精灵血脉四部曲-第123部分

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　could　afford　that　luxury　now；　with　so　great　a　danger　looming；　an　impending　war　in　which　Drizzt　and　Guenhwyvar　would　likely　play　a　major　role；　fighting　side　by　side。

　　　The　panther　paced　about　the　figurine；　gradually　diminished；　and　faded　to　an　insubstantial　gray　mist。



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　　　Gone　from　the　material　world；　Guenhwyvar　entered　a　long；　low；　winding　tunnel；　the　silvery　path　that　would　take　her　back　to　the　Astral　Plane。　The　panther　loped　easily；　not　eager　to　be　gone　and　too　tired　to　run　full　out。　The　journey　was　not　so　long　anyway；　and　always　uneventful。

　　　Guenhwyvar　skidded　to　a　stop　as　she　rounded　one　long　bend；　her　ears　falling　flat。

　　　The　tunnel　ahead　was　ablaze。

　　　Diabolical　forms；　fiendish　manifestations　that　seemed　unconcerned　with　the　approaching　cat；　leaped　from　those　flames。　Guenhwyvar　padded　ahead　a　few　short　strides。　She　could　feel　the　intense　heat；　could　see　the　fiery　fiends；　and　could　hear　their　laughter　as　they　continued　to　consume　the　circular　tunnel's　walls。

　　　A　rush　of　air　told　Guenhwyvar　that　the　tunnel　had　been　ruptured；　somewhere　in　the　emptiness　between　the　planes　of　existence。　Fiery　fiends　were　pulled　into　elongated　shapes；　then　sucked　out；　the　remaining　flames　danced　wildly；　leaping　and　flickering；　seeming　to　go　out　altogether；　then　rising　together　in　a　sudden　and　violent　surge。　The　wind　came　strong　at　Guenhwyvar's　back；　pelling　the　panther　to　go　forward；　pelling　everything　in　the　tunnel　to　fly　out　through　the　breach；　into　nothingness。

　　　Guenhwyvar　knew　instinctively　that　if　she　succumbed　to　that　force；　there　would　be　no　turning　back；　that　she　would　bee　a　lost　thing；　helpless；　wandering　between　the　planes。

　　　The　panther　dug　in　her　claws　and　backpedaled　slowly；　fighting　the　fierce　wind　every　inch　of　the　way。　Her　black　coat　ruffled　up；　sleek　fur　turning　the　wrong　way。

　　　One　step　back。

　　　The　tunnel　was　smooth　and　hard；　and　there　was　little　for　panther　claws　to　dig　against。　Guenhwyvar's　paws　pedaled　more　frantically；　but　inevitably　the　cat　began　to　slide　forward　toward　the　flames　and　the　breach。



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　　　〃What　is　it？〃　Catti…brie　asked；　seeing　Drizzt's　confusion　as　he　picked　up　the　figurine。

　　　〃Warm；〃　Drizzt　replied。　〃The　figurine　is　warm。〃

　　　Catti…brie's　expression　likewise　crinkled　with　confusion。　She　had　a　feeling　of　sheer　dread　then；　a　feeling　she　could　not　understand。　〃Call　Guen　back；〃　she　prompted。

　　　Drizzt；　equally　fearful；　was　already　doing　exactly　that。　He　placed　the　figurine　on　the　ground　and　called　out　to　the　panther。



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　　　Guenhwyvar　heard　the　call；　and　wanted　desperately　to　answer　it；　but　now　the　cat　was　close　to　the　breach。　Wild　flames　danced　high；　singeing　the　panther's　face。　The　wind　was　stronger　than　ever；　and　there　was　nothing；　nothing　at　all；　for　Guenhwyvar　to　hold　on　to。

　　　The　panther　knew　fear；　and　the　panther　knew　grief。　Never　again　would　she　e　to　Drizzt's　call；　never　again　would　she　hunt　beside　the　ranger　in　the　forests　near　Mithril　Hall　or　race　down　a　mountain　with　Drizzt　and　Catti…brie。

　　　Guenhwyvar　had　known　grief　before；　when　some　of　her　previous　masters　had　died。　This　time；　though；　there　could　be　no　replacement　for　Drizzt。　And　none　for　Catti…brie　or　Regis；　or　even　Bruenor；　that　most　frustrating　of　creatures；　whose　love　and　hate　relationship　with　Guenhwyvar　had　provided　the　panther　with　many　hours　of　teasing　enjoyment。

　　　Guenhwyvar　remembered　the　time　Drizzt　had　bade　her　lie　atop　sleeping　Bruenor　and　nap。　How　the　dwarf　had　roared！

　　　Flames　bit　at　Guenhwyvar's　face。　She　could　see　through　the　breach　now；　see　the　emptiness　that　awaited　her。

　　　Somewhere　far　off；　beyond　the　shield　of　the　screeching　wind；　came　Drizzt's　call；　a　call　the　cat　could　not　answer。



Chapter　7

BAENRE'S　FAULT



　　　Uthegental　Armgo；　the　patron　and　weapon　master　of　Barrison　del'Armgo；　Second　House　of　Menzoberranzan；　was　not　Jarlaxle's　favorite　drow。　In　fact；　Jarlaxle　wasn't　certain　that　this　one　was　truly　a　drow　at　all。　Standing　near　six　feet；　with　a　muscled　torso　that　weighed　close　to　two　hundred　pounds；　Uthegental　was　the　largest　dark　elf　in　Menzoberranzan；　one　of　the　largest　of　the　normally　slender　race　ever　seen　in　the　Underdark。　More　than　size　distinguished　the　fierce　weapon　master；　though。　While　Jarlaxle　was　considered　eccentric；　Uthegental　was　simply　frightening。　He　cropped　his　white　hair　short　and　spiked　it　with　the　thick；　gelatinous　extract　gained　by　boiling　rothe　udders。　A　mithril　ring　was　stuck　through　Uthegental's　angular　nose；　and　a　golden　pin　protruded　through　each　cheek。

　　　His　weapon　was　a　trident；　black　like　the　fine…fitting　mail　of　jointed　plates　he　wore；　and　a　梞agical；　so　it　was　said梙ung　on　his　belt；　within　easy　reach。

　　　Jarlaxle　was　glad　that　at　least　Uthegental　wasn't　wearing　his　war　paint　this　day；　zigzagging　streaks　of　some　dye　the　mercenary　did　not　know　that　showed　yellow　and　red　in　both　the　normal　and　infrared　spectrums。　It　was　mon　knowledge　in　Menzoberranzan　that　Uthegental；　in　addition　to　being　patron　to　Matron　Mother　Mez'Barris；　was　the　consort　of　many　Barrison　del'Armgo　females。　The　second　house　considered　him　breeding　stock；　and　the　thought　of　dozens　of　little　Uthegentals　running　around　brought　a　sour　expression　to　Jarlaxle's　face。

　　　〃The　magic　is　wild；　yet　I　remain　strong！〃　the　exotic　weapon　master　growled；　his　perpetually　furrowed　brow　making　him　even　more　imposing。　He　held　one　iron…muscled　arm　to　the　side　and　tightened　his　biceps　as　he　crooked　his　elbow；　the　rock…hard　muscles　of　his　arm　standing　high　and　proud。

　　　Jarlaxle　took　a　moment　to　remind　himself　where　he　was；　in　the　midst　of　his　own　encampment；　in　his　own　room　and　seated　behind　his　own　desk；　secretly　surrounded　by　a　dozen　highly　skilled　and　undeniably　loyal　soldiers　of　Bregan　D'aerthe。　Even　without　the　concealed　allies；　Jarlaxle's　desk　was　equipped　with　more　than　a　few　deadly　traps　for　troublesome　guests。　And；　of　course；　Jarlaxle　was　no　minor　warrior　himself。　A　small　part　of　him梐　very　small　part　of　him梬ondered　how　he　might　measure　up　in　battle　against　Uthegental。

　　　Few　warriors；　drow　or　otherwise；　could　intimidate　the　mercenary　leader；　but　he　allowed　himself　a　bit　of　humility　in　the　face　of　this　maniac。

　　　〃Ultrin　Sargtlin！〃　Uthegental　went　on；　the　drow　term　for　〃Supreme　Warrior；〃　a　claim　that　seemed　secure　within　the　city　with　Dantrag　Baenre　dead。　Jarlaxle　often　imagined　the　battle　that　most　of　Menzoberranzan's　dark　elves　thought　would　one　day　be　waged　by　bitter　rivals　Uthegental　and　Dantrag。

　　　Dantrag　had　been　the　quicker梣uicker　than　anyone梑ut　with　his　sheer　strength　and　size；　Uthegental　had　rated　as　Jarlaxle's　favorite　in　such　a　contest。　It　was　said　that　when　he　went　into　his　battle　rage；　Uthegental　possessed　the　strength　of　a　giant；　and　this　fearsome　weapon　master　was　so　tough　that　when　he　battled　lesser　creatures；　such　as　goblin　slaves；　he　always　allowed　his　opponent　to　swing　first；　and　never　tried　to　parry　the　attack；　accepting　the　vicious　hit；　reveling　in　the　pain；　before　tearing　his　enemy　limb　from　limb　and　having　the　choicest　body　parts　prepared　for　his　supper。

　　　Jarlaxle　shuddered　at　the　notion；　then　put　the　image　from　his　mind；　reminding　himself　that　he　and　Uthegental　had　more　important　business。

　　　〃There　is　no　weapon　master；　no　drow　at　all；　in　Menzoberranzan　to　stand　against　me；〃　Uthegental　continued　his　boasting；　for　no　reason　that　Jarlaxle　could　discern　beyond　the　savage's　overblown　sense　of　pride。

　　　He　went　on　and　on；　as　was　his　way；　and　while　Jarlaxle　wanted　to　ask　him　if　there　was　a　point　to　it　all；　he　kept　silent；　confident　that　the　emissary　from　the　second　house　would　eventually　get　around　to　a　serious　discussion。

　　　Uthegental　stopped　his　mounting　tirade　suddenly；　and　his　hand　shot　out；　snatching　from　the　top　of　the　desk　a　gem　that　the　mercenary　used　as　a　paperweight。　Uthegental　muttered　some　word　that　Jarlaxle　did　not　catch；　but　the　mercenary's　keen　eye　did　note　a　slight　flicker　in　the　huge　drow's　brooch；　the　house　emblem　of　Barrison　del'Armgo。　Uthegental　then　held　the　gem　aloft　and　squeezed　it　with　all　his　strength。　The　muscles　in　his　sculpted　arm　strained　and　bulged；　but　the　gem　held　firm。

　　　〃I　should　be　able　to　crush　this；〃　Uthegental　growled。　〃Such　is　the　power；　the　magic；　that　I　have　been　Lloth…blessed　with！〃

　　　〃The　gem　would　not　be　worth　as　much　when　reduced　to　powder；〃　Jarlaxle　replied　dryly。　What　was　Uthegental's　point？　he　wondered。　Of　course；　something　strange　was　going　on　with　magic　all　over　the　city。　Now　Jarlaxle　better　understood　Uthegental's　earlier　boasting。　The　exotic　weapon　master　was　indeed　still　strong；　but　not　as　strong；　a　fact　that　apparently　worried　Uthegental　more　than　a　little。

　　　〃Magic　is　failing；〃　the　weapon　master　said；　〃failing　everywhere。　The　priestesses　kneel　in　prayer；　sacrifice　drow　after　drow；　and　still　nothing　they　do　brings　Lloth　or　her　handmaidens　to　them。　Magic　is　failing；　and　it　is　Matron　Baenre's　fault！〃

　　　Jarlaxle　took　note　of　the　way　Uthegental　seemed　to　repeat　things。　Probably　to　remind　himself　of　what　he　was　talking　about；　the　mercenary　mused；　and　his　sour　expression　aptly　reflected　his　opinion　of　Uthegental's　intellect。　Of　course；　Uthegental　would　never　catch　the　subtle　indication。

　　　〃You　cannot　know　that；〃　the　mercenary　replied。　Uthegental's　accusation　no　doubt　came　from　Matron　Mez'Barris　herself。　Many　things　were　ing　clear　to　the　mercenary　now；　mostly　the　fact　that　Mez'Barris　had　sent　Uthegental　to　feel　out　Bregan　D'aerthe；　to　see　if　the　time　was　ripe　for　a　coup　against　Baenre。　Uthegental's　words　could　certainly　be　considered　damning；　but　not　against　Barrison　del'Armgo；　for　their　weapon　master　was　always　running　off　at　the　mouth；　and　never　with　anything　plimentary　to　anyone　but　himself。

　　　〃It　was　Matron　Baenre　who　allowed　the　rogue　Do'Urden　to　escape；〃　Uthegental　bellowed。　〃It　was　she　who　presided　over　the　failed　high　ritual！　Failed；　as　magic　is　failing。〃

　　　Say　it　again；　Jarlaxle　thought；　but　wisely　kept　that　derisive　reply　silent。　The　mercenary's　frustration　at　that　moment　wasn't　simply　with　the　ignorance　revealed　by　Uthegental。　It　was　with　the　fact　that　Uthegental's　reasoning　was　mon　all　over　the　city。　To　Jarlaxle's　thinking；　the　dark　elves　of　Menzoberranzan　continually　li