The Silver Stair

6

Orvago woke with a start, snarling loudly to get Gair's attention. The elf glanced at the floor, where the gnoll had fashioned a makeshift bed out of blankets, and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

"What are you howling about?" the elf grumbled. "I haven't had more than an hour or so of sleep, and…" Then he cocked his head. The gnoll wasn't howling; it was the wind, and the tent was flapping threateningly. Gair jumped to his feet, stuck his face outside, and instantly pulled it back in, sputtering and blinking furiously.

The wind keened furiously, a great low whistle that drowned out everything except the flapping of the canvas. The elf hurriedly searched through his clothes for his warmest pants and shirt, then struggled into them as the canvas continued to flutter madly and the center pole began to wobble. Orvago growled softly and edged toward the tent opening, cautiously crawling on his hands and knees, a ridge of hair standing up on his back.

Gair continued to hop about, pulling on stockings, then one boot, then another, all the while cursing in his native tongue. "We've got to get outside," he said as much to himself as to the gnoll. "I think this tent is about to…"

Before he could get the rest of the words out, the smaller poles tugged free of the ground and the center pole tipped, bringing the beating canvas down on the elf-but only for a moment. The wind continued to batter the tent, pulling it loose from its stakes and sending it flying away. Blankets and books followed it. Gair gave a shout as his cot spun over, banging into the back of his legs. He made a mad grab for a red leather-bound book, and the cot turned end over end away from him to disappear in the snow.

Howling, the gnoll crawled out of the path of Gair's tumbling belongings, then pressed himself into the snow as more objects passed quickly over his back. Orvago propped himself up on his elbows, only his face above the thick blanket of snow, and cupped a hairy hand over his eyes and tried to get a better look around.

The world was totally white. Snow was driven practically sideways from the south, reminding the creature of the fierce storm at sea he had endured more than a year ago. Through the nearly opaque whiteness, he saw faint shadows moving about slowly. It took several seconds to realize the shadows were people from the settlement. Above the terrifying wind, the creature heard the shouts of men and women and the frightened whinnies of horses. He heard Goldmoon. Orvago crawled on his hands and knees toward her voice.

Gair clutched his precious book to him, thrusting it inside his shirt and buttoning the shirt up to his neck to keep the book safe. The elf's teeth were chattering, and he reached out his mind to his father while he fumbled in the snow for his green woolen coat.

The elf closed his eyes against the threatening snow, bundled his coat tightly around himself, and thrust his hands deep into the pockets. "Father, can you see through this?" He concentrated on the mystical ability Goldmoon had taught him but a few hours ago, opened the door to the realm of the dead, and heard an answer in his mind, though it was difficult to understand with the roar of the wind around him. "If this snow is nothing to you, then guide me through it, Father," he implored. "I must find Goldmoon and Camilla."

The spirit, unhampered by the blizzard, unerringly guided his son around chests and crates too heavy to be tossed by the wind but hidden by growing drifts of snow. Slowly he directed Gair in the direction where Goldmoon's tent used to be.

The gnoll and the elf arrived at nearly the same time, finding the aging healer bundled in blankets, surrounded by a few dozen men, women, and children, and calling out to the rest of her followers. Some of the people were hysterical, unable to find loved ones in the blizzard. The healer was trying to gather everyone close and was counting heads.

"Jasper!" The word was lost in the wind. A dwarf at Goldmoon's feet, looking like a tree stump covered by snow, shouted that she hadn't seen Jasper since last night.

Orvago pushed himself to his feet, draping an arm across his brow in an attempt to keep some of the wind and snow out of his eyes. He leaned into the wind and headed toward where he'd hidden himself last night at the construction site. The scent of the dwarves would be strongest there.

"My baby!" A woman huddling near Goldmoon cried. "I can't find my baby!" The woman made a move to dart away, but a man held her fast and Goldmoon tried to calm her.

"My wife!" a young man blurted. "She was right next to me when we were awakened by the storm, but then we became separated on the way here. Help me find her." He, too, was entreated to stay put.

"We've got to stay together!" It was Iryl Songbrook's voice. "Call out and the others will find us."

"Amanda!" the woman wailed.

Goldmoon began calling out names again, and others joined her chorus. Their words began to cut through the wind. Camilla and Willum appeared at the edge of the group, bundled in cloaks and blankets and carrying a rope. Camilla tied it about her waist, handed the end to Willum, and headed out in search of people lost in the snow.

At the same time, Gair chatted softly to his father, confident the wind and the people's cries would conceal his conversation. "Help me find the children," he urged. "They must be brought to safety first."

There is one nearby, his father replied, and the spirit began guiding his son. Gair kept his eyes closed, wrapped his coat even tighter around him, and trustingly followed the voice in his head ever closer to the cliff.

The elf softly cursed the island as he went, so hot in the summer, so cold in winter. And this blizzard! Despite his travels, he'd never been caught in something so fierce and so cold. His teeth chattered uncontrollably, his face stung horribly, and he imagined his skin was as red as a cherry. He paused for only a moment when something tumbling along in the wind struck his legs and almost made him lose his balance. He plodded on through the deepening snow until he heard the rush of the waves beating the rocks below and heard his father practically scream in his mind for him to stop.

Careful. Kneel down, the elder Graymist instructed. Be very careful. The edge of the cliff is only inches away, and a child is just…

"Over the ledge," Gair finished, shouting to hear himself over the wind. "I think I can hear her. Barely." The elf knew it was his acute hearing that allowed him to detect something over the pounding water and the howling wind. "Must have fallen over the side. Couldn't see in this storm." I can't see in this storm either, he added to himself.

He crept forward, his bare fingers painfully cold in the snow, feeling for the edge of the cliff.

That's it! his father encouraged. Off to your right. Just a little farther! That's it…

The elf lay on his stomach, the spine of the book beneath his shirt pressing uncomfortably into his chest. He found the ledge and pulled himself to it, until his head and shoulders hung over the edge and were buffeted all around by the blast of cold and snow. He was certain he heard the girl crying now, soft and desperate for her mother. He called out to her and relied on his hearing and his father's directions to find her.

She was on a shelf several feet below the ledge, and Gair leaned over as far as he safely could, until only his hips and legs were anchoring him against the edge. "Child!" he hollered as loud as his voice could muster, sputtering when the wind whipped snow inside his mouth. His tongue felt thick and stiff from the cold. "Child!" he repeated. The crying stopped, and he felt something brush his fingertips, achingly sore now from exposure. "Grab my hand! I'll pull you up!"

He felt the faint brush of her fingers, then heard wails of "I can't… reach it." The elf turned his thoughts inward to his father, whose presence hovered in the elf's mind.

She will not climb up the rocks. She is too frightened. You must leave her, Son. Together we will search for others whom we can save. Her death will be swift, and we will welcome her into our realm. The cold is claiming her even now.

Gair hesitated and opened his eyes slightly. He knew the cliffs were steep, with few handholds in most places, and he couldn't see anything to grab on to. He could see only the never-ending sheet of bone-chilling white. It would be risky.

Too risky, my son. Don't take the chance.

"My friend is always telling me I don't take enough chances," the elf replied as he maneuvered around until he lay parallel to the cliff edge and carefully swung himself over the side. The rocks bit into his fingers, slicing into his skin as the elf struggled to hang on. His feet flailed about along the cliff face until he found a lip of rock so narrow it accommodated only the toes of his boots. He found another handhold and worked himself farther down. The rocks were coated with frost and terribly slippery, but somehow he managed to hold on until he had worked himself down to a shelf. The crying was louder here.

Slowly he inched his way toward where his fretting father said the child cowered. A heartbeat later, a small pair of arms wrapped around his leg and held tight. The crying eased a little.

Gair's fingers walked down the rock, over trails of ice, steadying himself until he could kneel without slipping. He drew the girl into his arms in the same instant he reached inside himself and searched for his mystical strength. He felt his heart, heard it beating even as he heard his father's worried words, sent the thrumming outward to wash over the child and to calm her as he had calmed the boars.

She was trembling from fear and from the cold, and Gair shuddered when he felt around her to make sure she hadn't broken any limbs. He discovered she had on only heavy socks and a nightshirt. He fumbled at the buttons of his own coat and wrapped it around her like a blanket.

"You'll be all right," he said firmly, his mouth against her ear. "I'll get you out of here. What's your name?"

A whisper.

"Amanda? That's a pretty name. I'll get you out of here safely, Amanda."

He closed his eyes again to shut out the white. With one arm, Gair cradled her to his chest, and with the other, he began searching for handholds in the rock. There were small cracks here and there that his aching fingers found, but they were too narrow to get a good grip. He barely felt his fingers as he continued to grope about.

"Damn!" he swore softly. "Father!"

The elder Graymist's words swirled in Gair's head, encouraging him to keep searching. The spirit said he perceived the cliff, but seemed unable to judge a precise path up and could not make out enough details to help with handholds. The elf's sisters joined in the spirit chorus, murmuring that Gair must not give up and that it was not yet time for his essence to join theirs in death.

"Help! Goldmoon!" He hollered loudly, realizing instantly that there was no way the healer or anyone else could hear him. Gair had no idea just how long he'd been gone from the camp. The intense cold and driving snow made it seem like hours. He held his eyes clamped shut, since they were useless to him in the whiteout. "Please," he whimpered to the departed gods as he continued to feel about.

When his sense of touch had all but abandoned him, he found a horizontal crevice just above his head large enough to squeeze most of his hand inside. He did so and pulled himself up slowly, scrambling to find footing against the cliff face, his boots scraping against rock and ice and finding nothing. He lowered himself back down, still clutching the child tightly. "It will be all right, Amanda," he said into the folds of his coat. There was no answer, and he pressed his face into the gap of his coat and opened his eyes. The child looked at him mutely, her lips a ghastly bluish tint and trembling. "My magic can't warm you," he said. "Perhaps Goldmoon can help, but I've got to get you out of here first."

He gritted his teeth and focused all of his strength into his right arm, flexing it and pulling himself up until his chin struck the edge of the crevice and his wrist. He hung there, trying to find something to wedge his boots into, but the leather was too thick and only scraped against the rocks and ice. "Nothing," he cursed as he dropped back down and stared at the cliff. Through the whiteness of the blizzard, he saw only the shadow of the rocky cliff face. He closed his eyes again.

Don't do this! his father warned. It is not yet your time! Leave her here! Use both your hands to save yourself! Don't do this!

"I've no intention of dying," Gair told him, as he struggled out of his boots and gasped when the frigid air hit his stocking feet. He tucked the boot tops under his belt at his back. "But I am getting both the child and myself out of here." He clamped his teeth together and again searched for the crevice, wedged his hand into it, and his fingers gripped the rocks. His muscles bunching, he slowly pulled himself and the child up. He flailed his feet around, searching for even the slightest of outcroppings, something he could sense with his toes. The rocks cut through his stockings and slashed at the flesh beneath, the pain keeping him alert and making him more determined.

He continued to wriggle about until his fingers felt numb and he feared he would lose his handhold. At last he found something to wedge his toes into. Plastering himself against the rock face and whispering words of comfort to the child, he cautiously released her, holding her body between his chest and the cliff. He searched with both hands now, finally finding another handhold. He held her again with one arm and pulled himself higher.

At last at the top, he lay down, gasping for breath. Even through the coat, he felt her shiver against his chest, and he struggled to pull his boots back on, all the while cradling her. Finished, Gair slammed his eyes shut again, blotting out the hateful white, and forcing himself to his feet.

"Father!" he yelled, though he knew the spirit could hear his thoughts. "Guide us back! Hurry!"

The elf stumbled along, falling more than once to his knees when he tripped over objects that had been scattered about by the wind. Each time it was harder to get to his feet, which had lost nearly all sensation and continued to move through the snow only because of Gair's force of will and his father's urging.

The wind continued to whistle unmercifully and tauntingly, stinging his face beyond feeling. Where, Father? His questions were inside his head now, his lips so horribly chapped he didn't want to move them. "Where?"

The spirit of his father continued to guide his son until Gair heard the cries of Goldmoon's throng and could find the way on his own. "Are there any more lost children?" Gair demanded of his father. The spirit reluctantly told his son where, and Gair thrust the child at Iryl Songbrook and disappeared again into the swirling snow.

Nearly a hundred yards away, Orvago found Jasper. The dwarf was hunkered down behind a large crate, which was shielding him from the worst of the wind. Jasper's eyes were closed and his snow-covered body was drawn together into a ball. The gnoll had to feel around to find the dwarf's arms.

Jasper's eyes popped open wide and he blinked furiously trying to see through the snow. The dwarf let out a howl when he spotted Orvago's snow- and icecovered visage. The gnoll rocked back on his haunches, the snow drifting up to his waist. The dwarf howled again and fumbled in the folds of his cloak until his hand found his hammer.

He tugged it free, but suddenly Orvago's paw shot forward, long fingers closing around the head and yanking it away. The gnoll rocked back again and waited, and Jasper blinked once more and finally calmed down.

"Orvago?" The gravelly voice was a whisper in the blizzard. "You startled me."

The gnoll leaned forward, returning the dwarf's hammer and taking his arm. This time Jasper didn't resist. Following the gnoll through drifts that were nearly waist-high for him but came almost to the top of the dwarf's head, he allowed himself to be led to Goldmoon's gathering. The gnoll left the camp again immediately to search for more dwarves, who had a strong scent and were easy to find.

The blizzard stopped shortly before noon, and Goldmoon and Iryl counted heads. About a dozen people were missing, but a thorough search turned all of them up. Many people were suffering exposure and needed tending. However, despite the fierceness of the storm, there was only one fatality, an elderly man who had frozen to death in the remains of his tent.

The snow seemed impossibly deep. Only the tallest of the building crates reached above the drifts, and though here and there chair legs, tent poles, and cooking pots and pans poked above the snow, the drifts had all but obliterated signs of the settlement. Camilla and Willum searched where their tents had been, looking for their armor. Nearby, the dwarves grumbled that they couldn't find the section of the foundation they'd finished.

By midafternoon, Goldmoon and her followers had retrieved the settlement's horses, uncovered the wagon, and cleared away a swath of snow around it. The gnoll had gathered wood, which, with considerable effort, was coaxed into flame. The settlers gathered close to the fire, thawing out their limbs, murmuring about lost possessions, and offering prayers for the elderly man who died. Jasper fussed over Gair, bandaging his cut hands and chastising him for not wearing warm enough clothing.

"Undoin' all the healin' I did," the dwarf sniffed. "I got better things to do than patch you up all the time. Where's your coat?" More softly, he said. "Heard you saved that little girl on the cliff. Turnin' out to be quite the hero, you are, Gair Graymist. I'm proud of you. An' I guess I'd better stop lecturin' you about takin' more chances. Just don't take too many, okay?"

Gair tried to hide a grin, thanked the dwarf for his ministrations, then headed toward where his tent used to be. He started digging in the snow, looking for his treasured books and any pieces of clothing he could put on to help keep him warm.

Iryl was directing some of the stronger men to pull the settlement's wagon toward where the trail used to be and hitch the horses to it. They finished the task and had started knocking the ice out of the wagon wheel spokes by the time an armored Camilla approached.

"Iryl Songbrook," the Solamnic commander began, "my men and I will help you load the weakest individuals on the wagon and will lead the way back into town."

Willum tromped through the snow behind her, fastening an icy breastplate as he went. Another knight followed in the path he was forging in the snow.

Iryl looked at her curiously. "I don't understand, Commander."

"I said we will help you escort these people back to the port. We can house some of them in your hostel, the rest at the Sentinel. There's a large fireplace, and-"

"I'm the only one leaving," Iryl said. "Everyone else is staying here."

Camilla stared at her.

Goldmoon joined the women. "Commander, Iryl has volunteered to return to town and gather more supplies and to send word to the mainland that we need more-more of everything, I'm afraid."

The knight glared at the healer. "You can't be serious! You can't expect these people to stay out here." She waved her hand at the throng gathered around the fire that the gnoll was continuing to stoke. "Not after that blizzard. You were foolish to be out here in winter to begin with. They'll die of exposure."

"We'll stay together and manage to keep warm. It will be all right."

"These people's lives are in danger here. I won't have it!"

"You have nothing to do with it," Goldmoon returned evenly. "You do not command these people, Lady Weoledge. They are free to do as they wish, and they wish to stay here at the settlement. We've already discussed the matter."

"What settlement, Goldmoon? The blizzard destroyed everything." The knight bristled and took a step forward. Willum grabbed her arm to hold her back. "I don't approve of your mysticism, Goldmoon," Camilla said. "Healing without the gods is preposterous. Blasphemous. I don't approve of this settlement, but these people are mine to watch over, and I'll not have them dying out here because they are too foolish to see that what you are doing is wrong. I have remained civil to you up to this point, since my orders are specific, but my orders do not include allowing these people to die because of your absurd dream."

Jasper approached the confrontation, careful to give the two women room.

"These people are staying," Goldmoon repeated. "I will watch over them."

"Like you watched over the old man who died?" Camilla paused to let her words sink in. "I am returning to the Sentinel." She squared her shoulders. "I am taking all of these people with me." She tramped away from the healer, heading toward the throng gathered around the fire. Jasper moved quickly out of her way just in time to avoid being trampled.

The knight strode purposely into the center of the gathering, glowered at the gnoll, and pointed to the wagon. "The oldest and the youngest of you will ride on the wagon. The rest of you will walk behind it. Gather whatever possessions you can find, and be ready to leave within the hour."

A woman stepped forward, holding the small girl Gair had rescued. "Commander, I appreciate your concern, but I'm staying here." Amanda, still wrapped in Gair's coat, nodded vigorously.

"I don't think you understand," Camilla continued. "I'm not giving you a choice. You are all coming with me."

The woman shook her head. "No. I don't think you understand."

Other voices were added to hers.

"The blizzard was only a minor setback," the woman's husband said. "We'll find our tent and have it up before nightfall."

"Won't take us more'n a few days to clear all this snow away," another man offered.

"We'll pile the snow up around the tents to keep warm." This from a woman who looked like a walking pile of blankets. "All this snow was a blessing in disguise!"

"Won't take us long."

"You can't force us to leave. This is our new home."

"Goldmoon will help us."

"The winter won't last forever."

"Goldmoon will guide us."

"You're welcome to stay with us, Commander. There is room for everyone."

"We're not going anywhere," the woman holding Amanda added firmly.

The knight seethed but managed to keep her temper in check. "This is foolishness," she said finally, the words hissing out between clenched teeth, "and I want no part of it." She paused and caught her breath. "Any of you who are sensible enough to return with me to town, gather your things now."

She whirled, bumping into Willum, who'd moved up behind her. He lost his balance and fell into a snowdrift. He floundered in the snow, trying to get up but succeeding in only burying himself deeper. Camilla groaned in frustration and helped him up, all the while quietly cursing Goldmoon.

"You can't mean that you're done with them," Willum said as he followed her. "Our duty-"

"Our duty is to watch over Goldmoon and these misguided fools. I know what our duty is, Lieutenant, and I'll not shirk it. But I've a letter to write to the Solamnic Council about Trevor's death, and another letter to write to Trevor's parents. I will send some of the soldiers and a half-dozen knights here to help, and I will follow in a few weeks after I've attended to some other matters. By then perhaps Goldmoon's followers will have tasted more of Schallsea's winter and will have changed their minds. Keep watch over these fools while I am away."

Camilla waited several minutes, standing thigh-deep in the snow. When it became obvious no one would accompany her into town, she turned to the south, where the trail was obliterated by drifts. She ignored the gnoll's wave good-bye and began to trudge through the snow down the trail toward town.

Carrying an armload of snow-covered books, Gair spied her leaving. He hurried to follow, pausing when he drew even with the gnoll. "Orvago, listen. I hope you Can understand me."

The gnoll cocked his head.

"These are books, prized possessions that I have a burning desire to read again and again, things you will never understand. I need you to take care of them for me. Please." He thrust the books at the gnoll and reached for a blanket he'd tied like a sash around his waist. Happing it to chase the last of the snow out of its folds, he tied it about his neck like a cape. "Please. Do you understand?"

The gnoll grinned, a trail of spittle easing over his green-gray lips and freezing before it could fall from his chin.

"Goldmoon!" Gair shouted, turning to get the healer's attention. "I'm going in to town. I'll help gather some supplies, and I'll be back before the week is out." With that, he trundled after the knight, following as fast as his legs would carry him in the path she'd made in the snow. Despite not having to break a path, it took him several minutes to catch up with the Solamnic. When he did, he was quite out of breath.

"I don't require an escort, Mr. Graymist. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

Her pace, fueled by her ire over the entire situation, was demanding, and he labored to stay even with her.

"If I needed an escort, Mr. Graymist, I would have brought Willum along."

"But I could use an escort, Lady Camilla," he huffed, "a little Solamnic protection."

"Suit yourself." Her voice quavered, and she slowed her stride.

"There could be bandits in the woods." His fingers drifted into his pocket, feeling the arrowhead he'd taken from the grave. "Though this snow seems a greater threat. No matter. I really have to go into town, and I don't care to travel alone."

You are not traveling alone, my son. Gair's father had opened the door. I will always be with you.

At the snow-covered settlement, Jasper made his way slowly toward Goldmoon, practically swimming through the snow. An unaccustomed frown was etched deeply into his broad face.

"Goldmoon," he began as he closed the distance, "the foundation's covered by a mountain of snow. Covered our timber, nails, hammers, everythin'. We can't work in this… this…" He waved his stumpy arms about as if he were trying to take flight. "This stuff!" He pointed toward a middle-aged female dwarf. "Redstone and I have been talkin' it over, an' we've decided we'll have to wait until spring to do any more buildin'. Until all of this… this… stuff has melted." Jasper paused to catch his breath. "Spring. Better workin' conditions. Much, much better."

The healer squatted, her lined face even with his. "If you don't want to work under these conditions, I understand, Jasper," she said softly.

The dwarf breathed a sigh of relief. "I told Redstone you'd understand. This blizzard made a mess out of the settlement. Maybe we should follow the knight back into town."

"You can ride on the wagon with Iryl. She's getting ready to go."

"What'll you do? When'll you join us?"

"I'm staying here. I will find others to lead the building project and we will continue in your and Redstone's absence," she added. "I'm an old woman, Jasper, and I've little time in my life to wait for the snow to melt or to wait for anything else, for that matter."

The dwarf's eyes popped wide with surprise.

"I will find someone else to replace you," she repeated. Her voice was firmer, her eyes clear. "The building project will go on."

"You can't be serious! This blizzard-"

"Brought snow, and snow can be brushed aside. I'll not let the weather stop me. The Citadel of Light will be built." She rose and trod through the snow toward the wagon, where Iryl was checking the horses.

Jasper slapped the heel of his hand against his head. He whirled on his stumpy legs and waved at the dwarves. "Everybody start clearin' away the snow! We've gotta get back to work. Now! Any thin' too wet to use, take it over there by the fire so it can dry out."

At the fire, Goldmoon's followers continued to warm their hands and make plans for putting up their tents again-this time closer together and anchored with more stakes. A few men threw more wood on the fire. Orvago shuffled closer to the flames, the people parting so he wouldn't touch them. He stared at the fire for a few moments, then tossed Gair's books on it. The gnoll grinned wide when he saw that he'd added to the blaze and had helped keep these people warm."Burning desire," he remembered Gair saying.

Iryl and Goldmoon stood by the wagon. "I'll catch up to Gair and Camilla soon enough," Iryl told Goldmoon, a lilt of laughter in her voice, "though it's going to take a good while to ford through this snow. On second thought, maybe I'll dawdle here a few more moments. Give them some time alone. In town, I'll take whatever I can from the hostel, get the merchants to donate supplies, send word out on whatever ships are in the harbor. I shouldn't be gone too long."

"Be careful," the healer cautioned, motioning for two of the settlement's sentries to accompany her. Goldmoon traced a deep scar by the wagon seat, where a spear had ricocheted off it. Her face was etched with worry. "Be very careful, my friends."