Page 40 of Paladin's Hope

“I’m sorry,” said Galen.

“No, it’s my fault.” Piper waved his hands helplessly. “I shouldn’t have—Earstripe told me not to, but I was an idiot—you were yelling and I thought—I’m sorry!”

“No. No. If I wasn’t like this…I’m sorry. It’s been years.” He swallowed. The anguish on his face tore Piper’s heart. “I stopped going into the battle tide when I woke up. I thought that was over. Nobody should touch me, still, but usually I don’t do any worse than accidentally deck someone. It’s been years!” His voice rose on the last word, a child crying against unfairness.

“But I shouldn’t have—”

“Both humans shouldn’t have,” Earstripe broke in, clearly done with their arguing. “Both humans wrong, both humans don’t listen to a gnole, both humans acting like a gnole cub with worms.”

There did not seem to be any way to counter that. Piper dropped his head. “You’re right,” he said. “Wallowing in guilt doesn’t help matters.” At least in public, he added to himself. Performative guilt doesn’t help anyone, and you’d think I’d have learned that, after the first dozen sickrooms.

The silence that followed was horribly awkward, up until Piper noticed the tear in Galen’s surcoat and the dark stain underneath. “You’re bleeding!”

“Probably,” said Galen. “My foot too, I imagine.”

“Gnole can’t apologize for biting, tomato-man, but a gnole wishes a human’s boot had been thicker.” He opened his mouth, showing a broad expanse of tongue. “Also that a human’s boot had been cleaner.”

“Next time we’re in a maze of death traps, I’ll wear better footwear.”

“Shirt off,” said Piper briskly. “And sit down. What happened?”

“When the floor tilted, the edge came up against the wall. Made a pointy little ledge about six inches wide. I had one foot and one hand jammed into it. Got both of them out in time when the floor went back into place, but it caught part of the coat and pinched my mail along my ribs.”

“Do you feel any breaks? Anything stabbing when you breathe?”

“No.”

Piper grimaced. You could never tell with soldier types. Either they wouldn’t complain even if their leg was falling off, or they’d whine over every hangnail. He suspected that Galen was more of the leg-falling-off variety, but there was no telling until you actually had one in front of you. “Let me take a look at it.”

Galen sighed and stripped off his surcoat and the light chain hauberk underneath. The padded shirt under that was stained with blood. “I suspect it’s going to be an impressive bruise, that’s all. What I get for sleeping in chainmail, I suppose.”

“You’re bleeding like a stuck pig.”

“Yes, well…” He pulled the shirt off over his head, wincing when the fabric stuck to the wound. Earstripe hissed through his teeth sympathetically. The man’s skin was already darkening with a long, ugly bruise, and it looked like the skin had split down the middle. If Galen had less muscle across his ribs, Piper had a horrible feeling he’d be looking at exposed bone.

“Rat’s mercy,” he muttered. “And me without my kit.”

“It’ll be fine. I’ve had a lot worse.”

“Hush and let me take a look. And if I press on anything that feels like it impacts your breathing, tell me.” He ran his fingers across the man’s ribs, trying to focus on possible injuries. Unfortunately, that meant that he was focusing very hard on the feel of sleek muscle over bone and this did not make the job any easier. Oh my… he thought, and then, For the love of god, he’s injured and just had an extremely upsetting episode that was entirely your fault. Don’t be such an ass.

Galen inhaled sharply. “Did I hurt you?” asked Piper.

“No.” The paladin’s voice was clipped.

Right. This might be an excellent time to make conversation. Set the patient at ease. Right. We could talk about…err…there’s no weather down here, so…ah…somehow, “How’s the ancient death trap treating you?” doesn’t seem appropriate…

Piper had started working with dead people because he knew his bedside manner with living ones could use some improvement. He groped for a topic. “So you are prone to extreme sleep disturbances. That’s useful to know.”

Galen said nothing.

“The literature of sleep disturbance is quite fascinating. We have written records of sleepwalkers dating back nearly a thousand years. While it’s more common in children, there are reports across all ages and sexes, and while some theorize that it is caused by stress, particularly in unusual sleep environments, no one really knows the cause.”

Galen said nothing, more loudly. Too late, it occurred to Piper that this might be the single thing on earth that the paladin least wanted to talk about right now. Unfortunately, Piper had already committed to this course and couldn’t seem to stop talking. “The politician Sang Mar reportedly once gave a speech to a large crowd, while deeply asleep, wearing only his socks.” Earstripe made a small noise of either amusement or dismay, Piper wasn’t sure. “At the time, the accepted theory of sleepwalking was a form of nocturnal demonic possession, where the demon shared a body with the human soul but could only take control of it when the soul was asleep. The followers of the Dreaming God tell us that this is inaccurate, however, and that they have never encountered a possessed sleepwalker. Also apparently demons do not sleep as such. Indeed, lack of sleep is part of the trauma caused by demonic possession—oh, hmm, I think this rib might be cracked.”

“Oh, thank god,” said Galen.

“That’s not a good thing.”

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