So I recently bought myself Swordsheart, the latest tkingfisher novel. Premise: there's a dude in a sword, a middle-aged lady who comes into possession of the sword, and a nasty pack of in-laws making life hard for both of them. Fine. (It's also very, very funny, which I am not doing justice, and has a number of sensible key touches like: the wealthy-peasant middle-aged woman knows full well how to feed people in autumn by foraging, thank you; the. And it has good priests. I'm a sucker for good gods and good priests, which is why my current D&D character (second campaign Sunday!) is a middle-aged cleric who is trying to start over after a completed crisis of faith and conversion from her previous god. At some point I need to do a discussion of my Goodreads gods-walking tag and figure out what makes gods and priests really work for me.

But what I'm really loving about it is that Halla, the middle-aged woman in question, has a mind for inquisition that would suit any biologist--and she gets to be just as weird and gross about it as any biologist hunting for How Things Work, too. I never get that in fiction! For example, this bit here, about what happens when Serkis--the gentleman who lives in a sword whenever it's sheathed--leaves a bit of himself behind:

“Forgive me,” said Zale. “This is indelicate, but…what happened to your tongue?”
“What?”
“The tongue that was cut out,” said Zale. “Did it cease to exist? Did it go back in the sword?”
“I have no idea. I was not exactly paying attention!”
“Completely understandable,” said the priest in soothing tones. “Who would be? But I must wonder what happened. That might be important to understanding how the blade works.”
Sarkis exhaled. “I…can see how that would be useful. But I don’t know the answer.”
“Hmmm,” said Zale. They looked at Halla. Halla chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully.
Both of them looked at Sarkis.
He groaned, recognizing twin lights of curiosity in their eyes. “Fine. Would you like to cut off my little finger to test it?”
Zale looked genuinely shocked. “Oh dear! No, no, we shouldn’t start there! What about…oh! What happens when you urinate?”
Sarkis’s mouth fell open.
“Oh, that’s a good question,” said Halla. “We could test from there, couldn’t we?”
“Test…what are you…?”
Great god, they were both still looking at him! As if they expected an answer!
He cleared his throat. “Well, I take my cock out in the usual way and aim somewhere and try to relax…”
Zale burst out laughing. “No, not that bit!”
Halla’s shoulders were shaking. Sarkis appreciated that she wasn’t laughing in his face.
“Does the urine dematerialize? Into blue light, as you do?”
“No,” said Sarkis. “Definitely not. I’d notice.”
“Hmm,” said Zale. “And of course, by definition, you’re never around to see what happens after you dematerialize…”
Halla leaped down from the wagon. Sarkis looked after her, not sure what exactly she was planning.
And if I’m being honest, a little afraid to find out.
The wagon door creaked as she opened it. The ox never looked right or left, plodding along. Neither did Brindle.
Halla was back a moment later, holding a crockery jar. Sarkis recognized it as having held the jam they used at breakfast.
“Here!” she said, holding it up. “You can go in this!”
Sarkis stared at her, then at Zale, then back at her.
“It would be a good way to check,” the priest said. “We’ll put you back in the sword, and then we’ll know if it vanishes or not.”
Sarkis looked around for help. Brindle glanced at him, shook his head, and said, “Ask somebody else, sword-man. A gnole isn’t getting involved.”
Defeated, Sarkis took the jar. “I…uh. In front of you?”
It wasn’t that he hadn’t answered the call of nature with his men any number of times, of course, but there was a difference between simply living in close proximity to others and having two people staring at you with intense interest, waiting for…
“I’m not going to be able to do this with you staring at me.”
“You can go in the bushes, if you like,” said Halla.
Zale nodded.
Sarkis counted to seventy-two, slid off the wagon seat, and went to go further the pursuit of knowledge.

I just. how do you not love them?