Penric's Fox: Penric and Desdemona Book 3 by Lois McMaster Bujold

Author:Lois McMaster Bujold [Bujold, Lois McMaster]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Spectrum Literary Agency, Inc.
Published: 2017-08-07T00:00:00+00:00

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Two hours of blundering back and forth through his assigned sector brought Pen no prizes, although he did find and spring an iron leg-hold trap baited with pork fat, and two snares. Might the demon-ridden fox have a more-than-natural wariness of such hazards? Pen hoped so.

Casting around the woods with his Sight fully extended was a strange experience in its own right. He could have used it when hunting as a youth, except… it was so overwhelming. It wasn’t like ghosting along with his bow trying to pick out one tasty target, disregarding all the rest; rather the reverse. The whole tapestry of the forest’s life folded in upon him, its intricacy interlocking in finer and finer stitching, so that the mere perception, after a time, grew exhausting. His range was short, half-a-hundred paces, or this god-sight would be entirely too god-like. What kind of Mind was it that could hold the whole world like this, all at once, all the time? Could the gods ever close their Eyes and rest from it, even for a short while? And what would happen if They did?

Also, if he were ever the-gods-forbid by some accident blinded, could this substitute for his lost eyesight? He was in no hurry to find out.

Aside from that, Des grew replete ingesting the life from more biting insects than Pen thought possible, and bored enough to attempt exploding a scampering shrew, a pastime he caught up with just too late. He stared down with some disgust at the splatter across his boot. “Really, Des. Are you a two-hundred-year-old woman—”

“Women,” she corrected, blandly.

“—or an idle village lad? Even I never pulled the wings off flies.”

“Somehow, I am not surprised, dear Pen.”

And he was reminded, again, that beneath the two centuries’ accumulation of human experience and knowledge that she shared so generously with him, she was a chaos demon. Which made him wonder, again, what must be going on right now with the other chaos demon, thrown so violently backward into worse disorder.

Hot, sweaty, and hungry, he turned his steps back toward the kin Pikepool manor. His pace quickened as he found yesterday’s path. Perhaps one of the others had come upon something. Perhaps they were impatiently waiting for him.

He found Oswyl and Thala sitting on the bench by the back door, though with no sign of impatience. Inglis and Kreil lounged cross-legged at their feet, sharing around a pitcher of well water and some of the food they’d brought along. Inglis looked glum and Oswyl grim, but since both were their natural expressions, it didn’t tell Pen much.

They all looked up as he trod near. “Ah,” said Oswyl. “Find anything interesting, Learned?”

Pen sighed and joined the pair on the ground, grateful to be handed down a cup. “Not so far. How about yourselves?”

Inglis and Kreil both shook their heads, but Oswyl confided, “Treuch’s hut shows signs of hosting a visitor. There was a bedroll, and maybe a few too many cups and plates scattered about.”

Thala put in, “The housekeeper notes he’s had a hearty appetite of late.

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