Jig tried to swallow, but fear stuck in his throat like an oversize chunk of meat. He couldn’t apologize for watching. He couldn’t even break away from Ryslind’s angry gaze. The faint red lights of those eyes seemed to call to him. Even blinking had become difficult, and his eyes began to water. This was something beyond fear. His body was no longer under his control. What was Ryslind doing to him? His eyes grew dry. He could barely breathe. Was this his punishment for daring to see Ryslind’s moment of weakness?

Behind him, Riana yelped.

Ryslind looked away, and Jig gasped for breath.

“What happened?” Darnak asked.

“The silly girl triggered a trap,” Barius said angrily.

A trap? Jig followed the dwarf to the door. Riana sat on the floor, clutching her index finger with an expression of shock. A tiny bead of blood glistened at her fingertip.

“A needle trap,” Barius said. “Probably poisoned.”

His words chipped away at Riana’s hard facade. She shot a pleading look at Darnak. “It was an accident.”

“Wait,” Jig said. “What about the potions we took, to protect us from the lizard-fish poison? Will they be enough to protect her?”

Hope and gratitude flashed in Riana’s eyes as she looked to Ryslind for the answer.

The wizard shrugged. “The potion was a short-acting one. I don’t know if it will still be effective. Nor, without knowing what poison was used, can I be certain that even a full dose would have protected her. Were I to create such a trap, the types of poison I might choose would still kill her.”

Jig stepped closer to the door. A tiny needle protruded from the lock. It reminded him of the way the lizard-fish had flicked their tongues as they attacked. “Is this sort of thing common where you come from? Hidden doors, trapped locks . . . how do you people survive from day to day?”

Barius shrugged. “Only a fool would put his faith in a simple lock.”

He wondered how many accidents came from trying to build such intricate traps. It was a strange world where the job of the locksmith could be more dangerous than that of a soldier.

Riana whimpered suddenly. Darnak gasped. “Earthmaker help us.”

Her finger had begun to shrivel, and the skin turned gray as they watched. The nail yellowed and cracked at the tip. She touched the dying flesh with her other hand. “It’s cold.”

“The Necromancer’s work, no doubt,” Barius said.