounded　forward。　Faeryl　hastily　retreated；　dropped　the　useless　crossbow；　and　opened　the　clasp　of　her　cloak。　Pulling　the　garment　off　her　shoulders　with　one　hand；　she　unsheathed　a　little　adamantine　rod　with　the　other。　At　a　snap　of　her　wrist；　the　harmlesslooking　object　swelled　into　Mother's　Kiss；　the　longhafted；　basaltheaded　war　hammer　the　females　of　House　Zauvirr　had　borne　since　the　founding　of　their　line。　Perhaps　an　enchanted　weapon　would　slay　Umrae　where　the　envenomed　quarrel　had　failed。
Faeryl　would　have　to　hope　so。　Even　if　she　were　willing　to　stand　meekly　aside　and　let　the　traitor　fly　away；　Umrae；　her　thoughts　perhaps　colored　by　the　predatory　guise　she'd　assumed；　plainly　wanted　a　fight；　and　the　envoy　could　see　no　way　to　evade　her。　It　would　be　stupid　to　evoke　darkness　and　run。　In　undead　form；　Umrae　would　likely　manage　better　in　the　murk　than　its　maker　did。　It　would　be　even　more　pointless　to　try　to　levitate　or　ascend　through　the　use　of　the　airwalking　charm　when　the　shape　shifter　could　simply　spread　her　ragged　wings　and　follow。
Faeryl　waved　her　piwafwi　back　and　forth　at　the　end　of　her　extended　arm；　to　confuse　Umrae　and　serve　as　some　semblance　of　a　shield。　No　one　had　ever　taught　Faeryl　to　fight　thusly；　but　she'd　observed　warriors　practicing　the　technique；　and　she　tried　to　believe　that　if　mere　males　could　do　it；　it　would　surely　present　no　difficulty　to　a　high　priestess。
Umrae　lunged；　Faeryl　lashed　the　cloak　in　a　horizontal　arc。　Possibly　thanks　to　luck　as　much　as　skill；　the　garment　blocked　Umrae's　hands。　Her　talons　snagged　in　the　weave。
Surprised；　Umrae　faltered　in　the　attack　and　struggled　to　free　her　hands。　Faeryl　stepped　through　and　smashed　the　pointed　stone　head　of　her　hammer　into　the　center　of　the　servant's　carious　brow。　Bone　crunched；　and　Umrae's　head　snapped　backward。　A　goodly　portion　of　her　left　profile　fell　off　her　skull。
Certain　the　fight　was　over；　Faeryl　relaxed；　and　that　was　nearly　the　end　of　her。　Transformed；　Umrae　could　evidently　endure　more　damage　than　almost　any　creature　with　warm　flesh　and　a　beating　heart。　She　opened　her　mouth；　exposing　long；　thin　fangs；　and　what　was　left　of　her　head　shot　forward　over　the　top　of　the　cape。　The　ambassador　only　barely　managed　to　fling　herself　back　out　of　the　way　in　time。
The　piwafwi　was　stretched　taut　between　the　two　batants；　as　if　they　were　playing　tugofwar。　Both　yanked　on　it　simultaneously；　and　Faeryl　was　the　luckier。　The　cloak　tore　free　of　Umrae's　grasp；　but　despite　the　garment's　reinforcing　enchantments；　it　returned　to　the　ambassador　with　long　rips　the　ghoul's　claws　had　cut。　A　few　more　such　rendings　and　it　would　be　useless。　The　cape's　sudden　release　also　sent　Faeryl　stumbling　backward。　With　another　beat　of　her　festering　wings；　Umrae　hopped　and　closed　the　distance。　Her　clawed　hands　shot　forward。
Crying　out　in　desperation；　Faeryl　managed　to　plant　her　feet　and　arrest　her　helpless　stagger。　She　lashed　out　with　the　hammer　and　clipped　one　of　Umrae's　hands。　The　imitation　ghoul　snatched　it　back　and　gave　up　the　attack。　Instead；　she　began　to　circle。　Just　as　a　living　creature　would；　she　shook　her　battered　extremity　several　times　as　if　to　dislodge　the　pain；　then　lifted　it　back　on　guard。
Faeryl　turned　to　keep　the　foe　with　her　crushed；　halfflayed　head　in　view。　What　is　it　going　to　take　to　stop　this　thing？　the　ambassador　wondered。　Can　I　stop　it？
Yes；　curse　it
When　she　was　a　child；　her　cousin　Merinid；　weapons　master　of　House　Zauvirr；　dead　these　many　years　since　her　mother　tired　of　him；　had　told　her　that　any　opponent　could　be　destroyed。　It　was　just　a　matter　of　finding　the　vulnerable　spot。
Umrae　lunged。　Once　again；　the　ambassador　snapped　out　the　folds　of　her　frail；　flapping　shield。　The　cloak　entangled　one　of　the　servant's　hands。　The　other　raked；　rasping　and　snagging；　across　Faeryl's　coat　of　fine　adamantine　links。　The　winged　ghoul's　touch　sowed　cramping　sickness　in　its　wake；　but　the　claws　hadn't　quite　sheared　through　the　sturdy　mail；　and　the　sensation　only　lasted　an　instant。
Faeryl　swung　at　Umrae's　withered　chest　in　its　covering　of　filthy；　crumbling　cloth。　If　she　couldn't　slay　the　ghoulthing　with　a　strike　to　the　head；　then　the　heart　must　be　the　vulnerable　spot；　just　as　with　a　vampire。　Or　at　least　she　hoped　so。
To　her　surprise；　Umrae　denied　her　the　chance　to　find　out　one　way　or　the　other。　It　looked　as　if　the　traitor　had　so　mitted　to　her　attack　that　she　would　find　it　impossible　to　defend　against　a　riposte。　Yet　she　interposed　her　withered　arm　to　take　the　shock　of　the　war　hammer；　then　stooped　to　claw　at　Faeryl's　unarmored　knee。
The　envoy　avoided　that　potentially　crippling　attack　with　a　fast　retreat；　meanwhile　ripping　the　cloak　away　from　her　foulsmelling　adversary。　The　garment　was　starting　to　look　more　like　a　bunch　of　ribbons　than　one　coherent　piece　of　silk。　The　duelists　resumed　circling；　each　looking　for　an　opening。　Occasionally　Faeryl　let　the　tattered　piwafwi　slip　or　droop　out　of　line；　offering　an　invitation；　but　Umrae　proved　too　canny　to　attack　when　and　how　her　opponent　wished　her　to。
Faeryl　realized　she　was　panting　and　did　the　best　to　control　her　breathing。　She　wasn't　afraid—she　wasn't—but　she　was　impressed　with　her　servant's　potioninduced　prowess。　Formidable　from　the　moment　she　imbibed　it；　Umrae　was　truly　getting　the　hang　of　her　borrowed　capabilities　as　the　battle　progressed。
While　still　maneuvering　and　keeping　an　eye　on　Umrae；　Faeryl　nevertheless　entered　a　light　trance。　With　a　sense　that　was　neither　sight；　hearing；　nor　any　faculty　prehensible　to　those　who'd　never　pledged　her　service　to　a　deity；　she　reached　into　that　formless　yet　somehow　jagged　place　where　she　had　once　been　accustomed　to　touch　the　shadow　of　the　goddess。
The　presence　of　Lolth　had　absented　itself　from　the　meeting　ground；　leaving　a　vacancy　that　somehow　throbbed　like　a　diseased　tooth。　Still；　it　seemed　an　appropriate　domain　in　which　to　pray。
Dread　Queen　of　Spiders；　Faeryl　silently　began；　I　beg　you；　reveal　yourself　to　me。　Restore　my　powers；　even　if　only　for　a　moment。　Has　Menzoberranzan　offended　you？　So　be　it；　but　I'm　not　one　of　her　daughters。　I'm　from　Ched　Nasad。　Make　me　as　I　was；　and　I'll　give　you　many　lives—a　slave　every　day　for　a　year。
Nothing　happened。
Umrae　sprang　in；　clawing。　Faeryl　jerked　the　part　of　her　spirit　that　had　groped　in　the　void　back　into　her　body。　Retreating；　she　blocked　the　undead　creature's　claws　with　her　cloak　and　struck　a　couple　blows　with　the　war　hammer。　She　didn't　withdraw　quickly　enough　to　take　herself　pletely　out　of　harm's　way；　nor　did　she　settle　into　a　strong　stance　and　swing　as　hard　as　she　could　have。　She　wanted　the　ghoul　to　feel　on　the　brink　of　overwhelming　her　opponent　and　keep　ing。　If　Umrae　grew　too　eager；　she　might　open　herself　up　for　an　effective　counterattack。
Umrae's　talons　whizzed　through　the　air；　tearing　scraps　from　the　sheltering　cloak　until　it　was　the　size　of　a　ragged　hand　towel。　Unexpectedly；　the　spy　beat　her　riddled　wings；　hopped　in　close；　and　struck　at　Faeryl's　face。　The　noble　recoiled；　but　even　so　the　claws　streaked　past　a　fraction　of　an　inch　before　her　eyes；　so　close　she　could　feel　the　malignancy　inside　them　as　a　pulse　of　headache。
Still；　it　was　all　right；　because　she　thought　Umrae　was　finally　open。　She　sidestepped　and　swung　her　stoneheaded　hammer　at　the　ghoul's　rib　cage—
—to　no　avail；　even　though　Faeryl　had　been　correct；　Umrae　couldn't　swing　her　hands　around　in　time　to　block　the　blow。　Instead；　she　took　another　stride；　slapped　the　ambassador　with　a　flick　of　her　wing；　and　sent　her　reeling。
Faeryl's　head　rang；　and　the　world　blurred。　As　she　struggled　to　throw　off　the　stunning　effects　of　the　blow；　she　thought　fleetingly　how　unfair　it　was　that　Umrae；　who　had　long　ago　forsaken　bat　training　as　a　humiliating　exercise　in　futility；　was　demolishing　a　female　who　still　doggedly　reported　to　her　captainoftheguard　for　practice　once　a　tenday。
After　what　seemed　a　long　time；　her　head　cleared。　She　whirled；　certain　that　Umrae　was　about　to　attack　her　from　behind。　She　wasn't。　In　fact；　the　animate　corpse　was　nowhere　to　be　seen。
Plainly；　Umrae　had　taken　to　the　air。　Had　she　finally　done　the　sensible　thing　and　fled？　Faeryl　couldn't　believe　it。　Umrae　hated　her。　The　envoy　didn't　know　why；　but　she'd　seen　it　in　the　traitor's　eyes。　Such　being　the　case；　Umrae　wouldn't　break　off　when　she　had　every　reason　to　believe　she　was　winning　and　close　to　making　the　kill。　No　drow　would；　which　meant　she　was　still　hovering　somewhere　overhead；　poised　to　swoop　down　an