What Feasts at Night by T. Kingfisher

I really enjoyed the first novella in T. Kingfisher's Sworn Soldier series, What Moves the Dead, so I was excited to dive into the sequel, What Feasts at Night. 

We are back with Alex Easton, who has spent some time in Paris since their adventure at the Usher manor in the previous installment. They are now on their way to their home country of Gallacia to their hunting lodge where they will meet Miss Potter for more fungus exploration. When they arrive, they find that the caretake of the lodge had died several months earlier. When they attempt to figure out what caused the caretaker's death, local superstition starts to take hold. 

Boy, oh boy, do I enjoy Kingfisher novellas. This was such a fun, quick read. Kinda spooky, but we know Alex is going to be okay in the end, so it's never terrifying, really. It's funny and Alex is such a fun character to be around. I see that there are two more books in the Sworn Soldier series to come and I can't wait to read more. 4/5 stars

Lines of note:

I gazed at Cordin's daughter's front door with sinking dread. Paying one's condolences sounds well and good in theory, but in practice you have to walk up to a stranger and effectively say, "Ah, yes, that person you loved so much? Remember how they died horribly? So sorry about that." It's different when it's at a funeral and fresh in their minds, but two months later? I felt ghoulish. (page 26)

Such great observational writing. It is different at a funeral than much later, but somehow you always end up having to do both, don't you?

If you have ever dealt with the possessions of the dead, you probably know what I mean. You take things away and leave behind emptiness, and everything you remove - every sheet and pillowcase, every lost sock and old razor - erases a little bit of the dead person's footprint in the world. You picture your own home being carted away, piece by piece, hopefully by loved ones and not by strangers. (page 35)

Am I the only one who does hope it is done by strangers so there's less emotional baggage for them? 

Nevertheless, I personally have never seen an ostrich.

They simply don't play a large part in my life. If I woke in the night and head footsteps in the hall, I would not immediately assume it was an ostrich. Why would I? Ostriches are things that happen to other people, far away, in countries more Serengeti-adjacent. If you want to tell me your saga of your encounter with an ostrich, I will listen appreciatively, but it's just not something I worry about happening to me. 

Likewise, ghosts do not play any significant role in my life. I have slept in reputedly haunted houses and never seen anything worse than a stray cockroach. The howls of banshees and Gray Ladies fall on deaf ears (or at least ears rather badly affected by tinnitus). I've never attended a seance and while I have a vague skepticism about mediums, it's the same kind that I have about landlords and minstrels. Undoubtedly some of them are fine people, and I do not question the existence of either rental properties or music. (page 99)

This extended analogy made me laugh out loud. 

Things I looked up:

moroi (page 32 and then over and over again) -  a type of vampire or ghost in Hungarian and Romanian folklore

Hat mentions (why hats?):

I took off my hat and held it in front of my chest. (page 26)

I took a deep breath and clenched the brim of my hat in nervous fingers. (page 27)

I squeezed the brim of my hat with my hands. (page 27)

I wanted to jam my hat in my mouth to stop myself talking. (page 27)

My hat was never going to be the same, as badly as I was twisting it. (page 28-29)

Miss Potter removed a pin from her hat... (page 48)

I shook myself and turned to Bors, who was mutilating his hat...(page 145-146)

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Did you know what a moroi is?