We swapped wild stories, laughing over his nobbish adventures with Raffin, my near misses on the job in Gerse, as well as a few sweet shared memories of his cousin Meri, managing to keep the conversation well clear of Talth or war or murder. I felt curiously light and silly leaving the Keep, and I could not chase away the image of those deep-set gray eyes or that contagious grin. We had made good progress with the stolen records. We now knew for certain something suspicious was going on with Talth’s business, and I was trying to decide what my next step should be, along the path leading to the real murderer. On my way home, I stopped back at Grillig’s junk shop, wondering how much I’d have to spend this time for information. If he even had any. “Glad you made it back here,” he said by way of greeting. “Getting worried you weren’t going to show again.” I leaned on the counter. “Do you have anything for me?”
