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I laughed. “Talk about very unelvish-sounding names.”

“The older elf generations did love their strange-sounding names and spellings,” Eljin noted dryly.

Maybe, but none of them twitched my instincts, so if Keelakm was an anagram, Lugh’s guesses weren’t close. I took another drink and then said, “Lugh, did you get a chance to head down to the crypts and check if Nialle left any more notes there?”

He nodded. “I did a quick search of his desk but not the stuff he kept on hand in several of the museum’s old display cabinets. I couldn’t find mention of the shield, the rubies, or anything else for that matter. There were a few brief notes about some Nordic ice horn he thought the museum might be interested in acquiring, but that’s it.”

“Borrhás’s Horn?” I asked in surprise.

“That’s the one—how do you know about it? The council?”

I nodded. “Before the shield shit hit the fan, it was meant to be my first finding task.”

“I’ll gather the notes for you, then, and see if I can find anything else. Might as well get a good head start if we can.”

I smiled at his use of “we.” While I might be the official hunter for the council, Lugh had no intention of letting me do it alone—and not only because of what had happened to Mom. He simply wasn’t ready to settle down into a more normal life—which was probably why he’d refuse Rogan’s position if the museum ever offered it to him. He didn’t want the responsibility, the paperwork, or—more importantly—the necessary need to curry favor from politicians and sponsors to ensure a continuation of funding. Of course, the museum’s powers-that-be were well aware of his propensity for straight talk rather than sweet, which was why they were never likely to offer him the position.

“That would be brill. Thanks.”

He leaned forward and plucked several Jammy Dodgers from the packet. “How bad a condition are the scrolls in?”

“They looked all right, but we didn’t touch them so can’t be sure,” Eljin replied. “It’d still be best if we examined them within a climate-controlled room?—”

“Which I have here,” Lugh said.

“It’s finally finished?” I asked, surprised. “Because you’ve been digging out that thing forever.”

“I employed dwarves to work on it rather than digging it out myself but yes, the cellar is now humidity and climate-controlled and fully operational.” Amusement danced through his expression but there was a serious glint in his green eyes. “And just in time to provide a bolt hole in tough times.”

Which, given recent events, might just come in handy. “As long as those behind the tough times don’t employ said dwarves to dig their way in.” Which had happened before, although it hadn’t been his friends, and they’d gone into his storeroom via an old sewer tunnel that ran under the building. They’d also been after information rather than artifacts and had ransacked his office and tried to burn it down. Only our timely arrival had stopped complete disaster.

“That won’t be a problem—the room is strengthened by heavy steel, which they can’t break through.” Lugh paused. “Well, not without serious effort, anyway.”

I grabbed another biscuit and took a bite. “I wonder why Nialle would make a note about the Shield of Hephaestus or even Ninkil’s Harpe but not mention any sort of reference material? He’s usually not that economical with words or notes.”

“No,” Lugh agreed, “but I guess it would depend on when and where he uncovered information about them. If he was in the midst of the Claws hunt, then it’s possible he just wrote enough to jog his memory when he had time.”

I glanced at Eljin. “Did he tag any of the books or scrolls on his desk that might provide us with some clue?”

Eljin shook his head. “Although in truth, I haven’t gone through every single book and manuscript. There are a lot of them.”

“Might have to make that a priority when you get back to work again tomorrow,” Lugh said.

“What about his workstation within the vault?” Eljin asked. “It’s surely more likely we’ll find something relevant down there.”

Lugh grimaced. “Aside from the fact you’re still on probation, I haven’t the clearance to give you access.”

Eljin shrugged, a casual movement that belied the frustration that briefly crossed his expression. “Just a thought.”

Lugh nodded. “We can broach the subject of early access with Rogan’s replacement, when and if they decide on one, that is.”

“If?” I raised my eyebrows. “Why on earth wouldn’t they replace him? The department was already struggling to keep up with only two active antiquarians and a few researchers.”

“They’re debating as to whether the department is actually necessary. They’re considering merging us with modern antiquities.”

“Which makes total sense, because regular archeologists have spent absolute decades studying the ancient ways of magic, relics, and the old gods.” My voice was dry, and he smiled.

“Sadly, human interest in said old gods has waned rather drastically over recent years.”