Felix’s mug would not fit through the opening.
He tried turning it sideways. Tea reached the rim.
“Leave it,” Tamsin said from below.
“That’s how people lose mugs.”
A local worker held out her hand. “I’ll put it beside mine.”
Felix surrendered the tea and lowered himself through the supported gap.
The chamber smelled of wet stone and old metal. His boot touched the bottom step. He ducked beneath a timber, straightened too soon, and discovered another timber.
“The plan has a higher ceiling,” he said.
