“What reeks so much round here?” Yarpen Zigrin asked, pretending not to see her. “Not brimstone, is it?” “No,” Boholt, glancing to the side and sniffing pointedly, “it’s musk or some other scent.” “No, it has to be…” the dwarf grimaced. “Oh! Why it’s the noble Madam Yennefer! Welcome, welcome.”
