By the time the last robber disappeared between the trees, the cottage belonged to the performers.
At least, that was Calypso Nyx’s interpretation.
The animals were less certain.
They remained exactly where the final notes of their disastrous concert had left them, listening for footsteps outside. None came back.
Calypso walked to the abandoned table.
Dinner was still warm.
She lifted the lid from a pot, breathed in the steam, and nodded with satisfaction.
“Well,” she said, “that went beautifully.”
The animals stared at her.
One finally looked toward the open door, as if expecting the robbers to return simply because someone had said something so unreasonable.
Calypso pulled out a chair.
“They left. We stayed. That makes us the successful party.”
The animals had originally planned something much simpler: frighten the robbers, take shelter in the cottage, and finally get some rest.
Calypso’s concert had technically accomplished the first part.
Nobody wanted to discuss how.
She reached for a loaf of bread.
That was when something knocked beneath the table.
Calypso stopped.
The animals stopped.
Another knock followed.
Three short taps.
Calypso slowly lowered the bread.
One of the animals backed away.
She leaned down and looked beneath the table.
Nothing.
No robber.
No hidden animal.
No loose floorboard that she could see.
She straightened.
“Probably the furniture applauding.”
Nobody found that comforting.
Calypso tore off a piece of bread.
Three knocks came again.
This time they came from the wall.
Every head turned.
The cottage had gone completely still.
Calypso chewed thoughtfully.
Then she crossed the room.
A wooden cabinet stood against the wall. It looked ordinary except for several deep scratches near the bottom.
She crouched.
The scratches were parallel.
Fresh.
Calypso touched one.
Something moved inside the cabinet.
The animals retreated together.
Calypso opened it.
Plates.
Cups.
A bottle.
No creature.
No robber.
She moved the plates aside.
Behind them was a narrow gap in the wood.
Cold air came through it.
Calypso’s expression changed.
The animals recognized that expression immediately.
It was curiosity.
That was worse than fear.
Calypso pressed her fingers against the back panel.
It shifted.
The cabinet was hiding a small door.
One of the animals made a warning sound.
Calypso glanced over her shoulder.
“I’m only looking.”
The animals did not believe her.
They had known her long enough for that.
She pushed.
The hidden door opened several inches.
A narrow staircase descended beneath the cottage.
Calypso stared into the darkness.
Then she looked at the abandoned dinner.
Then back at the staircase.
“The robbers had a cellar.”
Nobody followed when she took the first step down.
Calypso stopped.
She looked back.
The animals remained in the cottage.
“All right.”
She returned upstairs.
Relief spread through the room.
Calypso picked up a candle.
The relief disappeared.
She lit it and went downstairs.
After a moment, the animals reluctantly followed.
The staircase was narrow enough that they had to descend one behind another. The sounds of their feet and paws filled the passage.
At the bottom stood another wooden door.
This one was locked.
Calypso examined it.
The animals watched her closely.
She reached toward the latch.
A collective warning rose behind her.
“I see the lock.”
That did not reassure them.
Calypso lowered the candle.
There was something on the floor.
A key.
She picked it up.
The animals immediately began making enough noise to rival their concert.
Calypso sighed.
“Yes, I understand your position.”
She held up the key.
“But somebody left this directly outside a locked door.”
That appeared to be precisely what worried them.
Calypso inserted it into the lock.
Before she could turn it, footsteps sounded above.
Everyone froze.
The robbers had returned.
Calypso extinguished the candle.
Darkness closed around them.
The cellar door opened overhead.
Voices entered the cottage.
The robbers sounded angry.
More importantly, they sounded embarrassed.
Calypso could understand that.
Being driven out of your own hideout by a concert was probably difficult to explain.
Boots crossed the floor.
A chair scraped.
One robber complained about the missing bread.
Calypso looked down at the piece still in her hand.
She quietly put it into her pocket.
The animals crowded behind her.
Then the voices above changed.
“They found it.”
Calypso became still.
Another robber answered.
“They couldn’t have.”
“The cabinet was open.”
A long silence followed.
The animals looked at Calypso.
Calypso looked at the locked door.
The footsteps overhead moved toward the hidden staircase.
She turned the key.
The lock clicked.
Too loud.
Everything above stopped.
Calypso opened the door.
She expected another room.
Instead, she found a tunnel.
The passage stretched beyond the candlelight, supported by old wooden beams. Several empty crates had been stacked along one side.
Calypso motioned the animals through.
The first robber started down the stairs.
She slipped into the tunnel and pulled the door nearly closed.
Light appeared beneath the stairwell door.
The robber reached the bottom.
Calypso held the hidden door with one hand, leaving only a thin gap.
A lantern came into view.
Then boots.
The robber approached.
Calypso waited.
The animals pressed deeper into the tunnel.
The robber stopped directly outside.
Calypso could hear his breathing.
His hand touched the door.
Then another voice shouted from upstairs.
“Leave it.”
The hand withdrew.
“But—”
“I said leave it.”
The robber hesitated.
Then his footsteps retreated.
Calypso waited until the cellar went dark again.
Only then did she release the door.
Interesting.
The robbers knew about the tunnel.
They were also afraid of it.
That made Calypso want to continue.
The animals wanted the exact opposite.
She could see that without anyone saying a word.
“We can’t go back yet,” she whispered.
That was true.
The robbers were upstairs.
Going forward was the only quiet option.
Calypso relit the candle.
They continued.
The tunnel was longer than she expected.
It did not feel like something a group of robbers had dug beneath a cottage. The walls were too old. Roots had grown through the ceiling in thick, twisted strands.
Eventually, the passage divided.
One path continued straight.
The other sloped downward.
Calypso raised the candle.
There were footprints in the dirt.
Many went toward the cottage.
None continued straight.
A single set went downward.
Calypso crouched.
The prints were smaller than the robbers’ boots.
Bare feet.
Someone had walked through the tunnel without shoes.
The animals gathered around her.
Calypso touched the edge of one footprint.
The dirt was still damp.
Recent.
They were not alone.
A faint sound traveled up the lower passage.
Calypso lifted her head.
Someone was humming.
The melody was simple.
Quiet.
And, unlike the concert upstairs, perfectly in tune.
The animals went rigid.
Calypso listened.
The humming stopped.
A voice came from the darkness.
“Is someone there?”
Calypso raised the candle.
“Apparently.”
The animals stared at her.
“What?” she whispered. “They asked.”
A figure appeared at the far end of the passage.
A young man stepped into the candlelight.
His clothes were dirty. His hair was tangled. He had no shoes.
He stopped when he saw Calypso.
Then he saw the animals.
His eyes widened.
“You’re not with them.”
“The robbers?”
He nodded.
“No.”
His shoulders dropped.
Calypso noticed a broken length of rope hanging from one wrist.
That answered several questions.
Not all of them.
“Were they keeping you here?”
The young man looked toward the tunnel behind him.
“Not exactly.”
Calypso waited.
“They were keeping me away from there.”
He pointed into the darkness.
Calypso turned.
A few steps farther down stood another door.
This one was made of iron.
Several heavy boards had been nailed across it.
Symbols had been carved into the wood.
The animals began backing away.
Calypso did not.
“Why?”
The young man swallowed.
“Because I opened it once.”
Calypso looked at him.
“And?”
“I closed it.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
His gaze shifted to the animals.
“You really should leave.”
Calypso almost laughed.
“We have robbers behind us.”
“You should take your chances with them.”
That stopped her.
The young man was not joking.
Something struck the iron door.
The candle flame trembled.
The animals recoiled.
Calypso stared at the boards.
Another impact came.
Slow.
Heavy.
The young man stepped away from it.
“They heard the music.”
Calypso looked back toward the cottage.
“That music?”
“Yes.”
She considered this.
“That seems unfair.”
Another blow shook the door.
One nail moved.
The young man grabbed Calypso’s arm.
“You need to go.”
She pulled free.
“What is behind it?”
“I don’t know what they are.”
“They?”
His face tightened.
The next impact nearly tore one board loose.
The animals turned toward the cottage.
Calypso could hear the robbers again.
They were coming down the stairs.
They had two directions available now.
Robbers behind them.
Something unknown ahead.
Calypso looked at the young man.
“How many robbers?”
“Five.”
She looked toward the iron door.
“How many things?”
“I don’t know.”
“That is less useful.”
Footsteps entered the tunnel.
Lantern light flickered around the distant corner.
The robbers were coming.
The young man grabbed the broken rope around his wrist.
“They’ll take me back.”
Calypso looked at the animals.
They had already driven the robbers from the cottage once.
She doubted the same performance would work twice.
A robber shouted from the tunnel.
“There!”
The young man panicked.
Calypso did not.
Her gaze moved to the iron door.
Then to the loose board.
Then back toward the approaching lanterns.
The animals seemed to understand what she was considering.
Every one of them objected at once.
Calypso raised both hands.
“I haven’t done anything.”
A nail dropped from the iron door.
It hit the ground.
The board swung loose by itself.
Calypso’s expression changed.
“I would like it officially noted that this part was not my idea.”
The robbers rounded the corner.
Their leader stopped when he saw the damaged door.
All the anger vanished from his face.
“No.”
Calypso noticed.
Not rage.
Fear.
Real fear.
The leader pointed at her.
“Get away from that door.”
Calypso looked at the young man.
Then at the animals.
Then back at the robber.
“You know what’s behind it.”
The leader did not answer.
Another board cracked.
He stepped backward.
That was answer enough.
Calypso moved between the iron door and the others.
“Then tell me.”
The robber shook his head.
“You don’t understand.”
“Correct. That is why I asked.”
The young man whispered, “Calypso.”
She looked at him.
His eyes were fixed on the bottom of the iron door.
Something dark was spreading beneath it.
Not smoke.
Not water.
Shadow.
The candle dimmed.
The animals crowded together.
The robber leader raised his lantern.
“Run.”
Nobody moved.
Then the shadow reached the first animal.
It stopped.
For one strange second, nothing happened.
The animal stared down at it.
A note sounded.
Clear and musical.
Everyone froze.
A second animal stepped into the shadow.
Another note answered.
Calypso’s eyes widened.
The shadow was reacting to them.
A third animal moved.
A third note sounded.
Different pitch.
Different tone.
The animals looked at one another.
Calypso looked toward the iron door.
The terrible concert in the cottage had awakened something.
But perhaps not because it had been loud.
Perhaps because of who had performed it.
The robber leader seemed to reach the same conclusion.
His fear deepened.
“Don’t let them make another sound.”
Calypso turned toward him.
That was an oddly specific warning.
“Why?”
He stepped back.
The iron door shook.
The remaining boards split.
The animals startled.
One cried out.
The shadow beneath the door flashed white.
A perfect note rang through the tunnel.
Every lantern went out.
In the darkness, the iron door opened.
Calypso heard the robbers running.
She heard the young man breathing beside her.
She heard the animals shifting around her.
Then, from beyond the open door, came music.
Not chaotic.
Not frightening.
Beautiful.
The exact opposite of the concert that had emptied the cottage.
Calypso stood perfectly still.
A voice began singing from somewhere beyond the threshold.
The animals fell silent.
The young man whispered, “Now you understand why they kept me here.”
Calypso could barely see him.
“No,” she said.
A pale light appeared beyond the iron doorway.
Shapes moved inside it.
The young man took a step back.
Calypso took one forward.
He caught her sleeve.
“You cannot go in there.”
“Why?”
“Because the last time I did, one of them followed me out.”
Calypso stopped.
From the tunnel behind them came a scream.
One of the fleeing robbers.
Then silence.
The young man’s grip tightened.
Calypso stared toward the darkness where the robbers had disappeared.
The dinner upstairs suddenly seemed much less like payment.
It had been bait.
And whatever had been waiting beneath the cottage had finally heard enough music to come collect.
