Page 46 of Paladin's Hope

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…”

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