Page 131 of A Thief Among Fae

Desmond examines everything with quiet interest.

Auri descends next, then scoffs. “A puzzle. I dared to hope that if there was one, the fomorians would’ve solved it for us.”

“Maybe they have.” I squat before a half-footprint of dirt on the stone floor, right before the bird’s alcove.

Finnian crouches beside me. “Is this your death god’s animal?”

“Its name is Styr,” Desmond says. “Osian’s crow.”

I wonder if he knew that because of his fascination with books or from his human father. If we were alone, maybe I’d ask him.

“There’s another footprint over here,” Auri says, pointing at a statue of Fenris, the wolf companion of the mother goddess Elowyn.

“When I prodded that one, it triggered the trap,” I tell her. “There’s an order to it. Styr, Fenris, and then. . .” Four other statues remain, three of them the companion animals of one of Avedor’s gods. I don’t recognize the fourth.

Desmond notices me staring at it. “That’s Danu’s white stag. In Olin’s time, there was a confluence between religion in the Hollowlands and Avedor.”

Everything changed after the War of Burning’s treaty was signed. But this isn’t the time to get caught in the past, perhaps an ironic notion considering we’re about to raid a tomb. We need to stay focused.

“Alright, everybody out. I’m going to push on things until something works,” I tell them.

“And what if an incorrect combination destroys the chamber?” Min asks.

I shrug. “Would’ve happened already when other raiders came through here.”

We all climb back onto the stairs circling the hill. I start with Styr, then Fenris, then Aedros’s ram. Another volley of arrows flies.

“Maybe you should get it wrong a few more times,” Auri says. “Arrows don’t grow on trees, after all.”

“However, the wood they are shaped from—” Min begins.

“I’ll think about it,” I answer. None of us needs an explanation of how arrows are made. “Do you think the order is reverse alphabetical? Or their importance to King Olin? Elowyn has always been Avedor’s main deity, so why is Osian first?”

“Perhaps because he presides over death. Would that not include tombs?” Min asks.

It’s a good point. Maybe King Olin wanted to venerate the gods in order of their importance to the afterlife? “If that’s the case, I’m betting Aedros’ ram is last. So that leaves the gods Rhea, Haldren, and Danu in the middle.”

I sink the crow, the wolf, and then Haldren’s rabbit. Arrows spit from the walls. “Okay, so maybe crow, wolf, stag?” Trying it, I’m surprised that it works. How could Danu be third when worshipping her in Avedor is outlawed now?

“Try the boar next!” Finnian suggests, bouncing on his heels in excitement.

I sink Rhea’s boar, then wait. No arrows. I push on Haldren’s rabbit and Aedros’ ram. Something clicks.

Styr’s statue sinks into the ground first, then the others follow. The back of Styr’s alcove slides with the grating sound of stone on stone, revealing a dark entrance. I’m the first to approach it and peer into the tunnel. It’s tight and curves downward, making us blind to whatever is ahead.

“This doesn’t bode well for an ambush,” I tell the others.

“Then let me lead,” Desmond says, already drawing his dagger.

I shake my head. “You don’t always have to throw yourself to the front. The rest of us can take care of ourselves. Except for Finnian, maybe. No offense.”

Finnian grins. He procures his sewing needle, the meager defense that it is. “None taken.”

“While I agree with your sentiment,” Auri says as she gathers the arrows, “let Desmond lead this time. He has advantages that we. . . don’t.”

No one adds what that advantage is. Not even Desmond himself. He lights a torch from his pack and steps into the tunnel, ducking a little to fit.

“Wait.” I dig into my enchanted pack for the rocks I tested it with. Then I make a line across the entrance. “To make sure we have a way out,” I explain. If the door tries to close behind us, the rocks will stop it.