'With so much life concentrated in them, how not? You must have seen how certain images, personifications, keep recurring. All our countries have their own 'hauntings', good and bad. The bad ones get more press, unfortunately.' He shifted against the stone of the wall. 'But the good ones keep resurfacing.'
Nita looked at the steel, cooling now on the anvil as Biddy rested for a moment. 'How much more do you need to fold it?'
Biddy shook her head. 'It's had enough. I've done it about thirty times, which means there are about three hundred thousand layers in there already.'
'It's not the hardness of the steel itself that's going to make it useful as a weapon,' Johnny said, 'but you're right; something useful should be beautiful, too. Let me know when you're ready.' 'Not too long now,' Biddy said. She put the spear-blank in the fire one last time, and turned the gas right up. The length of metal got hotter and hotter, reaching that buttercup-yellow shade again and getting brighter still. She watched the colour critically. 'About seven hundred degrees,' Biddy said then. 'That's all it needs. Kit, you want to move out of the way.'
Kit hopped down and went sideways hurriedly as Biddy plucked the steel out of the fire and came past him. It was radiating such heat that Nita could feel it clear across the room by the door. But Biddy seemed not to mind it. To Nita's surprise, Biddy headed not to the water-trough, but straight for the Chalice. 'Straight in,' Johnny said.
Nita opened her mouth to say, You're nuts, that won't fit in there! But Biddy, holding the length of metal by one end, eased it straight down into the water-light in the Cup — and in, and in, and in, far past the point where it should have come out the bottom of the Chalice, if the Chalice had been any ordinary kind of vessel. She held the metal there. A roar and a bubbling went up, and the light of the Chalice rose and fell; but none of its contents flowed over the edge, and finally the bubbling died away, and the roaring got quiet. Biddy pulled the metal up and out of it. It was dark again, almost a dark blue on its surface.
'So how exactly are we going to do this, Shaun?' Biddy said, as she laid the metal on the anvil again, and reached for a file.
'Well. All the Dark Power's forays so far have been into our own world — twistings of our reality. We're just a beachhead, of course; it's Timeheart that's really being attacked. It's true, we have some limited success against it here, because we're fighting on our own ground, so to speak. But we can't hope to prosper if we stay merely on the defensive. We'll take it over into the Lone One's reality, into one more central. What happens there will affect what happens here.' 'And what will happen here?' Kit said.
Johnny shook his head. 'There's going to be a lot more trouble, and it can't be avoided. We'll move as fast as we can, try to finish the battle fast by forcing a fight with Balor immediately. I have a few ideas about how we can do that.' He laughed ruefully. 'Unfortunately, the only way I can test those ideas out is to try them. If they don't work. .' He shrugged.
'Then we're no worse off than we were,' Nita said, 'because the world looks like it's going to pieces at the moment anyway.'
johnny laughed softly. 'The directness of the young. But you're right.' He looked over at Biddy. 'Let's finish this first. We can't do anything until it's done.'
She had been filing at the length of metal while they talked. The bar was now looking much more like a spearblade and less like a long, flat piece of metal. She was tapering it so that it came to a long, narrow point, then gracefully curved in again. The steel shone, glinting the way Fragarach did — as if it lay in sunshine that the rest of them couldn't see.
Biddy kept working on it, with file and polishing wheel and cloth, and then after about twenty minutes held it up for them to see. 'Sloppy but fast,' she said. Nita shook her head; she didn't see anything sloppy about it. The flat of the blade gleamed, and the point of it looked deadly, a wicked needle.
'OK,' Johnny said. 'Let's get it mounted. Then around dawn, we'll finish the job.' 'Dawn will be fine. Then what?' 'Then this afternoon we go to war.' ' 'We'?'Nita said.
'They'll be coming in this afternoon,' Johnny said. 'Wizards on active assignment. some just along for the ride, but they live here, and they feel involved. And when everybody's together, we go have us a fight.'
He headed off. Biddy was still standing by the anvil, looking at the head of the Spear, her expression very still. She looked up, after a little while, to gaze over at Nita. 'Do you know what I've forged here?' she said.
Nita looked at the spearhead, and found that there were two answers to that question. One of them had something to do with Ronan, and the way he had run from her after she had seen the Champion buried in him the other night. That answer was still partially obscure. But as for the other. .The edge of the spearhead glinted in the low light, and Nita suddenly saw the way Johnny had written Biddy's name in the circle, and the way it had seemed to cut off short. . 'Your death,' Nita said: or rather the answer spoke itself.
Biddy folded her arms and leaned back against the stone wall of the forge. 'I gave up making,' she said after a while. 'At least, the kind of making that I used to do once. Can you have any idea. .?' She shook her head, smiling a little: a hopeless look. 'What it's like to ensoul your consciousness in a mountain range while it's still molten, and spend a century watching every crystal form? And planning the long slides of strata, the way erosion wears at your work, even the scrape of glaciers. To be what you make. ' Biddy sighed. 'And to know what it'll become. You can't do that in one of these bodies. And I said I would do so no more, and that I would give myself back to the One sooner. .'
Nita threw a glance at Kit. She had been there: she knew the sound of the kind of promise that means one thing when you make it. and then later you find that the meaning has changed, but you are going to be held to the promise nonetheless. Or you hold to it.
'And now,' Nita said, ' you're making that way again. And you will have to do what you said. Become part of the making, as the Powers do. ' But the Powers existed partly outside of time. One living in time, in a human body, might not find that body working too well after it came back from such an act of making. Nita shivered. 'I may not,' Biddy said. But her voice was still full of doubts.
This tone of mind Nita knew as well. Her heart turned over inside her with pity and discomfort. Any advice would sound hollow to someone in Biddy's position, poised between sacrifice and refusal. But Nita thought of how it must have felt to the wizards who had advised her, at one point or another: and they never shirked reminding her of what she needed to do, though their hearts bled from it. It was the basic courtesy one wizard owed another — not to lie. How much more did a wizard owe that courtesy to one of the Powers?
'You can't very well get out of it at this point,' Nita said. 'Your name in the Speech is bound into the spelling we did yesterday. The name says who and what you are. and for how long.' She swallowed. 'Change the truth of that now, and the whole spell is ruined. You know that. No Spear. no chance of ensouling it. No chance of saving Ireland.' Not to mention the rest of the world, Nita thought.
But that would hardly seem germane to Biddy at the moment. 'Refuse this making,' Nita said, 'and you'll be part of the destruction of your first one. You of all people should know what to do to keep this island healing, I would have thought.' Biddy looked at her and said nothing.
Nita was immediately mortified. She had completely messed it up. 'Sorry,' she said,'sorry, never mind, forget I said anything. .' She went out of the forge hurriedly, feeling completely hopeless and ineffective. Kit came along after her.
He said nothing to her until they were about halfway up to the house. 'Sounding a little rattled back there, Neets,' Kit said then. 'Is there anything. .?'
'No,' she said, and regretted it instantly. 'Yes, but you can't do anything. Oh, Kit. .!' So how do I tell him about last night? About what I saw inside Ronan? And the sight of that cool, sharp metal on the anvil had given her something else to think about. Its image resounded against the image of Ronan in her mind, leaving her with a feeling bizarrely compounded of disaster and triumph. But the resonance was incomplete. It must be finished, something, the Knowledge perhaps, said to her. It has to be fully forged. Otherwise. .
Nita breathed out. 'I can't,' she said: and she wasn't even sure who she was saying it to, or about what, any more.
Kit punched her lightly in the arm a couple of times and said nothing. They went back up to the quiet room together. Dawn wasn't that far away. 'It's not like the last time,' Kit said, 'or the time before.'
The room had big overstuffed chairs in it, and a big glass case full of books. 'Look at this,' Kit said, reaching up for one. 'How to Build Your Own Staircase. ' He started leafing through it. 'How do you mean, not like the last time?' Nita said, getting up on the bed and leaning back against the big headboard.
'We've always been doing our stuff pretty much by ourselves,' he said. 'This is different. We don't have a lot
