He decided that gods could hear your thoughts. If he had to speak the words, he’d be too embarrassed to try. He could already hear Barius’s reaction. “What god would tolerate a follower of your ilk?” he would say. And he might be right. To be honest, Jig didn’t expect much. Goblins and gods were like . . . well, like goblins and every other race. There wasn’t much in the way of mingling.

Still it couldn’t hurt. All things considered, it would be difficult for Jig’s situation to be any worse. So he began to talk in his mind as they crept through the corridors.

Tymalous Shadowstar? What a clunky name. He wondered if he could get away with calling a god “Tym.” Probably not. My name is Jig. Can you hear me?

He paused, but there was no answer. Then again, Darnak’s conversations with Earthmaker seemed pretty one-sided as well, so it might not mean anything.

I’m wandering around lost with a dwarf, an elven child, an arrogant prince, and a wizard teetering on the edge of madness. Well, not so much teetering. More bouncing back and forth between mad and really mad. I wondered if you could help keep me alive long enough to get home in one piece?

Still nothing. Jig sighed and started to hurry after the others when inspiration hit. No goblin helped another without getting something in return. Why should gods be any different?

I don’t know how worship works or anything, but if there’s anything you need, I’ll try to help out.

That felt better. A fair deal, just like a human would make. Jig would help Tymalous Shadowstar, and the god would help Jig. He wondered what kind of favors a god might need. He hoped it would be nothing like that acorn story Darnak had told.

“Hold,” Barius said in a low voice. “A door. Thief, check for traps and locks and such.”

Riana grimaced. Remembering what had happened the last time, Jig couldn’t blame her. A few more traps, and she would have no fingers left.

“Wait,” he called.

He hurried up to the door with her, to Barius’s annoyance. There, he reached into his boot and retrieved the strip of meat he had been saving for later. He brushed off the dust and fuzz and tried to ignore the rumbling of his stomach.

“Tie your tools to this.” He handed the meat to Riana.

She nodded, apparently remembering how Jig had checked the other door. With a bit of Darnak’s twine, she secured her pick to the meat and probed at the keyhole. As before, there was a click, and a silver needle lodged in the meat. Dry and stiff the meat might be, but Jig swore he saw its color fade.

“Why do you delay?” Barius asked. “Disarm the trap and open the door.”

Riana muttered, “Disarm it yourself, you overdressed sheep-lover.”

She pulled out her knife and used the blade to bend the needle out of the way. That left only the lock itself. She stared angrily at her hands.