Artek crossed his arms, fixing the skull with a dubious look. "I'm waiting."

Muragh did not need to be asked twice to talk. "Finding a gate out of here on your own is about as likely as growing wings and flying." Muragh cackled with laughter at this, teeth clacking. "Not that there aren't gates that lead out of Under-mountain-there are. But you could hardly expect Halaster to simply leave them sitting around in plain sight. He was mad, not stupid. The only ones who might be able to tell you where you could find a gate out are the old wizard's apprentices. And that means you have to find one of the Seven first."

The three gathered closer, listening as Muragh told of Halaster's seven apprentices. Nearly a thousand years ago, the wizard forsook his tower on the slopes of Mount Waterdeep and descended into the vast labyrinth he had created below. When he did not return from Undermountain, the Seven-powerful mages in their own right-boldly ventured into the dark depths in search of him. There they found magical tricks and deadly obstacles, and the deeper they went, the more difficult grew the riddles, the more perilous became the traps. The Seven soon realized that this was a test set for them by their master. Believing that whoever reached Halaster first would become his most favored-and thus heir to his most powerful magic-the Seven strove against each other. Each tried to go deeper than the rest and be the first to find their mysterious master.

Whether or not the apprentices ever succeeded in finding Halaster, no one knew. Only one of the Seven ever returned from Undermountain: Jhesiyra Kestellharp, who became the Magister of Myth Drannor, an ancient kingdom whose ruins lay far to the East, near the realm of Cormyr. The other six apprentices remained in Undermountain, and whether they still searched, granted unnaturally long life by their magic, the histories did not tell.

"It sounds as if these apprentices have the power to help us, all right," Beckla said when Muragh had finished his tale.

"If any of them are still alive," Artek added.

"Muragh, old boy," Corin said, addressing the skull as one might a servant. "You seem to know a great deal about this place. Can you take us to one of the Seven?"

"As a matter of fact, I can," the skull replied glibly. "But I won't:"

Only by great force of will did Artek restrain himself from grabbing the insolent skull and heaving it against one of the stone walls. "Are you playing games with us, Muragh?" he said.

"No, no!" the skull said hastily. "Believe me, you really don't want to meet Muiral."

“Muiral? Wasn't that the person who had locked Muragh in this room? Artek picked up the skull and glared into its empty eye sockets. "Let me get this straight," he said angrily. "You managed to annoy this Muiral with your chattering, and now you're afraid to take us to him because you think he will do something to hurt you. Am I right?"

Muragh worked his mandible vigorously, but Artek held the skull tight. "You don't understand," Muragh whined fearfully. "Muiral won't just hurt me. He'll hurt you, too. Don't you see? He's the one who created the wraith spiders. And I guarantee you that there are more of them than you encountered in that chamber. Muiral loves spiders. He's part spider himself. I don't know how he did it, but he fused himself onto the body of a giant spider. He won't help you." Muragh shook pitifully in Artek's hands. "Please don't take me to Muiral. Please!"

Beckla bit her lower lip. "I think he's telling the truth, Artek."

"Have pity on the poor chap, Ar'talen," Corin added worriedly. "He's been through a great deal."

Artek glowered at the skull. At last he sighed in exasperation. "All right, I believe you, Muragh. We won't go looking for Muiral. The truth is, I really don't care to face any more of those wraith spiders." He shook his head. "But if we can't go to Muiral for help, where are we going to find another one of Ha-laster's apprentices?"

"Actually, I have an idea," Muragh said cheerfully. The skull leapt from Artek's hands, fell to the floor, and rolled toward the doorway. "Well, don't just stand there," he said in annoyance. "Open the door. In case you hadn't noticed, I don't have hands."

The three exchanged dubious looks. At last Artek shrugged. Following a talking skull seemed an unlikely way to escape from this maze, but he supposed they had little choice. He unlocked the door, then scooped Muragh into his arms as they headed out into the corridor.

"We need to be very careful here," Muragh said in a hollow whisper. "Right now we're on the edge of Muiral's Gauntlet."

"Muiral's Gauntlet?" Artek asked softly.

"Is there an echo in here?" Muragh replied acidly. "Yes, Muiral's Gauntlet. The room where you encountered the wraith spiders is part of it, but only a small part, and not the worst. Not by far." The skull whistled sadly through his teeth. "Muiral's quite mad, of course. Searching for his master and failing addled his brain. What little sanity he still possessed after that was destroyed when he grafted himself onto that giant spider's body. These days his only pleasure comes from toying with the victims he gates down from the surface. He sends them into his Gauntlet and watches to see how far they can get through the maze of dangers he's created."

"Let me guess," Beckla said uncomfortably. "No one ever makes it out of Muiral's Gauntlet alive."

Muragh grinned, despite his lack of flesh. "Well, Muiral certainly wouldn't think it very much fun if they did."

"So where are we going, if not into the Gauntlet?" Artek asked nervously.

"This way." The skull tugged at Artek's hands, leading him toward the mouth of a side tunnel. "Before I ended up here, I got caught inside a gelatinous cube. Not a fun experience, by the way-very cold and slimy. It was the cube that brought me into Muiral's Gauntlet. I remember the path by which it slithered here. And I recall seeing something very interesting along the way."

Artek glanced sharply at the skull. "Something interesting? What is it?"

"You'll see," Muragh replied mysteriously.

After this the skull became unusually reticent. Artek decided not to press for more answers, but rather to enjoy the quiet. His ears were ringing from Muragh's previous chatter. He walked stealthily down the narrow passageway, following the tugs and jerks of the skull in his hands, as Beckla and Corin came behind. Unfortunately, after the acid pit and the fire in the spider room, the wizard's staff was a lost cause. However, it seemed she could make do without it, for a wisp of blue magelight danced on her outstretched hand, lighting the way for the group.

Guided by Muragh's tugging, they traveled through a tortuous series of dank corridors and murky chambers. Before long Artek lost all sense of direction. At first, here and there, they encountered glowing Wisps of green webs dangling from the ceiling, and from time to time they caught a whiff of the same evil scent that had permeated the wraith spider lair. However, as they progressed, they soon left all traces of the eerie webs and spiders behind. Though still dark and stifling, the air here was no longer so oppressive and menacing. The three humans found themselves breathing a little easier. It seemed Muragh knew what he was doing.

Artek glanced down at the tattoo on his arm. The moon had passed the arrow now. In the world above, night had fallen. Not that it really mattered-it was always night down here.

"How much farther, Muragh?" Artek asked quietly.

"We're close now," the skull piped up brightly. "And you can quit whispering, you know. We left Muira's territory behind ages ago."

"Maybe I like whispering," Artek replied.

"Suit yourself," Muragh sniffed.

Artek started to clench his hands. How much force would it take to shatter an old skull, he wondered?