war of the spider queen 1 dissolution-第37部分

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　a　novice　standing　watch。　Happily；　the　dark　elf　female　didn't　notice　it；　though　that　was　scarcely　a　surprise。　For　some　reason　it　didn't　fully　understand；　Gromph　had　given　it　the　guise　of　a　demon　of　darkness；　and　it　was　all　but　indistinguishable　from　the　ordinary；　empty　gloom　behind　it。　The　netherspirit　yearned　to　kill　the　mortal；　but　Gromph　had　forbidden　it　to　do　harm　to　anyone　but　Quenthel　unless　she　was　fool　enough　to　stand　between　it　and　its　appointed　prey。　With　a　pang　of　regret；　it　slipped　past　the　sentry　and　on　down　the　corridor。　Soon　it　came　upon　a　row　of　cells。　Within　the　square　little　rooms；　students　recited　their　devotions。
So　eager　for　bloodshed　was　the　entity　that　the　hall　seemed　to　last　fornotever。　Soon　enough；　though；　the　spirit　reached　the　spider's　cephalothoraxes。　This　was　the　round；　firelit　heart　of　the　temple；　home　to　the　grandest　chapels；　the　holiest　of　altars；　and　the　quarters　of　the　temple's　senior　priestnotesses。
The　intruder　flowed　into　a　spacious　and　largely　empty　octagonal　chamnotber；　where　the　air　was　perceptibly　cooler　than　in　the　surrounding　rooms　and　hallways。　Statues　of　Lolth　stood　between　the　eight　open　rectangular　doorways；　and　inlaid　lines　and　curves　of　gold　defined　a　plex　magical　sigil　on　the　floor；　a　pentacle　seemingly　focused　on　a　nexus　of　power　at　the　exact　center　of　the　room。　The　same　figure　adorned　the　lofty　ceiling；　renotinforcing　the　enchantment。
The　netherspirit　had　no　particular　desire　to　discover　what　that　ennotchantment　was。　It　crawled　along　the　walls；　making　sure　not　to　touch　the　edge　of　the　design。
Waves　of　power　beat　from　the　middle　of　the　figure　as　something　woke　or　became　more　real　in　the　center　of　the　chamber。　A　sharpness　tore　into　the　top　of　the　spirit's　vapor　like　body；　stunning　it　for　an　instant　with　a　burst　of　unexpected　pain。
Something　jerked　the　living　darkness　toward　the　middle　of　the　chamnotber。　It　realized　that　despite　its　lack　of　solidity；　something　had　caught　it　with　the　equivalent　of　a　hook　and　line。　It　also　understood　that　simply　avoiding　the　pentacle　hadn't　been　good　enough。　Apparently　when　one　ennottered　the　room；　one　was　supposed　to　say　a　password　or　something。
The　pulling　ended　abruptly；　and　the　pain　diminished。　Shaking　off　its　shock　and　disorientation；　the　darkness　cast　about　and　discerned　the　being　crouching　over　it。　The　attacker　was　nearly　as　amorphous　as　itself；　but　the　essence　of　it　was　fixed；　hard；　a　mass　of　knobs　and　angles。
The　attacker　extruded　additional　lengths　of　itself　to　transfix　the　darknotness。　The　piercing　burned；　made　the　spirit　shake　uncontrollably；　and　seemed　to　be　leeching　out　its　strength。
This；　Gromph's　agent　realized　with　a　kind　of　wonder；　was　the　cold　that　could　extinguish　a　mortal　life　in　a　heartbeat。　The　intruder　had　never　felt　the　sensation　before…not　in　a　painful　way…and　shouldn't　have　been　feelnoting　it　at　all；　but　the　prisoner　of　the　pentacle　wasn't　just　cold。　It　was　the　essence　of　cold；　the　pure　idea　of　cold　given　life；　just　as　the　netherspirit　to　some　degree　embodied　the　concept　of　darkness。
Bits　of　the　assassin　began　to　clot；　to　gum；　and　to　harden　to　a　brittle　rigidity；　at　which　point　they　broke　away。　It　wasn't　truly　injured　as　yet；　but　if　it　wanted　to　keep　it　that　way；　it　knew　it　had　better　strike　back　at　its　assailant。
It　washed　its　leading　edge　over　the　spirit　of　cold　and　discovered　stress　points；　hairline　cracks；　imperfect　junctures。　Of　course…the　prisoner's　structure　resembled　a　mass　of　ice。
Gromph's　agent　materialized　members　like　hammers；　which　pounded　at　the　weak　spots。　It　slid　thin　planes　of　itself　into　the　fissures；　then　thickened　them；　forcing　the　edges　apart。
The　cold　spirit　snatched　its　frigid　claws　out　of　its　foe。　Its　mind　babbled　a　psionic　offer　of　surrender。　The　cloud　of　darkness　ignored　it　and　continnotued　the　attack。
The　freezing　prisoner　of　the　sigil　exploded　into　motes　of　frost。　They　peppered　the　spirit　of　darkness　for　a　second　then　they　were　gone。
Pleased　with　itself；　the　victor　turned；　inspecting　each　of　the　doorways　in　turn；　trying　to　see　if　the　battle　had　attracted　anyone's　attention。　Apparently　not；　and　actually；　that　made　sense。　The　struggle　had　been　relatively　quiet；　conducted　largely　on　another　level　of　existence。
The　darkness　reached　the　entrance　to　Quenthel's　suite　without　further　incident。　Another　sentry　waited　there；　a　spiked　mace　all　but　crackling　with　mystic　force　in　her　hand。　Left　to　her　own　devices；　she　might　hear　her　sunotperior's　distress　and　try　to　intervene；　and　the　spirit　decided　to　prevent　such　an　occurrence。　It　rose　around　the　priestess；　blinding　her；　thickened　a　length　of　itself；　and　whipped　it　around　her　neck。
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