That must be why the skeleton had stayed dead, while all the others had come back to fight. The bracelet couldn’t stop all magic—the stinging burns on Jig’s face told him that much. The Necromancer must have turned the bracelet’s former owner into another dead guard, and there had been just enough magic for him to walk to his alcove. There the spell had worn off, and he had died for real.

What a marvelous find. Jig was safe from magic. He looked up. Safe from magic, but not from his own foolishness. While he had been figuring out how the bracelet worked, Ryslind had strung his bow. He had an arrow nocked to the string, pointed at Jig’s chest. His eyes fell on Jig’s boot. “What have you got there, goblin?”

“Jig,” he muttered with an echo of his earlier rage. Ryslind’s fingers tightened on the bowstring, and Jig decided against another mad rush. “It’s a bracelet I found.”

“Let me have it.”

Jig saw movement behind Ryslind. If he could keep the wizard distracted, maybe someone would help him. He sat down and pulled at the boot.

“I see you, brother, so please do not try anything foolhardy.” Ryslind nodded over his shoulder, and Barius flew through the air and into the wall.

Jig started to go for his sword, but even though Ryslind wasn’t looking, the bow followed his movements. “That’s a dangerous idea, goblin.”

That wasn’t Ryslind. His body, yes, but not him. Jig could hear the difference, even if nobody else could. “Who are you?”

The wizard’s smile widened. “One who searches for the rod, the same as all of you. Now give me that bracelet.”

Jig sighed and went back to wrestling with his boot. He could have slipped it off easily, but he wanted time to think, and as long as Ryslind hadn’t noticed how overlarge the boots were, Jig could continue to stall. What should he do? Barius was helpless, pinned against the wall. Which wouldn’t have bothered Jig in the slightest, except that Barius had been on his way to stop Ryslind. Riana was still free, but as soon as she moved, she’d join Barius.

At least the creatures hadn’t attacked. They had no minds of their own. He remembered the one who had burned to a crisp rather than take the initiative to push Smudge off of its arm. They would stand there and wait for instructions forever, at least until the magic wore off.

Jig’s eyes fell upon the Necromancer’s silver wand. Could he use that to fight Ryslind? Sure he could, if he knew anything at all about magic. He wondered how much power remained in the wand. Maybe he could bluff. If he could get his hands on the wand, could he convince Ryslind to let him go?