Stephen pinched him.
“Ow!” Galen rubbed his arm. “What was that for?”
“What are you thinking about?” asked Stephen, looking even more inscrutable than usual.
“I’m thinking that my brother-in-arms has started pinching people for no reason and it’s a little disconcerting.”
“Before that.”
“I…uh…” He coughed. “Nothing.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“I’m better at it than you are,” said Galen, which was true.
“The bar is not high,” said Stephen, which was also true. “What were you thinking about?”
Galen looked down, saw what the healer was doing, and looked away again hurriedly. “Piper,” he mumbled.
Stephen gazed at him steadily for nearly a minute, then said, “I never thought that I would utter these words in my lifetime. The gods have mercy upon us. Galen, I am afraid that you’re in love.”
“I am not,” he said, which was definitely a lie, but maybe if he said it out loud, it would become true.
From somewhere near his knee, the healer snorted.
“How many times a day do you think about Piper?”
Galen swallowed. Just once, but it lasts the whole day.
Apparently his silence was enough, because Stephen rocked back on his heels and gazed up at the ceiling. “Saint’s teeth. No wonder you haven’t been visiting taverns looking for entertainment.”
“I thought about it,” admitted Galen. The thought had no appeal. He didn’t want sex. Well, he did, obviously, but not with some random stranger who he’d never think about again. I should never have kissed Piper. That’s where it all went wrong. I never kiss any of those other men, for a damn good reason. Kissing is dangerous. It’s probably too near your brain or something.
Or your nose. That’s probably it. Spongiform erectile tissue. That’s what gets you in trouble.
He considered explaining his new theory of nasal erectile tissue as gateway to the soul to Stephen, realized that it would make absolutely no sense, and wished that he could run it by Piper first.
The healer slapped his leg as if he were a horse. “All right. You’re done. Now quit tearing it open! You’re going to have a scar as it is, and if you end up back here again, I’m going to write ‘jackass’ in stitches across it, and serve you right.”
“Did you know that there’s erectile tissue inside your nose?” asked Galen.
The healer stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Is yours giving you trouble?” she asked finally.
“I’m honestly not sure.”
“Remember when I was an endless font of facts about ambergris?” asked Stephen.
“God, yes. You wouldn’t shut up about whale vomit for nearly three days. Then you started talking about castoreum and we made you eat lunch by yourself. Why?”
“I’d fallen in love with a perfumer. Everything she did was fascinating. I wanted to learn more about it. Still do, actually, but now I can talk to her about it.” Stephen examined his nails. “And now you have a sudden interest in human anatomy.”
“I’ve always been interested in human anatomy,” said Galen stiffly.
“Not usually the bits inside the nose.”
The healer snorted again. “You two get out of here,” she said. “Otherwise I’ll be tempted to go up your noses and check.” The paladins left hurriedly.
Stephen was silent as they crossed the temple compound and entered the small corridor of rooms where the paladins of the Saint of Steel lived. In the common room at the end, Galen could hear the sounds of the others comparing the day’s assignments. He half-expected Stephen to make for it, but instead the paladin paused in the hallway and simply looked at him. He had a particularly penetrating Look. Galen was convinced that the man could peel paint with it if he stared long enough.
Unfortunately for Galen, merely knowing this did not grant him any kind of immunity. “Fine,” he muttered. “You don’t need to give me the eye. Yes, all right. I’m in love. I admit it. It doesn’t matter.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“No, it doesn’t.” Galen flung his hands in the air in frustration. “So what if I’m in love? That’s the worst thing that could happen to him! I’m too much of a bastard, and far too broken. I’d eat him alive and he isn’t mean enough to stop me.”
“You’re saying he doesn’t have a spine?”
Galen glared at him. “He’s got plenty of spine. He went through that horrible death trap without panicking and he worked on Earstripe for hours to keep him from dying. He’s got more guts than any ten paladins.”
“But not enough spine to stand up to you.”
“It’s not about that. It’s…dammit. Look, Piper’s kind and decent and he deserves someone who won’t hurt him on accident. And that person is not me.”
“Mmm.” Stephen leaned back against the wall, arms folded. “I suppose there’s no point in telling you that you’re a decent human being and all that?”
“Would it work on you?”
“Good god, no.” The corner of Stephen’s lip twitched up. “No, I’m entirely unworthy. I’m just lucky enough that Grace persists in not noticing that fact.”
And you’re one of the best people I know, Galen thought but didn’t say aloud, so what hope does someone like me have?
“Well.” Stephen pushed away from the wall. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you aren’t worthy of him.”
“That was the worst attempt at reverse psychology I’ve ever witnessed.”
“No, no.” Stephen held up his hands. “It wasn’t. But Galen, if you were worthy of him—if he was more of a bastard or you were less of one—would you want him?”
Yes. By all the gods, yes. Saint’s black and bloody tongue, yes. I would go to the ends of the earth. I would fight armies. I would wrap myself around him and never, ever let him go.
Galen was spared from the fact that he could not say any of this aloud by the sudden appearance of a gnole in the doorway. “Are you Tomato-man?”
He turned away gratefully and went to one knee. The gnole wasn’t one he recognized. They were smaller than Brindle or Earstripe, although from youth or build, he didn’t know.
“I suppose I am,” he said. “Can I assist you?”
The gnole dipped their head. “I have a message for Tomato-man,” they said. Galen was impressed at how well they managed the patterns of human speech, although it would have been rude to comment. Perhaps the younger generation of gnoles is growing up with human speech as well as gnole. I wonder if any human children are doing the same. That would certainly make Earstripe’s job easier.
He nodded. The gnole drew themself up and said, “Our healer says that the gnole you call Earstripe is recovered enough to see humans. Would Tomato-man like to see him?”
Galen leapt to his feet. “Yes! Most certainly! This is the best news I’ve heard all week!”
The gnole had jumped back when he moved, but smiled again. “I will take you to him.”
Thirty-Two
He should have realized that Piper would be there. Of course he is. Skull-of-Ice probably sent word to him before me. Galen came around the corner behind his guide and saw the doctor standing beside Earstripe, who was sitting on a barrel in a patch of sunlight.
Earstripe looked surprisingly normal. Galen was familiar enough with gnoles to guess that the fur covered the worst of things. The bones on his muzzle were in sharper relief than before and there was a crutch leaning against the barrel, but otherwise he did not look much different than the gnole who had set out from the city with them, a week and a lifetime ago.
Piper, though…
Is no one looking after him? He looks like he’s been dragged behind a horse. Saint’s teeth, who do I have to pummel to make sure the man is eating?
He would swear that the doctor had lost weight in the last week. The dark circles under his eyes hadn’t gone away and his skin, already pale, was ashen. The neatness of his trimmed bea
rd could not hide the hollowness of his cheeks.
It occurred to Galen suddenly that he had six other paladins and a small army of healers, nuns, and functionaries to look after him. And Piper had…what? The dead?
I know he has friends. He’s mentioned names once or twice. Where are they? What are they doing? Why aren’t they making sure he eats?
Earstripe saw him and waved. Galen waved back, fighting for calm. Don’t go charging in. You’ve already made a hash of things. You’ll only make it worse.
Piper turned his head. Something crossed his face when he saw Galen, but it was gone too quickly for the paladin to catch. The cool, passionless mask settled into place.
“Earstripe!” said Galen, with heartiness he didn’t feel. “You’re looking so much better.”
“A gnole hopes so. Bolt in a gnole’s leg does nothing for looks.”
“Skull-of-Ice is a miracle worker,” said Piper, not looking at Galen. “That was a bad break on top of everything else. I wasn’t sure you’d walk again.”
Earstripe slapped his bad leg. “May have a limp, but may not. Ours says a gnole will feel it when it rains, though.”
“Welcome to the club,” said Galen. “If the barometer drops in Morstone, I feel it.”
Piper opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. Earstripe looked from Galen to Piper and back again, frowning. “Something wrong between bone-doctor and tomato-man?”
“Nothing of consequence,” said Piper.
That hurt. It shouldn’t have hurt, but it did. Galen felt as if someone had taken a chisel and gouged a line out of his sternum. Nothing of consequence. He’d been lying awake and tormenting himself for days over nothing of consequence.
Earstripe’s ears flattened. He sniffed the air and Galen wondered what the gnole could smell. Probably what he talked about before. One person smelling as if the other’s their mate, and the other not. For me, it’s love. For him, it was nothing of consequence.
It had been more than that. He knew it had. Piper’s face when Galen had broken it off, the way his hands shook on the flint—no, he felt something too, I know he did, that’s the problem. If it didn’t mean anything to him, he wouldn’t have looked like that. He wouldn’t look like he does now.
Galen could see muscles flex as Piper’s jaw clenched. He wanted to set his lips against it. He’s shaved. It will be smoother than it was, not rough like it was in the maze. And the spot just behind his jaw, he shivers when I breathe on it. I remember that.
“Humans can’t smell,” muttered Earstripe.
“No, we can’t,” said Piper, “which is why you have to tell us when you’re getting tired.”
The gnole smiled. “A little, yes, bone-doctor. But tell me, tomato-man, the dead humans in the river, are they known now? Can human families be told?”
“I told the guard everything,” said Galen. “You know how well that works.” The gnole grimaced. “But the records are with the courts, and they’ll do what they can.”
“The important thing is no more bodies,” said Piper firmly. “You did that. You should be proud.”
Earstripe nodded. “A gnole is,” he said simply. “And a gnole is glad that a gnole is the one who was shot.” When both Galen and Piper began to object, he held up a hand. “No. A gnole brought humans along. A gnole was responsible. If a human is badly hurt, a gnole is responsible, is guilty, and a gnole cannot forfeit caste or status, a gnole cannot name a human among kin-obligations—a gnole cannot fix anything. So it is better that a gnole bears the hurt.” He smiled. “Easier, too.”
“I would prefer that no one had been shot,” said Piper testily.
“But if bone-doctor had been shot, a gnole could not heal him. Works out better this way.” He slid down from the barrel and picked up his crutch. “A gnole will heal.”
“You’d better,” said Galen. “Otherwise I’m going to make sure you eat nothing but apples for a month.”
The gnole made a rude gesture and both of them laughed. “A gnole rests now, before ours growls.” He looked from doctor to paladin. “Humans sort human things, yes?”
“Yes, of course,” said Piper.
Earstripe looked unconvinced. “Mmmm.” He waved and hobbled away.
“Well,” said Piper. He spoke aloud, but he wasn’t looking at Galen. He might have been talking to himself. “I’m glad he’s recovering well.” His voice was clipped and professional. He nodded once, sharply, then turned to go.
“Wait!”
Piper paused, though he didn’t look around. “Can I help you?”
No, you can’t help me. That’s the point. Galen didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. Very well, he was reaping what he’d sown. Still, he was a paladin. “You came alone?”
“Yes.”
Galen felt a pang of annoyance at the man’s recklessness. This was not a great neighborhood. They’d already been set on once, by people with no apparent fear of multiple armed men. “I’ll escort you to the river, then.”
“That is not required,” said Piper, his voice still clipped. “A gnole guided me in, but I can find my own way back.”
“It’s not safe,” said Galen to the man’s back.
Piper finally turned to look at him. His face was a cool, passionless mask. “It is not your concern, sir.”
Sir. Saint’s balls.
And now the damn fool wants to walk out and possibly get mugged because of ‘nothing of consequence.’
“Piper…”
“You’ve made it abundantly clear that you do not wish to see me. I am giving you what you require.”
“I’m not asking you to suck my cock. I’m trying to keep you from getting mugged.” Galen realized he was clenching his fists and consciously relaxed them. “Either I walk you to the river or I’m going to follow you to make sure you aren’t set on by footpads anyway. It’s less awkward if you just let me walk next to you.”
Piper’s lips thinned. Without speaking, he turned and strode away. Galen stretched his legs to catch up. “I see that civility is off the table, then.”
If he hadn’t been watching for it, he would not have seen Piper’s wince. “You are right,” the doctor said after a moment. “I am being rude. I apologize. You have done nothing wrong.”
“It doesn’t feel that way.”
“It was one night. No promises were made. You owe me nothing.”
“I could have chosen a better moment,” said Galen. “When we weren’t both half-dead.”
Piper shrugged. “Some things are best done quickly, I suppose.”
Galen should have felt better at that, but he didn’t. The silence between them was still fraught and horrible. They reached the area with the suspended boardwalks, still without speaking, and Galen felt the frustration bubbling in his chest like tar. They were going to reach the river and not say anything and then either one of them would say “goodbye” or one of them wouldn’t and it would be even worse.
Damn us both to the lowest of hells.
He had no right to be angry, and yet nothing of consequence still rang in his ears like a curse. It was his fault. He’d been the one to end their relationship before it had even really begun. He’d had to, because he was the fool who’d fallen in love.
It was all hurt pride, of course. He knew that. If you’re going to be all noble and self-sacrificing and immolate a chance at happiness on the altar of your own personal unworthiness, you hate to think that the sacrifice wasn’t actually worth anything.
“Have you made a report to the guard?” Piper asked, breaking into his thoughts. The doctor sounded almost normal, and perversely that made it worse, because maybe it really had meant nothing, if Piper was getting over it so quickly. Or perhaps he’s being kind again. That’s why it won’t work. Because he’s kind and you’re a murderous bastard, remember?
“Yes,” said Galen. It was his turn to sound clipped. “Have they contacted you?”
“No. I wondered if perhaps you had tried to leave my name out of
it.”
Galen cast his mind back. “I mentioned you by name,” he said. “Perhaps they thought it was nothing of consequence.”
God, you really are a bastard.
Piper stiffened. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice chilly, “did I offend you by saying that? Would you prefer that I had flung myself at you and wept on your neck?”
Yes. “No, obviously not.”
Piper stopped walking. Galen took a step or two further, realized he’d stopped, and turned around.
“Just tell me what you want,” said Piper. The dark circles under his eyes were so pronounced that he looked half-gnole himself, and they were rimmed with red. Saint’s black and bloody tongue, has he been weeping? “Tell me what gets this over with so that we can stop thinking about it. Do we pretend nothing happened at all? Are we colleagues? Do we avoid seeing each other? Pick something and I’ll do it, but you’ll have to tell me what the hell it is you want, because damned if I know.”
His voice cracked on the last word and Galen took an involuntary step forward and put his arms around him.
Piper sagged against him and Galen felt the catch in the other man’s breath. But he also felt the width of Piper’s shoulders, the wiry muscle of his arms and chest, and a part of his heart he’d been trying to bury for days leapt up and began to sing.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, bending his head. He could see the dark curve of eyelashes on the doctor’s cheek, feel the shakiness of his breathing. “I’m so sorry. I never meant for any of this.”
“I know.”
Galen put his fingers on Piper’s chin and tilted his face up. He was close enough to kiss and Galen knew that he should not, knew that it would tear open all the wounds that hadn’t even begun to heal. And yet…and yet…
His lips brushed across Piper’s and it felt right and Piper’s body against his was right too.
Piper took a deep breath and pushed him away.
Surprise took him for an instant, long enough for Piper to pull free and draw himself upright. Galen actually saw the moment when cold calm settled over the man’s face, like a glaze of hoarfrost on fallen leaves. The sensation of someone chiseling away at his sternum hit again, colder now, as if the frost was falling on his bones.
Paladin’s Hope: Book Three of the Saint of Steel Page 22
