war of the spider queen 1 dissolution-第11部分

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　magic　had　an　effect。　The　spider　slipped　and　floundered。　Encased　in　an　invisible　sphere　of　magical　force　it　thrashed　about　in　panic。　The　explosion　had　opened　horrid　sores　that　specknotled　the　creature's　body。　Unfortunately；　it　seemed　able　to　ignore　whatever　pain　those　wounds　caused　it　and　continued　scratching　at　the　restraining　sphere。　Blue…white　sparks　flashed　at　the　tips　of　its　feet；　and　Quenthel　knew　it　was　using　more　than　brute　force　and　panic　to　break　free。
Speak　to　me；　Quenthel　thought；　sure　the　words　would　be　heard　in　the　spider's　mind。　She　felt　a　connection；　but　a　tenuous　one；　perhaps　attenunotated　by　the　sphere　of　force。
The　sphere　faded　as　Quenthel　swung　the　whip　again；　trying　to　smash　through　the　creature's　hideous　visage　and　into　the　brain　that　presumably　lay　behind　it。　
The　spider　sprang　away　as　explosively　as　one　of　its　tiny　jumping　cousins；　arcing　high　and　landing　at　the　far　end　of　the　chamber　behind　a　rank　of　sculptures。　The　spirit　scuttled　through　the　shadows；　and　even　though　Quenthel　was　watching　intently；　in　another　second　she　lost　track　of　it。
Where　are　you？　she　sent。
The　reply　was　a　burst　of　anger　from　the　creature　no　mere　words　could　convey。　Quenthel　gave　up　trying　to　municate　with　it；　though　if　it　was　a　servant　of　Lolth；　it　should　respond　to　her。
〃You　could　get　out　now；　Mistress；〃　said　Hsiv；　the　first　imp　Quenthel　had　bound　inside　a　whip　viper。　〃From　over　there；　it　couldn't　reach　you　before　you　run　out　the　door。〃
〃Nonsense！〃　she　snapped。　〃The　brute　disrupted　my　Academy；　threatnotened　my　person；　and　I　will　have　my　vengeance。〃
Infected　with　her　anger；　the　banded　vipers　reared　and　hissed　until　she　silenced　them　with　a　mental　mand。
One　of　the　priestesses　sprawled　on　the　floor　was　moaning　in　pain。　Quenthel　stalked　over　to　the　spider's　victim　and　kicked　her　in　the　head；　sinotlencing　her　instantly。
The　drow　high　priestess　had　eliminated　all　extraneous　sounds；　but　it　didn't　help　her　locate　the　spider。　Save　for　the　soft　hiss　of　her　own　breathnoting；　the　chamber　was　silent。
Turning　slowly；　heart　pounding；　she　inspected　the　arachnid　effigies　all　around　her。　Did　that　jointed　spindle　of　a　leg　just　twitch？　Did　that　head；　coyly　turned　just　enough　that　she　couldn't　quite　get　an　adequate　look　at　it；　possess　too　many　eyes？　Had　the　figure　on　the　right　shifted　a　hair　closer　when　she　wasn't　looking？
No；　no；　and　no。　It　was　just　her　imagination；　trying　to　supply　what　obnotservation　had　not。
She　sniffed　repeatedly；　but　that　was　no　help；　either。　The　spider's　stink　hung　in　the　air；　but　it　seemed　no　stronger　in　one　direction　than　another。
Curse　it；　the　demon　had　to　be　somewhere！
Yes；　she　realized；　but　it　didn't　have　to　still　be　on　the　floor；　not　if　it　could　skitter　up　vertical　surfaces　like　its　smaller　kindred。
Assuming　the　demon　was　clinging　to　the　upper　walls　or　ceiling　it　might　have　taken　it　a　moment　to　shake　off　the　shock　of　the　flare　and　its　ugly　wounds；　but　surely　it　was　creeping　into　the　best　position　from　which　to　leap　down　on　its　adversary。
Quenthel　peered　upward。　The　artists　had　decorated　the　shadowy　highnotest　reaches　of　the　chamber　as　well。　The　ceiling　was　an　octagonal　web　a　crawl　with　painted　spiders；　providing　splendid　camouflage　for　the　creanotture。　If　it　was　in　fact　crouching　in　their　midst；　she　couldn't　see　it。
Still　scanning　the　ceiling；　the　whip　vipers　keeping　watch　as　well；　she　backed　to　one　of　the　wall　sconces　and　read　the　trigger　phrase　from　another　scroll；　whereupon　the　candle　flame　leaped　up　and　turned　a　roiling　black。　She　put　her　arm　into　the　dark　fire；　and　her　flowing　gossamer　sleeve　caught　instantly。
Though　they　were　at　the　end　of　what　was；　thus　far；　the　non…burning　arm；　the　serpents　hissed　and　coiled　in　alarm。　Quenthel　brought　them　to　heel　with　a　brutal　thrust　of　her　will。　Feeling　naught　but　a　pleasant　warmth；　she　silently　manded　the　dark　fire。　A　portion　of　the　magical　stuff　flowed　down　her　arm　and　congealed　into　a　soft；　semisolid　ball　in　her　palm。　She　threw　it；　and　her　magic　shot　it　up　like　a　sling　bullet　to　strike　the　ceiling　fresco　where　it　splashed　into　a　great　gout　of　murky　flame。
Quenthel　followed　that　first　missile　with　a　steady　barrage。　Where　the　dark　fire　had　kissed　it；　the　fresco　began　to　burn　with　ordinary　yellow　flame；　suffusing　the　air　with　eye…stinging　smoke　and　a　vile　stink　that　was　also　a　sickening；　throat…clenching　taste　at　the　back　of　her　mouth。
She　was　throwing　blindly；　but　with　the　blaze　above　spreading；　it　shouldn't　matter。　Surely　the　spider　wouldn't　simply　sit　still　and　allow　itself　to　burn。　The　fire　ought　to　spur　it　into　motion　and　thus　into　visibility。
Unless；　of　course；　the　spider　wasn't　really　on　the