Golaka the chef was the largest goblin Jig had ever known. While not quite as tall as the average hobgoblin, she easily surpassed them in terms of bulk. The goblins liked to joke that you wouldn’t be able to tell Golaka from her cauldron if it weren’t for the fact that she never stopped complaining.

Jig figured her size was an occupational hazard. How could you spend day after day manning the kitchen without snacking a bit? But Golaka was as much muscle as fat, and she pulled out her stirring spoon and shook it at Jig like a broadsword. “Jig, isn’t it? Are you the one causing all that commotion? And what’s this morsel here? She’s a skinny one, isn’t she? Couldn’t find anyone with more meat on her bones, I suppose.”

Jig gave quick thanks to Tymalous Shadowstar that Riana couldn’t understand Goblin. “Golaka, where’s the chief?”

“Dead. He went looking for those adventurers and ran into a hobgoblin ambush. Seems there’s been all sorts of excitement these past few days. Means everyone will be all stirred up, no doubt. Fighting over who gets to be the new chief and all that nonsense.”

Jig’s body went numb. He dropped his sword. Dead? He had fought through the entire goblin lair, only to learn that the chief was dead?

“Long as I can remember, it’s always the same. Adventurers come in and cause trouble. Bunch of young goblins run out and get themselves killed. Another patrol goes out and ambushes the adventurers. I end up with a few more bodies for the pot and a dozen less mouths to feed.

“At least they’ll bring in some wood for the fire. A few arrows, maybe an axe handle or something. Haven’t had any new wood in almost a month, since that hobgoblin trader slipped and fell on my carving knife.”

Jig ignored her. The shock was so great that his entire body tingled. He stared at the scraps of wood burning merrily beneath her pot. If Golaka was telling the truth, they had continued to burn for an entire month without any new fuel.

She snorted. “That’ll teach those hobgoblins to get fresh with me. Of all the raw nerve. He’s lucky I didn’t make sausages out of his worthless guts. All for the best, though. Hobgoblin causes indigestion something fierce.”

The emanations of the rod would appear natural, shaped by the wills of those around it. “Golaka,” he said, voice hoarse. “Have you ever run out of wood for the fire or food for the cauldron?”

“Course not,” she snapped. “Though why you young know-it-alls can’t bring me a fresh human from time to time is beyond me.”