Page 41 of Paladin's Hope
“If it stops our tour of sleepwalking through the ages, I’ll take it.”
“Sorry. I get going sometimes…” He sat back. “I’d prescribe rest and immobility, but I don’t think that’s going to happen. I’ll clean the wound and we’ll bind your ribs. Hopefully it’s just a nasty bone bruise.” He pulled off his own shirt and the undershirt beneath it, and tossed that aside, then pulled his shirt back on. “Earstripe, can you tear this into strips? And do you still have your waterskin?”
Earstripe nodded and handed over his waterskin and Piper began sluicing the blood off Galen’s side. The paladin caught his hand. “Wait, don’t do that. We don’t have very much water. Don’t waste it on me.”
“It is not a waste,” said Piper. “And I’m cleaning this off. You got fabric ground into the muscle here and that will make a truly superlative mess if it’s left alone.”
“The Saint of Steel’s chosen heal quickly,” said Galen. “Don’t worry about me.”
“Someone has to.” Piper almost added that the Saint of Steel wasn’t around to do it anymore, but thought that would be a trifle undiplomatic. “Stop squirming.”
“A gnole can go back for more water,” said Earstripe, slicing through fabric with a small knife. “And the lantern, and human packs.”
“What?” Galen stopped trying to fend off Piper’s ministrations. “You’d have to go past the last room again.”
Earstripe shrugged. “Now that a gnole knows how, a gnole isn’t worried. A gnole gets enough space on ledge for claws, a gnole will be fine.”
“Are you sure?” asked Piper.
“A gnole is sure. Besides, could stand to visit the pit again.” He gave them a drop-jawed gnole grin. “In private.”
“Oh well, don’t let us stand in the way of nature’s call,” said Galen. Piper finished cleaning the paladin’s wound and gave the waterskin back to the gnole.
“A gnole will be back,” said Earstripe. He stood, looked down at them both, and shook his head. “Humans try not to maul each other with apologizing before then, hey?”
“No promises,” said Galen. “It’s what we do.”
They watched the gnole enter the door, and even though it didn’t close behind him, Piper felt himself tense.
“He’ll be all right,” said Galen quietly.
“I know,” said Piper. The gnole had certainly been better prepared than either of the humans. He’d had the presence of mind to grab a knife and waterskin when Galen woke, or he’d been carrying them all along. Perhaps it was simply easier for gnoles to sleep in full kit, with the elaborate cloth wrappings they wore.
Galen was waiting patiently. He shook himself out of his thoughts. “Let me finish wrapping you up.”
Galen lifted his arms as Piper bound strips of torn shirt around his torso. His chest was broader than Piper had realized. The man moved like a dancer and it was easy to miss how much power was lurking behind the grace.
“How’s your neck?” asked Galen, not looking at him.
“Eh?”
“Your neck. Where I nearly strangled you.”
“Oh, that.”
Galen gazed at the ceiling, presumably asking some deity for strength. “Yes. That.”
“The human neck makes a poor handle,” said Piper, “as my anatomy instructor used to say. But you handily avoided crushing my windpipe, for which I am grateful. Don’t ask me to look over my left shoulder for a while, that’s all.” He tried to keep his tone light, because he was certain that there was guilt simmering just below the surface. “And you didn’t drop me into the pit, which is the important thing. I’m sorry about your sword, though. Did it have a name?”
Galen looked blank. “Did what?”
“Your sword.”
“Why would it have a name?”
“Don’t warriors name their swords?”
The paladin stared at him. “Is that a euphemism?”