Abhorsen (Abhorsen, #3)

by Garth Nix

There was always a crowd these days, mostly made up of Corolini’s supporters: paid thugs and agitators wearing the red armbands of Corolini’s Our Country party.

Nazi comparison. So, that definitely makes the Southlingers Jews & Roma

“What can I smell?” she asked the Dog, whose nose had often picked up scents and odors that Lirael could neither smell, spell, or imagine. “Very little,” replied the Dog. “Unless you’ve improved recently.” “No,” said Lirael patiently. “There’s a particular smell coming out of the well. A plant, or an herb. But I can’t place it.” Sam sniffed the air and his forehead furrowed in thought. “It’s something used in cooking,” he said. “Not that I’m much of a cook. But I’ve smelled this in the Palace kitchens, when they were roasting lamb, I think.” “It’s rosemary,” said the Dog shortly. “And there is amaranth, too, though you probably cannot smell it.” “Fidelity in love,” said a small voice from Sam’s backpack. “With the flower that never fades. And you still say she is not there?”

Need to double check with my Clariel notes

“Why, Yrael?” it said, as the last of the dark gave way to silver, and the shining sphere of metal sank slowly to the ground. “Why?” Yrael’s answer seemed to travel across a great space, words trickling into Lirael’s consciousness as she raised her sword still higher, body arching back, preparing for the mighty blow that must cut through the entire sphere. “Life,” said Yrael, who was more Mogget than it ever knew. “Fish and fowl, warm sun and shady trees, the field mice in the wheat, under the cool light of the moon. All the—”

Being a pampered cat really is where it's at