Page 14 of Paladin's Hope

No. No, it’s not illegal. And I’m hardly a prisoner in Archon’s Glory. Paladins are allowed to investigate things, and we have a paladin with us.

He glanced over his shoulder at the paladin in question. Galen walked a little behind them and to the left, one hand on his sword hilt. He did not look at the guards, but his eyes were always moving, scanning from one person to the next, obviously looking for threats.

Does he think someone’s going to attack us? Would the guard retaliate against Earstripe? Wasn’t sacking him enough?

“Are you expecting trouble?” he asked quietly, when they were out of earshot of the gate.

“I’m always expecting trouble,” said Galen easily. “But no, not really. Should I be?”

“I don’t know. The way you were looking, I wondered.”

“I don’t think the real trouble will start for a while yet.”

“A gnole thinks a gnole has had plenty of trouble already.”

“Sorry, Earstripe.”

“Eh. Humans can’t smell.”

No trouble found them. They left the city behind, and then the little village of merchants and stables outside the city, and then the outlying farms. It was cold and the road was still dusty. Eventually, Galen reached into his pack and took out a drop spindle and began spinning handfuls of wool into thread while he walked, a surprisingly domestic activity for a paladin.

Piper switched his pack to the other shoulder and wondered if they were simply going to walk all the way to the various manor houses, and what they would do when they got there.

“Sorry,” he said, when he had to call a rest for the third time. “I’m not used to forced marches.” He gave a weak smile and tried not to think about how Galen must despise him for being a soft city-dweller. Of course, he lives in the city too, it’s just that I don’t spend hours a day marching around and smacking things with swords. And to think, I believed I was actually fit before this…

“Don’t worry,” said Galen, sounding much too cheerful for the early hour and the brisk pace. “We’ve got a ride waiting at an inn a few miles ahead.”

“A ride?”

Galen grinned. “An old friend of mine. You’ll like him.”

* * *

They reached the inn at midday. Galen was glad to arrive. He could tell that Piper was not enjoying the walk. Which is down to equipment as much as anything else. He hasn’t had to optimize the straps on his pack so they’re absolutely comfortable after the third mile, and his shoes are probably fine for standing for hours, but not so good for walking on uneven road.

He didn’t say anything, because the doctor was clearly embarrassed by his inability to match the pace of the other two, and Galen suspected it would come out condescending. Fortunately, he’d already arranged for a solution before he was even aware of the problem.

The gnole waiting outside the inn was older than Earstripe and the dark stripes on his face were mottled with brown and gray as well as black. “Brindle!” called Galen, waving.

“Tomato-man,” said Brindle, lifting a hand. “You made it.” He gave a drop-jawed gnole grin to Earstripe and said something in liquid gnolespeech. Earstripe replied and they both arched their whiskers forward.

“You two know each other?” asked Galen.

“A guard-gnole is family,” said Brindle proudly.

Earstripe sagged and muttered something. Brindle asked a sharp question and his ears went back. Galen and Piper exchanged worried looks. Earstripe scuffed the ground with his foot.

Brindle straightened. “A gnole is family,” he said, then leaned over and licked Earstripe between the eyes. He turned to Galen. “Brought a wagon,” he said. “And an ox.”

“Not a mule?” Galen had travelled for weeks with Brindle the prior autumn, during which the gnole had been saddled with a wagon drawn by mules. Brindle had very strong opinions about mules and their inferiority to the noble ox.

“Tomato-man thinks he is amusing.” Brindle rolled his eyes and turned to Piper. “A human has a name?”

“A human is a bone-doctor,” said Earstripe, before Piper could reply.

“Oho!” Brindle flicked his ears and studied Piper with great interest. “A human is ours, then?”

“Err…” Piper tried to remember how the complicated gnole pronouns worked.

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