Paladin’s Hope: Book Three of the Saint of Steel

by T. Kingfisher

  Galen grunted again, because he didn’t have an answer. He had never dreamed that Piper had such stone-cold ruthlessness lurking inside him. It was impressive. It was effective. If the stakes hadn’t been so high, Galen would have been getting hard just watching him. His spongiform erectile tissue was definitely thinking about it. I never used to find competence so arousing. Probably because there’s so little of it in the world.

  Maybe it’s the robes.

  They reached the door. Piper pushed it open, letting a blaze of late afternoon light into the room. It seemed like an age of the earth had passed, but apparently it had only been a few minutes.

  The three men stepped outside and Piper ran his fingers through his hair and said, “Well. I nearly shit myself a few times, how about you gentlemen?”

  “You did not look it,” said Stephen. “At all. I would think you politely threatened commanders every day.”

  “Oh god.” Piper rubbed his hands over his face, looking suddenly much less like a marble statue and rather more like someone that Galen had kissed on multiple occasions. “I was so afraid he’d call my bluff.”

  “Was it a bluff?”

  “Mostly. I have no idea what Jorge would say, and nobody could tell timing on a death and an injury that close together. And I know people are far more worried by lich-doctors than they ought to be, but there’s not really anything the lich-doctors could do to him. We’re not going to lie about causes of death. I suppose we could arrange to drag out the paperwork for—mmmff!”

  Galen did not ever find out what the lich-doctors might do with the paperwork, because he was busy picking Piper several inches off the ground and kissing him.

  After the initial shock, just when Galen was starting to think that he had made a terrible error, Piper’s lips parted and he kissed back with enthusiasm.

  Stephen moved several feet away and gazed politely at the architecture.

  “I am an absolute fool,” said Galen, setting Piper down before he strained something. “I am the world’s most blithering idiot. I have no idea what I was thinking. You are incredible and I am convinced that if I get out of line, you will have absolutely no problem defending yourself from my stupidity. I don’t know why I thought otherwise. Have I mentioned that you’re incredible?”

  Piper was flushed and breathing heavily. “I…uh…”

  Galen clutched his head. “I should have apologized first. Before the kissing. Do you want to yell at me? You can. You should. I definitely deserve it.”

  “He absolutely does,” called Stephen.

  “Are you sure?” asked Piper.

  “That I deserve to be yelled at? Yes. Absolutely.”

  “I have done entirely too much yelling today,” said Piper. “I really don’t enjoy doing it. No, are you sure about the other bit?”

  “I have never been more sure of anything. I should have known better. I am so sorry. I will probably be sorry for the rest of my life.”

  “Lovely friezes around here,” said Stephen, to no one in particular. “Or are those bas reliefs?”

  “You did all that because you were afraid that…wait, what?”

  Galen groaned and dropped his head. “I was convinced that I’d hurt you terribly and you would be too good and kind and decent to stop me.”

  “I believe that’s an allegorical representation of something. Commerce, I think, but I’m not sure what the centaur is supposed to be.”

  Confusion, offense, and amusement warred across Piper’s expression. “And now you don’t think I’m good and kind and decent?”

  You’re handling this beautifully. You should definitely keep talking. Galen took a deep breath. “I think you’re good and kind and decent and also terrifying when you put your mind to it. I should have known better.”

  “Yes, you should have.”

  “I hurt you terribly because I was trying not to hurt you terribly. Can you forgive me? Would you even want to be seen with someone as dim as I am?”

  There was a long, long stretch while Piper studied him coolly and Galen felt like a body laid open on the slab, as if the doctor’s eyes were flaying him open and looking for something that he might not even have. Then…

  “Oh god yes,” said Piper, and kissed him again.

  “The centaur might be to indicate prosperity. He’s got a sheaf of grain, that usually follows. Or possibly the artist just liked carving centaurs. Hard to say, really. And I can’t tell if that woman over there is supposed to be Justice or Innocence.”

  “Stephen,” said Galen, disentangling himself briefly, “if you do not shut up about the carvings, I will beat you over the head.”

  “I didn’t want you to think that I was being a voyeur.”

  Piper stepped back, though his obvious reluctance made Galen feel rather better about it. “We have to go spring Earstripe. We can do this later.”

  “I’ll hold you to that,” said Galen. “And that’s a promise.”

  * * *

  “How do we get a prisoner released anyway?” asked Piper. “I’ve never done it.”

  “You haven’t?”

  “By the time I see someone, they’re usually not a prisoner any more. Or, y’know, alive.”

  “I’ll handle it,” said Stephen. “Give me the form.”

  The building housing the records was across the street. Like the guard headquarters, it was the remnant of a grand building, but far less money had been poured into fixing it. The floorboards were so slanted that if Galen had dropped a ball at the entryway, it would have rolled through multiple rooms and changed direction at least twice before it came to a stop.

  The woman at the front desk wore her hair in a severe bun, and the collar of her plain gray dress came up to her chin. Galen guessed she was one of the nuns working on the transcription project.

  “Well!” she said, as Stephen came up to the front, “aren’t you a tall, handsome one! What can I do for you, love?”

  Galen revised his guess and chided himself mentally for making assumptions.

  “I have a release order for a prisoner,” said Stephen, “but I don’t know where he’s being held. Is that something you can help me with?”

  “Sure, love, we can work it out. When did he come in?”

  Galen spoke up. “Late last night, as far as I know.”

  Piper’s guts twisted at the thought of Earstripe in a cell for most of a day. The jails in Archon’s Glory weren’t the worst things in the world, but they were hardly the place for someone with a healing injury. Please let him not relapse.

  Please let some bastard not have gone after him for just being a gnole.

  “Then you’re in luck. Records came in at noon, right as rain. Follow me.”

  They entered another room that resembled an extremely cramped scriptorium. Four women were bent over papers, making copies in neat handwriting, while a woman in the habit of the Dreaming God looked over their shoulders and made occasional corrections. Galen fought the urge to take a step back at the sight of the habit. He’d spent several months traveling with a group of very particular nuns and his instincts screamed that he was about to be given a chore and a solid helping of disapproval.

  “Sister, if you could help these gentlemen? They’re looking for a prisoner that came in last night, but they don’t know the house.”

  “Most certainly,” said the nun. “Polly, will you consult the book?”

  With the aid of Polly—who had definitely not been a nun at any point in her life, and had a saucy tattoo across her décolletage—they were able to determine the guard post where Earstripe had been taken. It was not the closest one to the gnole warren, which was both unsurprising and infuriating.

  “They didn’t want Mallory to intervene,” said Stephen, as they emerged onto the street. “It seems they are not quite certain of him either.”

  “They’ll be a lot less certain once he testifies that he fired Earstripe,” muttered Piper.

  “Oh, it won’t come to that,” said Stephen.

&nb
sp; Piper looked surprised. “You don’t think?”

  Stephen had worked more closely with the guard than any of them. “I think that the report will be quietly buried and those who pushed for it will get a stern talking-to for having embarrassed the commander. And Mallory, I fear, will bear the brunt. It will be decided that he is responsible for not having stopped the process, even though he had no way to do so. I suspect that he will not be a captain much longer. Possibly not even a guard.”

  “You’ll forgive me if I don’t have a great deal of sympathy,” said Galen.

  Stephen sighed. “I do,” he admitted. “He was a good man, I think, when he started. I feel badly for that man, if not for the one he has become. I suspect that man would be horrified by what he is now. Perhaps he will yet find redemption.”

  Galen started to say that he didn’t believe in redemption, and then Piper took his hand and he realized that he hoped quite desperately that redemption was possible. At least for some of us.

  Once they arrived at their destination, Piper released his hand. It was full dark now, and the lamplighters were walking with candles on long poles. Two gnoles were waiting in the shadows outside the guard post.

  “I suppose we could have just asked you where he was held,” said Piper. “I should have thought.”

  “No worries, bone-doctor,” said one, and grinned with all his sharp teeth. “Ours says that a healer-human is coming to free a gnole from a guard burrow. Gnoles know to wait.”

  “Ours had more confidence than I did,” muttered Piper.

  “I never doubted,” said Galen, which was not actually true.

  One of the gnoles gave him a look, and Galen was fairly sure the gnole could tell he was lying, but the gnole didn’t call him out on it.

  They squared their shoulders and went in. Stephen presented the release paperwork and the guard on duty reached for it, read the name and nodded. Galen was prepared for another fight, but the man was crisp and professional. “He’s been placed in the solitary cell,” he said.

  “Solitary!” Piper’s outrage blazed off him. “What could he possibly have done?”

  “Possessed a skull narrow enough to fit through the bars of the other cells,” said the guard. “Our facilities were not built to handle gnoles. Would you care to accompany me, sir?”

  “I would, yes,” said Stephen.

  Piper moved to follow and Galen caught his arm. The doctor might be familiar with death, but there was enough suffering in such a place to wound him, no matter how impressively competent he had proved himself to be. “They’ll be out in a moment.”

  “If he’s injured…”

  “Then we will know in short order.”

  It was a minor eternity before the door opened again and Stephen emerged with a familiar striped figure. “Earstripe,” said Piper, flinging himself to his knees. “Are you hurt? How’s your leg? Was it very bad?”

  The gnole actually laughed. “Nah, bone-doctor, a gnole is well enough. Stiff but not hurt. A gnole went quietly.”

  “I am so very sorry,” said Galen, also dropping to his knees. “It was all my fault.”

  “Guard-humans arrested a gnole, tomato-man. Tomato-man does not work for the guard.”

  “Yes, but…”

  “Perhaps we might discuss this on the way back to the warren,” said Stephen gently. “And not in the middle of the floor.”

  “Yes, of course.” Piper took Galen’s hand as the paladin pulled him up. “Do we need to call a coach? Can you walk far?”

  “A gnole is not made of straw and bird-bones.” Earstripe rolled his eyes at Galen. “Do all healers act this way? Gnole, human, all the same.”

  “All the ones I’ve met,” said Galen, squeezing Piper’s hand.

  Earstripe seemed far less troubled by his ordeal than Piper had expected. “Quiet cell,” he said cheerfully. “Dark. A gnole caught up on sleep. Not as good as a burrow, but not bad.” His crutch had vanished somewhere, but one of the waiting gnoles moved to act as a brace if he needed it. Piper tried not to fret.

  Galen explained what happened and what they had learned from Mallory and Tamsin. Earstripe listened soberly, his ears intent, not flicking aside to catch the sounds of the city. “A gnole would like to be surprised,” he said finally. “But a gnole is not. Not really.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Piper. He wanted to apologize for all humans everywhere, even knowing how foolish and futile and self-centered it was, but it would do no good. And what right do I have to inflict my need for absolution on him? “What can we do?”

  “A gnole is free. Bone-doctor has done more than gnoles could have done.”

  “Based on the message I got from Skull-of-Ice, I didn’t dare fail,” said Piper dryly. “I was afraid ours would have my skull on a pike.”

  “Nah, nah,” one of their gnole escort piped up. “Pike is fish, yes? Gnole burrow hangs from posts, put light in skull.”

  “Very decorative,” said the other.

  All three gnoles laughed rather more than the joke seemed to warrant. Piper wondered if there was more to it in gnolespeech. I absolutely must find a dictionary. Tomorrow.

  Earstripe’s own story was much shorter. “Guard-humans come to outside burrow. Humans come, tell us guard-humans are there. A gnole goes out to meet them. Was a guard-gnole, yes, should know how to talk to guard-humans. Guard-humans say a gnole comes with them, guard has inquiries.” He lifted his lip to show one fang. “A gnole remembers what inquiries involved. But humans from near burrow are there, so guard-humans do nothing. Not so bad.”

  Piper remembered the armed trio who had warned them away from the gnole warren before, and suspected that they might well have saved Earstripe from some casual violence. He grimaced. It had been too damn close. And what might have happened to him if he’d sat in that cell too long? Or if the guard on duty had been a little less professional?

  “We were lucky,” he said.

  “A gnole is lucky in his friends,” said Earstripe. He glanced at Piper and Galen’s hands. “Glad friends have stopped twisting their whiskers, too.”

  “Yes, well.” Galen ducked his head. “What can I say? I can’t smell.”

  The gnoles thought that was hilarious as well.

  On the far side of the river, they stopped. “A gnole thinks perhaps gnoles go alone,” said Earstripe. “Too many guard-humans lately. Some gnoles nervous, yes?”

  “Completely understandable. Please give Skull-of-Ice my regards. Or…err…whatever is polite there.” Piper coughed. “Ours scares me a little.”

  “Human really can’t smell if ours only scares him a little.”

  “Please let the Temple of the Rat know if we can help in any way,” said Stephen gravely. “Gnoles are part of the city and if they have a problem with the guard, the Rat will do their best to solve it.”

  “Mmm.” Earstripe flicked his whiskers. “A gnole was a solution. See how well that worked! But a gnole understands.” He looked at Piper. “Skull-of-Ice said our gnole would call on a doctor, look at dead humans, understand how humans work. Maybe start there, eh?”

  Piper wasn’t sure if human corpses were the best place to start negotiations with another species, but it was what he had to work with. Couldn’t be any worse, anyway. At least nothing hurts the dead overmuch. “Ours is welcome at any time.”

  The gnole nodded. And then the three of them melted into the shadows and left the humans standing alone beside the river.

  “Well,” said Galen, and sighed from his toes.

  “Well,” said Piper.

  They were still holding hands. Piper looked down at their clasped fingers, then up at Galen. Brown eyes met green and held for a long, long time.

  “Now this architecture,” said Stephen, rather loudly, “is a style that doesn’t really have a name, but I suspect we will end up calling it something like “Post-Flood Revival,” and seems to be characterized by—”

  “Stephen, I am going to make you eat that architecture.”

 
“Fine, fine.” The tall paladin held up his hands. “I think I’ll be heading home, then. It has been a very long, if ultimately productive day.” He glanced between the two. “I’ll leave you to escort the doctor home, shall I?”

  “Yes,” said Piper, still looking into Galen’s eyes. “I think that would be for the best.”

  Thirty-Seven

  The sheets were wrecked. Piper didn’t know how they’d managed to completely unmake the bed, but they had. Half the bedding was on the floor and his legs were on bare mattress. The room stank of sex and Piper was already envisioning the knowing look that the woman who did the washing was going to give him when he brought her the mangled sheets. There was a dark stain from the oil they’d used and he was going to have to tip the washerwoman generously to get that out again.

  It had been entirely worth it. The feeling of Galen moving inside him, that long red hair falling down over them both…no, he had absolutely no regrets about the sheets.

  “You look smug,” said Galen, idly running his fingers through Piper’s hair.

  “Smug.” Piper considered this. “Smug is probably a good word for it.”

  “I hope it was worth the wait.”

  “Fishing for compliments?” asked Piper, arching one eyebrow.

  Galen chuckled. “No need. You made more than enough noise to let me know how I was doing.”

  “Oh god.” Piper put his hands over his face. “Did I?” He’d tried to keep quiet out of respect for the neighbors and the thinness of the walls, but Galen’s hands on his body had been almost too much to bear. The paladin had been careful and tender enough to drive him half-mad with frustration, and then just when Piper was ready to pin the man to the bed and do the work himself, Galen had murmured, “Now?” and Piper had said something—“Yes,” probably, or maybe just, “For the love of god, fuck me.”

  That first hard thrust had been shocking and incredible and then something more than incredible and then the world had practically dissolved and when he could think again, his throat had been raw from shouting.