'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 fall: 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
