He found the far corner by virtue of running his head into it. He stared at it dizzily, thinking for a moment that more blades had fallen around him, but there were no holes in the walls and there was a whole apple between his hands. It was possibly the most beautiful object he had ever seen in his life.
I’m alive, he thought, picking up the apple. How am I alive?
He turned around, putting his back into the corner. His knee was complaining. The blades continued to fall from the ceiling, one after another, each offset a little way from the next, like a chef chopping vegetables.
It was nerve-wracking to watch, but Galen forced himself to do so. I have to get the others through here safely. There’s a pattern. It’s actually very straightforward. The first blade falls, then the next, then the next. Then each retracts, and then they fall again. If you step forward every time one retracts, to the next one in the sequence, you can walk through to the corners. The perpendicular blades are just the same, you just want to stay as close to one that’s already fallen as you can, so the next one misses you.
It didn’t look hard. It did look as if it would require iron nerves. If you panicked, you were mince. He had done the worst possible thing by trying to run through it, and the throbbing pain in his knee was proof of that. Nevertheless, just like all the rooms before, there was a way out. It was just that you couldn’t rely on the corners close to the door this time. The room had been designed to force people to cross the floor to survive.
It seemed like a lot longer than six minutes before the blades stopped falling. Galen ate the intact apple thoughtfully, trying to time the motions.
When the clicking finally stopped, he banged on the door to let his companions know he wasn’t dead, and sat back down, apple in hand, thinking.
Mostly he was thinking about Piper. About having the man down on his knees, with his mouth and those clever fingers working on Galen’s cock, and damn the consequences, because they were probably all going to die. Do you want to go out horny and frustrated and angry at yourself, or do you want to go out with a smile on your face?
It all suddenly seemed very straightforward. Probably it had been all the blades falling around him. There was something about having gigantic sharp objects slamming down close enough to cut your hair that really focused the mind on the here-and-now.
You’d think you were contemplating a marriage proposal, not tossing each other off in the corner. You, of all people! Piper’s never given the slightest indication that he wants more than that, and you’ve never wanted more than that in your life. One quick lay and your mind will clear and you’ll part friends. That’s how it always happens. Quit fretting like Stephen and get your hands on that man’s cock.
His own spongiform erectile tissue started to respond, and…dammit, now he’s got me doing it. I’m never going to get hard again without thinking about what the tissue inside my nose is doing.
The inside of the human nose was not a sexy thing to contemplate, except to a select few persons with highly specialized tastes. Galen was not among them, which was why, when the door finally opened, he was able to walk straight.
“Galen!” said Piper. “Galen, I—”
The paladin held up a hand. “You,” he said to Earstripe, “are a genius.” Then he kissed Piper passionately. And if that doesn’t make your toes curl inside your boots, I am not doing it correctly.
“Uh,” said Piper, when the kiss had finished, probably because Earstripe was tapping his foot. “Uh. I. Uh. I had a…thing. A thought. I was thinking.”
Galen waited politely.
“No! Yes! It’s not a trap or a torture chamber or a religious thing! I know what it is!” Piper waved his hands, apparently trying to pull his thoughts back in order. “It’s an obstacle course.”
Twenty
“An obstacle course,” said Galen. He slapped his forehead. “Yes, of course. Like in the army. You run a little way and then you have to go over a wall and then you run another little way and then you have to crawl under something and then there’s a dummy with a sword you have to fight.”
“Yes! Exactly!” Piper was so excited that he was practically bouncing on his toes. “Only this is an obstacle course for the ancient’s machines. Like the clocktaurs, only smaller. Humans were probably never meant to be here. It was all for the machines that we saw broken apart in the pit.”
“A machine isn’t very good at thinking, though,” said Earstripe. “Clocktaurs thought some, but mostly were just big. Clocktaur couldn’t run this.”
“The clocktaurs we saw couldn’t,” said Galen. “But those were controlled by demons, and most demons aren’t very smart. Word from the Dreaming God’s people is that they were meant to be controlled by human souls.”
Piper grimaced. “Maybe these little machines are, too. Maybe it’s some kind of bizarre training ground. Or an entertainment, like a steeplechase. Hell, for all we know, the ancients were shoving condemned prisoners into machines and betting on how far they’d get.”
“A gnole doubts it matters why,” said Earstripe. “A gnole just wonders if it’s good or bad for two humans and a gnole.”
“It’s good,” said Galen. “Isn’t it? It means that there’s always a way out.”
“It means there’s a way out for a machine,” said Piper. “Not necessarily for one of us. The poison gas room, for example. Maybe it was a corrosive, and the machine would have had to brace itself against the ceiling.”
“Thank you for that little ray of sunshine,” said Galen.
“It’s what I do.” We’re back to banter. Oh thank god. Kissing and banter and no one is dead yet. Impossibly, Piper felt his heart lift. We’re going to get through this.
Galen went through the room twice more before he was confident that he’d gotten the pattern down. “It’s not hard,” he said. “Or rather, it is, but I can walk you through it. There’s enough space for two, barely. Who wants to go first?”
“A gnole took an oath to serve and protect,” Earstripe said. “A gnole is not a guard-gnole now, but a gnole swore.”
“I’m not sure that oath covers obstacle courses of death in a murderer’s basement,” offered Piper.
“Oaths are oaths,” said Galen. “I took one. You probably did as a doctor, too.”
“Yes, but it was mostly about doing no harm and not a lot about death traps.”
“A gnole would prefer traps to philosophical discussion.”
“Right,” said Galen. “Now you’re gonna stand pretty much on my feet, and move when I say…”
The door shut behind them. Piper fretted, even though he trusted Galen’s skills. And you know damn well that Earstripe is a lot more agile than you are, and a lot less likely to get you both killed.
He tried to distract himself with more pleasant thoughts, like the bit where Galen had kissed him. Unfortunately, that led to the bit where he had blurted out, “Spongiform erectile tissue!” which was possibly the least suave thing he had ever said in his life.
It worked, though. He stopped talking about how broken he was and how wrong it was, and started kissing again. I would call that a win.
Are all paladins like this, or just this one in particular? Granted, his experience was mostly limited to a few from the White Rat, but they all seemed rather solemn and brooding. Galen wasn’t solemn and didn’t look like he was brooding, but it was pretty clear that he’d been gnawing over his own unworthiness for a long damn time.
Which was utter nonsense. So the man had a pretty severe sleep disorder, so what? He was also brave, loyal, calm in a crisis, and had a wicked sense of humor. He was the person that Earstripe had gone to when the gnole needed someone to talk to humans for him, and he’d done it while making it very clear that the gnole was still in charge. Piper couldn’t think of many of his fellow humans who would do that gracefully.
Also he kissed like he had been about to throw Piper down and ravish him right there. Possibly he would have, if the door hadn’t opened at an opportune moment.
Piper swallowed, feeling himself starting to get half-hard again just at the memory.
And then he kissed me again. Like he hadn’t regretted it. Granted, that may have been adrenaline, but still…
Stop that. Think about something useful. Otherwise you’re just going to stand here being frustrated, or you’ll try to do something about it and lose track of time and they’ll open the door to find you standing here with cock in hand like a teenager.
Sleep disorders. Sleep disorders were not sexy, particularly when they lead to berserker fits. Piper didn’t know enough about berserkers to even speculate as to the connection, and it seemed like a touchy topic for Galen. Perhaps he could ask Stephen, when all this was over. Stephen was calm to the point of being morose.
The usual treatments for sleep disorders ranged from the practical, like tying the sufferer’s feet together, or having him sleep in what amounted to a drawstring sack, to the cruel, like dousing him with ice-cold water in the middle of the night if it looked as if he were about to start a disturbance. That last seemed very unwise with Galen, and not particularly useful in treating the underlying cause.
Fact is, we don’t actually know how to treat sleep problems. I know some people dose themselves with laudanum before sleep, but that just gets you a laudanum addiction on top of everything else.
No, in practical terms, Galen was stuck with his condition. But although Piper would never say it to him, it could have been a great deal worse. He didn’t sleepwalk, which might have exposed others to danger, and he hadn’t mentioned harming himself in his sleep. He just could not be safely awoken from a nightmare.
So he doesn’t share a bed with anyone. At least, not for anything other than…dammit, that’s what you were not supposed to be thinking about.
Still, it was clear that Galen was far more upset by it than anyone else. Half the lovers Piper had had—all four of them, if he was being honest, and a handful of quick encounters—had been uninterested in sharing a bed after sex. One had done so out of a kind of awkward courtesy, but he clearly didn’t prefer it, and after a night or two, Piper had made a habit of excusing himself to go home to his own bed.
For that matter, Piper wasn’t entirely sure that he wanted to sleep beside another human being himself these days. He kept strange hours and he had his own pillow and his own blankets and if he wanted to get up three times in the night to use the chamberpot, he wasn’t bothering anyone.
But how do you convince a paladin of that?
Come to think of it, does he even want to be convinced?
It had been two kisses. That was all. For all Piper knew, Galen wanted one of those quick encounters and then they would go back to the city and Galen would move on to the next encounter and Piper would…would…
Throw myself into my work and feel sad, I suppose. He wouldn’t be the first attractive man looking for a notch on his bedpost and nothing more.
This dampened Piper’s ardor significantly. He had never been good at casual encounters. Every time he ended up wanting more. Which always felt desperately needy, which left him feeling even more miserable. All I want in life is to have a sexy man make passionate love to me, eat a nice meal together, and then I’ll leave to go chop up corpses. Is that really so much to ask?
Apparently it was.
Annnnd now I’m depressed. Is that better or worse than aroused? Probably worse. I should be trying to figure out how this ridiculous maze works, not moping around thinking about One Night Stands I Have Known.
He leaned his head back against the wall. Machines. Machines running an obstacle course. Machines like small clocktaurs. What do you gain by running a machine through an obstacle course?
With human soldiers, they were supposed to become better soldiers—but no military obstacle course would include endless fatal traps. Hard to improve if you’re dead. But the clocktaurs weren’t exactly alive. Though they were run by demons. Were the small machines made the same way?
No, the ancient clocktaurs had had human souls animating them. The ancients could have put a human soul into the small machines too, presumably, but why? A dying soldier might want a chance to strike at the enemy from inside an indestructible ivory body, but who would want to run through an obstacle course and end up crushed or impaled?
Maybe I’m going at this from the wrong direction. What if it’s not about improving individual machines? What if it’s some sort of design process? Does machine number one survive the room full of spikes? No? Okay, send in machine number two. Oh no, Two fell into a deep hole and can’t climb out again. Send in Three. Three gets past the spikes and the hole, but the horizontal blades got it. Send in Four—oh, Four got stuck on the spikes again. Back to the drawing board.
Of course, that still didn’t explain what was animating the machinery. The souls of someone passionately committed to machine design? Tame demons? If Galen had served the Dreaming God instead of the Saint of Steel, he might have been able to tell at a glance. And also he’d be so good-looking that he probably wouldn’t look twice at me. Though Galen’s not far off from that, truth be told… Piper remembered the width of the paladin’s shoulders, the sleek muscle under his fingertips as he stroked the man’s ribs, and swallowed hard.
And here we are again. I circle this thought like a goldfish circles a bowl.
The door opened and Galen stepped through. “Ready?” he asked.
Piper gulped. Now that the prospect was upon him, he found it much more alarming than he had when it was an abstract trial to be faced somewhere in the near future. He rubbed sweating palms on his trousers. “I suppose.”
The paladin smiled at him and Piper’s insides melted a little. “I’ll be right there with you,” he promised. “Come on. It’s not hard, really, you just have to stay calm and keep your arms close to your body.”
Piper did not feel calm. He felt even less calm when they entered the room together and Galen tugged him into position, then stood close behind Piper’s back, hands gripping his elbows. The paladin’s feet were braced on either side of his. Oh dear god.
“The trick is not to try and rush through it,” Galen murmured in his ear. “Slow and careful. Rushing only gets you in trouble.”
Does he mean for that to sound that suggestive?
Click. A blade fell in front of him and Piper squeaked and recoiled. Galen caught him. “Steady now,” he said. “I’ve got you.”
On the one hand, there was an ivory wall bare inches in front of him. On the other hand, Galen’s chest pressed against his back, and Galen’s hips were suddenly tight against his. Rat have mercy. He wanted to scream. He wanted to run away. He wanted to lean back into Galen’s embrace and feel…everything.
The blade lifted. Galen’s knee nudged the back of his thigh. “Walk forward.”
Piper tried to make his legs work. They did not want to. His nerves screamed that a blade was going to slice him in half vertically any second now.
“Listen to me, Piper. I’m right here. We’re in this together.” The paladin pushed him and Piper took a stumbling step forward, then another. “That’s good. You’re doing good. And…stop here.”
Piper stopped gratefully. “Close your eyes,” Galen suggested. “That might make it easier. I’ll tell you when to move.”
It did make it easier, except that if possible, he became even more aware of the paladin’s body pressed against his. He could feel Galen’s breath against his ear when the man spoke again. “Forward now. Come on. Just a little farther in and then we’ll stop again.”
He has got to be doing that deliberately. And it was working, too. Piper kept his eyes tightly shut but the next step forward was easier. Galen stroked his forearms lightly and that distracted him even more.
Click. Click. A breath of air to his left. Piper opened his eyes involuntarily and saw the wall practically against his nose and another bare inches from his left shoulder. They were in a tiny ivory box barely bigger than a coffin. He sucked in a breath, feeling panic rising in a bubble under his ste
rnum, and squeezed his eyes closed again.
Galen nipped the back of his neck.
Piper’s yelp turned rapidly into a groan. Oh god. Oh sweet Lady of Grass. He bent his head forward as the paladin’s lips moved down his neck. Was he shivering from nerves or from the man’s touch? He couldn’t be certain.
“Keep your eyes closed,” murmured Galen. “There you go. You’re doing good. I know this is hard for you. It’s hard for me too.”
He is absolutely doing that deliberately. Also, take me now.
More clicking sounds, but before he could do more than register them, Galen was nibbling on the back of his neck again and Piper was starting to think that if he just kept his eyes closed, he could keep this up for hours, or at least until he had to turn around and tear the paladin’s clothes off, which was probably not hours, possibly not even minutes at this rate—
“Last one.”
—and Piper took another step forward and another and Galen said, “It’s all right, we’re through,” and Piper opened his eyes and he was facing the corner and quarters were tight but not impossibly so. He turned around.
Warm green eyes looked down into his. Galen leaned forward. “You’re lucky,” he said into Piper’s ear, sliding his hands up the doctor’s arms. “What I want to do to you would take much longer than six minutes, so you’re spared for a little longer.”
“I don’t think that’s luck,” croaked Piper. “I think that’s terrible, actually.”
Galen grinned at him and Piper barely noticed the wall slamming down behind the paladin. “Well,” he said. “Maybe Earstripe’s the lucky one, in that case. Not having to walk in on us.”
Piper managed a laugh. “He’d just roll his eyes and shout suggestions from the next room.”
“I might be able to fuck my way through an ancient death trap,” said Galen, “but I draw the line at doing so with gnole commentary.”
The word fuck did remarkable things to Piper’s brain. Maybe six minutes would be enough time after all. He started to lean closer.
Paladin’s Hope: Book Three of the Saint of Steel Page 14
