Jig didn’t know how to explain. He only knew that elves were supposed to be graceful and powerful. Elven warriors slipped past their enemies like the wind, but when they fought, their slender arms lashed out with the strength of multitudes. Elven wizards were masters of the elements, forcing fire, lightning, water, and wind to obey their will with the flick of their fingers. He couldn’t reconcile those images with this helpless girl who claimed to be a prisoner.

“I thought all elves were strong and powerful,” he said at last.

“Yeah, and I thought all goblins were selfish, backstabbing cowards.”

“But we are.”

Riana rolled her eyes. “Never mind. Before they came here, they stopped at an inn to rest. Ryslind caught me trying to pick his pocket. I thought I could earn a coin or two off those pretty pouches he carries. Instead he dragged me to his room and offered me a choice. I could either come along and help them on their stupid quest, or he could kill me on the spot. He said he would prefer not to kill me, since a dead elf might cause diplomatic problems for his father.”

She turned away, hiding her face. “I didn’t believe him. I think he wanted to kill me. He’s as bad as his brother. Those eyes . . . I felt like I was staring into my own funeral fire.”

“Why would Ryslind want to kill you?” Barius was the bloodthirsty one. Ryslind was merely cold and distant. He didn’t take pleasure out of fighting the way his brother did. He was cold and efficient when he killed, and he didn’t strut about for hours afterward like a goblin fresh from the mating bed.

“He’s a wizard,” Riana whispered. “Remember that powder he used to enchant the rope? What do you think that was made from? I heard them talking earlier tonight. He got that powder by grinding up the skeletons of two unhatched griffons. What sort of ingredients do you think he’d get from an elf? We’re magical creatures too. Not as strongly magical as griffons, but I’m sure he could find uses for an elf girl.”

“Are goblins magical?” he asked. He didn’t want to end up in one of Ryslind’s pouches.

“Of course not.”

She needn’t have answered quite so quickly, Jig thought. “Do all wizards use that sort of thing for their spells?”

“How should I know? Everyone does magic differently, I think. Even the dwarf can do a little when he prays hard enough. I saw him do it before we came here. He prayed over the two humans to make them stronger and faster. After that, they both looked larger, more dangerous.” She laughed again, and this time Jig heard the deep bitterness behind it. “They didn’t bother to give me Earthmaker’s blessing, of course.”