The Iron Sword (The Fae War Chronicles Book 1) (4 page)

“But,” she continued, “I was told
not
to tell you what befell me, or I would have.”

“Go on,” Molly prompted, resting her chin in her hand.

“I was given the message by one of the Dark Queen’s knights.”

“They have knights?” I asked, a spark of interest flaring in my mind.

“It is more a title of courtesy than anything else,” Glira said, explaining a little grudgingly but now seeming to accept my presence. “There has been no need for the actual services of the knights for many years now, but that is all about to change.”

Molly leaned forward a little farther. “Why? What’s changed?”

“I do not know whether I should tell you this,” Glira said.

“If you don’t tell us, I’ll just call Wisp,” I told the glow, looking unconcerned as she whizzed by close to my face. A fresh scent like the open night sky lingered in her wake.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she said, quivering as she hovered in front of my face. She flew back to Molly. “Not only do you bring another mortal when you call me, you bring an impudent one!”

Molly smiled a little. “What can I say, Glira. Tess has always had a mind of her own. You know,” she continued with that sly glance at me again, “I should just let Tess call Wisp. He can probably tell us more than you can anyway. Or at least he’d tell it to us faster.”

Glira pirouetted in midair, transforming into a whirling gleam of light. She stopped and pulsed in thought, bending forward to point a delicate little finger at Molly’s nose. “In all the years I have known you, the lesson you have learned best is how to persuade faeries to do your bidding.” She actually sounded pleased. “That will stand you in good stead at the Court, although I can tell you that the Sidhe are not nearly so susceptible to flattery as I am.”

“And I am sure the Sidhe will also not be quite as beautiful as you are,” Molly replied without skipping a beat, only a slight smile betraying her amusement.

Glira fluttered her wings. “Enough. I will tell you all.” She circled and hovered around the circle of small stones, clearly interested in the chocolate placed in the middle. “And when I tell you, I expect that I will be….rewarded.”

“After you tell, not before,” said Molly gently but firmly. She said in a quiet aside to me, “Glira can’t take the chocolate until she holds up her part of the agreement, once she’s inside the circle.”

“Very well,” Glira said, unperturbed by Molly’s conditions. She alighted gracefully in the stone circle, perching on one of the border-stones as Molly carefully completed the pattern.

Molly sat down on the ground, leaning back against the rock she had used as a seat. I followed suit, folding my legs Indian-style, ready to hear more about this situation in the faery-world, or whatever it was that they called it.

“We’re listening,” Molly said.

“Very well,” Glira said again. Her voice changed, taking on a lower, more authoritative tone as she began her story. “Our time is not reckoned as your time, so I do not know exactly when the story begins. But suffice it to say it was probably around the time that you were born, Molly. The story of your birth and your lineage is not mine to tell. I will leave that to the Knight of the Dark Court that will be coming to collect you tonight.”

Molly saw me furrowing my eyebrows and shook her head, warning me not to interrupt.

“The Lady of the Dark Court sent me to watch over you, and the Queen of the Bright Court sent Trillow. After all is said and done, Trillow and I have no quarrel with one another. We are not beholden to either Court except when we choose to put ourselves in their service. One just has to find the right fee, and a trooping faery will be glad to perform most tasks.” Glira glanced significantly at the foil-wrapped chocolate. “Obviously the fee for watching over you, my dear Molly, was most extravagant. But after those first years, after the summer in these hills, I would have watched over you for nothing.”

The fondness in Glira’s voice made me smile. Perhaps these faeries wouldn’t be so hard to deal with after all—they seemed to possess the same kinds of emotions and attachment as we mere mortals.

“But when you were on the brink of womanhood, we were called back by the Courts. Trillow, especially, was most distressed, since it was the Court to which she was beholden that had experienced the upheaval.”

“I thought I had killed you both somehow, or that you were angry at me for telling the school psychiatrist that you didn’t exist,” Molly said softly in a voice barely above a whisper.

“No, my dear. We allowed you to think that we were angry. We chose the day of our leaving very carefully. It was a necessary precaution. The Courts were in upheaval.” Glira flew a little around the ring of stones in agitation. “Suffice it to say that I know very little about the cause of the strife. That story, too, belongs to the Sidhe.” She stopped in the center of the ring again. “All that I can tell you for certain is that there is such tension between the Courts, between the Dark Lady and the Bright Queen. Even the trooping faeries, we have started to feel it, this war that is coming.”

“War?” Molly breathed.

Glira’s glow dampened a little. “Yes. That is what it is going to come to. There has always been some amount of conflict between the two Courts, but in past years it has been settled in genteel manners as the numbers of the Sidhe have dwindled. But this war is not between the Courts.”

“Why are there less Sidhe now than in the past?” Molly asked.

Glira looked at me. “You should ask Tess. I can feel the power of her thoughts as I speak, and I am sorry I was ill-mannered toward her. She will be a great ally for you in the Courts.”

Molly smiled and looked at me with that same forbearing expression she had used when talking Glira into telling her story. “So, Tess, why have the numbers of the Sidhe dwindled?”

I took a breath, ignoring the sting of her condescension. “If I’ve heard Glira correctly,” I said, giving a little nod of courtesy to the glow, “she made it sound as if staying in the mortal world hurts faeries, or weakens them. ‘All those years in the mortal world with the cold metal,’ is what she said. So if man-made things hurt faeries, then it would stand to reason that as we expand and industrialize, it would affect the population of the Sidhe, if they’re affected just as the trooping faeries are.”

I looked to Glira for validation of my statement. She flew a lap around the stone circle and spiraled upwards in pleasure.

“Very good,” she said. “If only you were so quick to think, Molly.”

“I can…I mean, I’ve always been able to solve puzzles,” I said. “It’s easy for me to hold all the pieces together in my head and see what fits.”

Molly nudged me with her elbow. “Well, at least I know you’ll be good for something,” she said with a wicked glint in her eye.

“Good,” Glira repeated. “May I have the chocolate now?”

“Of course,” Molly said. She reached into the circle and politely unwrapped the Hershey’s Kiss, smoothing out the foil into a flat square and placing the chocolate back into the ring. Then she turned away and whispered to me, “It’s not polite to watch them eat.”

“Oh.” I diverted my gaze. “Right. I need an etiquette course or something.”

Molly chuckled softly. “I don’t know anything about etiquette with the Greater Fae. The Sidhe have their own set of rules.”

After a few moments, Glira said, “Thank you for your courtesy.”

Apparently that meant she was done eating her chocolate, because Molly turned back to the little stone circle. Glira had eaten about a third of the chocolate and had neatly cut the rest into little blocks. She was in the process of wrapping the little blocks in a package with the silver foil.

“I have a question, if you would be willing to answer it,” I said.

Glira paused in wrapping up the chocolate. “I suppose this is more than enough reward for another question.”

“What are the weaknesses of the Sidhe? How can they be hurt?”

The quivering slivers of light that were Glira’s wings stilled. “Oh, you do not want to anger the Sidhe.”

“We need to know,” I said. “
I
need to know. You want me to be able to protect Molly, right?”

Glira paced around her bundle of chocolate. “I do not know whether I should tell mortals the weaknesses of the Sidhe. I am not bound by their laws, but it would not go well for me if they find out.”

“Well,” I said firmly, “they won’t find out.”

Glira made a sound that sounded like wind rustling through green leaves—what probably passed for her sigh. “I do not know why I trust you so, Tess,” she said. “There is something…different…about you than other mortals I have met. So I shall tell you. Listen well. I will not repeat myself for even the trees can hear if they desire.”

“All right,” I nodded. “I’m listening.”

“What they lack is what hurts the Sidhe most,” Glira said. Then she picked up her bundle of chocolate and hovered at the edge of the circle. “Now, Molly, please release me.”

“What? Wait. That doesn’t tell us what hurts the Sidhe,” I said.

“Such is the way of the faeries, Tess,” Glira said, “and it would stand you well to learn it now. We do not answer all questions as plainly as you would like.”

“I don’t think you answered it at all,” I said in irritation.

Molly reached forward and removed one of the rocks.

“Fair nights and bright days to you,” Glira said with a twirl of her wings, and she was gone.

I stood up and brushed the dirt from my skin. “Well, that was certainly productive,” I muttered, my voice heavy with sarcasm.

“The Sidhe could kill Glira, if they found out what she just told us,” Molly said seriously, zipping up the front pocket of the backpack.

“She didn’t tell us anything!”

“She told you exactly what you asked, just not very straightforwardly. And that’s not her fault. It’s just in their nature to be like that.” Molly swung the backpack onto her shoulder again.

“There’s no way we can go to the Unseelie Court with no defense,” I protested.

“I don’t really have a choice, Tess. Did you hear Glira? They’re sending a
knight
to come collect me. I don’t think I’d win even if we tried to fight. And who knows what supernatural apocalypse we’d set off if we killed a Sidhe.”

“Can they even die?” I asked.

Molly shook her head. “I don’t know, Tess.” She took a step backward and sat down on the rock again. “Look, you don’t have to come with me. I know that you want to protect me, but….I might be safer if I don’t drag you into all this. You saw how Glira reacted when she realized I’d brought a strange mortal to meet her, and that’s after I’ve known her for over ten years. Think about how the Sidhe might react.”

“It’s a package deal,” I said firmly despite the quavering in my stomach. “They take you, they take me.”

Molly sat silently for a moment. “Well, then. You’d better set your mind to solving that riddle.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said mockingly. Then I pressed my lips together. “What they lack is what hurts the Sidhe the most. How in the world are we supposed to know what the Sidhe do and don’t have?” I wondered.

“Hm. Let me think.” Molly paced around the little depression, trailing her fingers over the trunks of the trees. She suddenly stopped, stock-still. “I’ve got it!” Her eyes widened as she turned to me and gestured grandly with her hands. “Trillow told me the story once, of a Seelie prince who loved a lady of the Dark Court. I don’t remember all the details exactly…it was a kind of Romeo and Juliet retelling, I think…or maybe Romeo and Juliet is a retelling of the Sidhe tale.” She waved her hand dismissively. “But I
do
remember that Trillow said the Seelie prince bled blue on the blade he used to kill himself, and the Unseelie lady cried sweet tears over his body.”

I frowned. “He bled blue. And she cried sweet tears.”

“Come on, Miss Riddle-solver, Lady of the Puzzles,” cried Molly impishly, dancing a little around the glade and ignoring my strange look.

I sat down on the rock and rubbed my nose. I always rub the scar on my nose when I think hard. I waited patiently, mulling all the pieces together in my mind, sifting them against one another. Then, finally, it all fell into place. I looked up. “Salt and iron. They can be hurt by salt and iron.”

“And why is that?” Molly asked, grabbing hold of a low branch and pulling herself up into a tree. She settled against the trunk, dangling one leg into the air.

“Iron is what makes blood red. So if the Seelie prince bled blue…that’s probably because they don’t have iron in their blood. And sweet tears…obviously, we’re taking this literally, but that means they don’t have salt in their bodies somehow. So, what they don’t have hurts them the most.”

“Salt and iron,” agreed Molly. “I remember that Trillow and Glira never let me put salt on any of the rewards I gave them…it was always sweet stuff, like chocolate or a teaspoon of sugar.”

“Then we need to find some iron and salt,” I said, starting back down the hill.

Molly leapt down lightly out of the tree and shifted the backpack on her shoulders. “Salt will be easy enough. But iron?”

“Any places around here that we could find old nails? The kind that would be mostly iron?” I asked, my forehead creased in thought.

Molly paused in thought. “There’s an old cave down in the gully southwest of here. We call it the Indian Cave. Sometimes around there we’ve found old nails or horseshoes that were cast off when it was used as an outlaw camp.”

I arched an eyebrow. “An outlaw camp?”

Molly grinned. “Okay, okay, so maybe it’s only Austin and I that think that it was an outlaw camp. We found it when we were kids.” She motioned. “Come on.”

Chapter 5

M
olly led the way through the glade, picking up a small trail that threaded down the opposite side of Crownhill. The trail wended through the trees, meandering like a stream under the green-dappled forest floor. The forest only extended for about a mile or so after we came down from the hill, eventually dwindling to a few scrubby cedar trees dotting the dirt. Molly continued unerringly, making for the crux of two hills up ahead. Between the two hills, there was a steep valley cut into the rock. It looked as if giants had sliced open the hills with a knife, shearing the earth straight through and revealing the pale veins of gray and blue in the white rock.

The trail disappeared, and Molly picked her way over the increasingly stony ground. I slipped and scudded behind, cursing a few times as a stone slid out from under my foot. Somehow, a few bushes had woven their roots into the sides of the rocky valley, clinging to invisible fissures and growing out sideways from the walls like unruly shocks of hair. Leaves and debris covered the valley floor.

“The spring rains haven’t washed it all away yet,” commented Molly. “All the rattlesnakes should be awake by now though so it’s all right.”

I picked my way more carefully through the leaves after that, sticking to the visible rocks when I could.

I was sweating by the time Molly stopped. She handed me the backpack. “Here.”

I slung the backpack up onto one shoulder. About eight feet up the side of the rock-face, I glimpsed a hole in the looming rock wall. It looked uncomfortably narrow, and I hoped that the entrance was deceiving. Molly fit her hands into two notches in the rock, placed almost high enough to be out of reach. She put her left foot into a knee-high niche and then, after leaning back in preparation, sprung up the rock-face, moving her right foot to a higher hold and grabbing the edge of the cave entrance with her left hand. She pulled herself up and slithered into the cave on her belly. I winced. What Molly made look graceful, I could count on doing at least twice as awkwardly. There would probably be blood.

“Hand up the backpack,” urged Molly, leaning down and extending a hand. I handed her the pack and then stood eyeing the rock face. After I felt along the rough rock for a moment, I found the handholds, and my questing toe slid into the first foothold. I glanced down to the right, hoping I would find the other foothold.
As I was taller than Molly, I didn’t need as much lift to reach the lip of the cave, but all the same I almost fell when my right foot scrabbled off the rock face for a moment before finding purchase in the niche. However, somehow I regained my balance and pulled myself through the very small, very uncomfortable opening. After getting my torso through, I wriggled on my belly until I was reasonably certain I wouldn’t fall. Then I looked up.

The cave was surprisingly large. It opened like a mouth from the small entrance, yawning back into a space that could comfortably sit three or four full-grown men. The bottom of the cave was surprisingly even, visibly worn down in some places. A few crude shelves had been hewn into the walls by the mysterious previous occupants. I decided that I liked to think they were outlaws, too.

“Roomy,” I commented dryly as I finished wriggling awkwardly into the cave proper. After banging my head on the last ledge of the entrance and swearing, I finally rested on my knees in the center of the cave.

Molly crossed her legs and sat against the back wall. I checked the bandages on my knees, grimacing when I found that one had been ripped off as I’d climbed into the cave. The scrape was scabbed over, though, so I shrugged and brushed the stone-dust away.

“So,” I said, “this is the outlaw cave. I don’t really see any iron.”

Molly smiled. “That’s because Austin and I hid it all back here.” She reached into a small chamber concealed beneath one of the rough shelves. The opening into the compartment was invisible from the front of the cave—if I hadn’t seen Molly reach into it, I wouldn’t have guessed it was there.

Molly drew out a handful of twisted, rusty metal, spreading it out on the floor of the cave with a flourish. I leaned forward and inspected the heap: a few rusty nails, a small horseshoe that had probably belonged to a pony, from the size of it; and a spoon.

“I’ll take the horseshoe,” I said, not really knowing why I felt so drawn to the bent piece of metal. Of the whole lot, the horseshoe showed the most visible signs of time: a dusty red crust of rust encased almost every inch of the metal. I ran a finger down its curve.

“All right then,” said Molly. She took three of the rusty nails and stowed them in the backpack, putting the spoon in her pocket.

“Do you even think the spoon is iron?” I asked doubtfully.

She shrugged. “Can’t do any harm. If it’s that old, it’s probably at least partially iron.”

“So…where to next?” I leaned back on one hand, holding up the horseshoe to eye-level and balancing Molly’s chin on the curve of it.

“We’ll head back to the house. They won’t come to collect me until sundown. I’m pretty sure that there’s a canister of salt in the cupboard.” Molly handed me the backpack and slid her feet out of the cave. Her head disappeared and I watched her fingers flex on the sill of the cave entrance, then let go. I tossed the backpack down to her, sliding the horseshoe into my waistband as I slithered backward over the rough cave floor. My foot missed the last hold, and I didn’t avoid falling this time, landing hard on the stones. I grumbled at myself as I stood and brushed off a few stray leaves.

Molly looked off into the distance. She seemed preoccupied, and I didn’t really blame her. Then she turned to me and said, “Why did you stop seeing Eric North?”

“What?” I stared a little, caught completely by surprise. “How is that relevant to all this?”

“It isn’t,” Molly said, brushing cave-dust out of her dark hair. “I just thought about it when we were running this morning, and you never really told me why you stopped seeing each other.”

We started picking our way back along the valley, Molly hopping lightly from stone to stone and me crashing along behind.

“Do I really have to give a reason?” I asked, shifting my shoulders uncomfortably and eyeing a rock that looked stable. I touched it with my toe and it wobbled. I gritted my teeth—I just wasn’t built for this delicate hopping-about business.

“Yes,” Molly said. “He was gorgeous and taller than you even when you’re wearing heels—which is a feat, my dear, you have to admit—and he played rugby. I mean, he played
rugby
.” She looked over her shoulder at me with her cat-like eyes.I sighed. “Yeah, and he also spent every weekend drinking with his friends and didn’t know the difference between a neuron and a neutron.”

“So?” Molly shrugged. “That’s what guys our age…that’s what they do.”

“Well,” I said, “it’s not what I want.”

Molly glanced at me over her shoulder. “Suit yourself. I thought you were pretty in love with him there for a while. You were together for a whole semester.”

“I was never in love with him,” I said.

“Well, then he was in love with you.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “Yes, Molly, we were together. I was happy with him for a little while. But that doesn’t mean I was in love with him, or he was in love with me.”

Molly shook her head. “You are never going to find a real man that meets that invisible checklist in your head, Tess.”

“I don’t have a checklist,” I protested. “I just…haven’t been able to find what I want. And it’s not like you have room to talk.”

“Maybe I’m not looking for a man,” said Molly. From the tone of her voice, I knew her eyes were hazy with that far-off look she got when she was speaking about the Fae.

“Oh, you’re looking for a faery?” I asked. “One of the Sidhe?”

“They’re dangerous,” Molly said, almost automatically. “But…I’m beginning to think that I’m one of them, Tess. Or at least half. Why else would they care about me?”

“Wisp said you were a half-blood,” I said, the memory of my conversation with the glow suddenly replaying very clearly in my head, like a snippet of a recording:
I’ve flown far tonight and must rest before I return—straining my wings just because some little half-blood doesn’t like the idea of heeding an order from the Lady herself!

Molly paused for a moment, balancing on a rock. “Then I suppose I’ll figure out the whole story when we arrive at Court.” She jumped and landed on her other foot, poised precariously on the edge of the rock. “So tell me again why you rejected the gorgeous, studly Eric North, who would have gladly been the father of your children. I bet he would have even put up with you having your own career.” She grinned impishly.

“Since when do I have to settle for studly and gorgeous? I was with him for longer than I should have been, and I have to say that I wasn’t particularly impressed. I wasted more time than I should have.” I kicked a small rock and watched with satisfaction as it bounced away.

“Oh, right, he couldn’t tell the difference between a neuron and a neutron,” Molly said.

“I just think there should be more to life than parties and having fun,” I said.

“Oh,
really
?” Molly returned dryly. “You went to enough parties, you could have fooled me.”

“Because I thought that maybe if I tried it, if I acted like I enjoyed it, maybe I would,” I said honestly. “But the whole time I would be thinking about organic chemistry homework, or what route I was going to run the next afternoon. I was never really
there
.” I shrugged again. “I don’t know, I thought that maybe if I convinced myself that I liked it, I would…just like with Eric.”

Molly stopped and looked at me suspiciously. “You did
like
Eric North. You wouldn’t shut up about him for weeks, until I finally told him you liked him.”

“There’s a difference between lusting after someone and truly liking them,” I said, feeling my face heat with a blush even as the words left my mouth.

“Oh, my puritanical little Tess,” Molly said. “It took you that long to realize that?”

“Like I said, I thought that maybe if I pretended hard enough, it would come true.” I had had enough of this vein of conversation, so I looked at Molly and said, “Just like your—aunt—thought that if she pretended hard enough, you would be normal.”

Molly’s lips thinned. “That’s not exactly a fair comparison.”

“It’s fair enough,” I said. Then I frowned a little. “Why do you care so much why I broke it off with Eric?”

I saw Molly’s shoulders stiffen before she shrugged nonchalantly. “I introduced you.”

“No,” I said slowly. “I’m not…different…like you. Is that why you’ve never dated, because of all this?”

A hard, brittle laugh escaped Molly’s lips. “What do you think? When do you tell a boy that you’ve talked to faeries for most of your life? Is that second date material or should I wait until the third?”

“You wouldn’t have to tell him.”

“Yeah, because keeping huge secrets is great in a relationship. What would he do if all of a sudden I get an order to appear at the Court, or if Trillow or Glira come to visit? I mean, I would have to give it all up…but I
can’t
. I thought that much was clear.” Molly’s eyes glowed in the sun, that odd glint surfacing again. “I have no control over this, Tess, and I already brought you into it. I’d rather not trap another person too.”

“You didn’t trap me,” I objected. “It was my own curiosity.”

“However you want to color it, it’s still the same picture,” Molly said.

We walked in silence for a few moments.

“Well,” Molly said finally, “I guess I just hope you won’t be disappointed. You want so much…more.” She shrugged when she couldn’t find better words.

“I know,” I said. The ache that had been my emotions about Eric North nudged against my ribcage, where it had lain dormant for the past few weeks. It wasn’t hurt, really, because I had been the one who had ended the relationship. It was the ache that I felt when I thought about how I had tried to force myself to fall in love with someone I didn’t even really like. Eric had the body of a Greek god, with blonde hair and gray eyes that made women melt. His looks had captivated me for about a month. Then I had started to realize the small things about him that truly irked me. “Everyone told me I was so lucky,” I said. I knew I didn’t need to tell Molly what I was talking about again. “And I believed them. He was good at telling me the things I wanted to hear, but the more I heard them, the more I realized that it was all…hollow.” I shrugged. We were walking side by side now. “I just feel like…most of the people I meet, that’s how they are. Hollow. Fake, somehow.”

Molly merely nodded at my assertion. She let the subject drop, my thoughts of failed relationships fading away slowly as we continued walking.

“So. Salt and iron.” Molly took out the spoon from her pocket.

“I wonder…do we just have to throw salt at them? Or…how exactly does that work?” I mused aloud.

“It’s probably like with slugs. You get it on their skin and they absorb it, or if it’s mixed into water or food and they drink it.” Molly shrugged, tucking her hair behind her ear. “That’s what I’d think, anyway.”

“How is it that you haven’t shriveled up, then?” I asked suddenly. “If you’re half-Fae, why haven’t you just keeled over from spending over twenty years in this world?”

“I’m guessing that human blood is hardy,” Molly replied. “Other than that, I have no idea. Maybe they put a spell on me or something to protect me.”

We hiked up the trail to the cabin. I used the sleeve of my t-shirt to wipe the sweat from my face. The late afternoon sun threw our shadows against the rocks as we walked, and I realized with a twinge of unease that it was much later in the day than I had thought. The conversation with Glira had lulled me into that same dream-like trance, even though I’d been far more lucid than when I’d met Wisp. Dream or no, he’d said that I got faery-drunk easily, and I knew now what he had meant. I wondered if Molly knew the lateness of the hour.

At the top of the hill, next to the crude driveway, the hood of the pick-up truck was still propped open, but Austin was nowhere to be seen. Then, as we neared the porch, I stopped and grabbed Molly’s elbow. “Were you expecting visitors?”

“We don’t get visitors…” Molly trailed off as she saw what had stopped me in my tracks. “…Out here,” she finished.

A midnight-blue motorcycle stood by the front porch, coated with a pale rime of dust from the unpaved roads. It would certainly have been a feat, to get a motorcycle up the steep paths. I started toward it, intrigued.

“Tess,” Molly hissed.

“What? It’s out here…all by itself,” I replied over my shoulder. “The least we could do is find out a little about this visitor before we go inside.”

“It could just be one of Austin’s friends from school,” Molly said, but I heard the doubt in her voice.

Something was strange about the motorcycle. At first, I couldn’t exactly put my finger on it, the idea hovering just out of my range of thought. But then, as I inspected the machine from a few feet away, I realized—it didn’t
gleam
. And not just because of the dust—because it didn’t have any visible metal parts. I wasn’t a gear-head type, so I didn’t know if there were specialty bikes made out of different materials, but it struck a chord of unease in the pit of my stomach. “No metal,” I said to Molly. I touched the handlebar gently. “Or…if it is metal, it’s coated with something.”