A strangled sound of fear and surprise escaped Corin’s throat, and he hastily backed away. "You're Artek the Knife?"

"Oh, get over it," Artek growled.

Apparently this was easier said than done. Corin shrank against a wall, hand to his mouth, staring at his rescuers in turn, as if trying to decide of which he should be the more afraid. Artek turned his back on the nobleman; they had other matters to worry about.

"So where do you think we are?" he asked Beckla. '"The gate could have transported us anywhere on the continent of Faerun."

She shook her head. "I'm not certain. But I have an idea. And I don’t much care for it."

"What is it?"

“I’ll show you."

The wizard bent down and picked up a loose pebble from the crumbling floor. Laying it on her outstretched palm, she murmured an incantation. A pale white aura flickered around the pebble. Beckla drew in a deep breath, then blew on the stone. The aura vanished. The pebble was dark and ordinary once again.

"I was afraid of that," Beckla sighed.

"Am I supposed to be impressed?" Artek asked dubiously.

She scowled at him. "As a matter of fact, you are. I just cast a spell of teleportation on the pebble."

"But it's still here."

"Exactly. That's because the walls of this place are imbued with an enchantment to prevent anything from magically transporting in or out."

"Wait a minute," Artek protested in confusion. "The walls of what place?"

Beckla spoke a single grim word.

"Undermountain."

Artek swore an oath. Instinctively, he knew the wizard was right. This place had the same oppressive feel as the rest of Undermountain. No, it was even stronger.

"The enchantment is Halaster's doing," Beckla went on. "The mad wizard wanted to make certain no one found an easy way out of his maze."

"So how deep are we?" Artek asked hoarsely.

"Let's find out," Beckla replied without relish.

She whispered another incantation over the pebble, and it began to glow again. With a final word of magic, she cast the pebble into the air. It did not fall, but floated high above them.

"The ceiling represents the surface world, and the floor the very bottom of Undermountain," Beckla explained. The pebble will tell us where we are now."

The wizard made an intricate gesture with her hand. The pebble began to descend. It continued to sink slowly as they watched in growing alarm. At last it came to a halt halfway between floor and ceiling.

"Is that very deep?" Artek asked nervously.

Beckla nodded. "If we were still in the halls where we met, the pebble would be no more than a foot below the ceiling." A haunted look crept into her brown eyes. "I don't think anyone has ever been this deep in Undermountain before. At least, not any who lived to tell about it."

Cold dread filled Artek's stomach. "But that's impossible,'' he said emphatically. "You said that we couldn't teleport out of the maze. You didn't say that a gate would fail as well!"

"A gate is different from a teleport spell, Artek." Beckla fixed him with a piercing look. "It should have worked. What did you do?"

"It wasn't me!" he said defensively.

"Well, somebody did something."

At this Artek nodded, scratching his chin. "You're right. And there's only one person who might be able to help us understand exactly what happened."

As one, Artek and Beckla turned to glare at Conn.

"What?" the lord gasped in shock, clutching a hand to his chest. "You can't possibly believe that I had anything to do with this."

"No, I don't," Artek replied gruffly. "But I think it's time we heard your story all the same."

Corin mopped his face with the ruffled cuff of his coat. The effort did little besides smear around the grime, but the nobleman was oblivious to this fact.

"Let's see," Corin began. "It all started when Lord Darien Thai invited me on a hunt into Undermountain. I had never ventured into Halaster's halls before, and I was thrilled at the prospect. It's all the rage these days, you know."

Artek and Beckla rolled their eyes but kept listening.

"The hunting party set out from Lord Thai's private entrance into Undermountain," Corin went on, his enthusiasm growing. "We were a grand sight. A dozen strong, and all bearing bright swords. Of course, I had my trusty rapier here." He patted the slender blade at his hip.

Artek barely managed to stifle a snort. A real monster wouldn't even feel the bite of that rat-sticker. Nobles, he thought derisively-they were all fools of fashion, and nothing more.

"I was having an absolutely marvelous time." Corin’s bright expression darkened. "That is, until I got lost. It was my own fault. I lingered behind to examine a fascinating stone vase-I think it was Third Dynasty Calishite-while the others continued on ahead. When I tried to catch up, the rest of the party was nowhere to be seen. We had been making for a place called the Emerald Fountain. I tried to find the fountain, hoping to meet the others there, but it was no use. And then," said Corin, shuddering, "the Outcasts captured me."

"Wait a minute," Beckla interrupted. "Why were you going to the Emerald Fountain?"

"It was Darien's idea," Corin answered. "He said it was a magical font, and that if I drank from its waters, I would gain wisdom beyond my years. I could do with a little extra wisdom, as I am to take the seventh seat on the Circle of Nobles in two days' time."

"It's not wisdom you would have gained from drinking from the Emerald Fountain," Beckla said darkly. "Death is all you would have found in its green waters."

"But Darien's my dearest friend!" Corin protested. "Why would he tell me to drink from the fountain if it wasn't safe?"

Artek bit his lower lip. That was a good question. Tell me something, Silvertor," he said. "If you were not present when the vote was held, who would ascend to the Circle of Nobles in your stead?"

Corin shrugged. "Why, I imagine Lord Thai is the next in line. But what does that-oh!" The young lord's eyes went wide with sudden realization.

Artek nodded. This was all starting to make sense. He plied Corin with more questions about Darien Thai and the hunting trip and soon pieced together a story. While he wasn't certain if it was exactly right, he knew it couldn't be far from the truth.

Without doubt, Lord Darien Thai wanted the vacant seat on the Circle of Nobles for himself He had invited Corin on a hunt into Undermountain, secretly planning for the young lord to meet with an unfortunate "accident," after which nothing would stand between Darien and the seat on the Circle. Yet Darien had not counted on Corin getting lost before the foolish young lord could be disposed of.

That's where I came in, Artek thought angrily. Darien did not want to take the chance that Corin would somehow manage to stumble on a way out of Undermountain in time for the vote. He needed someone to go below and finish the job. All along it had been Artek's task not to rescue Corin, but to make certain that he never returned from Undermountain. The golden box from Melthis had not malfunctioned at all. The gate had taken them exactly where Darien had intended-deeper into Undermountain.

"Guhr og noth!" Artek swore. It was an orcish oath, learned from his father. Rage boiled in his blood at the one possible conclusion.

Lord Darien Thai had betrayed him.