“This is the elf’s responsibility, I believe. Will there be anything more, my brother?” The light died as Ryslind walked away, but the door remained visible behind him.

Jig’s eyes widened, and his ears flattened against his head as he realized why he was suddenly so afraid of Ryslind. Ever since they came through the whirlpool, the wizard’s voice had been different. The difference was so subtle Jig hadn’t noticed at first, and he doubted any of the others could hear it at all. But each time Ryslind spoke, it was as though a second voice spoke the same words along with him.

He stroked Smudge’s head and body, trying to calm the agitated spider. Was he imagining things? Slamming into the ground on the way out of the whirlpool could have affected his hearing. Yet if that were the case, why wasn’t he hearing the same distortion when the others spoke?

Besides, he wasn’t the only one afraid of Ryslind. Even Barius regarded his brother with wary eyes, and one hand rested on his belt, close to the hilt of his sword. Whether they heard the change or not, they knew enough to be watchful.

“I will be fine,” Ryslind said wearily. “I have simply . . . overexerted myself. By the time you open the lock, I shall be myself again.”

Nobody relaxed, but Barius did wave Riana toward the door. She rolled her eyes and pulled several thin metal tools from a pack at her belt. She grabbed the lantern in passing, leaving the rest of them in shadows.

Jig heard her curse as she dried her tools. The scratch of metal against metal told him she had begun to work on the lock. But he didn’t watch. He couldn’t look away from Ryslind’s struggle.

For the human was obviously at war within himself. His fists clenched into knots, and his neck had tightened to the point where the muscles formed raised lines of skin between the neck and shoulders. Each deep, ragged breath sounded like that of a dying man.

Barius had gone to watch Riana work on the lock, but Darnak remained close by the wizard. He kept saying Ryslind’s name over and over. One hand went to the small hammer around his neck. His other reached toward Ryslind.

Ryslind’s fist shot out, and the dwarf caught it in his free hand. Between the darkness and his own poor vision, Jig couldn’t be certain, but he thought he saw the dwarf flinch. What kind of strength did it take to do that to Darnak? He decided he would rather not find out.

“I am . . . all right,” Ryslind whispered.

“Almost lost it there, did you?”

Ryslind didn’t answer. He turned around, and his eyes narrowed when he saw Jig watching.