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"You can talk!"

"Yes," I said. "A lot, in fact."

She blinked in astonishment. "I thought I was the only one alive down here."

"And you still are."

I rattled my jaw for emphasis and expected a grimace of disgust to cross her pretty face. Instead she laughed, a sound as bright as chimes.

"Well," she said, "I'm not feeling very picky at the moment. I'll take any friend I can get in this place."

Her words filled me with a warm glow I hadn't known I was still capable of.

"I'm Aliree," she went on.

"My name is Muragh," I said. "Muragh Brilstagg."

She rested me on her knee and gazed into my empty orbits. "How did you get here, Muragh?"

"It's a long story," I said. I opened my mouth to begin recounting everything that had led me to this place, from Gillar onward. However, she gently but firmly held my jaw shut.

"I'm sorry, Muragh," she said. "I'm sure it's a fascinating tale. And I wish I could hear it, really. But I'm afraid I don't have time enough." Her fingers slipped from my jawbone.

I was disappointed, of course, but pleased nonetheless at her kind apology. 'That's all right," I said. "But do you mind if I ask what you're doing here? It's surprising, I know, but there aren't a great number of beautiful half-elven maidens down here in Undermountain."

Aliree laughed again, and this time the sound was a little sad somehow. "I'm not beautiful, Muragh." She waved my protests away with a hand. "No, it doesn't matter. Only one thing does now. I've come looking for something. Maybe you've heard of it. It's a place, a place called the-"

All at once she went stiff, and I slipped from her hands and clattered to the floor. She clutched the wall with rigid fingers, her eyes pressed shut. It was hard to tell in the dark, but I think she was shaking.

I whistled the word softly through my teeth. "Aliree?"

After a moment her eyes fluttered open. Her body went limp, and she slumped against the wall.

"I'm sorry, Muragh," she said, her voice weary now. "You'd think by now I would be ready for it. But it comes so suddenly, and I never am."

She spoke a quiet word, and a soft light appeared in her cupped hand. In the glow, I could see her better, and I knew that her elven blood alone was not enough to explain her pale, slender appearance. Her fine bones traced sharp lines under her skin, and shadows hovered beneath her eyes.

It's hard for skulls to sigh, but I did. "How long have you been sick, Aliree?"

She glanced at me in startlement. "How did you know?"

"Dead people can see these things."

After a moment she nodded. "It's been a year now. There's something wrong with my blood. Sometimes it turns to fire in my veins."

"Haven't you been to any healers?"

Aliree shook her head. "A healer can't help what's wrong with me. You see, I wasn't always like this. I don't mean sick. I mean like this, a half-elf."

"I don't understand, Aliree. What do you mean?"

She took a deep breath. "I was born a full-blooded human, Muragh."

I could only stare at her. She gazed into the blue sphere of light in her hands and spoke in a quiet voice.

"All my life, I didn't belong. I always felt so ungainly, so dull, so mundane. Then one day I saw the riding party of an elf prince on the road to Waterdeep-all of them were so graceful, so bright, so joyous. I thought if only I could be more like them, then surely I would be happy. So after that I spent all my days studying magic. I pored over musty books and moldering scrolls until finally, one day, in a forgotten codex in the library of Waterdeep, I found the right spell and cast it on myself."

I hated to speak the words, but I had to. "Something went wrong, didn't it?"

Aliree sighed. "Not at first. The spell did make me partially elven, enough to pass for a half-elf, just as I had hoped. But the spell was a complicated one. Even a master wizard would have had difficulty casting it, and I was little more than a dabbler." She pressed her eyes shut. "After a month or so, the pain began. It's been getting worse ever since. That's why I came here."

"But why?" I asked. "Why would you