Page 77 of Paladin's Hope

“The guard. Vigilantism, they said. For killing Thomas.”

Piper stared at him. “But that was outside the city. The guard doesn’t have jurisdiction. And you’re the one who killed him.”

“I know, I know.” Galen’s voice was a rasp. “That’s why they arrested him. If he was acting as a guard, he was outside his authority. It’s my fault.” He raked his hands through his hair. “I told those damn guards that Earstripe was in charge, that it was all his idea. I was so goddamn smug about giving him the credit.”

Piper’s breath hissed through his teeth. He stripped off his gloves and apron and washed his hands. “But they didn’t arrest you.”

“Of course not. I’m a paladin.” Galen gave a harsh crack of laughter. “If they arrest me, Beartongue will come down on them like the wrath of god. But if they arrest Earstripe, that’s an internal guard matter. She’s got no jurisdiction until it goes to the courts.”

Piper thought of Earstripe, not yet recovered from his injuries, thrown in a jail cell by guards who were more than a little angry to have been shown up by a gnole. His stomach lurched. “But he left the guard!”

“Assuming Mallory wants to inform them of that. He’s the one most embarrassed by the whole thing. It was one of his people, on his watch, who solved a crime that he’d told them to drop.”

Piper dug his fingers into the soap, leaving white half-moons under his nails. He stared into the water and said, “If he was human, they’d have given him a medal.”

“I know.”

His fist slammed into the metal tray beside the basin, sending instruments scattering. Piper stared at it as if it belonged to someone else, some furious stranger. He was never furious. He was cool and dispassionate. His knuckles were white.

This will not help.

You can fix this. Earstripe isn’t dead. The dead are beyond fixing. The living aren’t.

“Right,” he said. His voice sounded very calm in his own ears. “Get Stephen. We’re going to start with Mallory, and then we will go higher. Clear to Commander Tamsin if we must.”

Galen frowned. “None of them will even talk to me.”

Piper felt his lips stretch in a smile. “They’ll talk to me,” he said softly. “I know where all the bodies are buried. I’ve dissected most of them.”

* * *

Galen arrived at the guard station with Stephen in tow, five minutes before Piper arrived in a hired ponycart. While there were theoretically sidewalks in this part of town, they were not well-marked or maintained, so the driver pulled directly up to the stairs and Piper jumped out. Galen moved instinctively to catch him if he stumbled, but the doctor’s footing was sure.

Galen’s eyebrows went up when he saw Piper’s clothes. So did Stephen’s, but probably for somewhat different reasons.

Neatly pressed tan robes fell around him, adorned with a plain black stole. The severe lines flattered him and brought out the darkness of his hair and the coldness of his eyes. Galen had never seen Piper in anything but a bloody apron or increasingly battered traveling clothes, and hadn’t realized how much he’d been missing. He swallowed hard.

“You look…” Magnificent. Impressive. Regal. “…very formal.”

“What I wear to give testimony in court,” said Piper. “I thought I’d remind the guard that they are not the only law in Archenhold.”

“Good choice,” said Stephen.

“Very,” said Galen.

A faint smile briefly warmed Piper’s expression. “We’ll see how far it gets me. I’m sorry that took so long. I sent word to Skull-of-Ice, telling ours what we know and promising that we will do our best to get Earstripe back, and the return messenger caught me just before I left.”

“What did ours say?” asked Galen, half-dreading the answer.

“That humans talk to other humans best and that it was a serpent dance. And there was something else that I don’t think translated well, that since Earstripe was my patient once, we were kin, and kin stood for kin, even against humans. But I don’t know if that was ours ordering me to succeed or offering a gnole army against the guards if I didn’t.”

“I suppose we’ll find out,” said Galen.

“No chance of sweeping this under the rug, then,” said Stephen.

“Would you want to, even if we could?” asked Piper.

Stephen frowned. “I worry for the gnoles,” he admitted. “They’re the ones that come out on the short end if we force a confrontation.”

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