精灵血脉四部曲-第121部分

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nce；　they　would　be　the　same。　I　follow　Mielikki　because　she　represents　what　I　call　truth。

　　　Such　is　the　case　for　most　of　the　followers　of　most　of　the　various　gods；　and　if　we　looked　more　closely　at　the　pantheon　of　the　Realms；　we　would　realize　that　the　precepts　of　the　〃goodly〃　gods　are　not　so　different；　it　is　the　worldly　interpretations　of　those　precepts　that　vary　from　faith　to　faith。

　　　As　for　the　other　gods；　the　gods　of　strife　and　chaos；　such　as　Lloth；　the　Spider　Queen；　who　possesses　the　hearts　of　those　priestesses　who　rule　Menzoberranzan。。。

　　　They　are　not　worth　mentioning。　There　is　no　truth；　only　worldly　gain；　and　any　religion　based　on　such　principles　is；　in　fact；　no　more　than　a　practice　of　self…indulgence　and　in　no　way　a　measure　of　spirituality。　In　worldly　terms；　the　priestesses　of　the　Spider　Queen　are　quite　formidable；　in　spiritual　terms；　they　are　empty。　Thus；　their　lives　are　without　love　and　without　joy。

　　　So　tell　me　not　of　avatars。　Show　me　not　your　proof　that　yours　is　the　true　god。　I　grant　you　your　beliefs　without　question　and　without　judgment；　but　if　you　grant　me　what　is　in　my　heart；　then　such　tangible　evidence　is　irrelevant。

　　　？Drizzt　Do'Urden



Chapter　6

WHEN　MAGIC　WENT　AWRY



　　　Berg'inyon　Baenre；　weapon　master　of　the　first　house　of　Menzoberranzan；　put　his　twin　swords　through　a　dizzying　routine；　blades　spinning　circuits　in　the　air　between　him　and　his　opponent；　an　insubordinate　drow　mon　soldier。　A　crowd　of　the　Baenre　house　guard；　highly　trained　though　mostly　males；　formed　a　semicircle　about　the　pair；　while　other　dark　elves　watched　from　high　perches；　tightly　saddled　astride　sticky…footed；　huge　subterranean　lizards；　the　beasts　casually　standing　along　the　vertical　slopes　of　nearby　stalactites　or　towering　stalagmite　mounds。

　　　The　soldiers　cheered　every　time　Berg'inyon；　a　magnificent　swordsman　（though　few　thought　him　as　good　as　his　brother；　Dantrag；　had　been）；　scored　a　minor　hit　or　parried　a　fast…flying　counter；　but　the　cheers　were　obviously　somewhat　tempered。

　　　Berg'inyon　noticed　this；　and　knew　the　source。　He　had　been　the　leader　of　the　Baenre　lizard　riders；　the　most　elite　grouping　of　the　male　house　guards；　for　many　years。　Now；　with　Dantrag　slain；　he　had　bee　the　house　weapon　master　as　well。　Berg'inyon　felt　the　intense　pressure　of　his　dual　stations；　felt　his　mother's　scrutinizing　gaze　on　his　every　movement　and　every　decision。　He　did　not　doubt　that　his　own　actions　had　intensified　as　a　result。　How　many　fights　had　he　begun；　how　many　punishments　had　he　exacted　on　his　subordinates；　since　Dantrag's　death？

　　　The　mon　drow　came　ahead　with　a　weak　thrust　that　almost　slipped　past　distracted　Berg'inyon's　defenses。　A　sword　came　up　and　about　at　the　last　moment　to　drive　the　enemy's　blade　aside。

　　　Berg'inyon　heard　the　sudden　hush　behind　him　at　the　near　miss；　understood　that　several　of　the　soldiers　back　there梡erhaps　all　of　them梙oped　his　enemy's　next　thrust　would　be　quicker；　too　quick。

　　　The　weapon　master　growled　low　and　came　ahead　in　a　flurry；　spurred　on　by　the　hatred　of　those　around　him；　of　those　under　his　mand。　Let　them　hate　him！　he　decided。　But　while　they　did；　they　must　also　respect　him梟o；　not　respect；　Berg'inyon　decided。　They　must　fear　him。

　　　He　came　forward　one　step；　then　a　second；　his　swords　snapping　alternately；　left　and　right；　and　each　being　cleanly　picked　off。　The　give　and　take　had　bee　mon；　with　Berg'inyon　ing　ahead　two　steps；　then　retreating。　This　time；　though；　the　Baenre　did　not　retreat。　He　shuffled　forward　two　more　steps；　his　swords　snapping　as　his　opponent's　blades　rushed　for　the　parry。

　　　Berg'inyon　had　the　lesser　drow　up　on　his　heels；　so　the　young　Baenre　rushed　ahead　again。　His　opponent　was　quick　enough　with　his　swords　to　turn　the　expected　thrusts；　but　he　could　not　retreat　properly；　and　Berg'inyon　was　up　against　him　in　a　clinch；　their　blades　joined　to　either　side；　down　low；　by　the　hilt。

　　　There　was　no　real　danger　here梚t　was　more　like　a　break　in　the　battle梑ut　Berg'inyon　realized　something　his　opponent　apparently　did　not。　With　a　growl；　the　young　Baenre　heaved　his　off…balance　opponent　away。　The　drow　skidded　back　a　couple　of　steps；　brought　his　swords　up　immediately　to　fend　off　any　pursuit。

　　　None　came；　it　seemed　a　simple　break　of　the　clinch。

　　　Then　the　backpedaling　drow　bumped　into　the　House　Baenre　fence。

　　　In　the　city　of　Menzoberranzan；　there　was　perhaps　nothing　as　spectacular　as　the　twenty…foot…high；　web…designed　fence　ringing　House　Baenre；　anchored　on　the　various　stalagmite　mounds　that　ringed　the　pound。　Its　silvery　metallic　cords；　thick　as　a　dark　elf's　leg；　were　wound　into　beautiful；　symmetrical　designs；　as　intricate　as　the　work　of　any　spider。　No　weapon　could　cut　through　it；　no　magic；　save　a　single　item　that　Matron　Baenre　possessed；　could　get　one　over　it；　and　the　simplest　touch　or　brush　against　one　of　those　enchanted　strands　would　hold　fast　a　titan。

　　　Berg'inyon's　opponent　hit　the　fence　hard　with　the　flat　of　his　back。　His　eyes　went　wide　as　he　suddenly　realized　the　young　Baenre's　tactics；　as　he　saw　the　faces　of　those　gathered　brighten　in　approval　of　the　vicious　trick；　as　he　saw　devious　and　wicked　Berg'inyon　calmly　approach。

　　　The　drow　fell　away　from　the　fence　and　rushed　out　to　meet　the　weapon　master's　advance。

　　　The　two　went　through　a　fast　series　of　attacks　and　parries；　with　stunned　Berg'inyon　on　the　defensive。　Only　through　his　years　of　superior　training　was　the　drow　noble　able　to　bring　himself　back　even　against　his　surprising　opponent。

　　　Surprising　indeed；　as　every　drow　face；　and　all　the　whispers；　confirmed。

　　　〃You　brushed　the　fence；〃　Berg'inyon　said。

　　　The　drow　soldier　did　not　disagree。　The　tips　of　his　weapons　drooped　as　Berg'inyon's　drooped；　and　he　glanced　over　his　shoulder　to　confirm　what　he；　and　all　the　others；　knew　could　not　be。

　　　〃You　hit　the　fence；〃　Berg'inyon　said　again；　skeptically；　as　the　drow　turned　back　to　face　him。

　　　〃Across　the　back；〃　he　agreed。

　　　Berg'inyon's　swords　went　into　their　respective　scabbards　and　the　young　Baenre　stormed　past　his　opponent；　to　stand　right　before　the　enchanted　web。　His　opponent　and　all　the　other　dark　elves　followed　closely；　too　intrigued　to　even　think　of　continuing　the　fight。

　　　Berg'inyon　motioned　to　a　nearby　female。　〃Rest　your　sword　against　it；〃　he　bade　her。

　　　The　female　drew　her　blade　and　laid　it　across　one　of　the　thick　strands。　She　looked　to　Berg'inyon　and　around　to　all　the　others；　then　easily　lifted　the　blade　from　the　fence。

　　　Another　drow　farther　down　the　line　dared　to　place　his　hand　on　the　web。　Those　around　him　looked　at　him　incredulously；　thinking　him　dangerously　daring；　but　he　had　no　trouble　removing　himself　from　the　metal。

　　　Panic　rushed　through　Berg'inyon。　The　fence；　it　was　said；　had　been　a　gift　from　Lloth　herself　in　millennia　past。　If　it　was　no　longer　functioning；　it　might　well　mean　that　House　Baenre　had　fallen　out　of　the　Spider　Queen's　favor。　It　might　well　mean　that　Lloth　had　dropped　House　Baenre's　defense　to　allow　for　a　conspiracy　of　lower　houses。

　　　〃To　your　posts；　all　of　you！〃　the　young　Baenre　shouted；　and　the　gathered　dark　elves；　sharing　Berg'inyon's　reasoning　and　his　fears；　did　not　have　to　be　told　twice。

　　　Berg'inyon　headed　for　the　pound's　great　central　mound　to　find　his　mother。　He　crossed　paths　with　the　drow　he　had　just　been　fighting；　and　the　moner's　eyes　widened　in　sudden　fear。　Normally　Berg'inyon；　honorable　only　by　the　low　standards　of　dark　elves；　would　have　snapped　his　sword　out　and　through　the　drow；　ending　the　conflict。　Caught　up　in　the　excitement　of　the　fence's　failure；　the　moner　was　off　his　guard。　He　knew　it；　too；　and　he　expected　to　be　killed。

　　　〃To　your　post；〃　Berg'inyon　said　to　him；　for　if　the　young　Baenre's　suspicions　proved　correct；　that　a　conspiracy　had　been　launched　against　House　Baenre　and　Lloth　had　deserted　them；　he　would　need　every　one　of　the　House's　twenty…five　hundred　soldiers。



　　　*****



　　　King　Bruenor　Battlehammer　had　spent　the　morning　in　the　upper　chapel　of　Mithril　Hall；　trying　to　sort　out　the　new　hierarchy　of　priests　within　the　plex。　His　dear　friend　Cobble　had　been　the　reigning　priest；　a　dwarf　of　powerful　magic　and　deep　wisdom。

　　　That　wisdom　hadn't　gotten　poor　Cobble　out　of　the　way　of　a　nasty　drow　spell；　though；　and　the　cleric　had　been　squashed　by　a　falling　wall　of　iron。

　　　There　were　more　than　a　dozen　remaining　acolytes　in　Mithril　Hall。　They　formed　two　lines；　one　on　each　side　of　Bruenor's　audience　chair。　Each　priest　was　anxious　to　impress　his　（or；　in　the　case　of　Stumpet　Rakingclaw；　her）　king。

　　　Bruenor　nodded　to　the　dwarf　at　the　head　of　the　line　to　his　left。　As　he　did；　he　lifted　a　mug　of　mead；　the　holy　water　this　particular　priest　had　concocted。　Bruenor　sipped；　then　drained　the　surprisingly　refreshing　mead　in　a　single　swallow　as　the　cleric　stepped　forward。

　　　〃A　burst　of　light　in　honor　of　King　Bruenor！〃　the　would…be　head　priest　cried；　and　he　waved　his　arms　and　began　a　chanting　prayer　to　Moradin；　the　Soulforger；　god　of　the　dwarves。

　　　〃Clean　and　fresh；　and　just　the　slightest　twinge　of　bitterness；〃　Bruenor　remarked；　running　a　finger　along　the　rim　of　the　emptied　mug　and　then　sucking　on　it；　that　he　might　savor　the　last　drop。　The　scribe　directly　behind　the　throne　noted　every　word。　〃A　hearty　bouquet；　properly　curling　nose　hairs；〃　Bruenor　added。　〃Seven。〃

　　　The　eleven　other　clerics　groaned。　Seven　on　a　scale　of　ten　was　the　highest　grade　Bruenor　had　given　any　of　the　five　samples　of　holy　water　he　had　already　taste…tested。

　　　If　Jerbollah；　the　dwarf　now　in　a　frenzy　of　spellcasting；　could　perform　as　well　with　magic；　he　would　be　difficult　to　beat　for　the　coveted　position。

　　　〃And　the　light　shall　be；〃　Jerbollah　cried；　the　climax　of　his　spell；　〃red！〃

　　　There　came　a　tremendous　popping　noise；　as　if　a　hundred　dwarves　had　just　yanked　their　fingers　from　puckered　mouths。　And　then。。。　nothing。

　　　〃Red！〃　Jerbollah　cried　in　delight。

　　　〃What？〃　demanded　Bruenor；　who；　like　those　dwarves　beside　him；　saw　nothing　different　about　the　lighting　in　the　chapel。

　　　〃Red！〃　Jerbollah　said　again；　and　when　he　turned　about；　Bruenor　and　the　others　understood。　Jerbollah's　face　was　glowing　a　bright　red條iterally；　the　confused　cleric　was　seeing　the　world　through　a　rose…colored　veil。

　　　Frustrated　Bruenor　dropped　his