"You believe in all of this, don't you?" Camilla interrupted.
He took the knight's hand and led her down one of the several paths that had been cleared through the thigh-high snow. The paths led from tent to tent to the main cookfire to the old building site, which was completely free of snow because of the heat of the recent fire. Only a light dusting from the new snow tried to conceal the rubble.
The eldest of the builders was already at work clearing away more of the debris. He was none too pleased about the weather and was cursing the snow that was still falling. "It doesn't snow inside Thorbardin," he muttered loudly enough for Gair and Camilla to hear.
"This section will be-" the elf paused, drawing his lower lip under his teeth as he searched his memory for the new plans he'd only bothered to glance at-"part of what will be called the Healing Lyceum. We're standing in what will be its very center." He led her toward the edge of the old site, where bits of charred wood still remained, and he pointed down into a deep, snowdusted basement. He tugged her back when he discovered how slippery the ground was. "Careful," he warned, pointing at a patch of ice that looked dull-gray in the pale dawn light. "According to Redstone's and Jasper's plans, the lyceum will have five floors, and part of it will cover this."
The Solamnic commander shook her head in disbelief. "I can't believe Goldmoon isn't giving up."
Gair smiled wistfully. "I don't think she knows how."
"I wish I knew who was working against you. The ambush on the trail. The fire: it's not bandits-they wouldn't destroy, they'd steal. Maybe Knights of Takhisis, sent here to vex Goldmoon, though I thought they had some measure of honor and would have attacked openly. I just don't know." She ran her fingers through her tight curls. "I might not agree with what's going on here, Gair-Goldmoon's mysticism and everything- but these attacks against you must stop. I've sent word to the council that I need skilled scouts. They should be here in a few more weeks, and with them we'll get to the bottom of this."
"Are you warm enough for this?"
She nodded. The red wool cloak the knight wore this morning, coupled with the thick padding under her armor, kept the cold at bay. "I just wish I knew who the dastards are. An enemy you know is easier to fight."
Gair decided to change the subject as he steered her past Jasper and Redstone at the dwarven tent community. Both had their hair trimmed oddly short, and their skin was still terribly blistered from the fire. The smell of roast pork and the crackling of eggs cooking was rousing all the builders. They were chattering in their gravelly voices, seemingly oblivious to the human and elf.
"Jasper's going to build a tower for the knights you intend to station here. Maybe you should talk with him to make sure it will be big enough."
Her eyes flashed with a hint of anger. "Is all of this really necessary?" She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, then opened them again and took in the camp. Though the tents and lean-tos were much closer together now than before the blizzard and the fire, it still looked the same: a ragtag community of dreamers who had bundled up their hopes and worldly possessions and who had hitched themselves to the aging Hero of the Lance. "Why would someone of Goldmoon's age undertake something like this? She used to be a priestess of Mishakal. This"-she waved her hand to indicate the settlement-"this goes against the gods, and it goes against all my principles to protect her."
"But that's what you're doing-protecting her."
No answer. Her eyes were fixed on two bundled-up boys doing their best to add extra tent stakes to their canvas home. They were fighting with the frozen ground, and neither showed any indication of giving up.
Gair shrugged. "Camilla, I believe in Goldmoon. But maybe I don't always agree with her. I would have given up after the blizzard."
"This image you're painting of multiple buildings is most disturbing. Imagine how long it could take to construct them. Imagine the cost! The steel could be better spent helping the poor, rebuilding towns devastated by dragon attacks, paying soldiers in an army, funding…" She spun until her face was inches from Gair's. "Don't you realize this is all a frivolous waste of resources? If Goldmoon isn't senile, she must surely know that people, not this new order of mysticism, could make far better use of the money and effort."
Camilla scrutinized the elf. He looked like a twolegged bear in his hooded coat. She sighed and started to draw away, but he pulled her closer. "Gair, Goldmoon could have at least waited until spring when the weather was better. All the money and effort will be doubled if there are more fires and-"
"And perhaps the citadel will never be more than a dream," he said, "especially if this sabotage keeps up." He moved his face closer still until he could smell a hint of rose, something she washed her hair with. "If things get too bad, Camilla, maybe Goldmoon will take her project somewhere else. Then you'll have nothing to worry about."
"Will you go with her?"
The elf brought his slender fingers to her cheek, his thumb brushing her lips.
"Mornin', Commander, Mister Graymist," Willum interrupted as he hurried past toward a growing rank of soldiers. He drilled them each morning, though there were fewer today because several had accompanied the dwarves. "Cold one this mornin', isn't it? Cold enough to make your eyes freeze open."
The moment lost, Camilla stiffened and turned to watch the men.
"Good morning, Commander!" a tardy soldier chirped as he crisply saluted Camilla and rushed to find his place in line. The knight's eyes narrowed. She would reprimand the young man for his lateness when she returned this evening.
Gair tugged her away, noticing that she relaxed a little when they passed a high drift and the men were lost from view. He reached his hand to her face again as they slipped around another drift and were nearly knocked over by Orvago.
The gnoll grinned as he trundled by, growling a greeting to her and the elf. He was shuffling through the deep snow, making his own path and angling toward the building site, his bandaged arms wrapped around a bundle of wood dowels. Two shaggy mongrels followed him, light enough to scamper on top of the drifts. They barked and playfully nipped at each other's tails.
Camilla had seen the dogs before, hanging around the docks in town, though their ribs showed more prominently there. Even the four-legged strays had found their way to Goldmoon's settlement, she mused.
The gnoll barked at the dogs, and they barked back. One darted in front of Orvago, and he stumbled. Dowels went flying everywhere, landing in the snow, most of them sinking as if they were arrows shot from a bow. The gnoll howled, the dogs joined his chorus, and tardy risers poked their heads out of their tents to see what the ruckus was about.
"Hard to be alone here," he said too softly for her to hear.
"Wherever did this notion to build the citadel arise? Did you and Goldmoon spend months planning it?"
The elf gave a clipped laugh. "This Citadel of Light started as a vision," Gair began as he took her arm and steered her toward the main cook tent, where he was given a large basket of dried fish. "Goldmoon came up with the idea after she climbed the Silver Stair. She said she had a dream of dormitories for her students of mysticism, chapels, halls, lodging for visitors, stables, shrines, a great garden in the center, and in the very center of that the Silver Stair. Perhaps a moat around the entire complex, and…"
"And… ?"
"I guess the whole thing is pretty overwhelming."
"Sounds like a nightmare, not a dream."
The pair struck out toward the east now, plodding through the snow and making their own path as the gnoll had tried to do. It would take them perhaps a few hours to reach Heartspring walking through these heavy drifts. Without the snow, the trip of a few miles took little time.