Jig projected innocence as hard as he could. With a shrug, he said, “One of the others stole it from the kitchen. They wanted me to give it back before you noticed, so they wouldn’t get in trouble.”

The goblin poked at the greasy, shiny rat with a fork. “That’s muck! We can’t eat that.” His eyes narrowed. “Who was snooping around the kitchen, anyway?”

Jig shook his head. “Porak said he’d kill me if I told.” He covered his mouth and tried to look stupid. “Oops.”

“Porak, was it? Golaka will want to get her hands on that one.”

“Can I go now?” Jig slipped out of the kitchen without waiting for an answer. As he crossed the main cavern, he allowed himself to smile.

Surface-dwellers had an expression about the wrath of the gods. Since goblins didn’t really care for gods, they had an alternate expression—they called it the wrath of the chef.

“ ‘Rat or the runt’ indeed,” Jig said with satisfaction.

Jig stopped by the privies on his way to meet Porak and the others. Waiting until nobody was looking, he knelt and grabbed a red-spotted spider the size of his hand. The spider crawled up his arm and onto his head. It gave one of Jig’s ears a sharp nip before settling into his hair.

“Ow.” Jig rubbed his ear. “Stupid fire-spider.”

Smudge, the stupid fire-spider in question, ignored Jig’s complaint. He was probably upset that Jig had neglected him all day. But since taking Smudge along on muck duty would have been unwise, Jig refused to feel guilty. The last thing he had needed was a spider who grew hot when he sensed danger. If Smudge had been around when that goblin surprised Jig from behind, they all could have gone up in flames.

Jig met the others near the cavern exit. Of the twelve goblins, Jig was easily the smallest, and he tried to avoid the worst of the shoulder-punching and mock fighting.

“Ah, Jig, there you are.” Porak grinned. “Jig’s going to be joining us tonight.”

Unfriendly laughter spread through the group, and Jig forced himself not to cringe. Everything was going to be fine. He just had to prove himself. He could do this.

“Should we grab something to eat first?” someone asked.

“No.” Porak’s smile slipped, and Jig kept his face still to hide his amusement. “I think we’ll avoid the kitchens tonight.”

Jig wondered if anyone else guessed the origin of Porak’s black eye. Not that he was going to tell them.

“Let’s go,” Porak ordered, cutting off any protests.