Page 2 of The Gargoyle's Gift
I just shook my head and finished up. Once I was satisfied, I maneuvered him onto his back on the little bed. I gave his uninjured shoulder a good shake, his snores tapering into a healthy swear-laden grumble. “You can sleep here, foolish man, but shift, yes? So that the rest of the damage heals?”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” he groused, succumbing to the healing stone sleep despite sleepily arguing with me.
Once he was in his statue form, I cleaned up the mess he’d made of my supplies before turning down the lamps and going back upstairs.
I went through the calming motions of washing my hands and face, the mirror showing I had dark circles under tired blue eyes and voluminous and wild blonde curls, both from having had my sleep interrupted. I even made a cup of hot tea to help myself relax again. I found it difficult to rest when I had a patient downstairs, but there was nothing more Gaius needed from me. I pulled out my ledger out so I could properly record the infirmary visit as I got comfortable on the sofa, a cool breeze rippling the pages as it blew through my second-floor apartment.
What an infuriating man. Did he have no self-preservation instinct at all? Where was he going in order to find fights to pick anyway? He’d been removed from his council post, so there were no more missions within Revalia to report to. And because of the way his limbs had healed, he’d not yet been added back to the stone kin sentry rotation either. Yet, he’d shown up in my infirmary twice already, late at night, needing mending of one kind or another. Each time he looked far worse for wear and was almost certainly spending as much time as possible drunk.
I forced myself to close my eyes and seek the same kind of sleep I’d recommended for him, hoping to find clarity on the other side.
Gaius was gonebefore I got down to the infirmary the next morning. The sun was barely up, the birds mostly still asleepeven, but I was greeted by silence when I popped my head in to say good morning. To my surprise, he’d even stripped the mattress and left the sheets in a neatly folded stack at the foot of the bed.
I dropped the linens in a basket to take care of later on my way to the meetinghouse for coffee and breakfast, oddly irritated I hadn’t gotten to speak with him.
My sister Imogen was already at a table, her favorite tankard full of steaming coffee, a plate piled with food in front of her. She grunted at me as I slid onto the bench across from her.
“Good morning to you too.” I smiled back at her. “Big plans today?”
She settled back in her chair, cup between her hands. “I have to repair a blade or two. You?”
I stacked a fried egg onto a slice of toast. “No patients today that I know of. If the infirmary were any cleaner, I’d be able to see my reflection in the floor. Do you need any help?”
She squinted at me. “You hate helping me.”
“I hate being bored more.”
“Mmm.” Her head tilted to the side as she watched me eat.
“Who are you doing repairs for?”
Her mouth twitched as she set her cup down and reached for her fork. “Since when do you care so much about what’s happening at the forge?”
“Just making conversation.”
Imogen sighed and wiped the smears of egg and gravy off her plate with some toast. “Someone left their blade on the table before I got there this morning. It needs work, will probably take most of my day. Maybe all of it.”
The food stuck in my throat. “Gaius?”
My sister nodded, a sly grin on her face. “Again.” She clearly knew, without me saying a word, that he’d come seeking my help as well as hers the night before.
“Bad?”
She shrugged her powerful shoulders, one hand lifting her dark braid, throwing it to her back. “Bad enough.”
“Same. What do you think he’s up to?”
“I have no idea. And it’s not really my concern, besides.”
I blinked at the warning in her tone. “It could be dangerous, Imo. Whatever it is he’s doing. If Gaius is out there playing vigilante?—”
“Even if he is, it’s not your concern, Lovette.” She shook her head, frown on her mouth. There was something especially embarrassing about a big sister putting you in your place like she was ashamed of your behavior. The shame was instantly balanced by indignation, however.
“If he’s going to keep waking me in the wee hours needing to be stitched up, it most certainly is.” It was the same reasoning I’d given him, but no less accurate.
Imogen’s disapproval twitched into a weak smile. She pushed her plate away. “You can come to the forge if you want. But you’re going to be my runner.”
“Fine.”
