"Denning, Troy - Forgotten Realms - Daughter of the Drow" - читать интересную книгу автора (Denning Troy)

Chapter 2 DAUGHTERS OF BAENRE
aenre is dead. Reign long, Matron Triel."
These words had been spoken many times, with varying degrees of sincerity, throughout the day as one by one the nobles, soldiers, and commoners of House Baenre filed past the fearsome black throne—a sentient wonder in whose gleaming depths writhed the spirits of Baenre victims—to pledge fealty to their new matron.
Triel Baenre herself was not an imposing sight. She was well under five feet tall, her body as slim and straight as a child's. By the standards of drow elves, she was not particularly attractive. Her white hair was long and thin, braided tightly and wrapped around her small head like a crown. She was clad simply: a long hauberk of elven chain mail draped over the simple black robe of a priestess. Yet Triel did not require the conventional trappings of royalty. She was one of the highest-ranked priestesses of Lloth in the city, and in the full favor of her goddess. The young matron exuded power and confidence, and she greeted each of her subjects with a regal nod.
25
Elaine Cunningham
Daughter of the Drew
In truth, Triel was not as comfortable with her new role as she appeared to be. Seated upon her mother's throne, she felt aa if she were a child playacting. By the blood of Lloth, she swore silently, her feet did not even touch the floor! A minor indignity, perhaps, but to Triel's troubled mind her dangling feet seemed to be an omen, a sign she was not equal to the task before her.
Triel knew that, by any measures known to her, she should have been ecstatically happy with her elevation. She was now matron mother of Menzoberranzan's first house. Triel was no stranger to power—as matron mistress of the clerical school Arach-Tinilith, she held a position of great honor—but she had never truly aspired to her late mother's throne. The former matron had reigned for so many centuries she had seemed eternal. Even her given name had been lost to memory. To generations of drow, Triel's mother was Baenre, was Menzoberranzan. Thus each repetition of "Baenre is dead" echoed through Triel's mind like a portent of doom, until she felt she must scream aloud or go mad.
But at last the ceremony ended, and Triel was left alone to face the task of rebuilding the shattered household. It was a formidable challenge. A house's strength lay in its priestesses, and far too many had fallen in her mother's war. Many of the former matron's daughters—and their daughters in turn—had gone on to form houses of their own. In theory, these minor houses were allies of House Baenre, but their primary concern was spinning their own webs of power and intrigue.
In addition to its lack of priestesses, the first house was without a weapon master. Triel's brother Berg*inyon had gone missing during the war. As leader of the mighty lizard riders, he had led the attack on Mithril Hall's surface-dwelling allies, and he had never returned to his family home. Many drow had fallen in the terror and confusion that followed dawn, and it was not unlikely the Baenre weapon master was among them. Triel suspected otherwise. She'd often sensed that the young male's instincts for self-preservation far outstripped his loyalty to his house. Whatever the truth behind his disappearance, Berg'inyon was lost to her. He might be a mere youth—barely sixty years of age—but he was a strong fighter, and he would be
26
difficult to replace. Lloth forbid, Triel thought with immense distaste, she might even be required to take on a patron to fill the role of weapon master!
Yet Triel's most immediate task was to choose her own successor at Arach-Tinilith. Usually the position of Academy matron went to the highest-ranking priestess of Lloth in House Baenre. After Triel, that would be Merith, a commoner taken into the Baenre ranks years ago when her considerable clerical powers began to emerge. Merith coveted the title of matron mistress, but this was simply out of tiie question. In any capacity, she was a potential disgrace to House Baenre. The former daughter of a streetsweeper had no understanding of the subtle nuances of protocol, no - appreciation for the intricate warp and weft of intrigue. She was also sadistic in the extreme. In situations that called for a stiletto, Merith was a dwarven battle-axe. Triel expected her dear adopted sister to contract a rare, fatal illness any day now.
That left Sos'Umptu, the keeper of the Baenre chapel, as the most likely candidate. Sos'Umptu was Baenre-born, her favor with Lloth was secure, and her standing as a priestess impressively lofty. So after due consideration Triel sent for her younger sister and offered her Arach-Tinilith.
Sos'Umptu, far from being pleased at her promotion, was horrified at the suggestion she leave the Baenre chapel. Triel coaxed, wheedled, and threatened, but in the end she conceded that, at least for the time, she herself must fill both roles. Her younger sister received this decision with a relieved sigh, then glanced at the door that led toward her beloved chapel.
"No, stay with me a while," Triel said tiredly. "I must speak with you on another matter. House Baenre needs high priestesses desperately, especially nobles Baenre-born. You know I have no daughters of my own, nor am I likely to have any. I must rely on my sisters and their children to rebuild our strength. You keep the birth records; what can you tell me about our prospects? Any outstanding talents among the young females?"
The keeper of the chapel cleared her throat. "Probably the most gifted among them would be Liriel. Gromph's daughter?" she prompted, when Triel showed no sign of
27
Elaine Cunningham
recognition.
Memory fell suddenly into place, and Triel's eyes widened in wonder as she considered the possibilities. Gromph's pampered, wayward daughter, a high priestess of Lloth. How preposterous, and how delightful!
From what Triel could recall, Gromph had fathered the child some four decades past and had inexplicably claimed her as his own. Liriel bore the name of her father's house, which was almost unheard of in their matriarchal society. Her mother, a useless beauty from some minor house, had disappeared, and for many years little had been heard of the child, except disapproving whispers that Gromph allowed the girl to run wild. With the onset of adolescence, Liriel had forged a place for herself in the frenetic social life of certain wealthy circles. Triel had heard tales of Liriel's exploits, which earned the girl notoriety and admiration in nearly equal parts. Although considered headstrong and capricious, Liriel reportedly had exceptional powers of mind and magic. What better use for such talents than the service of Lloth?
Triel smiled wickedly. How that would enrage Gromph! By law and custom, noble females entered the clerical college with the onset of puberty or upon their twenty-fifth birthday, whichever came first. Gromph had not required his daughter to attend—perhaps he had even forbidden it! The archmage was hardly devout in the service of Lloth, and Triel had caught glimpses of Gromph's bitter resentment toward the priestess rulers. Yet if Matron Triel commanded, Gromph would have little choice but to send his daughter to Arach-Tinilith.
And Liriel Baenre, as a high priestess of Lloth, would become not only a bright jewel in the crown of House Baenre, but also a powerful reminder to ambitious Gromph as to where the true power in Menzoberranzan lay.
Triel turned to regard her younger sister. "Why, SoslJmptu," she said slyly, "you surprise me! I had not thought you capable of such devious subtlety."
Sos'Umptu flinched and said nothing, for she had learned through hard experience to be leery of compliments. Indeed, Triel's eyes hardened dangerously as she continued to observe her younger sister.
28
Daughter of the Drow
"It would seem," the new matron continued, "the keeper of the chapel has talents that reach beyond her chosen sphere of influence. See that your ambitions do not do likewise!"
Sos'Umptu sank into a deep reverence. "I desire only to serve Lloth, and my sister the matron mother," she said fervently.
Although it was almost beyond belief, Triel sensed the younger Baenre daughter spoke truth. The matron was not certain whether to regard Sos'Umptu's unnatural lack of ambition with relief or scorn, but she smiied at her sister and bid her to rise. "Your devotion does you credit," Triel said dryly, "and your idea has merit. Have someone find the girl and bring her here at once."
"Do you want Gromph to be present when you speak to his daughter?"
Heat flooded Triel's face until her countenance shone like an angry ruby. "I do not require my brother's blessing, in this matter or any other," she snapped.
"Of course not, Matron Triel," Sos'Umptu hastened to say, dipping into another respectful bow. "But I thought you might, perhaps, enjoy witnessing Gromph's distress?"
The dangerous glint in Triel's eyes warmed to become a comrade's gleam. "My dear sister, for the sake of House Baenre, you must venture out of your chapel more often!"
Meanwhile, far from House Baenre's audience hall, Gromph's daughter skipped lightly through the tunnels of the Underdark. Her eyes gleamed red as they pierced the darkness ahead, and an occasional cross-draft rippled through the thick white hair that fell in wavy locks to her waist. She was dressed for travel in boots and breeches fashioned from thin, supple leather, a shirt of quilted silk, and a vest of fine chain mail. A three-foot, barbed-tip spear rested on her shoulder, and in her free hand she carried a small bolo, which she twirled in elaborate patterns as she walked.
Behind her, well out of reach of the whirling weapon, trudged a young drow couple. The female wore the insignia
29
Elaine Cunningham
of House Shobalar, a lesser clan known for the rare female wizards it produced. The other drow was an exceptionally handsome male, elaborately dressed but for the single-braided hair that marked him as a commoner. Both of these drow carried spears identical to Liriel's, and they darted wary glances here and there as they maneuvered through the field of small, sharp stalagmites that thrust upward from the rocky floor.
The tunnel was narrow, barely wide enough for three or four drow to walk abreast. Countless eons past, trickling water had carved a series of furrows into the rocky walls, leaving long, narrow stone ridges rising up on both sides of the tunnel. The passage resembled the rib cage of some giant beast, and Liriel's companions found it more than a little unnerving. They kept firm grip on their weapons and silently cursed the impulse that had led them out of the relative safety of Menzoberranzan. The Underdark was unpredictable and full of danger. Few ventured out into it without considerable strength of arms and magic. Yet when Liriel Baenre issued an invitation, how could they refuse?
Liriel was by far the most popular female in their set, a group of wealthy young drow both noble and common who pursued pleasure and intrigue with typical drow passion. She was younger than most of them—still short of her fortieth birthday, which placed her in the midst of the long, tumultuous period of drow adolescence—and she possessed the fresh beauty similar to that of a human girl not yet seventeen. She also enjoyed the wealth and station of a House Baenre noble. But many of the city's young drow possessed wealth, status, and beauty. Liriel was exceptional for her ready laugh and a zest for life that was rare in grim Menzoberranzan. Admittedly eccentric in her tastes, she preferred the pursuit of adventure and magical knowledge to social intrigue. Still, few could deny her quirky charm. Many young drow vied for the chance to share her adventures. Those who survived could count on enhanced social standing, as well as a few good stories to share at that evening's round of parties.
Even with this pleasing prospect before them, Liriel's companions grew more uneasy with every step. The utter darkness of the passage did not inconvenience them in the
30
Daughter of the Drow
slightest, but the silence deeply unnerved them. In Menzoberranzan, the noise of the city melted into a constant, spell-muffled murmur spiced by an occasional scream. In these tunnels their quiet footsteps thudded in their ears with a hollow, echoing sound, like stones falling into a deep well. Liriel, of course, walked like a shadow, thanks to her enchanted elven boots and two dozen years' experience with such exploration. Her gait was light and eager, her eyes fixed on the adventure ahead.
Yet Liriel was not unaware of her companions' discomfort. She knew Bythnara Shobalar well; the two of them had trained together from a young age. Gromph had apparently tired of his precocious daughter soon after adopting her, and sent her to House Shobalar to be fostered and trained by that clan's female wizards. A childhood rivalry had sprung up between Liriel and Bythnara that had followed them throughout the years. Liriel took this in stride, and in fact found it rather enjoyable. It sharpened both their efforts and added a necessary spice to their friendship. Despite their mutual interest in magic, the two had little in common. Bythnara did not share Liriel's delight in adventure or her sense of fun. The female wizard could be remote at times—and downright dull the rest of the time—but Liriel was well accustomed to the limits of friendship.
"Are we almost there?" Bythnara complained behind her.
"Soon."