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Piper nodded.

“It’ll go away in a minute,” said Kaylin behind him. “Just breathe. In through the nose and out through the mouth. Count ’em if you have to.”

He turned back to her, startled. She was watching him with compassion but no pity. “The breathing helps,” she said. “Try it.”

He did. He counted ten breaths and it did seem to help. The sky was just the sky and he’d startled himself for no reason. His hammering heart slowed.

“How did you know?” he asked.

One corner of Kaylin’s mouth crooked, though there was no real humor in it. “You had the look. We all know the look.”

Piper swallowed. He knew the look too. The war with Anuket City had been over a decade ago, when he was young and the ink was barely dry on his medical certificate from the College of Physicians. He’d never been anywhere near the front lines, but like nearly every doctor in Archenhold, he was pressed into service treating soldiers and refugees injured by the rampaging clocktaurs. He’d seen the eyes of men who had left some part of their soul on the battlefield, the stare into the distance. But those men had been in battles, facing impossible enemies, for days or weeks at a time. Piper had spent two days in an ivory maze, and less than an hour total in actual danger of falling blades. What right did he have to it?

“I can’t have the look,” he said. “I didn’t…it wasn’t bad enough. I shouldn’t be jumping at shadows. Not over this.”

Kaylin snorted. “I knew men who could stand toe-to-toe with a clocktaur and not turn a hair, who’d lose their damn minds if they were locked in your morgue overnight. Brains don’t care about bad enough.” She slapped her stump. “I hardly ever think about the fight where I lost this. Doesn’t bother me. But there was one time where we were all in a tight pass, trying to stop a clocktaur. This was back before we ever really knew what they were. Damn thing charged straight through us. The brass didn’t know yet that you couldn’t slow them down by throwing bodies at them.” Piper winced. “The ones who survived either hunkered down against the walls or got behind it in the first charge. That one…yeah. I still have nightmares about that one.”

“I’m sorry,” said Piper. He thought of Galen’s screaming nightmares and wondered again what he saw in his dreams that led him to attack everything around him. What have I been through that could compare with that?

“Don’t have to be sorry,” said Kaylin. “Just saying. Wherever you’ve been for the last week, that was bad enough. If it’s coming back once, it’ll come back again. Just breathe.” Her eyes sharpened. “And you tell me if you get to thinking of doing anything stupid, you hear?”

Piper blinked at her, wondering what on earth she meant, before finally putting two and two together. Ah. Yes. “I won’t,” he said. “I mean, I will talk to you. But I won’t. It’s not…” He made a meaningless gesture. He’d never contemplated ending his life and couldn’t imagine starting any time soon.

“Good. But the door’s open.” She nodded to him, then pushed herself to her feet, grabbing her crutch from beside the door. “Come on, doctor. I’ll walk you out to the street, at least, and you can tell me about the week you had.”

* * *

Piper got home feeling, if not better exactly, at least a little comforted in his misery. He opened his front door and the walls were not ivory, they were just a little dingy from burning candles and lamps all the time, they needed a new coat of whitewash, that was all. He took a deep breath. See, there’s the painting you bought when you first moved in. The one with the ducks and the cattails. You’ve lived here for most of a decade. He stood on the threshold and told himself this until he believed it and stepped through.

I suppose I should be grateful that it’s doorways that are getting to me. I go through them so often, I’ll have to get over this in short order. I won’t have any choice. If it was something else, it could linger for years. Like night terrors, say.

He grimaced. He wished he could talk to Galen about it.

No, if he was being honest, he wished that he could feel Galen’s arms around him, feel those hard shoulders ready to take on the dangers of the world. He’d felt safe then. They’d been in a maze of traps, they’d nearly died a dozen times, and yet he’d felt safe.

You’ll feel safe again. It just takes a little doing. You have friends. You aren’t alone, no matter how it feels right now.

Granted, most of his friends were also incredibly busy and he hadn’t spent time with one that wasn’t related to work or a court case in…ah…well, a long time. Still. And there’s people like Kaylin, and Sanga and the other lich-doctors. I don’t have to be isolated if I don’t want to be.

Someone tapped on the door at gnole height.

Piper’s first thought was that it was Earstripe, but that was ridiculous. Earstripe wouldn’t be able to get out of bed. Assuming he’s even alive. Oh god, please let this not be a gnole sent to tell me that he’s dead.

He wanted to run and throw himself on the bed, away from the knock, but he didn’t. He opened the door instead, and sure enough, there was a gnole standing there, a small brown-furred one, looking up at him with bright eyes.

“A gnole has a message for Bone-doctor?” they said.

Piper swallowed. “That’s me.”

“Our gnole says to tell Bone-doctor that a gnole called Earstripe lives. A gnole’s fever is broken, yes?”

Piper sagged against the doorframe. “Oh, thank the gods,” he whispered. Rat and Lady of Grass and Four-Faced God and Forge God and all the rest of you, thank you. I will go to every temple in the city and put something in the poor box. Well, maybe not the Hanged Mother. But everyone else.

“Bone-doctor understands?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “I understand. Please tell Skull-of-Ice that this human is grateful for the message.” He paused. When in doubt, ask. “Is that the right thing to say? A human does not want to give offense to Skull-of-Ice.”

The small gnole grinned up at him. “Close enough. A gnole will say it right to ours.”