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

As the wizards awaited the city's archmage, they eyed their colleagues with wary
interest. Some had not seen each other since they'd trained together at Sorcere,
for wizards hoarded their magical secrets to serve the power and prestige of
their individual houses. Status was all, even among the city's mages. Glittering
house insignias were much in evidence, and those whose heritage did not grant
such a display settled for enspelled jewelry. Hundreds of gems flickered in the
dim light of the hall, their colors reflected in the glittering black folds of
the piwafwi cloaks worn by all. Some of the wizards were accompanied by their
familiars: giant spiders, deep bats, magically altered beasts, even imps or
other creatures of the Abyss. The large room filled up quickly, yet the silence
seemed only to deepen, to become more profound, as each wizard entered the magic
chamber.
When the last chair had been taken, Gromph Baenre stepped out of nothingness and
into the center of the room. As usual, Gromph was garbed in the glorious cloak
of the arch-mage, a many-pocketed piwafwi that reputedly held more magical
treasures and weapons than most drow wizards saw in a lifetime. Two magical
wands were prominently displayed on his belt, and no one doubted many more were
hidden about his person. Gromph's most powerful weapons, however, were his
beautiful, tapered hands—so dexterous in weaving spells of death—and the
brilliant mind that had brought him to the height of wizardly power… and doomed
him to a life of discontent. In many other cultures, one such as he would be a
king. And of all Menzoberranzan's wizards, only Gromph had the power to call
such a meeting.
"It is not customary for the wizards of this city to gather in one place,"
Gromph began, speaking aloud the thoughts of all present. "Each of us serves the
interests of his own House, according to the wisdom of his matron mother. This
is as it should be," he said emphatically. The archmage paused and lifted a
single eyebrow, perhaps to spice his assertion with a dash of irony.
"Yet, such alliances are not unknown. The city Sshamath is ruled by a coalition
of drow wizards. We of Menzoberranzan could surely do as well if the need
arises."
Murmurs, ranging from the excited to the appalled, filled the magical chamber.
Gromph held up a hand, a simple gesture that commanded—and received—instant
silence.
"If the need arises," he repeated sternly. "The Ruling Council will see to the
troubles of the city. Our task is to wait and watch."
Again he paused, and all present heard the silent message. The Ruling
Council—the matron mothers of the eight most powerful houses—was little more
than a memory. Matron Baenre, the most powerful drow in .the city, was no more.
Triel, her eldest surviving daughter, would assume the leadership of House
Baenre, but she was young and would almost certainly face challengers. Recently,
the third-ranked house had been utterly destroyed by creatures of the Abyss, but
not before its renegade leader had slain the matron and the heir of the fourth
house. Auro'pol Dyrr, the leader of the fifth-ranked house, had fallen during
the war. Since orderly succession was a rarity, each of these houses might well
be ravaged by internal strife before new matrons finally took power. These
matrons would then face challenges on all sides. Seldom in the long history of
Menzoberranzan had so many Council seats been open at one time, and at least a
dozen houses could be counted on to go to war in an attempt to advance their
status. Overall, the struggle to restore the Ruling Council could take