Nor would the goblins take kindly to surface-dwellers scrounging through their homes. Sooner or later, and Jig would wager on sooner, one of them would try to put a knife in someone’s back.

On Jig’s shoulder, Smudge waved his forelegs in excitement. He recognized these tunnels and knew they had come home. He couldn’t understand that Jig might be killed as soon as one of the guards spotted him. Nor could he know that, even if they survived, it would only be to die as soon as the adventurers arrived.

So why had he come back? Why not stay with the others? At least that way, when they killed the goblins, they might have let Jig live. If Jig was here when Barius arrived, they would kill him without a second thought. They probably wouldn’t even know it was him. All goblins looked alike, after all.

Shadowstar, I could use a little help down here. How am I supposed to survive what’s coming?

The god’s answer was brief and discouraging. If I think of something, I’ll let you know.

Jig started to laugh. Not even a god could think up a way out of this. In the past few days, Jig had come within inches of being eaten, drowned, poisoned, zombiefied, ripped apart, and if you included having to live on bread, starving to death. He could be an entire song all by himself. “The Hundred Deaths of Jig the Goblin.” If he was going to die anyway, why not add a few more deaths to the song by storming back into the clan and trying to prepare for the inevitable battle?

“Keep going,” Jig said when Riana caught up. He pointed down the tunnel. “You should reach the way out in a little under an hour.”

“I can’t.” When Jig cocked his head in confusion, Riana explained, “I’d have to go through that room with the glass ceiling. Straum would see me. If he realized I was trying to escape, he might think I had the rod. And he can talk to Ryslind.”

Jig nodded. She was right. Ryslind would be after her in a heartbeat. They might already be after us. They probably think we know where the rod is, which means they won’t bother with the hobgoblins. We don’t have a day after all. They’ll come as soon as they realize we’re missing.

“Come on.” Straightening his shoulders, Jig walked past the goblin marker and into the tunnel. Riana followed, knife in hand.

“What are we doing?” Riana asked.

Jig didn’t get to answer. Up ahead, he spotted the two guards. One carried an old spear, the other a club. After spending so much time with Darnak, Jig wasn’t impressed with the club. It looked like an old table leg. Darnak would have knocked it into splinters, right before doing the same to the goblin’s skull.