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"What did you do to them?" Artek asked, staring at the creatures in disbelief. "Did you really teach them to cast a spell?"

"Don't be a ninny, Ar'talen," she replied smoothly. "Of course not. That would be completely impossible. While I was having them repeat all that mumbo-jumbo, I worked in the words and movements of a real spell. It's just a simple aura of light. It'll fade in an hour or so. But it should keep them occupied until then."

Artek laughed, clapping the wizard on the back.

"Nicely done, Beckla," he said. The back of his neck suddenly prickled. He looked around just in time to see Corin abruptly turn away. Artek sighed, his high spirits quickly sinking. They still had to find a way out of this place, he reminded himself.

Beckla moved over to see Guss and examine the object he had found earlier. Artek stooped to pick up Muragh and approached the wizard and the gargoyle.

"It's a ring," Guss said, his green eyes glowing with excitement.

"Are you two getting married?" Artek asked dryly.

"No, not that sort of ring," Beckla scowled. "It's a magical ring." She held up a small circle of polished gold. "And it's not broken."

Artek gazed at the ring, his own excitement rapidly growing. The ring was so small that the silversanns must have misplaced it among all the clutter before they could break it. "What do you think it is?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," Beckla replied. "But I think I can find out."

"It's awfully plain-looking," Muragh said critically. "I can't imagine it does much."

Beckla gave the skull a curious look. "Maybe. Then again, sometimes appearances can be deceiving."

As the silversanns chattered among themselves about their new magical "powers," the wizard sat cross-legged on the floor. She pulled out a grimy blue cloth from a pocket and spread it before her, placing the ring on it. Next, she drew out a small vial filled with yellow sand. She unstopped the vial and carefully poured out the sand, tracing a circle around the ring. Closing her eyes, she held her hands over the cloth.

"Circles within circles," she chanted softly. "Meanings within meanings. Grant me your guidance, Mystra, Lady of Mysteries, Goddess of Magic. Help me understand the nature of the enchantment that lies before me."

As the others watched in fascination, Beckla continued to chant, now in the ancient tongue of magic. After a moment, sparks of sapphire fell from her hands. They traced a slow spiral to the ring below, imbuing it with pale blue radiance. Lines of concentration furrowed the wizard's brow. Her hands began to tremble. Suddenly, her brown eyes flew open, and the blue sparks vanished.

"Oh!" she gasped.

"What is it?" Artek asked in alarm.

Beckla shook her head slowly. "She usually doesn't answer when I ask her questions like that. At least not so clearly."

"Who are you talking about?" Artek demanded.

"Mystra," Beckla replied.

Artek slapped a hand to his forehead in incredulity. "What? You're telling me that the goddess Mystra just spoke to you? She told you what this ring is?"

The wizard nodded solemnly. "That's right. She is the patron goddess of wizards, after all."

"I know that," Artek sputtered in disbelief. "But the gods don't just answer every little question you put to them."

"Apparently, sometimes they do," Muragh quipped. The skull addressed Beckla. "It seems Artek here is having a little problem with the matter of his faith. But I'm sure the rest of us would very much like to know what Mystra told you."

Beckla picked up the ring and held it gingerly in her hand. "It's a wishing ring," she murmured. The wizard's face suddenly seemed strangely troubled.

"A wishing ring?" Muragh exclaimed. "But that's wonderful! It means we can wish our way right out of this dump. Come on! What are you waiting for?"

"Not so fast, Muragh," Beckla countered. "It doesn't work that way. Remember those enchantments that Halaster bound into the walls of Undermountain, the ones that keep anyone from magically transporting out?