"The queen's alabaster ass," said Silverdun. "Do you know what I think?"
"What?" said Faella.
"I think that castle is made of iron."
"What?" said Ironfoot. "That's impossible."
"I've had a few run-ins with iron, friend. Trust me. That's what you're feeling."
By the time they reached the bottom of the stair, the sensation of being pushed backward was unmistakable. It was becoming difficult to walk. And as if that weren't enough, the steps themselves presented a problem. They were each waist high, and there were easily a hundred of them.
"Stairs for giants, said Silverdun.
"Or gods," said Ironfoot.
"Don't get superstitious, Ironfoot," said Silverdun. "I admire you for your powers of reason."
"There's nothing reasonable about any of this."
"That inscription is just to scare off visitors," said Silverdun. "Whatever awaits us up there may be ominous, but it's not divine."
"If you say so," said Ironfoot.
"Well, boys," said Faella. "Are we going to stand here nattering all day, or are we going to storm yonder castle?" She was smiling. Faella was many things, but apparently she was no coward.
The steps were just high enough to be an enormous bother without being an impassable obstacle. Silverdun and Ironfoot hauled themselves up each one, reaching back to help Faella and Sela up, neither of whom was quite tall enough to manage it themselves. After twenty steps his back was aching, and they weren't quite a quarter of the way to the top.
The closer they came, the stronger the repulsion grew. It was painful now. Not excruciating yet, as it had been when "Ilian" had yanked him into the bars of his cell, but bad enough.
Halfway up, Silverdun was out of breath, and Sela and Faella were both struggling. Silverdun and Ironfoot had the benefit of Shadow strength and resistance, but neither of the women did. Thinking of his Shadow nature recalled his conversation with Jedron at the pit. Silverdun was dead. But that was insane. He was Silverdun. In every way that mattered, anyway.
But if Silverdun was truly dead, where was he? Was his true self in Arcadia with Mother and Father now? Were Je Wen and Timha there, waiting to blame him for their deaths? And the others he'd seen falclass="underline" Honeywell, Gray Mave, all the men he'd killed at the Battle of Sylvan?
Was this Silverdun merely a ghost? Was that what he'd become?
After what seemed like ages, they reached the top of the steps. The castle loomed before them, giving off waves of reitic repulsion; it was like standing in front of a bonfire. It burned the skin and stung the eyes. Before them was a wide door, easily forty feet high. It was opened just a crack.
"Not to be defeatist," said Ironfoot. "But what in hell are we supposed to do now?"
Silverdun paused. He'd been so intent on reaching the castle that he hadn't given much thought to what they'd do when they got there. One thing at a time.
"What, indeed?" he said.
"You forget, Lord Silverdun," said Faella, "that I am a talented girl."
He looked at her. Still smiling, eager even. He realized that he was in love with her, and always had been.
"What are you going to do?" asked Ironfoot. "Make us all impervious to iron?"
"No, Master Falores," said Faella. "I'm going to remove the iron."
"There's no way to do that with the Gifts," said Silverdun.
"There is with the Thirteenth Gift," said Faella. "Change Magic reaches into the very nature of things. I'm not really sure how it works. I'm no Ironfoot. But I believe I can manage it."
"I'll believe it when I see it," said Ironfoot.
"There's just one thing," said Faella. "In order to change something, I have to touch it."
"No," said Silverdun. "That much iron-it'll kill you."
"Not just that," said Faella. "I'm afraid I don't have quite enough re of my own to get the job done."
"Meaning what?" asked Sela.
"Meaning I'll need Sela to join us all in Empathy, so I can draw from you all."
"I can do that," said Sela. Silverdun looked at her. She was looking at Faella, her head high. She clearly wasn't going to let Faella take the award for bravery without a fight.
"Ironfoot, can you think of any alternative?" said Silverdun.
"No," said Ironfoot. "But I have a hard time believing this will work either."
"Allow me to surprise you," said Faella.
They linked hands. Silverdun stood between Sela and Faella, with Ironfoot at Faella's other hand. Silverdun opened up and felt Sela flow into him. He felt the same swirl of beauty and darkness and pain and hope that he'd always felt from her. But now it was tinged with a keening sense of loss. Silverdun knew that he had caused this feeling, and he cringed. Then Faella flowed into him as well, and Sela faded into the background. Faella. There were no words for her. She was simply Faella. That was all she cared to be, and no matter how much he had tried to deny it, it was all Silverdun wanted.
Faella stepped forward all at once and placed her palm against the door. Silverdun felt what she felt. It was torture, agony. For an instant they were all blinded by the pain, by the magnitude of the hurt, the relentless force of the iron's push.
But then, something changed. Dimly, Silverdun sensed a fleeting thought coming from Ironfoot: Just like Lin Vo. Silverdun had a little touch of Insight, and channeled a bit of it to try to figure out what Faella was doing, but he only caught a brief glimpse, and as soon as Sela noticed him channeling, she threw her own thought at him: Stop that!
There was a crackling sound and a burst of heat: real heat. It burned Silverdun's skin, but then was whisked away. With it went the force of the iron. The repulsion was still there, but much reduced. Tolerable. Silverdun looked at Faella's hand against the door. The hand was red and blistering. Her pain, which Silverdun could still sense, was more than he could have borne on his own.
Beneath Faella's hand, the door began to change. From the deep black of iron, it became lustrous and gray. The change spread out in veins from Faella's fingers, growing like the branches of a tree, each branch sprouting others. The branches grew and overlapped, and after a few moments the door was all gray, and Silverdun felt no repulsion from it at all.
Faella dropped her hand from the door and clasped it in her other. Silverdun looked at her face and saw that she was crying.
"I've started the change. I made it into a little binding-it's funny, once I started it, it sort of took off on its own; there was energy in the change itself, as the iron became something else."
"What kind of energy?" said Ironfoot. He let go of her hand and touched the door, rapping against it.
"Oh, I'm sure I don't know," said Faella. "But I sort of nudged it a little and it turned into re. There's re here, lots of it. Everything here wants to become it. I don't know how to explain."
A bit of the door chipped away in Ironfoot's hands. "What is this?" he asked.
Silverdun took the chip and channeled Elements into it. "Cobalt," he said.
Ironfoot frowned at him. "Geology was a required subject in Elements," said Silverdun. "Boring as all hell."
It took all four of them, but with some effort they managed to pry the door open on its hinges. Silverdun looked at Faella.
"Your hand," he said, pointing. "It's healed."
"Oh, that," she said. "That's not so hard."
The door opened onto an entry hall with a pair of great doors just opposite the ones they'd entered. It was dark inside, but there were witchlamps on the walls, and Silverdun lit them. Once lit, they revealed the continuation of Faella's work; the iron around them turning slowly into cobalt, branches of gray flowing out in all directions.
"I suppose what we're looking for is through there," Silverdun said.
After a moment, the second doors were changed enough to touch. They were even more difficult to open than the first, but they eventually gave as well. Beyond them was a great chamber, also dark, but there was a gray light flitting in the distant darkness. The slightest footstep echoed in the space beyond. From within came a quiet droning sound.