In the few hours Parry napped the clearing had blossomed into a small camp, complete with tents, makeshift hawker stands, several city guard (clustered conveniently around the ale seller) and even a very enterprising prostitute who had set up a brown canvas lean-to she advertised as "a most delightful and rollicking pudding."

The line to enter the dungeon never quite cleared as new adventurers or the curious drifted in, waiting their chance. Sure enough, as the sun set, the bald gatekeeper left for some other duty, replaced at the desk by a more hirsute attendant.

Parry had little trouble this time, registered his name, rank, bribe--"special fee"--and made his way right to the entrance.

"See?" he offered mentally to the demon tucked against his memories. "No mayhem, no chaos, just a little patience and we're in."

If the kitten had wanted to enthuse further about garroting, it refrained. Parry turned to the Adventurer's Guild representative at the entrance.

"What have we got?"

The man shrugged out his report, repeated dozens of times today already. "Smooth wall, self-lit, color teleporter. No one's come out to say more about it."

That brought Parry up short. "Color teleporter? Those aren't common."

"Neither are dungeons this close to town. Who knows? You will, I suppose. That's your job. Guild's offering a bonus for anyone willing to debrief. Another reason to get out alive."

The boy nodded. "Right." He stepped in, the entryway resolving into well-cut stone stairs leading down into an impossible structure lit, indeed, by smokeless torches pinned by iron rings into the smooth stone walls. Pools of light kept the stairway navigable as the sounds of crickets and frogs of summer faded behind into the silence of close ceilings and his own footsteps.

Styak finally spoke up. "Who digs these? And is it truly here or has only the entrance appeared?"

"Don't get me started on dungeon theory," Parry replied in his thoughts, noting the stairwell curved slightly, so even the faint light outside cut off. "I've known professors at the great magic academies who have devoted their lives to these questions. Now that's a maze of theories and hypotheses no one escapes. Hop out, why don't you, and be a spare set of eyes?"

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The demon familiar took a perch on Parry's shoulder, pupils going almost round in the lower light.

"Had I sufficient power to create these dungeons, maintain them, populate them and sprinkle them around the world, I'd put it to better use than entertaining random humans."

"That's what we're up against, since I suspect these are all seeded by the Creator. It's all a big lethal joke. Look at that."

The stairwell ended in a large doorless round room lit by the ubiquitous torches tinged red by the glow of a complex hexagonal sigil imbedded in the floor just at the center...until it was suddenly blue for a few moments, then red again, then a sickly yellow.

"Color teleporter, I presume."

Parry nodded. "We should take a moment to look around, but it looks like this one shifts at random. I've worked my fair share of these and sometimes they're controlled by a puzzle, sometimes by an act of will. I'm not seeing any riddles or inscriptions. And no laggers."

Cowardice or avarice can turn rooms like this into an extension of the camp upstairs, collecting opportunists, incomplete parties, occasional ambushers (not so likely this time, with Guild supervision) or simply those with cold feet. None of that this time, perhaps the dungeon was too new.

"You never know for sure, at least until the dungeon has been fully explored, mapped and filed with the Guild, but each color should correspond with a different part of the dungeon or a different version of the floors or, rarely, a trip to another realm. There's a famous one of these in the Icy Lands that takes you right out of the dungeon, dropping you in the elemental plane of metal."

"Which is our color?"

"No idea."

The cat didn't feign surprise. "Of course, it was pure optimism to even ask."

"That doesn't mean we have to start with luck. Let's try a few tests." He examined the entirety of the room, tapping with his walking stick, thoroughly investigating the space but finding nothing beyond smooth carved stone walls. Then he stepped up to the edge of the hexagon so his boots almost touched the outermost lines, currently glowing green. He cleared his throat.

"White!" his voice echoed, prompting no change to the room or the sigil. "Red!" "Blue!"

He changed tack, shouting "Parry!" to no visible effect.

"New York!" He waited, but the colors continued to cycle without obvious pattern.

"Perhaps it was expecting some older York?"

"Never mind, it was a long shot anyway. I'm just going to step in and see where it takes us."

"Faith again."

"What else do we have, truly?" and with that, he stepped into the middle of the immense glowing sign.