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“I’ve got to report in to the precinct offices first,” Marasi said. “I want to follow up on something there.”

“Fine,” Wax said. “Wayne, you head to the governor’s mansion first.”

“He ditched me last time.”

“He won’t again,” Wax said. “I’ve persuaded him to listen, though we’ll need him to meet MeLaan soon.”

“Sure, all right,” Wayne said. “It wasn’t like I was planning to, you know, sleep tonight or anythin’.”

“Sleep might be in short supply going forward,” Wax said.

“You want me to go with him, Dawnshot?” MeLaan asked.

“Depends. Marasi, would you like some backup?”

“Yes please,” she said.

“Watch her,” Wax said, nodding toward Marasi. “And maybe give Aradel a glimpse of your nature. It’s probably time to inform him what we’re up against.”

“Already done,” Marasi said. “Though I’m sure he’d like proof.”

Wax grunted. He hadn’t ordered her to do that. “Be quick about your errand,” Wax told her. “And get to the governor. I want more than one set of eyes on him. And before we split, I want each pair of us to exchange codes, individual and unknown to the others, so we each have a way to authenticate ourselves to one another. I’ve done the same with the governor and his top staff.” Harmony, this was going to be a nightmare.

“Watching the governor isn’t going to be enough, Wax,” Marasi said, standing up from the table. “You yourself said it. Too reactive. So what else are we going to do?”

“I’ll come up with something.”

The others stood, and Wax towed Wayne by the arm to check to see that they were square with the pub manager. Surprisingly, Wayne had indeed paid for everything he should have. On their way toward the door, Wax explained to his friend a little idea he had for protecting the governor.

They stepped into the entryway of the pub, where MeLaan was waiting while Marasi fired up her beast of a motorcar. Wayne hiked off to catch a carriage to take him to the governor’s mansion, and Wax took MeLaan by the arm.

“I hate this,” he noted, soft enough to keep the bouncer outside from hearing. “Not being able to trust people I should always be able to. Second-guessing myself.”

“Yeah,” she replied. “But you’ll handle it. There’s a reason He came to you for this.” She stepped in closer. Rusts, she was attractive—but then, it would be odd if she weren’t, all things considered. “You and I aren’t the only ones hunting Paalm, lawman—every kandra in the city is searching for her. Thing is, I don’t think many of my brothers and sisters will be of use. They’re timid about hurting others, particularly after what TenSoon was forced to do during the Remarked Duplicity. And beyond that, they can be an … inconsistent group.”

“They’re God’s servants,” Wax said.

“Yes,” MeLaan replied, “and they’ve had centuries upon centuries to refine their eccentricities. Getting older does not tend to make you more normal, let me tell you. We don’t think like killers. We’ve been too closely in contact with Harmony. What Paalm is doing, it baffles us. It goes against everything we’ve believed and lived for centuries. I don’t think we’ll be able to find her, not in time. But you … you can.”

“Because I think like a killer.”

“I didn’t—”

“It’s all right,” Wax said, releasing her arm. “I am what I am.” He took his mistcoat from the peg by the door and shrugged it on before stepping out into the night. “Thanks, by the way,” he said.

“For?”

He tapped his ear, and the earring he wore in it. “This.”

“I was just the delivery girl.”

“Doesn’t matter. It was what I needed. When I needed it.” He dropped a bullet casing, then stilled it with his foot. “I’ll meet you all at the governor’s mansion.”

14

If you want to know a man, dig in his firepit.

The phrase was from the Roughs, maybe koloss in origin. Basically, it meant that you could judge a lot about a man’s life by what he threw away—or by what he was willing to burn in order to stay warm.

A loud church clock rang eleven as Wax moved through the mists on Allomantic jumps. The sound echoed in the night, the bell tower hidden in the darkness. Eleven was not late these days, particularly not in the heart of the city, but it should have marked a time when most men and women had begun to seek their beds. Labor started early in the morning.

Only, a sizable portion of the laborers in the city didn’t have a job to get up for right now. That was reflected in the busy streets and busier pubs, not to mention the Soothing parlors he passed, still open well into the night. Those were places where the downhearted could seek a different kind of relief, in the form of an Allomancer who—for a small fee—would wipe away their emotions for a time and leave them numb.

Rioting parlors were a different beast. There, you could choose the emotion you wanted and have it stoked within you. Those might be even more popular, judging by the line he saw outside one.