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lord. Damn the smug bastard to the Abyss. What choice did he really have? It was exactly what he wanted-to have his dark past forgotten. There was only one thing he could say. He clenched his hands into fists and spat the word like a curse.
    "Yes."
    Darien leaned back, smiling toothily. "Excellent." He eyed Artek's gaunt frame critically. "But we must prepare you for your task. Imprisonment has left you ill fit for the rigors of this mission." He glanced at the red-robed wizard. "You may cast the spell now, Melthis."
    Artek started to spring from his chair, but he was too slow. Melthis raised his hands and uttered a string of words in the weird tongue of magic. Searing pain arced through Artek's body, and he fell to the floor, writhing. His flesh felt on fire, as if his bones and muscles were being molded like hot wax. Then, as quickly as it had begun, the pain ended. Gasping, he climbed to his feet. Something about the motion felt… strange.
    Artek gazed down at himself, and his coal-black eyes went wide with shock. His ragged clothing had been reduced to a fine dusting of ash, but this paled in comparison to the change in his body. It was as if he had never spent those long months chained to the wall, wasting away in the dark. His skin was not pale and jaundiced, but a deep olive. No longer was he a half-starved skeleton. Now, thick muscles knotted his compact frame. He flexed his hands, staring at the fingers. Moments ago they had been calloused stumps, covered with sores from worrying his chains, but now they were smooth and strong and whole. He looked at Melthis in amazement.
    Darien rose to his feet and slowly approached Artek. "Yes, I can see it," he murmured in fascination. "Though I would hardly notice it if I didn't know what to look for. You are handsome enough in a swarthy way. But the signs are there: brow ridges slightly too thick, jaw a little too protruding, shoulders a bit too heavy. And those eyes-the jet-black eyes give it away." The nobleman's lip curled up in disgust. "Orc blood indeed runs in your veins, doesn't it, Ar'talen?"
    Artek glowered but said nothing. He felt suddenly naked and exposed, and not because of his lack of clothes.
    Darien opened a trunk next to the table and pulled out a bundle of dark leather. He heaved it toward Artek. "Here. Put these on. I believe black is your favorite color."
    Artek put on the clothes: jerkin, breeches, and boots. The supple black leathers fit his body tightly but comfortably, as if made just for him.
    "Take this," Melthis said, pressing the heart jewel into Artek's hand. "It will guide you to Lord Silvertor. I have two other objects for you as well." He handed Artek a curved saber in a leather sheath. "This sword is enchanted, and will lend you strength against any enemy you may encounter." Finally he held out a small golden box. "And this is a transportation device. If you open it, a magical gate will appear. All you have to do is step through and you will be instantly transported out of Undermountain."
    Artek belted the sword around his waist, then tucked the heart jewel and the golden box into his pocket. It was good to know that he had a way out of Undermountain if things looked bad.
    Darien nodded in approval. "There's only one more thing we need to do, Ar'talen. Hold out your arm."
    Artek eyed the noble warily, but did as he was told. Melthis rolled up the sleeve of Artek's jerkin. Then, using a quill pen and a jar of black ink, the wizard drew an intricate tattoo on his arm: a wheel depicting a stylized sun and moon, with an arrow next to it. In the center of the wheel was a grinning skull. Artek wondered what it could possibly mean.
    Setting down the pen and ink, Melthis held his hand over the tattoo and whispered a dissonant incantation. The lines of ink glowed with scarlet light, then went dark again. Artek felt no pain, only a cool tingling against his skin.
    "What was that all about?" he asked with a frown as Melthis moved away.
    A mysterious smile