“Yes. Halfway down that tunnel you’ll find a carved stone set into the wall,” Crow said. “Behind that stone, there’s a key. Fetch that key and then go the other way as quickly as you can. The other tunnel leads to the armory.” He paused, and when Han didn’t move, said, “You’d better go. That’s probably four minutes gone already, and once the pool begins to heat, it gets uncomfortable in there.”

Turning so he faced the wall of the shaft, Han slid his body into the fissure, gripping the lip of the shaft with his fingertips and lowering himself until his arms were straight. He let go and landed on his feet on the slippery stone floor, nearly falling.

If I fall and crack my head, I’ll be boiled alive, Han thought. So he kept his feet.

“It seems deeper than before,” Crow murmured.

To the right, the tunnel sloped downward. It was definitely hot, spitting wisps of sulfurous mist. Han hurried down it, scanning the walls to either side.

There it was—a stone the size of Han’s head, bearing the Waterlow ravens, high on his left. Wedging his fingers in around the stone, he pried it loose, dropping it to the ground and thrusting his hand into the niche behind.

His fingers closed on something metal. He pulled out a large gold key.

Without bothering to replace the stone, Han turned the other way. Once past the geyser shaft, he was too tall to stand upright in the tunnel, so he ran crouched over, stumbling forward as fast as he could in that position, feeling his way, igniting his fingertips for light. He blessed every twist and turn, hoping the stone would protect him when the geyser blew.

About the time he thought his lungs would burst, he heard a roar behind him. Pressing himself against the wall, he lathered himself with magic as a blast of blistering steam threatened to smash him flat. It seemed to go on and on, and by the time it subsided, he felt boiled like a piece of tough meat.

“I’m just as glad not to come back this way,” he muttered.

After that, the tunnel widened and straightened and went on for what seemed like miles. Now and then light leaked through openings over his head.

“How much farther is it?” he asked, like a small child on a long journey.

“A ways,” Crow said. “We are, in fact, crossing the Vale from Hanalea to Gray Lady by a very direct route. This web of tunnels allowed me and mine to cross the Vale without being seen.”

Han thought of the farm fields and villages overhead, the city with its devious streets and crooked people. He could have used these tunnels. It seemed he’d always been on the run from somebody.

Eventually, the tunnel began to slope upward, and Han knew they were beginning the long climb into the uplands again.