He took care of a few other tasks before heading back to the lair. He had a promise to keep to Tymalous Shadowstar. He took some time to redesign the shiny room. First, he shifted the glass tiles to form a clear image of the Autumn Star shining down on the best likeness Jig could manage of the god himself.

My nose isn’t that big, Shadowstar protested.

I did the best I could. You’re lucky I didn’t stick with my first try.

That would have been even better. “Tymalous Shadowstar, the Cross-Eyed God.”

The room itself remained empty, save for a small altar against the wall. For a while, Jig would likely be the only one to leave tokens of respect and thanks on that altar for the god. But he hoped to convince other goblins to do the same. If he could tell them of the things he had seen and learned, who knew what might happen? Shadowstar hadn’t exactly been thrilled at the idea of a whole horde of goblin followers, but it was, in his words, A hell of a lot better than nothing.

At the base of the altar, an eight-pointed star marked the spot where Smudge had died. The fire-spider’s body was buried inside the floor. A fine web traced the outline of the star. Jig didn’t think the god would mind, and he wanted Smudge to have some sort of marker.

He left the gold and treasure where it was. What good would it do to bring it along? You couldn’t eat treasure.

But you could eat trout. Jig had to stop several times as he lugged the huge fish along behind him. He had strung a rope through their gills to make them easier to drag, but they still weighed the same as full-grown humans. By the time Jig reached the edge of goblin territory, his hands were sore and rope-burned.

“Who’s there?” challenged one of the guards.

Jig’s ears picked up the other one’s whispered, “It’s him.”

He grinned. They were afraid of him. What a nice change. “I’ve got food,” he shouted.

Not two, but four guards ran down the corridor. Stupid move. I could have been the point man for an ambush. He would have to see about improving the quality of the guards.

“What’s that thing on your face?” one guard asked warily.

His grin widened. That thing was another of the rod’s gifts. He had used the blade of Barius’s sword for the frames, since the steel was harder than any other metal he could find. The lenses were made of amethyst. Jig had needed a long time to get the shapes right, but finally he had a set of elven lenses that worked. The bubblelike lenses covered his large eyes, the frames hooked lightly around his pointed ears, and for the first time in his life, he could see.