Chapters (23)
- Praise
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Epigraph
- CHAPTER 1 - Muck Duty
- CHAPTER 2 - Barius’s Vital Weakness
- CHAPTER 3 - History and Harmony
- CHAPTER 4 - Jig’s Bright Idea
- CHAPTER 5 - A Day at the Beach
- CHAPTER 6 - More Needling
- CHAPTER 7 - The Heat of Battle
- CHAPTER 8 - Armed to the Teeth
- CHAPTER 9 - Torment of the Gods
- CHAPTER 10 - Falling Short of Expectations
- CHAPTER 11 - Between Death and a Dark Pit
- CHAPTER 12 - Big Prints, Mad Prince
- CHAPTER 13 - Pointing Fingers
- CHAPTER 14 - Straum Heads off a Possible Rebellion
- CHAPTER 15 - Stirring Up Trouble
- CHAPTER 16 - Fetching the Rod
- CHAPTER 17 - In the Blink of an Eye
- CHAPTER 18 - A Fatal Misstep
- CHAPTER 19 - Parting Gifts
Darnak shook his head. “I’ve thought the same of you from time to time, Barius Wendelson. That doesn’t make you any less dangerous.”
“How dare you speak to me in such tones?” All traces of mirth vanished from Barius’s face. He started to take a step forward, but Darnak beat him to it, leaving him with one foot in the air and no place to put it if he didn’t want to step on the dwarf.
“I’ve known you since you were a stripling,” Darnak said, grabbing an iron-banded club and waving it under Barius’s nose. “Prince or no, I’ll still crack your skull if need be.”
While they bickered, Jig took the opportunity to look around. He had no doubt that their quarrel would end instantly if he tried to run, but at least he could get a better idea what he was up against.
The human was . . . polished was the best word Jig could come up with. His chain mail gleamed silver, every link a mirrored ring. The jeweled hilt of his sword was wrapped in gold wire, and the pommel had been molded into the shape of a lion’s head. His knee-high boots were soft black leather, and the purple velvet tights looked as expensive as the rest of the outfit. They also looked ridiculous and uncomfortable, but who was Jig to criticize human fashion?
Barius was strong, broad in the shoulders and trim around the waist. What Jig had first taken to be a black hat was actually his hair, cut in a perfectly straight circle around his head. His goatee was trimmed into a point so sharp you could use it for a weapon.
The dwarf looked the meaner of the two. The scale mail he wore under his white robe appeared battered but well cared for. Jig could see where many of the scales had been replaced over time. Likewise, his war club was nicked in several places, as though it had turned aside sword blades or crushed more than a few skulls. As for Darnak himself, a black tangle of hair hid most of his face. His skin was a leathery brown color. A crooked nose, almost as large as a goblin’s, poked over a bushy mustache and beard. Jig could see two piggish eyes hidden beneath caterpillar brows.