He grinned. They were afraid of him. What a nice change. “I’ve got food,” he shouted.
Not two, but four guards ran down the corridor.
Stupid move. I could have been the point man for an ambush.
He would have to see about improving the quality of the guards.
“What’s that thing on your face?” one guard asked warily.
His grin widened. That thing was another of the rod’s gifts. He had used the blade of Barius’s sword for the frames, since the steel was harder than any other metal he could find. The lenses were made of amethyst. Jig had needed a long time to get the shapes right, but finally he had a set of elven lenses that worked. The bubblelike lenses covered his large eyes, the frames hooked lightly around his pointed ears, and for the first time in his life, he could
see
.
“Forget it,” Jig said. “Someone help me with these fish.”
Seeing the trout, the guards began to drool. Forgetting whatever their orders might have been concerning Jig, they ran forward and helped him carry the fish into the cavern.
“Golaka’s gonna be happy to see
this
,” one said.
“Yes.” Jig bit his lip. Hopefully she wouldn’t throw Jig into the pot along with the fish. He gave the rod a spin, admiring the way its gleaming new steel bowl caught the torchlight. After all, when he finished with his lenses, most of Barius’s blade had remained. What better use than to repair Golaka’s spoon? Maybe this would help calm some of her rage.
“Pickings have been pretty lean this past day or two,” another guard grumbled.
“Don’t worry,” Jig said. “I have some ideas about that.” He would have to talk to other goblins, but he thought everyone would agree with his plan. Especially if it meant finding more food.
Straum’s forest had continued to exist after the dragon died. According to Ryslind, the trees, the animals, and most of what lived down there were real. Poor imitations of the genuine articles, perhaps, but still real. That meant they could be eaten! All Jig had to do was convince a group to go hunting with him. Once they brought back their first deer, there should be no more arguments. He looked forward to finding out if venison tasted as good as Riana had promised.
Something brushed against Jig’s foot, and he stopped.
“What is it?” one of the guards said. Jig waved them away as he stooped over to investigate. A tiny spider, black with red spots, waved its front legs in the air at him.
“Smudge?” Jig said in disbelief. The spots were the same, though the spider itself was much smaller. This was Smudge as he had been two years ago, newly hatched. But it couldn’t be Smudge. He had buried Smudge only a few hours ago.
Goblins . . . no faith whatsoever.
Jig glanced upward. If he took the rod back and opened up the stone in front of Shadowstar’s altar, would he find Smudge’s body gone? The god didn’t give an answer, and Jig didn’t really want one. He placed his hand on the floor and waited while the spider crawled onto his palm.
When the fire-spider went straight to the leather pad on Jig’s shoulder, he began to giggle with delight. He scratched the spider’s head, feeling that things were finally right with the world.
A shriek stabbed his ears. “What? He’s
here
? Where is he? I’ll teach him to mess with his betters. Boil him until his skin peels off, I will.”
Jig sighed. “Come on, Smudge. Let’s go give Golaka’s spoon back.” Together they walked down the tunnel toward home.