Witch's Marsh I'll never forgive Orange if they've wiped the twins

He shook his head ruefully. Nay, that's my faither, he explained, grinning. Which makes me the prince, I reckon. Except that I've got more brothers than ye can count, and probably all wanting to be prince. . . Pygmalion shook it off like a dog clearing water from his coat, rolling his eyes. It's fer the best that I left.

The young Pangloss glowed at her admission, and beamed further when she asked about the lemmings. Aye, wee brown furry things, he explained in what was perhaps the most cryptic description possible. Small and round. Fat, especially in the summer. Sometimes they travel in big groups—

Pyg began to laugh, albeit grimly. Once, a great lot of them ran right off a ledge, he recalled. Dinna ken why, and we would have had ourselves a feast, except their path to doom was right into the icy sea. So strange.