"But why?" I asked. "Why would you want to come to a place like Undermountain?"
Four small words: "The Grotto of Dreams."
I let out a whistle between my front teeth. The Grotto of Dreams. I had heard those words before. Anyone who knocked around Undermountain long enough had. Stories told of a cave deep in the ground where once the goddess Lliira, Our Lady of Joy, slept for a time, and dreamt. It was said that the stones of the grotto still recalled the power of Lliira's dreams, and that anyone who found the cave and entered would know the joy of his or her greatest dream.
For a while I had even searched for the grotto myself. My dream? That inside I might live once more. True, even if the power of the cave would work, I would never be able to leave, for it is said that once one leaves, the dream of joy ends, and one can never again reenter the grotto. But I wouldn't have minded being stuck in a cave all my life. Not if I was alive again-truly and warmly alive.
None of that mattered. I had long ago given up on finding the grotto. Just like everyone did.
"The Grotto of Dreams is a myth, Aliree," I said.
She nodded. "Yes, Muragh, it is. But it's a true one."
I didn't want to hurt her feelings by openly disagreeing. "All right," I said. "Maybe it is. But even if the grotto did exist, you wouldn't be able to get there unless you had-"
From the satchel slung over her shoulder she pulled out a brittle parchment and unrolled it. If I had had eyes, they would have bulged.
"-a map!" I finished with a shout. I bounced up and down on the floor. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. "You have a map to the Grotto of Dreams, Aliree? But how?"
She brushed a frail hand over the map. "My grandfather was a priest of Lliira years ago, in the city of Elturel. In a waking dream, sent by the goddess, he drew this map of tunnels that led to the grotto. Only he had no idea where in Faerun the tunnels were located, and he died without ever finding out. Ever since I was a child, I carried this map with me. It was just an heirloom, a reminder of my grandfather. Then, just a few days ago, I overheard some men in a tavern, a place called the Yawning Portal. The men were talking about a cave beneath the city." She locked her clear eyes on my empty sockets. "A cave where dreams came true."
"Well, what are you sitting around here for?" I asked in amazement. "Why haven't you gone to the grotto?"
"This is why."
She held up the map, then slowly spun it around. At last I understood the reason.
"There are no directions on the map!" I exclaimed.
"You don't know which way is north!"
She nodded. "I thought I might be able to find my way once I got here, but I was wrong. And now that I'm down here in Undermountain… I'm lost."
"Wait a minute." I worked my jaw and scraped closer to the map. "I recognize some of these rooms. Yes, that's the Hall of Many Pillars. And that's got to be the Hall of Mirrors." I spun in an excited circle. "Aliree! I know where we are on the map! I can get us to the Grotto of Dreams!" I paused then. "If you'll have me," I added in a small voice.
To my delight, for an answer, she scooped me up in her arms.
I enjoyed her embrace for just a moment. "What will your dream be, Aliree?" I asked then. 'To be healed?"
Aliree shut her eyes and leaned her head against the wall. "Do you know how long it's been since I've slept, Muragh? Truly, deeply slept?" She sighed. "I would give anything for the pain to be gone, just for a minute, just so I could sleep."
It's hard to say where it came from then, since I don't have a heart anymore, but a strange sensation welled up in me all the same, one of exhilaration and devotion. I let out a sharp whistle, and Aliree opened her eyes. I hopped from her arms and rolled along the floor.
"Come on, Aliree," I piped cheerfully. "Let's go find our dreams!"
She grinned, and though the expression was wan, it was beautiful as well. With careful, brittle movements she rose to her feet, set the magical light on her shoulder, and started after me.
The problem with Undermountain was that nothing was ever where it was supposed to be. Tunnels that were there one day had a nasty habit of vanishing the next. In the meantime, entirely new passageways had appeared out of solid rock. I had never managed to glimpse the mechanism by which the corridors were rearranged. Perhaps they did it of their own accord. Not much in Undermountain surprises me anymore, though almost all of it disturbs me. Regardless, this was a place where things could change overnight, and it had been centuries since Aliree's ancestor had drawn the map to the grotto.
"All right, Aliree," I said. I was tucked in the crook of her arm and studied the folded map that poked out of her satchel. "Get ready to make a left."
Aliree frowned into the gloom. "But there is no left. Only a right."
I sighed. We had been on the move for no more than a quarter hour, and already this was the third discrepancy between the map and the tunnels.
"All right," I said. "Keep going straight. We can pass through the Hall of a Hundred Candles up ahead and circle back around."
Aliree continued on with stiff, careful steps. A moment later, a hiss escaped my teeth.
"Aliree!" I whispered. "Get back! Quick!"
There was one and only one constant in mad Halaster's labyrinth. No matter what the tunnels and corridors did, you could always count on monsters. Aliree had been lucky so far. I had found her in an oft-explored and relatively safe part of the dungeon, and she had come there directly from the well-traveled Well of Entry beneath the Yawning Portal.
Her luck was about to change. For the worse.
Aliree ducked into an alcove, and we hid behind veils of cobweb as a hulking form shambled by. The thing was accompanied by a pungent reek. At last it lumbered out of view. We waited a dozen more fluttery beats of Aliree's heart, and then she stepped back into the corridor.
"What was that?" the half-elf asked.
I looked at the steaming droppings on the tunnel floor. "Owlbear. Good thing it didn't find us in the alcove."
"Why?"
"Owlbears like elves."
Aliree ran a hand through her thick auburn hair. "Well, if owlbears like elves, they maybe it wouldn't have-"
"No, Aliree," I said. "They like elves. As in, for dinner. Or lunch. Or between-meal snacks. Elf-stew, elf-pie, elf-jerky. You name it, they like it all."
She swallowed hard. "Oh."
After that we continued on, through rough-hewn passageways, down slimy staircases, and across drafty halls. Not long after encountering the owlbear, we scrambled down a side passage to avoid a lone troll. Luckily, judging by the dark fluid dribbling from its chin, it had just fed, and so was not intent on searching for prey. A short while later, we started into a cavern and dashed out just as quickly, barely avoiding the needly proboscises of a pair of flying stirges, which would have happily sucked Aliree's veins dry. Finally, in a junk-filled chamber, we hid beneath a pile of rotten rags when a band of kobolds ventured in. One of the filthy, bug-eyed creatures actually plucked at the rags for a moment, its pug nose snuffling, as if it smelled something interesting. Aliree was forced to hold my jaw shut to keep it from chattering. Then one of the thing's companions called to it in a guttural voice, and it hurried after the others.
Despite these unwelcome interruptions-and the countless times we were forced to backtrack and search out a new route because a wall was where it shouldn't be, or a staircase went up instead of down- we made steady progress. Judging by the map, we were over halfway to the grotto.