Penric's Demon by Lois McMaster Bujold Read Free Book Online Page A

headache, but it wore off by the time we left Greenwell.” And no one will touch me, I have been summarily unbetrothed, and I have been made a prisoner even though I have committed no crime . Best leave that out. Tigney was just beginning to relax when Pen added, “Also, night before last the demon woke up and began talking to me.”
    Tigney went still. “How?”
    “Er . . . through my mouth?”
    “Are you sure of this?”
    Pen couldn’t tell what to make of that question. Did Tigney suppose him to be delirious or hallucinating? Was that common among the newly bedemoned? “I know it wasn’t me. I don’t speak Ibran. Or Roknari, Adriac, or Cedonian. She was really chatty once she got started. Also argumentative.” Ten women all stuck together, no wonder. Or their ghosts, disturbing thought. Images of their ghosts was scarcely better.
    Tigney took this in, then rose and went to shout down the staircase for the porter, whose name was apparently Cosso. Or perhaps, Cosso! “See that these three men are fed,” he ordered the fellow, shepherding Gans and the guards out. “Find a place in the house for Lord Penric’s groom, tonight.” He reassured the guards, “We’ll send you two to lodge with your own Order at the palace temple, but don’t leave before I have a chance to speak to you again.”
    He closed the door on them all, then turned and studied Pen. Pen looked hopefully back. At length he placed a hand on Pen’s brow and intoned loudly, “Demon, speak!”
    Silence. It went on until Pen stirred in discomfort. “I’m not stopping her,” he offered. “She may sleep during the day. So far, she’s only talked to me before bed.” The only times he’d been alone?
    Tigney scowled and deployed that commanding voice once more. “Speak!”
    “Should I try?” said Pen brightly, growing nervous. He softened his tone. “Desdemona, could you please say something to Learned Tigney, here, so he doesn’t think I’ve gone mad or, or that I’m lying? Please?”
    After a long moment, his mouth said mulishly, “We don’t see why we should. Cowardly demon-destroyer. Ruchia may have thought him diligent, but we always thought him a prig.”
    Pen’s hands sprang to his flushing face as if to dam this alarming spate; he lowered them cautiously. “Sorry, sir. She seems to be a bit opinionated. Er . . . had you two met before?”
    “I’ve known—knew”—he made a pained hand-wave at the correction—“Ruchia these twenty years. Though only after she acquired her mount.”
    Pen said hesitantly, “I’m sorry for your loss. Were you friends, then?”
    “Say colleagues . She had the training of me when I first contracted my demon.”
    “You’re a sorcerer, too?” said Pen in surprise.
    “I was. Not anymore.”
    Pen swallowed. “You didn’t end it by dying.”
    “No. There is another way.” The man could certainly put the grim in grimace. “Wasteful, but sometimes necessary.”
    Pen wanted to follow this up, but instead Tigney began asking him all about his childhood and youth at Jurald Court. It seemed to Pen to make a short and boring biography.
    “Why did you stop on the road?” he asked at last.
    “How could I not? The lady appeared to be in grave distress.” Which had turned out to be all too true. “I wanted to help.”
    “You might have volunteered to ride for the town.”
    Pen blinked. “I didn’t think of that. It all happened so fast. Wilrom was already galloping off by the time I dismounted to see what was going on.”
    Tigney rubbed his forehead, and muttered, “And so all is in disarray.” He looked up and added, “We had expected to house Learned Ruchia at the palace temple, but I think you’d best stay here, for now. We’ll find you a room.” He went again to shout for Cosso; when the man arrived, he gave more orders as a master might. Was Tigney very senior, here? This was plainly a house for functionaries, for the practical business of the Temple, not for worship or