"01 - Daughter of the Drow - Elaine Cunningham 1.0.palmdoc.pdb" - читать интересную книгу автора (Starlight And Shadows)

to rescue its companion or to steal its weapon was unclear—and it, too, was held
fast by the lethal energy flow. Two more goblins, trying to edge past the
shrieking couple into the room, were caught in the chain of malevolent magic.
With practiced ease, Shakti held her grip on the pitchfork and its magic. A few
goblins managed to slip past the barrier of crackling energy and burning flesh.
These were promptly skewered by the Hunzrin brothers and flung to the creatures
waiting silently below.
Finally no more goblins came. Shakti wrenched her pitchfork from the charred
flesh of her first victim. The chain of goblins fell into a smoking pile. The
drow walked over their bodies and through the door, her still-glowing weapon
held before her like a spear.
A few goblins—far too few!—remained, cowering and creeping slowly away.
Murderous rage rose in Shakti's heart as she surveyed her disgusting foe, and
only with difficulty did she refrain from striking again. The goblins were thin,
exhausted, in no better shape than the cattle. The drow's practical nature
acknowledged that the slaves might have seen no option other than to revolt. Yet
when Shakti spoke, necessity, not compassion, governed her words.
"It is clear," Shakti began in a cool, measured tone, "there are not enough
slaves to tend the herd. But what have you gained by this foolish attack? How
much harder will you have to work, now that you have foolishly depleted your
numbers? But know this: the rothe herd comes first, and all of you will return
to your duties at once. New slaves will be purchased and all successfully bred
goblin females will be granted extra food and rest privileges; in the meanwhile
you will adhere to a strict schedule of labor." She hefted her pitchfork
meaningfully. "Go now."
The surviving goblins turned and fled. The priestess turned to her brothers.
Their eyes gleamed with excitement from their first battle. She knew just how to
deepen that sparkle.
"The patrol of fighters from Tier Breche should have stopped this little
rebellion before it got this far. If any of them are still alive, they've got no
right to be. You, Bazherd. Take my pitchfork and lead the hunt."
The young male leaped forward to claim the powerful magic weapon. Shakti's lips
firmed in a smile as she handed it over. Any blow against the drow Academy
pleased her. She had no quarrel with Tier Breche in general, and usually
conceded that the academies did well enough training fighters and wizards. But
noble females were sent to the clerical school, and Shakti's resentment of her
lot was deep and implacable. Oh, she would become a priestess, for that was the
path to power in Menzoberranzan. But if another way presented itself, Shakti
Hunzrin would be the first to take it.
At the appointed hour, every wizard in Menzoberranzan worthy of the name slipped
away to a private spot to answer an unprecedented summons. One by one, each took
a vial bearing the symbol of House Baenre, broke the seal, and watched as mist
poured forth and shaped itself into a shimmering doorway. And one by one, the
drow wizards stepped through these magic doorways. Each one emerged into the
same large, lavishly appointed hall, perhaps somewhere in Menzoberranzan,
perhaps in some distant plane. All the wizards knew for certain was that this
was Gromph Baenre's audience chamber, and they had little choice but to attend.
Even House Xorlarrin, famous for its wizardly might, was there in force. Seven
Xorlarrin wizards were masters in the Sorcere, the school of magic; all seven
sat uneasily on the luxurious chairs provided them.