Page 63 of Paladin's Hope
Piper felt his patient’s ears. “Is he hotter?”
Brindle nodded grimly. They packed more cold cloth around Earstripe’s ears and dipped his hands in river water to cool them, while Shane paid the captain the other half of her fee.
“Good luck to him,” she said, nodding to the limp gnole in Marcus’s arms. “I’ll light a candle to the River Serpent for you all.”
“Thank you,” said Shane gravely, because Shane was always courteous. Galen, who was suspicious of most gods these days, except perhaps the Rat, did not say anything. He helped Piper scoop damp cloths in a bundle, to try and cool Earstripe on the way to the gnole doctor.
“How far is it?” he asked Brindle.
“Not far.” The gnole paused, smoothing down his whiskers. “A gnole doesn’t live in this warren. May need to ask some gnole when we get there. Entrance to a warren changes sometimes, yeah?”
“Lead the way.”
* * *
Brindle, to Galen’s mild surprise, did not take them back into the city proper, but stayed on the far side of the river, heading downstream. Galen knew that there were warehouses on that side, and a shanty town that had sprung up when the Elkinslough had burst its banks several years ago and flooded some of the poorest low-lying neighborhoods. He knew that at least one gnole warren had been flooded as well, but he hadn’t realized that it, too, had relocated.
“Built into hillside here,” said Brindle, leading them through the narrow makeshift streets. “No flood here. But a long walk for a job-gnole or a rag-and-bone gnole, so more small burrows in the city now, yeah?”
“Makes sense,” said Piper. Galen was too busy looking over his shoulder. The tent city he remembered had matured, permanent and semi-permanent structures replacing flimsier canvas ones. There were even scatterings of lamps, burning the very cheapest oil by the smell, but still providing light. Rope-and-board walkways crisscrossed the area at varying levels and Brindle led them up onto one. Looking down at the ground, Galen could see why. Sewer systems were expensive and complicated to install and it would probably be a hundred years until anyone got around to putting one here.
Still, it wasn’t the worst he’d seen by a long shot. The slope of the hillside meant that the nightsoil was washed down to the river, so it didn’t smell significantly worse than any other neighborhood in Archon’s Glory. The smell of the river itself was extraordinary in summer, but there was no getting away from that anywhere in the city either.
There were a fair number of people, both gnole and human, coming and going, as one might expect, even in the middle of the night. The humans gave the paladins a wide berth, clearly not thinking it worthwhile to get involved. Galen heard footsteps overhead and looked up to see more walkways above them, the bottoms hung with slum-weaver nests.
“This area built up fast,” he said.
“Available material,” said Marcus. “The flood destroyed a great many houses. The people who lived in them scavenged everything that they could, and more washed in from upriver.” He had been carrying Earstripe, but he nodded to Shane and handed the gnole over to give his arms a rest.
“I can take him,” said Galen.
“You’ve been beat to shit,” said Marcus bluntly. “I wouldn’t trust you to carry a bouquet of daisies right now.”
“Oh yeah? I’ll take you on right now. Bare-knuckle. Let’s go.”
“Gentlemen,” said Piper, sounding exasperated, “we are on a matter of some urgency. You can fight later.” He narrowed his eyes at Galen. “After your ribs have healed up. And if you tear out those stitches, I shall be annoyed.”
Galen sighed dramatically. Brindle rolled his eyes. Shane gazed at the sky, perhaps seeking strength from a higher power.
“Getting close,” said Brindle a few minutes later, as they threaded their way higher up the hillside. The amount of human traffic had diminished significantly and the makeshift alleys were darker and quieter. The walkways were no longer board and rope, but cobbled together from packing crates. Galen caught the occasional flash of gnole eyes in the gloom, but there were no lamps here, only the glowing red haze of the sky to see by.
“Wait here,” said Brindle. “A gnole will be back.” He vanished into a space too small for a human, leaving the four men standing in a knot.
It was very quiet, once the rustle of gnole fur had faded. Much quieter than Galen liked a city to be.
Piper took advantage of the pause to check Earstripe. His face was grim. “Fever’s getting worse, I think,” he muttered to no one in particular. Galen put a reassuring hand on his arm, although his own nerves had begun to prickle.
“I believe someone is watching us,” said Shane quietly.
Galen opened his mouth to say something sarcastic, and then a figure materialized from the shadows.
Twenty-Eight
There were three of them. The woman in front, who seemed to be the leader, looked less like a footpad and more like someone’s mother, but presumably baby footpads had to come from somewhere. She was holding a board like a club. The two men behind her were carrying truncheons. None of them looked happy.
Marcus’s hand went to his sword hilt. Galen reached for his own, realized yet again that he didn’t have one, and cursed internally. And Shane can’t draw because he’s carrying Earstripe. I could go for his sword, but dammit, he favors that ridiculous back scabbard that the Dreaming God’s people use, I’ll take his ear off if I try. Galen didn’t know how they managed the damn things without slitting themselves open from stem to stern. He settled for stepping in front of Piper and getting ready to shield the doctor if it was his only choice.
“I don’t know what you’re doing with that gnole,” said the woman, her eyes narrowed, “but if you think you can come in here and start hunting them, I don’t care how big you are, you’ll soon learn differently.”