“Baghra,” I said, pushing on, ruthless in my own way, “if Morozova died—” “I never said he died. That was the last I ever saw of him. But he was a Grisha of immense power. He might well have survived the fall.” “In chains?” “He was the greatest Fabrikator who ever lived. It would take more than otkazat’sya steel to hold him.” “And you believe he went on to create the third amplifier?” “His work was his life,” she said, and the bitterness of that neglected child edged her words.
