smell

The door my back was turned to opened silently, but my senses had gotten even sharper since Arcadia. I could feel the air moving, almost, and the soft creep of leather boots headed for me.

...

“You’re not going to mention the fact that this entire room is rigged with demolition charges?” I asked.

Smell was a sense as well, and I’d learned to recognize the sharp tang of goblin munitions.

- Book 3, Chapter 23: Reassessment

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“Oh, you don’t get to die yet,” I said. “I still have a use for you.”

What little was left of his mind smelled of fear, and it was not unwarranted.

- Book 3, Chapter 26: Advance

---

I was past being scared of her, no matter the ice in her eyes. What I smelled off her in that moment was resentment, and just like that the pieces clicked. I laughed.

“He’s ordered you to let me in, hasn’t he?” I said.

- Book 3, Chapter 72: Curtains

---

I could smell the sorcery on him. I always could, really, and given the amount of protective enchantments he layered on himself whenever we went into battle this should not be a surprise. But there was something different, this time. The magic was curving beneath his skin, deep into his body. My eyes narrowed and traced the shape of them with my mind, like a blind girl trying to see the face of another with my fingers. Some of that sorcery was going straight into his heart, keeping the blood pumping steadily. More was stiffening muscles, like those of his lower back. Keeping him standing up straight. And there were two little pinpricks, going into smaller glands above his kidneys. Forcing them to keep functioning, for whatever eldritch purpose. My studies of anatomy had largely been aimed towards killing or more recreational affairs, but I could recognize the sight of a man tinkering with his own body to keep it going when it was falling apart. He’d used powerful sorceries, today. Birthed an aspect, and used another. Back when I’d been the Squire and just that, even calling on a single such power would have wiped me out. A long overdue reminder that Masego, like the rest of the Woe, was still very much human. With all the messy, unpleasant parts that involved.

- Book 4, Chapter 44: Catherine's Plan