Page 56 of Paladin's Hope

“If it makes you feel any better, I will aim for your legs. Then you may be able to tell me what you know before you die.”

“I doubt I’ll be in the proper of frame of mind,” said Piper grimly.

“I can’t imagine a man of science would let a little thing like spite keep him from passing information on.” He smiled. Piper stared upward. Had a shadow moved behind Thomas? Was someone else there?

Well, it hardly mattered. No one was going to save them. They could only hope that the other person didn’t also have a crossbow. Piper shook his head. He pretended to turn away, and then, because he had absolutely no idea what to do and because Galen was going to get himself killed if he didn’t do something, he lunged up the steps at Thomas.

The crossbow bucked. Something smashed into his side. For an instant Piper thought he’d been shot and was just thinking, Oh hell, right in the vitals, I’m not going to live long enough to regret this, and then he hit the railing and Earstripe let out a scream of pain.

Thomas collapsed. Piper clutched the railing, holding himself up and got an arm around Earstripe, who had moved faster than anyone had a right to move.

Earstripe, who had a crossbow bolt sprouting from his thigh.

Oh shit, no, no, if it hits his femoral artery he’ll bleed out right here oh no… Galen rushed past him but Piper couldn’t spare a thought for any of that. He lowered Earstripe down on the stairs and tore at the gnole’s clothing, trying to unwrap his leg. Where was the bolt lodged?

Hell with that, where’s the artery? If he was a human, the floor would be awash in blood right now, but he’s not and it’s not and maybe the bolt didn’t hit but if I pull it out, I might tear the artery wide open oh god oh god…

He applied pressure as best he could at the point where the shaft entered the leg. There was a flurry of activity somewhere at the top of the stairs and a metallic sound. It seemed very far away. Did he dare apply a tourniquet? How the hell could he apply a tourniquet when he didn’t even know where the artery was?

Someone gurgled wetly and part of Piper’s brain said that it might be Galen and he darted a look over his shoulder to find that Galen seemed to have picked Thomas up by the throat. That was all right then. Galen would do what he did best and Piper would do the thing that he was woefully inadequate at, but had to do anyway.

“Don’t you dare die,” he told the gnole. He’d located the point of the bolt, which bulged obscenely from the back of the gnole’s leg, but somehow hadn’t penetrated all the way through. Had it hit a bone and been deflected? Oh god, it had. Piper palpated the gnole’s leg gingerly and felt the bone move in a way that intact bones should not move. It jiggled, in fact, which was a terrible thing for bones to do.

Shit, shit, there’s probably splinters of bone in there, lodged in the muscle, and if any of them hit the artery, it won’t matter how much pressure I apply. Oh god, I don’t dare move him more than a few inches. It’s a miracle I got him to the bottom of the stairs. It’s a miracle that I didn’t kill him outright. Sooner or later I’m going to run out of miracles.

He needed more pairs of hands. “Galen!” he yelled. “Galen, I need your help!” Belatedly it occurred to him that Galen was probably murdering someone, but that really shouldn’t take priority. You could always murder people later, after all.

“What do you need?” Galen appeared at his elbow. Piper couldn’t tell if the blood was from his injuries or if he’d killed Thomas, and didn’t actually care.

“I need bandages and hot water. Then I’m going to have to push the bolt through, open the leg up and get the splinters out, then try to splint everything back together and get the torn muscle back in place.” He took a deep breath. Opening up a wound was a horrible idea nine times out of ten and was just begging for massive infection to set in, but what choice did he have? Oh god, if only I’d ever had a gnole on the slab, then at least I’d know what I was doing!

“Do you need me to carry him upstairs?”

“We can’t move him until I’ve looked in the wound. He could be a quarter of an inch from losing all the blood in his body.”

“All right.” Galen went away again. Piper heard him talking to someone and for a minute he thought that the paladin was sending Earstripe to get the bandages and that made sense because of course Earstripe was fine and walking around and would say something sarcastic shortly. The universe could not be so poorly run that the gnole in front of him was Earstripe. Then Earstripe moaned softly and Piper stopped thinking about it at all.

“It’s all right,” he said aloud. “We’re here. You’re going to be okay.” Probably that was a lie. He didn’t even know what the muscles were supposed to look like when they weren’t shredded by a bolt. He applied pressure with one hand and tried to pick apart the wrappings on the gnole’s other leg, just to get some point of comparison. Earstripe moaned again, but didn’t sound conscious. Probably that was for the best. Nobody wanted to be awake for a bone being set, and Piper’s kit with laudanum and powdered datura was in a wagon somewhere. Hopefully somewhere very far away.

He was focusing so intently that he didn’t hear Galen returning. “Water’s heating. I’ve got two sheets. What else?”

“Tear them into strips,” said Piper. “I need…shit. Everything. Tweezers. Needle and thread. The strongest alcohol and the sharpest knife you can find. Honey if they’ve got it. And light, more light. As much as you can.”

Galen’s hand closed on his shoulder and squeezed briefly. “I’ll get it. The housekeeper’s on our side, incidentally. She hit Thomas over the head with a poker.”

“Good,” said Piper absently. That was good, wasn’t it? Yes. Probably. Where did he take a pulse on a gnole?

Galen squeezed his shoulder again and went away, leaving Piper holding Earstripe’s life between his hands.

Twenty-Five

“Tweezers and more sheets’ll be upstairs,” said Missus Hardy. “Check the master’s bedroom, and the closets. You’ll be faster on the steps than I will, belike.”

Galen nodded grimly. He’d asked earlier why she hadn’t run, and she’d lifted her skirt to show him two heavy shackles around her legs, the skin rough and red and scaly around them. She could shuffle along, but she could not run. Thomas had made sure of that.

The sight had made Galen want to kill the man all over again, only slowly this time. When he had seen Earstripe knock Piper aside and take the crossbow bolt instead, he had charged up the steps, knowing only that he had to stop Thomas, even if it cost his own life. The tide hadn’t had time to rise. Perhaps he’d outrun it. It had been simple human rage and terror that fueled him—that and the guilt that Earstripe had been faster than he was.

If it had been left up to me, Piper would have been the one to take the bolt.

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