Jean Rabe - The Silver Stair

The port town of Schallsea was waking up around them. Merchants were on their way to their shops, bundled in coats on this early winter morning, walking with shoulders hunched into the wind, the ends of their scarves waving behind them like colorful pennants. Outwardly, they paid the knights little heed-that is, until they were safely past and could gawk from a respectful distance.

Chimneys were puffing smoke, tingeing the air with the scent of wood and cinnamon and bacon. Camilla inhaled deeply, finding the scents pleasing. Someone nearby was baking bread, and it sharply reminded her she hadn't eaten since early yesterday.

"Willum, I've visited many port towns, but…" The commander found herself at an unaccustomed loss for words as she stood on the shore and glanced up and down the streets that radiated outward from the docks like spokes on a wheel.

"But seldom one so tidy, Camilla."

"Tidy. Yes, Willum. Schallsea is quite tidy. I like that."

The port was large enough to accommodate warships, even several at a time. Steep granite cliffs protected the bay from storms. The buildings closest to the docks were made of stone with thick slate roofs, designed to keep the occupants safe from invading armies. The population of Schallsea had burgeoned during the War of the Lance. A large group of settlers had been the Solamnics' dark-armored enemies who used the port as a base for raids, primarily against Abanasinia and Southlund.

The streets of the walled city were remarkably clean. They were not of dirt or gravel as in most port towns in Ansalon's southern hemisphere. They were made of cobblestones, a mix of gray and rose stones, all of them looking as if they'd just been scrubbed. The storefronts were in good repair, with no peeling paint on shutters, no debris out front. The bright colors of the buildings seemed to complement each other.

As Camilla and Willum walked southwest through the town, two dozen knights marching behind and nearly a hundred soldiers trailing them, they noticed the residences were tidy and well maintained, from the modest cottages of the shopkeepers to the handful of sprawling manses with manicured lawns and sculpted evergreens.

"The citizens obviously take pride in this place," Willum observed. "It's an honor to be stationed here, Commander."

Camilla did not reply. She pointed at a keep perched on a hill at the southern edge of the bay. It was the most notable landmark in Schallsea.

"Our home," she said tersely. "At least for however long the Solamnic Council decrees we stay here."

"Quaint." Willum drew his lips into a narrow line and squinted. "Look there! Complete with ballistas and catapults to protect the harbor."

"Let's hope we won't need them." Camilla stared at the structure. The masonry had been severely weathered by the salt air. "Krynn has seen too many wars, Willum. I hope we never see another one in my lifetime."

"The battle here went well enough for us."

"I suppose, in the end, but that was a long time ago."

Willum made a humming noise in his throat. "The Dark Knights were kind enough to leave us a place to stay. It's defensible for certain."

Camilla nodded. "The Sentinel, it's called."

"Unfortunate for us they didn't finish it. Look there! Only three sides to the rear section."

She shook her head. "Actually, I consider it most fortunate they were not afforded the opportunity to finish it, Lieutenant." Camilla knew well the history of the Sentinel, eventually abandoned by the besieged Knights of Takhisis in the year 352 A.C., one year before the War of the Lance officially came to an end.

Willum adopted a cheerful tone. "Well, Commander, perhaps we will have a chance to finish it. We could import some stone, obtain the services of some builders. It's rather small, after all. Certainly not up to the usual Solamnic standards. I would think if we-"

"I have other things to worry about than bricks and mortar just now, Lieutenant."

Willum's lighthearted demeanor turned instantly serious.

"Have the men unload the arms and equipment, then get them settled in their barracks." She eyed the rank of knights and selected six of them. "You and I and these men will visit our charges. I'll meet you at the northern edge of the city in one hour. Make sure everyone gets something to eat. We've a hard march ahead of us." Camilla acknowledged the salute of her knights and pivoted sharply on her heels. She had just enough time for a quick tour of the port town. She heard Willum call that she should get breakfast herself, but she had other concerns. She suspected that food would only further upset her already churning stomach.

She walked purposely up and down the side streets, noting that there did not seem to be a single empty residence. A few clipped questions confirmed that all the boarding houses were full. An abandoned temple had been recently turned into an apartment building, and a kindly woman outside the entrance said many of those rooms would be filled with the next boatload of newcomers. Did she need accommodations? Camilla shook her head and moved on.

The knight commander saw that despite the cold Schallsea's carpenters and masons were doing a booming business, scrambling to finish a new row of houses before winter set in. At the edge of her vision, stakes and ribbons hinted that other streets were planned, extending eastward into the heart of the island. Gray and rose cobblestones were piled nearby, indicating they would be improved soon. Schallsea was growing rapidly, perhaps too rapidly. A shiver danced down her spine.

She paused outside an establishment called The Cozy Hearth, a sunny-looking hostel with butter-colored eaves and shutters painted seafoam green. A sign rested against the windowpane: Pilgrims Welcome . In smaller print, it announced, Comfortable beds, Rates reasonable, no one refused. Iryl Songbrook, proprietor. The knight's scowling image was reflected in the window.

Camilla's hair was boyishly short, her tight mahogany curls looking like a cap. Her nose was slightly hawkish, her cheekbones high, and her eyes a bit too large for her face. She wasn't unattractive by any means, but in her opinion she was a little too tall and hardly beautiful. She did little to improve her appearance or to make herself look feminine or appealing. She had more important things to address. She let out a long breath, turned away from the window, and continued her tour.

It was easy to see which buildings had stood since the War of the Lance. They were of thick stone, squat and looking a bit like the shells of tortoises. The newer buildings, mostly farther from the harbor, were two and three stories tall and were made of a combination of stone and wood. Most had sod roofs. Though the majority of the businesses were close to the harbor, other establishments were scattered here and there along the side streets: bakeries, weaponsmiths, clothiers, grocers, leather workers. They were practical businesses, catering to people's needs, nothing prone to much extravagance such as a jeweler's, florist's, or an art gallery. It was a simple town. The larger Schallsea grew, the more it would change.

Camilla hurried toward a stable at the northern end of town, realizing her tour had taken much longer than she expected. It was one of the new buildings, judging by the men still painting it, and considerably larger than the stable near the docks. She spied Willum talking to a thickset man with red paint smudges on his shirtsleeves. Her knights, their duffel bags at their feet, were leaning against the corral, admiring the horses snorting in the chill air.

"Commander!" Willum snapped to attention when he spotted her, and the knights immediately drew themselves away from the horses and formed a line behind the lieutenant.

She nodded curtly to them and started walking down the path that led out of town. Willum rushed to walk at her side, awkwardly shouldering two packs. The knights followed in single file.