war of the spider queen 1 dissolution-第112部分

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d　it　was　already　too　late；　he　sprang　up　from　the　bench





C　h　a　p　t　e　r

E　I　G　H　T　E　E　N
Off　to　Faeryl's　left　stood　an　iron　maiden　cast　in　the　form　of　a　tubby　jester　in　cap　and　bells。　The　bells　looked　real；　and　would　evidently　jingle　while　a　victim　writhed　inside。　The　device　was　open　just　a　crack；　not　enough　to　expose　the　spikes　inside。
Straight　ahead；　a　chain　and　hook　dangled　from　their　pulley；　fishing　for　a　prisoner　to　hoist；　and　a　rack　waited　to　stretch　one。　To　the　left；　a　brazier　of　coals　threw　off　dazzling　heat；　and　a　collection　of　probes；　knives；　pincers；　and　pears　hung　on　their　pegs。　Her　nemesis；　the　small　male　with　all　the　ugly　baubles；　lounged　in　that　vicinity　in　an　iron　chair　with　shackles　attached　to　the　armrests。
That　was　about　as　much　as　the　envoy　could　see　while　roped　naked　to　a　molded　calcite　post。
She　was　hungry；　thirsty；　and　sore　from　standing　for　hours　in　one　posinottion。　Her　bonds　chafed　her；　and　her　head　ached。　However；　she　had　yet　to　endure　one　of　the　genuine　agonies　this　stuffy　cellar　provided；　and　she　thought　she　knew　why。　Some　messenger　had　instructed　the　torturers　to　wait　for　Triel　to　arrive　before　mencing　the　festivities。
Faeryl　had　already　attempted　to　converse　with　the　little　male　and　her　jailers　and　failed　to　elicit　a　response　from　either。　She　had　nothing　else　to　do　but　struggle　to　govern　her　thoughts。　She　didn't　want　to　imagine　all　the　things　the　Baenre　might　do　to　her；　but　she　herself　had　presided　over　enough　excruciations　that　it　was　difficult　not　to　envision　the　possibilities。　She　didn't　want　to　dwell　on　the　massacre　of　her　followers；　either；　but　the　memories　kept　welling　up　inside　her。
Surrounded　and　outnumbered；　the　daughters　and　sons　of　Ched　Nasad　had　perished　one　by　one。　As　Faeryl　watched　the　slaughter；　her　eyes　ached　with　the　tears　she　refused　to　shed。　Naturally；　she　didn't　〃love〃　her　minions；　but　she　was　used　to　them；　even　fond　of　a　few；　and　she　knew　that　without　a　retinue　she　was　nothing；　just　a　fallen　priestess　in　a　land　of　enemies；　bereft　of　goddess　and　home　alike。
Then　the　small　male　confronted　her　and　used　his　magic　to　confound　her　and　knock　her　out。　She　woke　tied　to　the　stone　stake。
A　door　creaked；　and　voices　murmured。　Faeryl's　instincts　warned　her　that　Triel　had　e　at　last。　The　ambassador　closed　her　eyes；　took　a　deep　breath；　and　let　it　out　slowly；　posing　herself。　She　wouldn't　show　fear。　Dignity　was　all　she　had　left…for　a　little　while　longer　anyway；　until　her　captors　lashed　and　burned　it　out　of　her。
Sure　enough；　Triel　and　her　draegloth　son　emerged　from　the　doorway　that　apparently　led　to　more　salubrious　precincts　of　the　Great　Mound。　The　Baenre　matron　was　smiling。　Fangs　bared　in　a　grin；　Jeggred　bounded　along　on　his　caprine　legs。
The　little　male　rose　and　offered　obeisance。
〃Valas；〃　said　Triel。　〃Well　done。　Did　the　Zauvirr　give　you　any　trouble？〃
〃They　tried　to　sneak　away　in　disguise；〃　the　male　replied。　〃It　almost　fooled　the　lookout；　but　once　he　figured　out　what　was　what；　everything　went　as　planned。〃
The　Baenre　proffered　a　fat　pouch　that　looked　too　big　and　heavy　for　her　tiny　hand。
〃I'll　send　word　when　I　need　Bregan　D'aerthe　again；〃　she　said。
Valas　took　the　pouch；　then　bowed　low。　He　withdrew；　and　Triel　and　her　monstrous　son　turned　toward　the　prisoner。
〃Good　evening；　Matron；〃　Faeryl　said；　〃or　is　it　morning　now？〃
Fighting　hands　outstretched；　talons　at　the　ready；　jaws　agape；　Jeggred　lunged　at　the　prisoner。　Despite　herself；　Faeryl　flinched。　Both　the　claws　and　the　pointed　teeth　stopped　less　than　an　inch　from　her　flesh。　The　draegloth　loomed　over　her；　pressing　close；　almost　seeming　to　embrace　her　like　a　lover。　He　ran　a　pointed　nail　across　her　cheek；　then　lifted　it　to　his　bestial　muzzle。　He　sucked；　and　a　bit　of　warm；　viscous　drool；　mixed；　perhaps；　with　a　trace　of　her　blood；　dripped　onto　her　forehead。
〃Have　a　care；〃　the　ambassador　said　with　as　much　nonchalance　as　she　could　muster。　〃If　your　son　kills　me　quickly；　won't　that　spoil　the　fun？〃
Jeggred　made　a　low；　grinding　sound。　Faeryl　couldn't　tell　if　he　was　growlnoting　or　laughing。
Triel　said；　〃You　underestimate　him。　True；　I've　watched　him　butcher　eight　prisoners　in　as　many　seconds；　but　I've　also　seen　him　spend　days　picknoting　one　little　faerie　child　apart　a　mote　of　flesh　at　a　time。　It　depends　on　his　humor；　and；　needless　to　say；　my　instructions。〃
〃Of　course；〃　Faeryl　said。　The　shallow　gash　in　her　cheek　began　to　sting。　Jeggred　traced　the　edges　of　her　lips　with　his　claw；　not　quite　cutting；　not　yet。　〃I　hope　the　traitor　whelp　appreciated　the　honor。〃
〃It　was　hard　to　tell；〃　she　said。　〃What　about　you？　Will　you　savor　it？〃
〃Alas；　Exalted　Mother；〃　Faeryl　said；　〃your　daughter　c