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

character of the drow. All light fled the room, and the wizard's eyes changed
from amber to brilliant red as his vision slipped into the heat-reading
spectrum. He fastened a stern gaze upon the child.
"You are Liriel Baenre, my daughter and a noble of the first house of
Menzoberranzan," he announced.
The archmage studied the child's reaction. The crimson glow of warmth drained
from her face, and her tiny, pale-knuckled hands gripped the edge of the desk
for support. It was clear the little drew understood all that had just occurred.
Her expression remained stoic, however, and her voice was firm when she repeated
her new name.
Gromph nodded approvingly. Liriel had accepted the reality of her situation—she
could hardly do otherwise and survive—yet the rage and frustration of an untamed
spirit burned bright in her eyes.
This was his daughter, indeed.
Chapter One
TIME OF TURMOIL
Ignoring the muted cries of pain coming from the I far side of the tower
chamber, Nisatyre parted the ^1 heavy curtains and gazed down at the marketet
place. The dark elf'seyes, black and unreadable in the faint light of the
chamber, swept with a measured, calculating gaze over the scene below.
The Bazaar was one of the busiest places in all of Menzoberranzan, and as
heavily guarded as any matron's stronghold- Today even more soldiers than usual
were in evidence, keeping the peace with brutal efficiency. As captain of the
merchant band Dragon's Hoard, Nisstyre usually appreciated the diligence with
which the marketplace was patrolled; it protected local business and made trade
such as his possible. Today, however, Nisstyre's sharp eyes also saw opportunity
of another kind.
The drow merchant's lips curved as he watched a pair of guards drag away the
body of a Calishite peddlar. The human's offense had been slight: he had been a
little too vehement in his bartering, and his drow customer had settled the
matter with a poisoned dagger. Usually Menzoberranzan's shoppers welcomed such
bargaining as the sport that it was. Today, however, the volatile drow were like
dry tinder awaiting the slightest spark.
Tb the casual observer, the bustle of the marketplace might appear normal
enough. Certain goods were selling extremely well; in fact, demand for staple
foods, weapons, and spell components was almost frantic. Nisstyre had seen
market days like this many times before, usually up on the surface, when folk
settled in for a particularly brutal winter or an expected siege. To his eyes,
Menzoberranzan's drow were clearly preparing for something. Nisstyre doubted
they knew what this something might be, but he recognized their unease and he
intended to exploit it.
The Fox, his contacts on the surface world called him, and Nisstyre delighted in
the name. He rather resembled that feral animal, with his sharp-featured black
face, elegantly pointed ears, and unusual mane of coppery hair. He possessed his
namesake's cunning in full measure. Unlike most drow, Nisstyre carried no
weapons and indeed was rather unskilled in their use. His weapons were his
mind—which was as agile and treacherous as the sword of a drow warrior—and his
magic.
Once, many years ago, Nisstyre had lived in Ched Nasad, a city much like
Menzoberranzan. Although he'd been a mage of considerable promise, the