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.

“I wasn’t very good at this even before I lost my finger,” she snapped. Jig took a step back, hoping she wouldn’t decide to punish the one who cost her that finger. She slid the lockpick into the keyhole and probed the mechanism of the lock. Her eyes narrowed with concentration, and her tongue tip stuck out of the corner of her mouth as she worked. “Come on, damn you.”

The pick slipped from her fingers. With an icy glare at Jig, she tried again. Then a third time. She tried using the pick in her left hand, but it was no use. “I can’t do it.”

“You did it before,” Barius said.