Page 58 of Paladin's Hope
Piper closed his eyes and leaned into the touch for a moment before pulling away. “I need a gnole doctor,” he said. “And the nearest one is likely in Archon’s Glory.”
“I’ll go fetch one, then.”
Piper made a small noise of frustration. “We’re three days away. You won’t be back for a week, and I don’t know if I can keep him alive that long.”
“We’re three days away by the world’s slowest ox,” countered Galen. “That’s two days’ march in the infantry, and I can shave time off that. And once I’m there, I’ll requisition a carriage, and we’ll be back in a day.”
Piper looked up at him with a sudden gleam of hope. “Maybe. If I can keep his fever down with cold compresses…maybe.”
Galen nodded. “I’ll carry him upstairs,” he said. “Then I’ll go at once.”
The gnole weighed no more than a large child, but large children tend to be remarkably heavy. He didn’t stagger under the weight, but his injured calf throbbed where the scorpion-device had stabbed him. He got Earstripe laid down on a couch in the parlor where they had eaten several hundred years ago. Possibly thousands.
Piper immediately knelt beside the gnole, one hand on Earstripe’s chest, muttering softly. “Heartbeat’s still strong, I think. But I can’t tell if it’s fast or slow. It would have to be faster than an adult human, but what’s the baseline?” He rubbed his face with both hands and gave Galen a rueful look. “Why on earth did I never ask Earstripe what his resting heartrate was?”
“It’s not the sort of thing that comes up in casual conversation.”
“It should.” His gaze suddenly sharpened. “My god, Galen. You look like hammered shit.”
“But sexy hammered shit, right?”
That got a rueful laugh out of Piper. “Always. And I doubt I look much better.”
“Oh, I don’t know. That tunic really brings out the color of the circles under your eyes.”
“Nevertheless, you’re not going anywhere until I’ve patched you up. I’m sorry. I should have paid closer attention.”
“Yes, between being shot at and having to perform medicine on a different species, you absolutely should have made time for my scraped knee. It’s nothing. I’ll be fine.”
Piper folded his arms, his lips compressed into a flat line. Galen had a strong urge to kiss that line and see if he could soften it. “I appreciate that you’re trying to be strong and paladinly, but if that gash on your leg gets full of dirt and you fall down of a fever halfway to Archon’s Glory, you won’t do Earstripe any good. Now sit.” He snapped his fingers. Galen sat, feeling somewhat like a dog.
“You’re very imperious when you’re being the doctor.” Piper didn’t reply, being too busy inspecting his calf. He heard the hiss of air between the man’s teeth and thought it was probably worse than he he’d hoped.
“How the hell were you walking around on this?”
“The Saint of Steel’s chosen tend to be thick-skinned.”
“Well, his chosen’s going to need stitches.”
“I’m sure it can wait until—”
“Sit.”
Galen settled back into his seat and resigned himself to his fate.
It was the better part of an hour before Piper certified him fit to leave, and had involved patching the slash on his arm as well, and slapping a dressing over it, despite Galen’s protests that he’d had worse, walked it off, and never had any problems.
His bigger concern, honestly, was stiffness. Once the adrenaline of the fight and killing Thomas had worn off, he had been kneeling beside Piper for hours. His knee was swelling against the wrappings, and the bruise on his thigh was turning spectacularly blue. The longer he sat, the worse it was going to be. If I can just get on the road and start walking, at least I’ll shake some of that out. It was a brutally long trip, to be sure, but he’d done worse at forced march, and that had only been…what, eighteen years ago? Surely he was just as fit as he had been at nineteen. Yes. Definitely. And absolutely just as capable of going without sleep.
He rose to his feet, stretched some of the soreness out, and turned to the hall. “Am I allowed to go now?”
“Yes,” said Piper. “I should demand you sleep first, but I can’t.”
“I know.” Galen put out his hand and cupped Piper’s jaw. The doctor’s already pale skin was nearly translucent with exhaustion, his eyes rimmed with red. Galen could see a blue vein beating in the hollow of the other man’s throat.
He had a sudden urge to say something utterly mad, like, I love you. Which was absurd. They’d known each other for what, a few weeks? He couldn’t possibly have fallen in love. Merely because he is brave and clever and intensely passionate about the things that matter and laughs at your jokes and you laugh at his and he knows the worst about you and doesn’t think it’s all that impressive…no, for god’s sake, don’t start down that road. You don’t get to fall in love. That would be the worst thing you could do to him. You’re tired and maudlin and worried and you can’t screw his brains out so all that lust is finding ridiculous outlets. Stop worrying. You really are turning into Stephen.
“I’ll come back to you,” he said instead. “I promise.”