The Prisoner of Limnos (Penric and Desdemona, #6)

by Lois McMaster Bujold

it’s best not to meddle with things half understood,” said Pen. Nikys wasn’t sure whether it was Pen or Des who then added, “Or else I would recommend they run off somewhere far away and set up an apothecary shop. They could just live over it, together.” “In a set of rooms?” “Mm. Tanar could spend the day brewing medicines, and Bosha could, I don’t know, assassinate the customers. They’d be happy.”

Pen reminds me periodically of Miles Vorkosigan.

Nikys wasn’t here to bargain for something to which she had no native right, trading favors. The court of the sacred well wasn’t a marketplace. There was no way to put a value on what she sought. And no need, child. Nikys trembled, not sure whose thought that was. Lady. I do not sin against You, and no forgiveness is required. I am here to do today exactly what a daughter ought. I lay my actions as an offering at Your feet, because we should give to the gods the very best of what is in us. There is no offense to You in me. And she knew it to be true.

In previous installments, we've met the Bastard and the Son; here's the Daughter. Two more to go?

Good intentions and even good results were valid theological defenses only up to a point. Pen could hope he’d not transgressed beyond it. He wouldn’t say pray, as he’d decided long ago not to bother the gods with questions when he didn’t really want to hear the answers.