Page 69 of Paladin's Hope

“Knee hurts like hell in this weather.” She slapped her left leg, which was missing from the knee down. Kaylin was one of three guards stationed at the top of the steps to make sure no one came down to bother the bodies. She was married to a baker who sent along vast quantities of pastries every feast day, apparently convinced that Piper was going to starve to death if not given enough fruit pies.

“How long have you been married?” he asked abruptly.

Kaylin’s eyebrows rose. “Nineteen years,” she said. “Why?”

Two weeks. You don’t get to sit and mope because you knew someone for two weeks. Nineteen years, now…that would be worth moping over. He shook his head and turned away, but she’d known him too long. “There’s someone out there for everyone,” she said. “Even nice young doctors who spend all their time chopping up bodies.”

Piper grumbled something as he started down the stairs. “I’ve got a nephew about your age,” she called after him. “Sweet boy. Strong stomach.”

Piper snorted. Ironically, a strong stomach really did have something to recommend it. There had been more than a few men over the years who had been very interested in getting to know a doctor, right up until they found out exactly what sort of doctor he was.

Yes, but how does Kaylin’s nephew do with death traps created by the ancients?

Does he have red hair and jade eyes and strong arms and can he make me laugh?

He opened the door to his workroom and his replacement looked up. “There you are! Lady of Grass have mercy upon me, where have you been? I was afraid I’d have to hire someone to replace me replacing you.”

“Sorry, Sanga. Things got very dicey.”

Piper suffered through a one-armed hug. (The other hand was holding a bonesaw.) Sanga had dark skin, broad shoulders, a big beard and an even bigger laugh. He also had one of the most delicate touches with a scalpel that Piper had ever encountered. If anyone working at the guard or the government noticed that Piper was gone, it was probably because the quality of the work had improved significantly.

Sanga held him at arm’s length and frowned. “You look terrible, my friend. Just how dicey did things get?”

“Very, very dicey.” Piper went to a drawer and pulled out a fresh set of gloves. “A very nasty fellow was kidnapping people and feeding them to ancient machines in his basement.”

“Lady of Grass! Were you hurt?”

“No, but my friends were. They’re recovering. Hopefully.” He was going to have to find some way to check on Earstripe. Perhaps he could go to the Temple of the Rat and ask for Brindle. And risk running into Galen? Do you want that?

He didn’t know what he wanted. The thought of seeing the paladin again was like a knife in his chest, and yet he was desperate for a glimpse, even though he knew that it would hurt.

He set to work on the next body on the slab, reading the notes and throwing himself into work. He knew that Sanga was watching him, but the other doctor said nothing, only continued his own job. Between them, the backlog began to go down. By the end of the day, when Piper called for the grave-gnoles to come and take the bodies away, the morgue was empty.

He wished he could speak to the grave-gnoles and ask them about the warren, but while the shrouded figures had made it clear that they understood some human speech, they would not speak. Piper’s communication with them consisted of the locations where the bodies were to be taken, “hello,” “please,” and, “thank you.” The one time that a particular graveyard had been closed due to rising water, the gnole had communicated the matter entirely in mime. “Can you take me to the gnole-burrow on the other side of the river so that I can find out if my friend is recovering” was a fairly complex concept to express in mime. He vowed again to find a gnole dictionary somewhere.

Sanga clapped him on the shoulder. “You should call it a night,” he said. “You still look terrible.”

Piper sighed. He was surprised at how tired he was, for having slept for nearly two days. “Perhaps you’re right,” he said. He led the way up the steps, waved to Kaylin, and opened the door to the outside.

—into ivory and watery green light and soon he’d hear the click and the blades would fall and he would never get out none of them would ever get out—

His heart seized and he jumped back, gasping. Sanga put out a hand to keep from running into him. “Piper?”

He shook his head. There was no ivory. There was only the late evening sky in a band above the buildings, shading from darkness through shades of blue and finally to a faded greenish light over the river. It must have been that quality of the light that had tricked his brain. He had never even noticed it before.

Oh god, he thought wearily, am I going to panic now every time I see light that color? I live in a city on a river. Does this end with me pulling up roots and moving somewhere else? Charlock, maybe, so I am in a desert instead?

This seemed rather ridiculously excessive. He realized that he was standing in the doorway still and flushed with embarrassment.

“Piper, is something wrong?” Sanga asked again.

“No,” he croaked. “I’m fine. Just…uh…go on without me.” He flattened himself against the wall to let the man pass him.

“I’ll come by tomorrow,” Sanga said, eyeing him worriedly. “If you need to rest more.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Sure. Lady of Grass watch over you.”

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