The silversanns continued to close in, steel tools raised. Apparently they didn't understand that living creatures couldn't simply be taken apart like machines. And once they discovered that they couldn't just put their ssspecimens back together, it would be far too late. Artek gripped the hilt of his saber, wondering if the blade would have any effect against the hard plates that armored the creatures.
One of the silversanns stretched a wicked-looking probe toward Beckla.
'Get back, you metal worm!' the wizard cried. She shouted several arcane words, and blue magic crackled between her outstretched fingers. 'Get back, or I'll melt you!'
The silversanns let out a chorus of shrill shrieks. For a second, Artek thought Beckla's threat had terrified them. Then, in astonishment, he realized that their shrieks were sounds of delight, not fear.
'Magic, yesss?' they cried excitedly, clustering around the wizard. 'How cassst you did magic? Ssshow usss, yesss? Ssshow usss!'
The silversanns continued to babble, but Artek could catch little of what the creatures said in their hissing voices. However, Beckla bent toward them, cocking an ear. As she listened, a smile gradually spread across her face. Finally she said something to the silversanns and they let out piercing squeaks of joy. They scuttled a short distance back, then waited expectantly.
Artek leaned over to murmur in her ear. 'What in the world did you say to them?'
'I told them I'd teach them how to do magic,' she whispered back.
'You what?'
“Yоu heard me, Ar'talen.'
'I heard you, but I don't understand. I'm no wizard, but even I know that only living beings can wield magic.'
Beckla nodded. 'I know that, and you know that. But they don't know that' Her smile broadened into a grin. 'As it turns out, the silversanns are absolutely fascinated by magic. It's their favorite area of research. They've seen some of the thanatars' prisoners work it before, and they want more than anything to learn it themselves. Of course, no matter how faithfully they duplicate the words and movements of a spell, it will never work for them. It can't. They're not alive.'
Beckla gestured subtly toward the heaps of broken artifacts. That's what all this stuff is for. Somewhere along the line, they developed a crazy notion that when magical objects are broken, their magic is released. They sleep near these heaps of junk in the belief that, over time, they'll absorb some of that magic.'
Artek shook his head at this absurdity. 'So what are you going to do?'
'You'll see,' she replied mysteriously. She approached the waiting silversanns.
Corin, Guss, and Muragh looked at Artek questioningly, but he only shrugged his broad shoulders. He had no idea what the wizard intended to do.
'All right, then,' Beckla said crisply, addressing the mechanicals as she might a class of new apprentices at a school for mages. 'Casting magic really isn't all that difficult. It's simply a matter of using the proper inflection. Now, follow my movements as best you can, and repeat after me.'
She weaved her arms in a complex pattern while uttering a string of words that, to Artek, sounded far more like nonsense than they did magic. The silversanns made a comic effort to mimic her hand movements with their whiplike antennae. A buzz rose from them as they repeated her words dutifully and, unfortunately, quite erroneously.
'K'hal sith таrа!' Beckla shouted in finish, raising her arms above her head.
'G'sssar ziph mooli!' the silversanns repeated happily, waving their wiry sensory organs.
A shimmering aura of sapphire light sprang into being around Beckla's body. Artek thought he saw the wizard wiggle her fingers. A fraction of a second later, a blue aura surrounded each of the silversanns. The creatures shrieked in glee, their count-lees legs wriggling in abject ecstasy.
'Magic do uses, yeses?' they cried. 'Wizardsss now we are, yesss? Ssspells cassst we! Yesss, yesss?'
As the silversanns continued their jubilation, Beckla pulled the others some distance away.
'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 Under-mountain, the ones that keep anyone from magically transporting out? Well, that goes for wishes, too. If we try to wish our way out of here, we'll probably find ourselves in some random part of Undermountain, and our wish wasted to boot.' She lifted the ring, gazing through its open center. 'There's only
