“So your colleagues had to cart the carcasses Upside. They had no choice.” Chyde said softly, “You’ll get a huge extra bucket of slops for this. Keep on.”

“I had no way of suspecting that the poor suckling Nor had a functioning brain left in her skull,” said the Sow. “But apparently she did. She climbed onto the door-slab and pulled the Hog carcasses over her. I certainly hope for her sake she plugged all her valves. I saw her chewing candlewax once, so maybe she was softening it for just such a purpose.

Anyway, hidden by corpses, she was carried away a few days ago, though what happened to her once she left our happy home I can’t say.”

“The very least of my concerns,” said Chyde. He glanced at Liir, who was tremblingly pale and gulping for air. “You take it so hard, lad? Why is that? Sounds like she got out—

something you’d never have persuaded me into allowing. Don’t weep, silly boy.” Then he said, “Jibbidee. The runt.”

“Oh no you don’t,” said the Sow, struggling to her feet. The elf was defter, though, and he had scrabbled over the boards and across the straw, and snatched the Piglet before the Sow could position herself in full defense. “You bastard!” she cried.

“I’ve been remiss; I haven’t noticed. Poor Sow: You’ve far too much on your mind. This should relieve you of distractions.” Chyde grabbed the squealing Piglet from the elf and hurled it against a beam. His aim was true; the blood spattered and the body fell with a thud into the slop trough.

In shock Liir fell against the fence, and the maddened Sow went for him, but Chyde, laughing, pulled the boy away in time. “You should’ve let someone know these shenanigans were going on,” he said to the Sow. “Being a squealer isn’t such a bad thing in a Pig. And we all have to do our duty—you, me, and the least little daisy in the field.

Eh? Eh?”

8

THE PANTHER HAD GONEas far as she would go, and turned back. Now the canopy of oakhair limbs formed over their heads. In the short time that they’d been away from the mauntery, however, the wind had scoured the trees of their last leaves. The jackal moon, though sinking toward the horizon, still watched Sister Doctor and Sister Apothecaire as their high-rumped skarks fleet-footed it through the forest. The unnamed creatures still circled overhead, following their progress.

“I could use a moment to pee,” called Sister Apothecaire at one point. “A Munchkin woman doesn’t have as large a bladder as some others.”

“Winter wolves come out at dawn,” Sister Doctor replied, “so shut up and hold your bladder if you can, or pee in your saddle.”

9