"How… how is she?" Corin asked quietly, hovering over them.
Artek shook his head. It didn't look good. He laid a hand on Beckla's throat. Her flesh was as cold as ice, and he could feel no pulse. He held his dagger before her mouth, but the cool steel did not fog. She was not breathing. Artek turned her head, and on the side of her neck were a pair of small, dark wounds.
The wraith spider bit her," he said grimly. I suppose the tiling was poisonous." A tightness filled his chest, and his eyes stung. He had only just met the wizard, but she had helped him when he was alone, and he considered her a friend. "Beckla is dead, Corin," he said hoarsely.
"No, she isn't."
Artek glared up at the nobleman. This really isn't the time for your boundless optimism, you know."
Corin looked at him in surprise. "But I didn't say that," he gulped.
Artek frowned. "Well, if you didn't say it, then who did?"
"Hello there!" called a cheery voice. "It was me! I said it!"
Artek leapt to his feet and Corin spun around. Both stared in confusion. There was nobody else with them in the chamber.
"Over here!" It was the voice again: odd and hollow, almost like the sound of a low flute. "On the rubbish heap. No, not that one. This one!"
Artek and Corin blinked in shock as their eyes finally fell upon the mysterious speaker-a yellowed skull. Lower jaw working excitedly, it hopped and spun atop the pile of refuse.
"Surprised, eh?" the fleshless skull gloated.
"You could say that," Artek said cautiously, wondering if they were again in danger.
The skull clattered its teeth happily. "Good! I like surprises! The name is Muragh, Muragh Brilstagg.
At least, that was my name when I was alive. Of course, I'm not half the man I used to be. By Lathander, I'm more like an eighth! Some fool soldier cut my body away, and then went and threw my head in the harbor. The fish had a good time with me. Do you know what it's like to have your eyeballs eaten by eels and your brain sucked out by starfish?" The skull rattled its jaw, as if shuddering. "Let me assure you, it isn't much fun."
Maybe the thing wasn't dangerous, Artek decided, but it certainly was talkative. He approached the skull. "You said that our friend isn't dead, Muragh. What makes you think so?"
"I don't think so," the skull replied smugly. "I know so."
And arrogant as well, Artek amended inwardly.
The wraith spiders may not be alive themselves, but they don't like to feed on the dead," the skull explained in a reedy voice. Their venom only stuns- that way they can wrap their prey in webs and snack at their leisure."
A chill ran down Artek's spine. The skull's words conjured a grisly image. He glanced back at the still form of the wizard. "So how long will it take for the effects of the venom to wear off?"
"Not long," Muragh replied. "No more than three or four-"
"Hours?" Artek interrupted hopefully.
"Days," the skull said.
Artek's heart sank. He couldn't simply leave Beckla here for three days with no one to protect her but a talking skull. It was too much of a betrayal- and that would make him no better than Darien Thai. But in three days he would be long dead.
"Wait a minute!" Corin piped up. "I think I have something that might help." The nobleman fumbled about his grimy velvet coat, searching the pockets. "Aha!" he exclaimed, pulling out a small object. "Here it is." He held up the item-a glass vial, filled with a thick, purplish fluid.
"What is that?" Artek asked dubiously.
"A healing potion," Corin replied. "My family's healer gave it to me before I embarked on the hunt. I hadn't thought of it before-it wouldn't do much good if Beckla were dead. But if she's only injured…"
Hope surged in Artek's heart. "Give me that," he snapped, snatching the vial from Corin's hand. Kneeling beside Beckla, he unstopped the cork and carefully poured the purple potion into her mouth. For an agonizing moment nothing happened. Then the wizard swallowed and coughed, her chest heaving as she drew in a ragged breath. Her eyes flew open, and she sat bolt upright.
The spider!" she screamed.
Artek gripped her shoulders tightly, looking her directly in the eyes. "It's all right, Beckla. It's over. We're safe now."
For a moment she continued to stare in terror, then she sighed deeply and nodded, indicating she understood. She winced abruptly and lifted a hand to her brow.
"My head hurts," she groaned.
"Spider venom hangover," Artek said with a wry grin. "It will pass."
That's easy for you to say," she grumbled petulantly.
The complaint, more than anything, assured Artek that the wizard was indeed well. "I think you had better meet our new friend, Beckla," he said. "Something tells me you're going to find him very interesting."
"Hello, wizard!" Muragh exclaimed. The yellowed skull hopped up and down while Beckla gawked in astonishment.
Though it took far more words than Artek considered necessary, especially given their lack of time, they finally managed to glean the whole of Muragh's story. What was more, the skull happily provided even more details this time, and Artek read much between the lines. In life, Muragh had been a priest of Lath-ander-and at least as loquacious as he was now. He relentlessly pestered an evil mage to give up his dark ways, and the mage secretly cast a magical curse on Muragh. Shortly thereafter, Muragh's loose tongue landed him in a bar fight in which he received a knife in the heart, and his body was tossed into a dark alley. Though dead, Muragh found that he could still think and talk-apparently thanks to the evil mage's curse. However, if the mage thought that undeath would drive Muragh mad, he had erred.
After decomposing for a week or so, Muragh was found by a drunken soldier. Of course, soldiers are a superstitious lot. This particular fellow-thinking the talking corpse to be a fiend sent to torment him for his sins-cut off Muragh's head and tossed it into Waterdeep Harbor. There, as Muragh so graphically described, the fish stripped the flesh from his skull. Eventually, he was found by the mermen who dwell in the deep waters of the harbor. Annoyed with his constant prattling, they took the skull to Water-deep's City Watch, where Muragh fell into the hands of the duty-wizard.
For a time the wizard kept Muragh, using him as a watch-skull to protect his library. However, when thieves broke into the wizard's tower, they stole Muragh, thinking him to be a thing of value. That was a mistake. They soon found that no one would pay good gold for a chatterbox skull, and tossed Muragh into the sewers.
In time, the waters flowing beneath the city carried Muragh into Under-mountain, and the skull had rat-tied around Halaster's labyrinth ever since. Occasionally, wandering creatures picked him up out of curiosity and carried him for a time, only to drop him before long in some new place. Eventually, he came into the possession of someone named Muiral. Though Muragh was extremely vague on this point, it seemed that Muiral grew weary of his incessant talking and locked him in this chamber. Here he had dwelled alone-until Artek and Corin discovered him.
"I can't tell you how wonderful it is to have company again!" Muragh exclaimed. Though his ivory cranium was nearly devoid of flesh, a few wisps of rotted hair still fluttered atop his crown. "Moldy stone walls don't make for great conversation partners, and even I get tired of hearing my own voice after a dozen years."
"There's a surprise," Artek murmured wryly.
"So now you know what Fm doing down here," the skull finished. "What about you three?"
After a moment's thought, Artek decided that it could do little harm to tell Muragh their tale. If the skull had truly dwelled for so long in Undermountain, perhaps he would know something of use. Artek quickly explained all that had happened, and ended by describing his plan to find a gate out.