“That’s good.”
“Mmm.”
They sat together in silence for a moment. Swallows skimmed low over the green hillside, picking up insects from the grass.
“I haven’t thanked you,” he whispered finally. “You saved my life.”
Slate choked back a laugh. It had surprisingly sharp edges. “You don’t need to thank me.”
“I’m not sure what else I can do,” he said.
Slate opened her mouth to say something—she wasn’t sure what—and caught a sly gleam in his eye.Was that a joke? Good lord, if he develops a working sense of humor, I’ll start to worry he got possessed again when we weren’t looking.
She had a sarcastic response all thought out, and then shecaught a wave of rosemary from him and sneezed violently instead. By the time she stopped sneezing and managed to pry her eyes open again, he already had a handkerchief out and was dangling it in front of her.
“Thangks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“How many of these things do you carry?”
He lifted his chin. “Leave me some small mysteries.”
She snorted.
“Actually, I buy a dozen any time we stop at a town large enough to have a dry goods store.”
“I always lose them.”
“I know. That’s why I keep buying them.”
He helped her gather up the bandages. She started to rise, but he held out his hand.
“Slate…”
“If you apologize again, you’ll probably make a hash of it and then I’ll let Brenner kill you,” she warned him.
He shook his head. “It’s twice now,” he said. “You gave me my death back in that cell. Last night you gave me my life back.”
Slate hunched up one shoulder.He shouldn’t be able to do the voice with his throat like that. Dammit,howis he still doing it?
He stepped back and unsheathed his sword.
Slate looked down the length of the blade and raised her eyebrows.
He drove the point into the earth at her feet and dropped to one knee.
“Oh god, no,” said Slate involuntarily.
It was Caliban at her feet, but the Knight-Champion lookingup 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.”
“You can’t. I mean, youreallycan’t! Dear god! A paladin swearing to a forger?”
“You are my commander,” he said, unruffled, and bowed his head.
