"David Eddings - The Legacy Of The Drow II - Starless Night" - читать интересную книгу автора (Eddings David)

The mercenary leaned against the pillar anchoring the wide stairway of Triel Breche, on the northern side of
the great cavern that housed Menzoberranzan, the city of drow. Jarlaxle removed his wide brimmed hat and
ran a hand over the smooth skin of his bald head as he muttered a few curses under his breath.
Many lights were on in the city. Torches flickered in the high windows of houses carved from natural
stalagmite formations. Lights in the drow city! Many of the elaborate structures had long been decorated by
the soft glow of faerie fire, mostly purple and blue hues, but this was different.
Jarlaxle shifted to the side and winced as his weight came upon his recently wounded leg. Triel Baenre
herself, the matron mistress of Arach Tinilith, among the highest ranking priestesses in the city, had tended
the wound, but Jarlaxle suspected that the wicked priestess had purposely left the job unfinished, had left a
bit of the
pain to remind the mercenary of his failure in recapturing the renegade Drizzt Do’Urden.
“The glow wounds my eyes, ” came a sarcastic remark from behind. Jarlaxle turned to see Matron Baenre’s
oldest daughter, that same Triel. She was shorter than most drow, nearly a foot shorter than Jarlaxle, but
she carried herself with undeniable dignity and poise. Jarlaxle understood her powers (and her volatile
temperament) better than most, and he certainly treated the diminutive female with the greatest caution.
Staring, glaring, out over the city with squinting eyes, she moved beside him. “Curse the glow, ” she
muttered. “It is by your matron’s command, ” Jarlaxle reminded her. His one good eye avoided her gaze; the
other lay beneath a patch of shadow, which was tied behind his head. He replaced his great hat, pulling it
low in front as he tried to hide his smirk at her resulting grimace.
Triel was not happy with her mother. Jarlaxle had known that since the moment Matron Baenre had begun
to hint at her plans. Triel was possibly the most fanatic of the Spider Queen’s priestesses and would not go
against Matron Baenre, the first matron mother of the city, not unless Lloth instructed her to. “Come along, ”
the priestess growled. She turned and made her way across Tier Breche to the largest and most ornate of
the drow Academy’s three buildings, a huge structure shaped to resemble a gigantic spider. Jarlaxle
pointedly groaned as he moved, and lost ground with every limping step. His attempt to solicit a bit more
healing magic was not successful, though, for Triel merely paused at the doorway to the great structure and
waited for him with a patience that was more than a bit out of character, Jarlaxle knew, for Triel never waited
for anything. As soon as he entered the temple, the mercenary was assaulted
by myriad aromas, everything from incense to the drying blood of the latest sacrifices, and chants rolled out
of every side portal. Triel took note of none of it, she shrugged past the few disciples who bowed to her as
they saw her walking the corridors. The single minded Baenre daughter moved into the higher levels, to the
private quarters of the school’s mistresses, and walked down one small hallway, its floor alive with crawling
spiders (including a few that stood as tall as Jarlaxle’s knee). Triel stopped between two equally decorated
doors and motioned for Jarlaxle to enter the one on the right. The mercenary paused, did well to hide his
confusion, but Triel was expecting it. She grabbed Jarlaxle by the shoulder and roughly spun him about.
“You have been here before!” she accused. “Only upon my graduation from the school of fighters, ” Jarlaxle
said, shrugging away from the female, “as are all of Melee Magthere’s graduates.”
“You have been in the upper levels, ” Triel snarled, eyeing Jarlaxle squarely. The mercenary chuckled.
“You hesitated when I motioned for you to enter the chamber, ”Triel went on, “because you know that the
one to the left is my private room. That is where you expected to go.”
“I did not expect to be summoned here at all, ” Jarlaxle retorted, trying to shift the subject. He was indeed a
bit off guard that Triel had watched him so closely. Had he underestimated her trepidation at her mother’s
latest plans?
Triel stared at him long and hard, her eyes unblinking and jaw firm.
“I have my sources, ” Jarlaxle admitted at length.
Another long moment passed, and still Triel did not blink. “You asked that I come, ” Jarlaxle reminded her.
“I demanded, ” Triel corrected.
Jarlaxle swept into a low, exaggerated bow, snatching off his hat and brushing it out at arm’s length. The
Baenre daughter’s eyes flashed with anger.