Page 9 of Paladin's Hope

“A gnole goes,” muttered Earstripe. “A gnole stays. A gnole tells Mallory-captain. A gnole doesn’t.” He gave his whiskers another twist.

“You said Mallory wasn’t listening,” said Piper. He glanced around the riverside, suddenly realizing that there were no other members of the guard here, only Earstripe. Had the gnole not informed his superiors about the body yet?

More twisting. A spate of frustrated gnolespeech.

“Hey,” said Galen. This time he did touch Earstripe, though gently, on the back of the hand. “Don’t hurt yourself. I’ll help you.”

Earstripe dropped his grip on his whiskers. “Vig-il-an-ti-ism, tomato-man,” he said, enunciating each syllable as if it were a phrase rather than a word. “A gnole leaves the city, a gnole can’t arrest anyone.”

“No, but I can,” said Galen. “And what Mallory doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” He paused. “You won’t get credit for the arrest if we keep your name out of it, though.”

The gnole shook his head. “A gnole won’t get credit anyway. If a human and a gnole are in the same room, a human did the thinking.” He curled back his lip. “A gnole is only a slewhound who talks.”

Piper actually felt Galen bristle beside him. I’m surprised his armor didn’t rattle. “Did someone say that to you?” asked the paladin softly. “Give me a name, and they won’t say it again.”

Earstripe opened his mouth, and then his eyes focused on something behind Piper and he straightened up. Piper had only that much warning before he heard a booming voice shout, “Constable Earstripe! What are you doing?”

“Captain Mallory,” said Galen. “How nice to see you.”

“Paladin Galen. And…Doctor Piper.” The captain’s eyes narrowed. “Has Earstripe dragged you back down here in pursuit of his ridiculous theory? I told you, Constable, that the lich-doctors are far too busy to waste their time like this.”

Piper wiped his hands off and slid on his gloves. He took his time adjusting them before rising to his feet. “On the contrary, Captain,” he said, with no idea how to end the sentence, but hoping that inspiration would strike before he got there. “On the contrary. I had requested that the constable inform me of any bodies that had…” Okay, now is the moment of truth, what’s your idea? He looked down at the corpse, eyes traveling over the puffy skin and the ruin where the fish had gotten the man’s genitals. Inspiration, fired by the grisly sight, did not fail. “…been in the water for a lengthy period of time. I am working on a monograph.” He met Mallory’s eyes squarely.

“…a monograph,” said Mallory, eyes flicking from Piper to the gnole and back. Not calling him a liar. Yet.

“Indeed,” said Piper. “Most doctors can venture a guess as to how long someone has been dead based on rigor, but after any length of time has passed, it becomes more difficult. Weather, insects, tightness of clothing—everything can change the appearance. We make an educated guess. There are many monographs on the subject, which are helpful, but to date, all of those deal with bodies left on land. We have, at present, no way of telling how long a body has been submerged, beyond our own experience. It is my hope that with enough examples, I will be able to chart the stages of a body’s submersion and assist others who may have less experience with drowning victims.”

He looked in Mallory’s eyes while he said it. You may be a guard and you may think that gives you some magic insight into human nature, but I have been lying for many years and you do not dare call me out for fear of angering my champions. Like Beartongue. And I outrank you, so far as the courts are concerned, if not the guard themselves.

Mallory looked back to Earstripe, who shrugged.

“And the paladin is here because…?”

Galen coughed. “My dear captain, perhaps you do not need to know why the good doctor and I happened to already be together at this hour of the morning?”

Captain Mallory did not fluster easily. Piper, however, did. Oh for the love of…why did he say that? I mean, it’s a great cover, but now he’ll think…he’s supposed to think… He could feel a flush climbing his face, which probably made the lie more convincing, but still.

“I…see,” said Mallory.

Galen draped his arm over Piper’s shoulders. Piper could feel the weight of muscle and mail across his neck. He could not look at Galen. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. His blush was completely out of control.

It wasn’t that he cared if Mallory knew that he preferred men. It wasn’t exactly a secret, and very few people in Archenhold were going to care anyway. Several past Archons had taken male consorts and at least one had married his husband, and since the populace had much bigger concerns—like the expansionist tendencies of the city-state across the river—it had quickly become a non-issue.

It was just that it had been so long and Galen was so good-looking and…well…

“I was not informed of this,” said Mallory.

“I didn’t think it was any of your business,” said Galen brightly.

“I meant,” said the captain, with icy clarity, “that Earstripe was to be procuring bodies for the doctor.”

“A gnole isn’t procuring,” said Earstripe, speaking up. “A doctor wanted to look, that’s all. A gnole sent a runner to the guardhouse first, and stayed with the body.”

“Still. I was not informed.”

“Honestly,” said Piper, and had to clear his throat, because Galen was very close and his arm was warm against the cold air of the river and when he breathed, Piper could feel the other man’s mailed ribcage against his side, “honestly it didn’t occur to me that you’d care.”

And you wouldn’t care, if you weren’t looking for some reason to be mad at Earstripe. Do you not like that he’s investigating this on his own, or that he’s a gnole? Do you not like that the White Rat is involved?

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