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

matriarchal society and the tyranny of Lloth had put limits on his
ambitions—limits he did not intend to accept. He left the city and discovered a
talent for trading; soon he had fought his way to the head of his own merchant
band. His far-flung trade interests brought him wealth, but not the power he
craved. That had come as a divine gift, and the divinity in question was
Vhaeraun, drow god of thievery and intrigue. Nisstyre had embraced his god's
directive—to establish a drow presence and power on the surface world—with all
his heart. For once Has kingdom was established, he, Nisstyre, planned to serve
Vhaeraun as a king. But first his—and Vhaeraun's—Subjects must be recruited from
the ranks of the discon-Jented drow.
In these days, discontent was rampant. Nisstyre's many informers, and his own
sharp eyes, told him that. The drow of Menzoberranzan were still staggering from
the disruption of magic during the Time of Troubles, and from their defeat at
the hands of Mithril Hall's dwarves. They had gone to war, full of confidence in
Matron Baenre and her Lloth-inspired vision of conquest and glory. And they had
failed utterly, driven back into the ground by a ragtag alliance of dwarves,
gnomes, and humans—lesser beings all—and by the cruel light of dawn. In the
aftermath of defeat, the stunned drow felt betrayed, adrift, and deeply afraid.
The powers that had ruled them so mercilessly had also kept the city secure from
the dangers of the wild Underdark.
But what remained of these ruling powers? The ancient Matron Baenre, who had led
the city for centuries, had erred in pursuing a surface war and had paid for
this error with her life. Several of the most powerful houses were in turmoil.
Under normal conditions, most of the city's drow cared little which eight houses
sat on the Ruling Council. Now, however, the coming struggle for power
threatened them all. Many feared the weakened and distracted city was vulnerable
to attack, perhaps by the nearby illithid community, or perhaps by another drow
city.
In Nisstyre's opinion, these fears were not groundless. Fully half of
Menzoberranzan's twenty thousand drow had marched upon Mithril Hall, and no one
knew for certain how many had returned. Few houses gave an accurate accounting
of their private forces at any time, and no one wished to admit to diminished
strength during this time of turmoil.
It was no secret that several of the city's strongest weapon masters—the
generals of the individual house armies—were dead or missing. Nor were the
losses limited to the city's professional soldiers. Hundreds of common folk had
served as foot soldiers, and only a few dozen had returned to take up their
labors. Magnifying this problem was the tremendous loss of life among the races
who served Menzoberranzan's drow as slaves. Kobolds, minotaurs, and goblinkin
had been drafted as battle fodder, and they had fallen by the thousand to the
axes of Mithril Hall's dwarves and to the swords and arrows of their allies. The
tasks these slaves once performed were now left undone.
Other cultures might pool labor and talents to fill the void, but such was
beyond the sensibilities of the proud drow. Status was all, and no one was
willing to set aside hard-won position for the common good. Menzoberranzan's
drow could not unite to win the war, and they would not band together in its
aftermath.
And therein, Nisstyre mused, lay his problem, as well. These dark elves could be
motivated only by promise of personal gain. Status, power: these were the lures
needed to coax the proud drow into the light. Although life was hard in the