Page 33 of Paladin's Hope

The words struck him much harder than the doctor could realize. He had lashed out at Stephen once, to his disgrace. “Trying to replace what we’ve lost, are you? I didn’t think you’d try to find it between a woman’s thighs.”

“It isn’t like that,” Stephen had said. “You cannot ask a woman to compete with a god. But we can still love someone and be loved. Even as broken as we are.”

The memory still filled him with shame, though he knew that Stephen had forgiven him, probably before the echoes had died. His fellow broken paladin had found love against long odds. Galen did not begrudge him that, exactly. Stephen deserved love if anyone did. No, it was…envy. Envy, because Stephen had not been at Hallowbind. Envy, because Stephen deserved it, and after Hallowbind, Galen never would again.

In the death throes of the Saint of Steel, the god-touched priests had died outright or killed themselves or fallen into death-like comas from which they did not wake. Galen did not know which one his mother had done. The high priest of her temple had burned it to the ground, screaming about a pyre fit for a god. The paladins though, had turned on anyone around them, each one taken by the battle-tide, trying to fight the world that had taken their god away.

Stephen had been lucky. He and Shane and Istvhan had been travelling with two paladins of the Dreaming God, who had fought them off. Galen and Marcus had been less fortunate. There had been a dozen paladins meeting with local men near the town of Hallowbind. No one knew how many local men there had been. They had only found two left hands. The broken paladins had torn them to shreds and when they could not find another enemy, they had turned on each other. The survivors had fallen comatose when they could no longer fight, but only Marcus and Galen had woken up again.

He remembered almost nothing of Hallowbind, but what little he did remember was enough to turn his dreams into screaming horrors.

“And you were chosen?”

“I was. I went for a soldier as a lad, and the god took me a month later. Fortunately, I knew what the berserker fit was, so I just turned around and went home.”

“All right, that’s doctors and paladins,” said Piper. “Earstripe?”

Earstripe sighed. “Ask.”

“Why did you join the city guard?”

The gnole shrugged. “Burrow said to join. Guard not always good to gnoles. Blame gnoles for things. If a guard is a gnole, that guard can speak up.” He picked at a loose thread on one of his rags. “A gnole was a rag-and-bone gnoll, but she was good at human speaking.” His diction shifted noticeably, becoming more precise, taking care with each syllable. “Burrow said to become a guard-gnole. Become a job-gnole.”

“Ah.” Galen knew enough about the gnole caste system to know that would be a step up for Earstripe. “If you became a guard, you’d be promoted.”

“Would have to be,” said Earstripe. “Some gnoles won’t listen to a rag-and-bone gnole. Would listen to a job-gnole.” It was always hard to tell, but Galen thought there was a bleak edge to his amusement. “Now gnoles listen to a guard-gnole, but guard-humans don’t always listen. Mallory-captain doesn’t listen now.”

“So you struck out on your own to try to solve this,” said Piper. “To save these humans, when the guard wouldn’t listen to you. But why?”

“God’s stripes.” Earstripe shook his head in disbelief. “Bone-doctor would save some gnole, yes? If some gnole was hurt?”

“Of course,” said Piper. “If I could.”

“And tomato-man would save some gnole?” He swung his muzzle toward Galen. “If some gnole needed big human with a sword?”

“Yes, of course.”

Earstripe spread his hands, claws gleaming. “A gnole saves some human. Same thing.” He took a deep breath, clearly choosing his words carefully. “A gnole’s compassion does not require fur.”

“Right,” said Piper, into the horribly uncomfortable silence that followed. “I’ve just put my foot in it. Earstripe, I apologize. I shouldn’t have questioned why you’d help humans. You’re a good person.”

Earstripe shrugged. “Eh. Humans can’t smell,” he said.

Piper looked at Galen.

“That’s how they say we’re too ignorant for gnoles to take offense,” said Galen, faintly amused. Brindle said it frequently. As far as Galen could tell, gnoles viewed humanity as a race of ignorant, powerful toddlers, some of which were likable enough, but none of which were particularly bright.

“A human is good at what a human is good at,” said Earstripe in a conciliatory fashion. “Build high walls, hit monster with sword, write words down on paper. A gnole doesn’t expect a human to be good at gnole speaking.”

There was a clicking sound from inside the door and the panel on the wall popped out an inch.

“Time to go,” said Galen. “I’ll knock when I can. Although I suppose you’ll hear the screaming if I get it wrong.”

Piper winced. Galen squared his shoulders and went in to face his fate.

Fifteen

He’d been close to dead bodies before. Often he was the one who had made them dead. But there was a difference between a battle and lying down on the floor next to a headless corpse, particularly one that had been decaying for a couple of weeks.