“Praise, flattery,” says the Bomb. “Perhaps to find a new patron. Probably he wouldn’t mind a kiss.”
“Do you think he’s interested in Nicasia for Orlagh’s sake or her own?” I want to know.
The Bomb shrugs. “He is interested in Nicasia’s beauty and Orlagh’s power. Grimsen went into exile with the first Alderking; I believe that the next time he swears fealty, he will be very sure of the monarch to whom he swears.”
“Or maybe he doesn’t want to swear fealty ever again,” I say, determining to pay him a visit.
Grimsen chose to live as well as work in the old forge Cardan gave him, though it was overgrown with rosebushes and not in the best repair.
A thin plume of smoke spirals up from the chimney as I approach. I rap three times on the door and wait.
A few moments later, he opens the door
