Page 49 of Paladin's Hope

The two humans went immediately to the door. Sure enough, the corridor ran much farther than any of the previous ones had, bracketed by three alcoves on each side. Alcove was perhaps ungenerous; each one was nearly the size of the sitting room in Piper’s apartment. The door at the end was framed with dozens of lines.

“The way out, do you think?” asked Piper. “Are we through?”

Galen shook his head. “No idea. I’m too turned around to tell you.”

“A gnole doesn’t think so,” said Earstripe. “If a gnole is picturing right, last door should be on left wall, not straight ahead. But could be a door to another hallway. Ancient humans liked hallways.” He scowled.

“Or it could be another trap,” said Galen. He rubbed his face. “I know it’s only been a few hours, but I don’t think any of us slept much, did we? Perhaps we could try again? Before I dodge more blades?”

“A gnole thinks this is a good idea.”

They sat down in one of the alcoves and divided out a few apples and the waterskins. “Do you know, I used to like apples?” said Piper, gazing at his wearily.

“Don’t you complain about that apple,” said Galen. “That apple’s brother saved my life.”

“Should I apologize to it?”

“I think that would be best.”

Piper put a hand over his heart. “Dear apple, I did not mean to belittle your family’s sacrifice. Please, forgive me.”

“Humans have lost their damn minds,” said Earstripe, shaking his head. “A gnole knew it was only a matter of time.”

Piper grinned and took a bite of the apple. Galen snickered. “You should just be impressed we made it this long.”

“A gnole is very impressed, tomato-man,” said Earstripe, and ducked the apple that the paladin threw at his head.

Twenty-One

Later, when they had eaten as many apples as they could stand and converted the prior trapped room into a de facto privy, the three sat together in the farthest alcove. Galen wished they could have a fire. The lantern gave off a tiny bit of heat and he watched Piper warm his hands at it. Earstripe lay in a boneless sprawl, his dark eyes pensive. Galen wondered what the gnole was thinking. Planning for the future? What are his plans, anyway?

“So what will you do, when this is over?” asked Galen. “Are you done with the guard forever? When it comes out that you solved the murders, Mallory will almost have to take you back, but I can’t swear that it’ll be easy on you.”

Earstripe sighed. “Probably done. A gnole spent too long twisting whiskers. A gnole was almost done anyway. Guard always listens to some human before guard listens to a guard-gnole. Even if a guard-gnole is right.” His whiskers drooped. “Helped a little,” he said. “But didn’t help enough.”

“But you did help,” said Galen. “You made a difference for your people. One you couldn’t make anywhere else. You could keep making a difference.” He looked at Piper for backup.

“Such a paladin thing to say,” said Piper. Galen blinked at him. “It’s a noble sentiment, but you can’t ask people to pour themselves out for something that doesn’t care and can’t be fixed and at the end they’re empty and nothing changes.”

Galen suspected it was a mistake but he said it anyway. “But if nobody tries to change things, they don’t get changed. How else can we change it?”

Piper sighed. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just know it’s not Earstripe’s job to kill himself to fix human mistakes.”

“A gnole would, if it would fix them,” said Earstripe, sounding very tired. “But always more problems. Nothing stays fixed. Another gnole can try, maybe. This gnole is done.”

He got to his feet. “And now this gnole is tired. A gnole is going to sleep before next door.” He paused, giving Piper a wry look. “If tomato-man screams, a gnole would prefer you not try to help.”

Piper barked a laugh. It broke the tension, even if the topic was scarcely any less fraught than the previous one. “I promise I’ll keep my good intentions to myself.”

Earstripe nodded and slouched off to another alcove. Piper leaned back against the wall. Galen studied his profile, the long nose and full lips, the stubble that crept along his jaw, looking deep blue in the ancient light.

The silence had stretched out so long that it had almost ceased to be uncomfortable when Piper turned his cheek against the wall to look at Galen. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“What?”

“If I snapped at you earlier. I know you’re a paladin, and changing the world is exactly what you’re supposed to do. It’s just…” He made a meaningless gesture with his free hand. “The rest of us aren’t built to quite such a heroic mold. It kills us after a while.”

Galen snorted at the thought of fitting any kind of heroic mold. “Some of us might be heroes.” He thought of his fellow paladins, some of whom could undoubtedly rub shoulders with any hero ever born. “I’m hardly one of them, though.”

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