Free The Silver Door by Emily Rodda Page A

exchanged glances. Both were thinking of their mother’s one precious steel sewing needle, handed down to her through the generations. It was worn fine as a hair, and kept for only the most important of mending tasks. Needles made of goat bone were used for everyday darning and patching.
    The shared memory seemed to draw them closer, and apart from Sonia, child of the Keep. As if she sensed this, and resented it, Sonia looked at them sharply and spoke, shattering the mood.
    â€˜Well, if there is a lot of metal here, one mystery is solved, at least,’ she said. ‘We know that metal—especially iron—affects the magic of the powers in the bag. That is why the hood did not work as well as it should, even before Dirk came along with his hook. And that is very good news! It means that the snail shell will be even more powerful as protection once we are away from this place.’
    Rye nodded, frowning slightly. He had already worked that out, and did not want to talk about it. For now, he did not want to think of the magic he carried, or of what the future might hold.
    The warm memories of home had given him a moment’s comfort, but they had brought Sholto vividly into his mind, too—Sholto as he had been, in the old days. Rye was haunted by the words he had read on the notebook fragments. It was terrible to think of his calm, clever brother crazed by hardshipand loneliness, suffering delusions, fearing imaginary enemies, doubting his own sanity.
    They trekked on, watching their feet and speaking very little. Giant insects soon came buzzing around them, and they were forced to walk awkwardly, with their hands linked, so that the snail shell on Rye’s finger could protect them all. As Dirk had warned, countless obstacles lay strewn among the rocks, covered in snails and very hard to see. For all their care, Rye and Sonia stumbled often, and Dirk himself fell sprawling when his boot caught in a tangle of wire.
    Strangely, this fall proved to be a stroke of good luck. As Dirk began clambering painfully to his feet, he suddenly stiffened and pointed to something ahead.
    â€˜There!’ he gasped. ‘Rye, look there! I think … is that not another pyramid?’
    It was. It was smaller than the one that had contained the remains of Sholto’s notebook, and there was nothing inside it, but otherwise it was the same.
    â€˜It is a marker!’ Dirk exclaimed, replacing the stones they had pulled from the top. ‘Sholto built markers so he could find his way back! What a miracle I saw it! By the Wall, Rye, we might have already passed a dozen of these without knowing it!’
    â€˜Hardly a dozen, if your brother did not spend more time building than walking,’ Sonia commented, rather tartly.
    But nothing could dampen the flame of hope that the second pyramid had raised in Rye and Dirk.It was not just that the marker proved that they were moving in the right direction. It was the knowledge that however disturbed Sholto had been he had not lost his natural caution or his instinct to plan, at least.
    After this, they kept a sharp eye on the rocks ahead. Now and again they would be rewarded by the glimpse of another little pyramid, and they would vary their path to reach it.
    At the sixth marker they stopped to eat, perching uncomfortably on a snail-covered rock only just big enough to seat them all. The food Sonia had stolen from the Keep kitchen tasted salty and faintly sour, as if the snails or the curling yellow mist had somehow tainted it. Rye had to force himself to take his share, and when they set off again the meal seemed to lie like a heavy lump in his stomach.
    They trudged on and on, following the pyramid trail. Slowly the light began to dim.
    Rye noted the change, but he was too weary to feel more than a dull pang of fear. His whole body was aching. He longed to stop, to sit down and rest, but his pride would not allow him to do it. Sonia was ahead of him now, pulling him