***This will be the last chapter for a couple of weeks, I've got a carpal tunnel problem. I'll resume in September***

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‘No,’ said Sorrel. He had no wish to re-enter that particular room again, at least not until he’d been assured of a servant’s attention there.

‘The baths, then.’

Now that was a tempting thought. Especially in this damp chill. Sorrel hesitated, weighing up the pros and cons of an afternoon spent with Arianlach in the bowels of Silverheim, soaking up the metallic steam of the hot springs.

'I actually have something I want to show you,' Arianlach said, coaxingly. 'I forgot until now, but...I think you would be interested.'

'Something in the springs?' Sorrel's ears pricked. 'What could there possibly be....'

'If you come, I'll show you.'

It wasn't a bad place to spend a late afternoon, especially in such inclement weather. If one was going to get wet, it may as well be hot water. Two springs ran under the castle, one chalk, one iron. The caverns were not extensive but housed two large pools. Some said the Lyr Blaed had carved the chambers, others said a dragon had done it. Yet others said, prosaically, that it was nothing more than hard and soft water converging on soft limestone.

It didn’t matter. Sorrel’s interest in the place was piqued by Arianlach's words. He'd been several times, but always alone, or with Henarian, whose company he tried to avoid when he could. His sense of duty told him he needed to make a friend of the boy, but his inner senses told him that Henarian was not to be trusted. He couldn't put his finger on why. That the lad was a Hervik wasn't a good enough explanation. Sorrel knew he wouldn't have liked Henarian had he been Tethiri, even.

‘Come on,’ Arianlach wheedled.

Sorrel gave in. ‘Very well. What did you have in mind?’

‘I’ll show you.’

Sorrel gave a sigh of exasperation but followed Arianlach towards the entrance to the baths. 

The path under the castle led downwards at a gentle gradient for fifty feet or so, then the slope became steps, carved into the rock. These wound down into the bowels of Silverheim, and the hot springs.

'How many steps are there?'

'Two hundred,' said Arianlach. He threw Sorrel a grin over his shoulder. 'Going down's fine. It's coming back up that's the problem. But that's why I've brought you here. There's something here I think you should see.'

He sped up, his boots slipping now and then on the edges of steps made slick with the damp, warm air. Sorrel could feel the heat rising from below, tinged with the metallic tang of iron. It turned the rock red and leant a crimson glow to the torchlights set along the wall at intervals, ornate black-iron sconces glistening. 

They reached the bottom. A large vaulted cavern rose above them. Rivulets of iron-water trickled in the fissures of rock in the smooth floor. A short walk along a low tunnel at the other end of the cavern led them to a great hall, bigger than the Mead Hall. Much of it was taken up with the hot pool, the water-lights dancing along the walls. Flat ledges had been carved around the edge, and were occupied by bathers. They rose to greet their Earl. He waved them impatiently into their seats again, and led Sorrel along the other wall, further on into another cavern.

This one was a small cave, little bigger than a closet. In the centre was a tall, slender stalagmite. It glistened a sickly yellow-green in the faint light. 

Sorrel looked at it, then at Arianlach. 'What is it?'

'What does it look like?'

'A stalagmite.'

'And what else?' Arianlach tapped the side of the needle-like stone. A faint musical note thrummed around the room. 'Look closer.'

Sorrel obeyed, shaking his head. One side of the stalagmite were five Runes, barely visible under the new layers of calcifying rock. He straightened. 

'Is this what I think it is?'

'A way-stone,' said Arianlach, nodding. 'I think there are more, I just don't know where. And I don't know what the Runes are for. Do you?'

Sorrel examined them again. Two were almost too faint to make out, but he thought he knew what they were. The other three were simpler shapes. A plain spell. He laughed.

'Now we know how the people who built these baths avoided the stairs out again!'

Arianlach answered with his own smile. 'Shall we try it?'

'I don't know...' Sorrel's elation faded. 'When I Travel, I...don't really know...'

'Don't tell me you don't know what you're actually doing?' Arianlach was aghast. 'You could end up anywhere! What possesses you? Don't you know how dangerous that is?'

'I've never had a way-stone to experiment with,' Sorrel admitted. 'I have read how they're supposed to work, but there's no specific instructions for the individual stones. Some could take you to other stones, some could take you to the Black Gates themselves.'

'When you do it, you do it with no stones.'

Sorrel hugged himself, suddenly feeling cold. 'It's a compulsion. I just visualise...and I'm there.' He paused, then sighed.  'I don't want to talk about it.'

'Maybe there's something in the library about this way-stone, then.' Arianlach frowned. 'But if it's not in the Hánscanid, I don't know where it would be.'

'I can try the Runes carved on here.'

Arianlach stepped back.

Sorrel turned back to the way-stone and put his palms over the Runes, one hand above the other. He gathered his magic. This, he was practiced at. He funneled the energy along his arms and out through his hands into the stone, and watched the Runes flare to life. 

The stone glowed. He heard Arianlach yelp, and then there was a flash, a rushing of air inward, and he soared through the vibrant, sparkling blackness of there, his soul shrieking at him in a shocking mix of terror and exhilaration. 

Then his boots hit solid, smooth stone, and he crumpled to his knees at the door to the baths.

He flew back down the steps and nearly cannoned into Arianlach at the bottom. 'You were right!'

'Obviously. Now will you show me?'

'But...what about the silver, the witchb...'

'Show me.'

Sorrel stared at Arianlach, wondering how in all the hells he was supposed to show a man with supposedly no magic how to travel using a way-stone. 

'I can try,' he said finally. 

'You can take me with you. The Hánscanid has a tale of two lovers, a mage and a goose-girl. He carries her across the world to avoid the King's judgement for stealing his prize rooster. As if a goose-girl would want a rooster!'

'I know the story,' said Sorrel, suppressing a smile. 'Kings are ignorant of husbandry. They don't know the difference between a gander and a rooster.'

'My point is, it can be done,' said Arianlach. 

They went around the side of the large pool for the second time, earning half-curious stares from the people on the ledge on the other side. Sorrel supposed they did look a little strange, running around the pool fully clothed, back and forth without getting in to bathe. 

He ducked into the little cave that housed the way-stone after Arianlach, and once more gathered his magic. 'I have no idea how to do this,' he warned. 'If something happens to you and I leave you...somewhere...I'm running to the Marwaithyr and never coming back to this world again.'

'So dramatic,' Arianlach sighed. 'We're going up the stairs, not all the way to Cartha! And there's no danger. Kaithenal used to Travel all the time. Come; I want to see what this is like!'

Once again, Sorrel wondered about the mysterious Kaithenal. Had he used this way-stone? Had he known of others? It was unlikely this was the only one Silverheim boasted. There'd be a larger one somewhere. Maybe somewhere in the castle? 

I'll find out. I'll find it, and use it. 

He put his hands on the stone. 'Put your arms around me.'

A warm shiver came over him as he felt Arianlach's arms slip gently around his waist. There was a slight surge of sparkling power swirling inside him, then a jolt as it entered Arianlach. 

Arianlach's hiss of shock echoed momentarily around the rock, then the glittering, roaring midnight enveloped them both, spinning them into the ether and turning all Sorrel's senses to pure, mindless sensation.