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“I don’t think I want to die.” He chuckled. Chain clinked under her ear. “That’s good.” “But we’re going to die.” “Let’s try not to.” “Okay, then
“I just wanted to keep you from doing anything you’d regret,” Caliban said, a man who had dug six feet down and decided to keep on going. “You arrogant jackass,” said Slate, her voice clipped and calm and almost pleasant. He took a step back involuntarily. Slate felt a stab of triumph
Slate gritted her teeth at his back. I should have left him in the cell
She had been growing in his mind for weeks. Her anger and her stubbornness and the way she would grin suddenly when she worked out a problem in her mind. He wanted her to grin like that at him.
He knew better. He should have known better, anyway. He’d resigned himself to physical loneliness. The demon in his head would be an unwelcome third in any bed. But somehow his body didn’t know that and it seemed to be dragging his heart along in its wake
“Oh, I won’t deny I wouldn’t like another chance at our Slate. She’s a dear thing when she’s not waiting to die
“Should we go after them?” asked Learned Edmund. “I’d love to. Pick a direction.” “You can’t tell which way they’ve gone?” “Can you?” “No.” “Well, then
Somehow that was cheering. Not because she wished him ill, but because there are few things in life as steadying as someone you have to be brave for
“If they’re expendable, why are you going after them?” he asked her
There was blood trickling down her left arm in thin skeins. “Slate—” “Shut up, Caliban!” she snarled
It occurred to Caliban that he had been nattering about his oath to protect the weak to a woman who had apparently just tracked them through the woods, found their weapons, climbed up the outside of the hut carrying said weapons, dropped fifteen feet through a hole in the ceiling onto a shaman, saving his life and possibly his soul in the process, and then proceeded to fight and dispatch a stag-man twice her size. My god. I am an arrogant jackass
“Bowels turned to water yet?” asked Brenner snidely, passing the scholar on the way to his own horse. “It appears to be a very slow process
“Gnole medicine?” “Lick it till it feels better. Then eat grass. Works every time.” “As your physician,” said Learned Edmund testily, “I do not recommend that
“Do you think we’ll find him?” asked Brenner. “There is no value to despair,” said Learned Edmund primly. “We must hope
“Temple knights of the Dreaming God are required to practice their swordwork for at least two hours a day when not on specific assignment,” said Learned Edmund idly, turning a page. “No wonder they’re all so stiff,” said Brenner. He rolled over. “Anyway he’s not required to do that temple knight stuff anymore.” “I wonder if he knows that,” said Learned Edmund
“I’m surprised you noticed anything, with the wonder-engine here.” “Ah. But you have a very methodical mind, Mistress Slate, and when I asked you about taking measurements, you offered no advice, nor did you demand to double check my figures. And Brenner has said several cutting things to you in the last few hours, and you have not replied in kind.” He put his fingers together. “From this, I deduce that something is preying on your mind.
“It felt almost liberating. If you know you’re going to die, you don’t have to be afraid of anything. The worst has already happened. What more can they do to you?
“And I nearly died. And I realized I…really didn’t want to. I’m not done with my life yet.” She frowned up at the sky. “Living is always hard,” said Learned Edmund
The priest sighed. “He is proud. But he carries an enormous load of guilt for his crimes, and pride is part of what motivates him. And he is so afraid of failing again
“I don’t know. I’m only a scholar, and sometimes not much of one. I sit under the greatest discovery of my life—” he gestured to the wonder-engine, “—and all I can think is that it would be good to sleep in a real bed again. Perhaps we’re all weak.” Slate unbent enough to smile a little. “You’re not the only one, Learned Edmund. I’d give my hope of heaven for a real bed at this point
“I always lose them.” “I know. That’s why I keep buying them
“You gave me my death back in that cell. Last night you gave me my life back
It was Caliban at her feet, but the Knight-Champion looking up at her. “The church cast me out. The city locked me away. And I prayed, when I was in the cell,” he said. “I prayed for weeks. And no one came and I knew the Dreaming God had turned his back on me.” Slate swallowed hard. “But you saved me,” he said. “And I no longer have a church to serve. So I will swear to you, instead
“I am yours to command
“I would give my life for yours. Your enemies are my enemies.” “They already were your enemies!” “Well,” he admitted, “that’s true. But I’ll be here if you make any new ones
It had been exhausting and oddly transactional, very much like Brenner.
Still dreaming about tall, blond, and guilty? It’s a bad idea. Never date a man prettier than you, it never ends well.” Slate snorted loudly. “Are you daft? I never come between a man and his self-loathing
“Well…we should never assign to malice what we can assign to our incompetence
“Assuming it doesn’t hatch on a geological time scale, in which case none of us may be around to see it.” Privately, Slate thought that the way things were going, they’d be damn lucky to be around to see it hatch on even a normal flesh-and-blood time scale, but she kept that to herself
But I hate to leave work undone.” “Trust me,” said Slate, spurring her horse forward, “there will be plenty of work for us in Anuket City.” The others followed. Slate rode looking up at the gates, and slowly, step by step, the city reached out and swallowed them.
I suppose thanks must also go to the writers of fantasy paladins, lo these many years, without whom there would be no tradition to enrage me and force me to tackle the issue myself. Inspiration knocks now and again, but spite bangs on the door all year long. Thank god
