Chapter 12: Two of Him

"There are two of you," Idris said.

"Yes," said the one with the living face.

"Obviously," said the pale one.

They said it at the same moment, in almost the same voice, and then glared at each other across the pillow.

Idris pulled the sheet to his chin.

"Which of you has the blankets?"

"I do," said the body.

"I'm using the corner," said the shade.

He had no weight and had never needed a blanket in his life, and he was holding a corner of the quilt with both hands.

"You can't feel it," said the body.

"I feel it when you do," said the shade.

"That's disgusting."

"That is the nature of the arrangement."

Idris looked from one to the other.

It was clear that this was the first full argument Dain Korrigan had had with himself in two years.

Both halves were enjoying it enormously.

"All right," he said, and sat up.

"Rules. Whoever's in the body gets breakfast first."

"Whoever's out gets to stand by the window and complain about the weather. Nobody, and I mean nobody, watches me dress."

"That's rule one," said the shade, wistful.

"It is."

"It was a bad rule."

"It's a very good rule." Idris wrapped the sheet around himself and stood. "Get up. I'm taking you to a doctor."

The Healers' Hall of Orsa was a white tower in the old quarter, with a hundred and ten floors and one lift that worked.

The Hall Master was a woman of seventy in an ink-stained coat.

She had the dry, patient face of a person who had examined too many Marshals.

She sat the Marshal's body in a chair under a ring of copper coils.

Keep reading free with an account. Start They Sold Me to the Ruined General, Now His Ghost Won't Let Go from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.