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Tam raised a hand. “What are kolaks?” “Like a scaly camel with no humps,” said Cura, handing back the cup. “What’s a camel?” asked Tam. “Like a furry kolak but with humps,” Rose said ...

Most people, she figured, sized up the truth when it came knocking, decided they didn’t much like the look of it, and shut the door in its face. And who could blame them, really?

Tam had never been a strong rider, so she selected a docile brown gelding the trader tried to talk her out of. “This is a child’s horse!” he claimed, intent on selling her a larger, more expensive animal. “Perfect,” Tam said. “Sold.” “Don’t bother naming him,” said Cura as Tam climbed into the saddle. “You won’t know each other long enough to get attached.” Tam nodded, waited until the Inkwitch was out of earshot, then scratched the gelding behind one ear. “Don’t listen to her, Parsley. We’ll be friends forever.”

Tam continued to practice with her bow as well. She carried Duchess as she walked, keeping pace with the corpse cart and taking aim at targets as her bandmates called them out. “That slanting oak,” said Freecloud on their second morning in the forest. Her shaft skimmed the bark and bounced away. “That ugly knot that looks like Brune,” Cura pointed out. “Hey!” Brune shouted, taking offense, but then he saw the knot and nodded appreciatively. “Never mind. That’s me, all right.” Tam’s arrow struck it dead-on. “Ouch,” said the shaman. Freecloud beamed. “Well done, Tam.” He yanked the shaft free as they passed and inspected the tip before returning it to her. “That rabbit.” Rose gestured to the animal bounding through the brush ahead of them. Tam skewered it a heartbeat later. The round of applause she earned from her bandmates didn’t quite eclipse how awful she felt for having killed something so fuzzy and adorable. Not until lunchtime, anyway.

Tam reached Lark in time to wrench the shield from the man’s bony grip, though she found herself at a loss as to what to do next. Lark offered one alternative. “Gimme that back!” “Come and take it,” she snarled. Come and take it? Tam’s inner voice harangued her. Why the hell did you say that? What if he comes? What if he takes it?

The man fled without retrieving his knife. He had a fuzzy, flat little bum that made the bard wonder (not for the first time) why the heck you’d want to see a man naked, much less allow one to crawl on top of you.

... a harried-looking woman approached the table. “Excuse me …” she interrupted. “You’re excused,” said Roderick. “Now fuck off.” “Rod.” Brune’s voice was a chiding rumble. “Apologies, love,” the booker muttered. He slapped on a feeble smile. “What is it you want? An autograph? Did you bring a quill? Parchment? If it’s a tumble you’re after, I’m afraid you’re too skinny for Brune’s tastes, and far too meek for mine. Though perhaps Tam here would fancy—” The woman untied a leather purse from her waist and dropped it on the table with a very heavy clink. Roderick’s ears perked up at the sound. “Your room or mine?” he asked.

... the developing brain is so plastic that even much milder childhood adversities, such as significant family discord, exposure to emotional abuse or poor parental care, can exert an effect, particularly in the social brain network. The very plasticity that underpins the flexibility and adaptability of the human brain means that its world can influence a tightly preprogrammed process or even divert it, sometimes to destinations from which there may not be an easy way back. This adaptability can mean a world of vulnerabilities as well as one of possibilities.

[François Poullain de la Barre's] two publications, On the Equality of the Two Sexes: a physical and moral discourse in which is seen the importance of undoing prejudice in oneself (1673) and On the Education of Women, to guide the mind in sciences and manners (1674), show a startlingly modern approach to issues of differences between the sexes. Poullain even tries to show how women’s skills can be equated with those of men; there’s a charming section in his treatise on sexual equality where he muses that the skills required of embroidery and needlework are as demanding as those required to learn physics. Based on his studies of findings from the then new science of anatomy, he made a startlingly prescient observation: ‘Our most accurate anatomical investigations do not uncover any difference between men and women in this part of the body [the head]. The brain of women is exactly like ours.’ His close examination of the different skills and dispositions of men and women, boys and girls, drew him to the conclusion that, given the opportunity, women would be just as capable of benefiting from the privileges which were then only offered to men, such as education and training. For Poullain, there was no evidence that women’s inferior position in the world was due to some biological deficit. ‘L’esprit n’a point de sexe,’ he declared: the mind has no sex.

... treating others like dirt is contagious—so if you work with a jerk (or, worse, a bunch of them), you are likely to become one too. A 2012 study documented how such shit rolled downhill: abusive senior leaders were prone to selecting or breeding abusive team leaders, who in turn, ignited destructive conflict in their teams, which stifled team members’ creativity.

“I hope you don’t expect me to call you Master,” she said, adjusting the knot. “Saints, no, that word has no place except in bed. And Lord makes my skin crawl. Captain will do.”

... that was the problem with forcing people to do things they didn’t want to do. You had to be so specific. They had no choice but to follow orders, but they probably weren’t inclined to go above and beyond them.