He leaned against the wooden pillar that marked the doorway, feeling his own weariness catching up with him. Perhaps I’m just getting maudlin because I’m tired.
The white-blazed gnole called out the door and two young gnoles slipped by Galen, listened politely, and then left again, returning with damp cloths for Earstripe’s ears. One peeled the patient’s lips back and the other rubbed some kind of oil onto the gnole’s gums. Probably better than trying to shove something down his throat and getting bit. Galen lost track of the conversation for a moment, his eyes swimming. When he lifted his head, the two young gnoles had moved aside and the white-blazed gnole was sitting on a stool. Definitely tired.
Piper seemed to have gained new energy, talking animatedly with the doctor. He stretched out his own leg and traced a line with his fingers, marking the path of the femoral artery. Brindle was hard-pressed to keep up with the translation, but apparently ours understood anyway because ours slapped their knees and made Brindle stretch out his leg, tracing a different path with one clawed hand. Piper put a hand to his heart in clear relief. “I was terrified the entire time,” he admitted, “that the bolt was close to the artery. I wish I’d known.”
“Now our gnole knows,” translated Brindle. “If our gnole ever works on a human, maybe our gnole won’t accidentally bleed them dry.”
“Brindle,” said Piper, “would it be rude to ask if ours would be willing to teach me a little more about how gnole anatomy works? Not right this minute, of course, but in the near future? I would be happy to return the favor as much as I can. It might help us both to save lives someday.”
Brindle considered this. “A gnole can ask,” he said slowly. “Ah…ours is…very high-caste. Bone-doctor understands?”
Piper looked at Galen and Galen felt foolishly pleased that he could help. “I believe he’s trying to say that ours is an extremely senior doctor, and you would need to treat ours as such.”
Piper chuckled. “I am not very senior,” he told Brindle. “I promise that I will give ours all the respect I would give one who is far wiser than I. And ours may set the time and place of ours choosing.” He paused, then added, “If ours would like to come to my workplace and view human bodies, it’s a large part of what I do.”
The gnole doctor listened to Piper’s relayed request with interest. At one point, ours whiskers flicked sharply, though Galen could not tell if it was with dismay or simple surprise. Is it the bodies? Grave-gnoles handle corpses and they are the lowest caste of gnole society. Is ours alarmed by Piper doing grave-gnole work?
When Brindle had finished, the gnole doctor bent over Earstripe, examining his wound again, then barked a few words over ours shoulder. Galen could see Brindle’s astonishment at whatever ours had said, and braced himself in case it was a sharp rejection.
“Ours has a name,” said Brindle. “Humans would say…Skull-of-Ice, yes? Ours allows bone-doctor to use the human version.” He swallowed. “Our gnole says that ours will come to bone-doctor’s burrow and look at human dead. Ours says that lives will be saved between you.” The gnole shot Galen a pleading look. “Our gnole honors bone-doctor with this, and with our name. Tomato-man, can you explain for a human? Better than this gnole can?”
“You’ve explained very well, I think,” said Piper. He looked over at Galen. “Am I missing anything?”
“I don’t think you’re missing anything,” said Galen. “But I think this may be…ah…somewhat unprecedented. It might be like Beartongue visiting a temple of a different god in another nation. Ours is doing you a favor, but it’s a favor that extends to any other humans ours might have to treat, if that makes sense?”
Piper nodded and turned back to Brindle. “Please convey all my gratitude to Skull-of-Ice. Ours is very generous to a human who cannot smell.”
Brindle repeated this. Skull-of-Ice cackled, reached out, and tapped a claw against Piper’s nose. Galen felt a swell of pride at how well the doctor had handled things. It was a great compliment, he was certain, and Piper had responded in exactly the right way.
Skull-of-Ice made shooing motions toward the humans and to Brindle and gestured to the assistants who were waiting patiently with cloths and poultices. Piper bowed to the gnoles and retreated into the hallway where the other two paladins waited.
“Is everything all right?” asked Shane.
Piper nodded, exhausted but clearly satisfied. “He’s in good hands,” he said. “Far better than mine.”
“But you kept him alive to get there,” said Galen.
The doctor made a small noise of acknowledgment. “I suppose there’s that.” His eyes met Galen’s and in their dark brown depths, Galen could see the memory of that long, terrible vigil at Earstripe’s bedside.
No stranger to vigils himself, he wondered how many Piper had kept, over the living and the dead. But the doctor had come through his kinder and fiercer in defense of the living. Galen had only come out older and more broken. As exhausted as we are, his first thought was to ask if the gnoles could help him to save more lives. That’s what he does.
And I think I’m in love with him.
He had to look away. Piper’s eyes were too bright. The doctor might be able to read Galen’s thoughts in them, and that would be far too dangerous.
He looked down at his hands instead. Hands which had killed more people than he could even remember. Hands which he’d briefly wrapped around Piper’s throat. A man he loved.
Oh gods and saints, thought Galen, I’ve got to let him go.
Twenty-Nine
“Well,” said Piper, as they stood outside the gnole warren. “Well.” He swayed a little on his feet. “I suppose all we can do now is wait for word.”
“I will see you home, then,” said Galen.
Piper gazed at him for a moment, then smiled. It was a sweet, unguarded smile, bright with relief, and Galen’s heart clenched. Let me steal a last few minutes. Then I’ll have to end this. The sooner the better.
“We’ll all see you home,” said Marcus. “If somebody tries to jump you, Galen’s going to be about as much use as tits on a bull.”
“Marcus, I will absolutely fight you.”
They walked out of the warren together. Galen took Piper’s arm and they leaned against each other and it felt good and correct and he wanted more and his heart ached with it. He wanted to walk more slowly so that they did not reach the end of their journey. He wanted to store up the warmth of Piper’s shoulder against his, the way the light woke red highlights in Piper’s dark hair, the sound of his laughter, hoarse with exhaustion, when Marcus said something particularly outrageous. Oh Saint, why didn’t I pay closer attention when we were in the maze? I should have committed every bit of him to memory.
But eventually, no matter how slowly Galen went, their feet led them back across the river and into a familiar part of the city. It’s almost over. You must do this and be done with it. Quick, before it has time to hurt even more.
“I’m just down here,” said Piper, gesturing to the street. He looked awkwardly at Shane and Marcus, then over to Galen. “Ah…”
Galen tried to think of a polite way to tell the other two paladins to make themselves scarce. Unfortunately, at the moment all he could think of was, “Get lost, you bastards,” and that seemed undiplomatic.
“I think I’d like a beer,” rumbled Marcus. He looked at Shane. “And so would you.”
“I would?” said Shane, who rarely drank at all.
“Yes. You would love one.”
“Subtle, your friends,” said Piper, watching the two paladins retrace their steps to a small tavern on the corner of the street.
“They mean well,” said Galen with a sigh. “But we were mostly called in to be killing machines.”
Piper’s lips tightened a little, which only solidified Galen’s resolve. He’s a healer, and I’m truly no different than that scorpion thing I bashed to death. He needs to be with someone else entirely. Someone whose only purpose isn’t putting more bodies on t
he slab in front of him.
This is for the best.
He bit down on the sudden rush of anguish at the thought, and followed Piper down the street to his door.
* * *
His apartments were cool but not chill, the brick of the small fireplace radiating heat. Judging by the warmth of the chimney, the neighbors had been cooking recently. Piper wanted to fall down and weep with relief, or possibly just fall down. He had never been so glad to be at home in his own rooms.
“Come inside?” he asked Galen nervously. The paladin had been silent the entire walk down the street, and Piper could feel tension growing in his gut. Something was wrong. Something had been wrong since they left the gnole warren.
Galen stepped inside the door and stood in the entryway, very obviously not coming any further inside.
“Would you like tea?” Piper asked, because he had to say something. Galen shook his head, and Piper could read something about the set of his lips that set off even more warning bells. “It’s funny,” he said, rushing to fill the silence, “it seems like we did everything in the wrong order. We know all the important things about each other and none of the small things. I don’t even know if you like tea. Maybe you’re allergic to it.”
“Piper…”
“You could stay here tonight, if you wanted. I don’t mean for—I mean, we’re both exhausted, obviously. I could make you up a pallet in here. If you wanted.”
You’re babbling again because you’re afraid of what he’ll say if you let him get a word in edgewise. Because no one ever has that look in their eyes when they’re about to say, “This is interesting, let’s see where it goes.”
“Piper,” said Galen, a little louder.
You’re an adult. This is not the first time you’ve been rejected. You can handle having a man say he doesn’t want to see you anymore. Yes, a very sexy man, yes, a brave decent man who saved your life several times over, but it’s not as if you’ve known him for more than two weeks. Try to keep what little dignity you have left. Piper began filling the kettle resolutely.
“I think,” said Galen, very carefully, “that it would be best if we do not continue seeing each other.”
He’d been half-expecting it but it still landed like a blow to the chest. “Ah,” he said, and pressed his lips tightly together to keep anything else from escaping. He focused on pouring water from the jug into the kettle. He might not have dignity, but at least he would have tea.
When he was absolutely certain that he would not babble or weep or cling to Galen’s ankle, he said, very carefully, “May I ask the reason why?”
Even with his eyes locked on the kettle, he could feel the paladin wince.
“You’re a good man,” said Galen. “You deserve better.”
“Ah,” said Piper again.
From anyone but a paladin, he’d have considered that one of the classic lines, up there with, “I’m just not ready for anything serious” or “I’m sorry, I have suddenly been called to the priesthood.” The hell of it was that Galen might actually mean it.
He took the kettle over to the hearth and began trying to start a fire. It would have been easier if his hands weren’t shaking. It was two weeks and one quick toss in a corner. There’s no reason to feel like your heart is breaking. He pushed the emotions away, the way he had become so skilled at doing. When you’re both on a slab, none of this will matter anyway.
“You are also a good man,” he said. He sounded calm, which was good. All that practice finally paying off. The wound might be mortal, but there was no sense letting the patient see you panicking. “I can accept that you don’t want to see me in particular, but don’t give up just because you have an inflated sense of your own unworthiness.”
He heard the paladin move closer, and his nerves prickled with awareness of the other man’s closeness. Stupid nerves. What did they know about it?
He finally managed a decent spark onto the tinder and breathed gently onto the flame. It flickered, nearly going out, and if he were a different sort of man, he’d think it was a metaphor but Piper was a lich-doctor so he took a deep breath and thought about a burn victim he’d seen on the slab. No matter how you feel, you’re still doing better than they were.
This was less comfort than one might expect.
“You don’t understand,” Galen grated. “There’s no happy ending. I can never sleep beside another human being again. I’ll always be dangerous.”
“So what?” Piper finally turned to look at him. “My god, man, great love poems aren’t written about how lovers get eight hours of sleep a night and no one steals the covers. So maybe we fuck and then go to separate beds. So what?”
He wished immediately that he hadn’t mentioned love. It wasn’t love that he felt. It was much too soon for love, wasn’t it?
The cold knot in his chest made him horribly afraid that it wasn’t.
Galen opened his mouth, closed it again, and then looked away. “Piper,” he said, almost gently, “you are kind and you care very much about people and you don’t give up even when things seem lost, and that means that you wouldn’t give up on me. And I am already a lost cause. All I could do is drag you down with me.”
“Ah,” said Piper, for a third time.
The silence stretched out, beyond strained into unbearable. “Perhaps you should go,” said Piper finally.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I believe you.”
Galen let himself out. The door clicked quietly behind him. Piper sat in front of the hearth and made a cup of tea and didn’t drink it until long after it went cold.
* * *
“I am going to guess by your face that it didn’t go well,” rumbled Marcus, as the three paladins walked toward the Temple of the Rat.
“It went fine,” said Galen. Was that a lie? Maybe. What did you expect Piper to do, smile and nod and say, “You’re so very right, let’s never speak of this again?”
You could never make him happy. You could only make him as miserable as you are. You’d run roughshod over him. He hasn’t got the steel to stand up for himself against you.
The memory rose unbidden of Piper darting into the trapped room to touch the corpse there. That isn’t the same, he argued with himself. That was recklessness or courage or some combination of the two. I’ve got that.
“Fine,” said Marcus. “Yes. I believe that. That is why you take five minutes to answer a question and look like you swallowed a weasel.”
“It wouldn’t have worked,” said Galen. “Him and me. It’s better this way.”
“I thought that you two seemed quite close,” offered Shane.
“And you’re both snarky bastards,” agreed Marcus.
“No,” said Galen. “I mean, yes, we are, but he’s…nice. If you scratch him, you get all this caring and decency. If you scratch me, there’s just more me.”
“You are literally a paladin sworn to defend the innocent and downtrodden,” said Marcus.
“You both know as well as I do what that’s worth these days.”
Marcus looked as if he might argue the point. Galen glared at him. “You of all people should understand. You walked away after Hallowbind too, didn’t you?”
The other man inhaled sharply. Shane, who had been walking a little behind them both, stepped forward and quietly inserted himself in the middle. Marcus fell back a step, but not before Galen saw the slash of anguish across his face.
There, you see? That’s what I’ll end up doing to anyone who cares about me. Marcus is as tough as an old boot and I still hurt him. Piper’s got no defenses against someone like me.
He was right. He was most definitely right. So why did he feel as if he’d made a terrible mistake?
They reached the Temple. Galen wanted nothing more than to go inside and fall down and sleep for a year, god willing without dreams.
“I will make a preliminary report to Beartongue,” said Shane. “She’ll want to grill you in the morning.”
“And then the guard will want to grill me again,” said Galen wearily. “Yes, I know. If I can get a little sleep, I’ll manage.”
Shane nodded and turned away. Marcus stayed behind, setting one hand on the doorframe of Galen’s room.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” Galen said. “I didn’t mean to throw that in your face. It’s just that you know, and no one else does. No one else was at Hallowbind.”
“I know,” said Marcus. He was staring into the distance. Galen wondered what he was seeing. His wife? Or what scraps were left of the dead at Hallowbind when we were done with them?
“I think about her every day,” said Marcus finally. “She’s the first thing I think about when I wake up. I can’t let it go.”
“But she’s safe,” said Galen.
“I hope she is,” said Marcus. He focused on Galen finally, and his deep brown eyes were bleak. “I hope she’s happy. But sometimes I wonder if she’s thinking about me when she wakes up too. Maybe all I’ve done is condemn us both.”
He stepped back and let the door close. Galen stripped off his clothes, sponged the worst of the dirt off himself, then fell down on the bed and let exhaustion stop his mind from self-recriminations.
Thirty
Piper slept for nearly two days, waking only to use the chamberpot, drink water, and on one heroic occasion, stagger down the street to a food cart and buy something. It was mostly onions and beans, but there was a piece of fish in it that gave him a bad moment until he managed to spit it out, his mouth tingling with a remembered hook.
Paladin’s Hope: Book Three of the Saint of Steel Page 20