Monstrous Regiment Read Online Free PDF Page A

moss growing on the slate floor. And The Duchess was a good inn. It had customers who took their boots off before going to bed.
    She narrowed her eyes. This stupid fool in front of her, a man making one long eyebrow do the work of two, was serving them slops and foul vinegar just before they marched off to war—
    “Thith beer,” said Igor, on her right, “tastes of horthe pith.”
    Polly stood back. Even in a bar like this, that was killing talk.
    “Oh, you’d know, would you?” said the barman, looming over the boy. “Drunk horse piss, have you?”
    “Yeth,” said Igor.
    The barman stuck a fist in front of Igor’s face.
    “Now you listen to me, you lisping little—”
    A slim black arm appeared with amazing speed and a pale hand caught the man’s wrist. The one eyebrow contorted in sudden agony.
    “Now, it’s like this,” said Maladict calmly. “We’re soldiers of the Duchess, agreed? Just say ‘aargh.’”
    He must have squeezed. The man groaned.
    “Thank you. And you’re serving up as beer a liquid best described as foul water,” Maladict went on, in the same level, conversational tone. “I, of course, don’t drink…horse piss, but I have a highly developed sense of smell, and really would prefer not to list aloud the things I can smell in this murk, so we’ll just say ‘rat droppings’ and leave it at that, shall we? Just whimper. Good man.” At the end of the bar, one of the new recruits threw up. Maladict nodded with satisfaction. The barman’s fingers had gone white.
    “Incapacitating a soldier of Her Grace in wartime is a treasonable offense,” he said. He leaned forward. “Punishable, of course, by…death.” Maladict pronounced the word with a certain delight. “ However, if there happened to be another barrel of beer around the place, you know, good stuff, the stuff you’d keep for your friends if you had any friends, then I’m sure we could forget this little incident. Now, I’m going to let go of your wrist. I can tell by your eyebrow that you are a thinker, and if you’re thinking of rushing back in here with a big stick, I’d like you to think about this instead: I’d like you to think about this black ribbon I’m wearing. Know what it means, do you?”
    The barman winced, and mumbled: “Tem’prance League…”
    “Right! Well done!” said Maladict. “And one more thought for you, if you’ve got room. I’ve only taken a pledge not to drink human blood. It doesn’t mean I can’t kick you in the fork so hard you suddenly go deaf.”
    He released his grip. The barman slowly straightened up. Under the bar, he would have a short wooden club, Polly knew. Every bar had one. Even her father had one. It was a great help, he said, in times of worry and confusion. She saw the fingers of the usable hand twitch.
    “Don’t,” she said. “I think he means it.”
    The barman relaxed. “Bit of a misunderstanding there, gents,” he mumbled. “Got the wrong barrel in. No offense meant.”
    He shuffled off, his hand almost visibly throbbing.
    “I only thaid it wath horthe pith,” said Igor.
    “He won’t cause trouble,” said Polly to Maladict. “He’ll be your friend from now on. He’s worked out he can’t beat you so he’s going to be your best mate.”
    Maladict subjected her to a thoughtful stare.
    “ I know that,” he said. “How do you?”
    “I used to work in an inn,” said Polly, feeling her heart begin to beat faster, as it always did when the lies lined up. “You learn to read people.”
    “What did you do in the inn?”
    “Barman.”
    “There’s another inn in this hole, is there?”
    “Oh no, I’m not from round here.”
    Polly groaned at the sound of her own voice, and waited for the question “Then why come here to join up?” It didn’t come. Instead, Maladict just shrugged and said, “I shouldn’t think anyone is from around here.”
    A couple more new recruits arrived at the bar. They had the same look—sheepish, a bit defiant, in