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At least the governor’s mansion looked calm. He’d come fearing the worst, a strike on Innate while he was away. She’s got me pinned, Wax thought with dissatisfaction, as the breeze rustled his mistcoat. I can’t stay and protect the governor because I have to follow leads and try to figure out her plan. But I can’t be as effective in that hunt because I keep worrying that I’m leaving Innate exposed.

Could he convince the governor to hide? Beneath his feet, electricity ran like an invisible river through the suspended cables. Spirits that moved like Allomancers in the sky, hopping from building to building …

Ah, lawman, a voice intruded upon his thoughts like a nail into a board. There you are.

Wax reached to his waist for Vindication. Where? This had to mean Bleeder was close, right? Watching somewhere?

Do you know, the voice said,

about the body’s remarkable defenses? Inside, there are tiny bits of you that men never see. Even surgeons don’t know of them, for they’re too small. It takes a refined taste to distinguish them, know them. What is it that your friend likes to say? Ain’t nobody what knows the cow better than the butcher?

Wax dropped down from his perch, slowing himself by Pushing on a discarded bottle cap. Mists churned around him, drawn by his Allomancy.

If a tiny invader enters your blood, Bleeder said, the entire body begins to spin around it, to fight it, to find it and eliminate it. Like a thousand fingers of mist, like a legion of soldiers all too small to see. But what is very interesting is when the body turns upon itself, and these soldiers run wild. Free …

“Where are you?” Wax asked loudly.

Close, Bleeder said. Watching. You, and the governor. I will need to kill him, you know.

“Can we talk?” Wax asked a little softer.

Isn’t that what we’re doing?

Wax turned, walking in the night. Either Bleeder would have to follow—which might let him catch motions in the mists—or he’d get far enough away that she couldn’t hear to reply to him, which would tell him which direction to search in.

“Are you going to try to kill me?” Wax asked.

What good would it do to kill you?

“So you want games.”

No. Bleeder sounded resigned.

No games.

“What, then?” Wax asked. “Why bother with all of this showmanship?”

I’ll free them. Every one of them. I’ll take this people, and I’ll open their eyes.

“How?”

What are you, Waxillium? Bleeder asked.

“A lawman,” Wax said immediately.

That’s the coat you’re wearing right now, but it’s not who you are. I know. God knows I’ve seen the truth in you.

“Tell me, then,” Wax said, still walking through the mists.

I don’t think I can. I might be able to show you.

Bleeder didn’t seem to have trouble hearing, though Wax had softened his voice. Allomancy? Or did she just have the ability to make ears that worked better than human ones? He kept searching. Perhaps one of those dark windows in the government building nearby? Wax headed that way. “Is that why you’re targeting the governor, then?” he asked. “You want to bring him down, free the people from the government’s oppression?”

You know he’s just another pawn.

“I don’t know that.”

I wasn’t talking to you that time, Waxillium.

He hesitated in the mists. The office building loomed before him, the windows a hundred hollow eyes. Most of those windows were closed—a common practice at night. No need to invite the mists in. Religion could say what it wished, and people believed, mostly. But the mists still made them uncomfortable.

There, Wax thought, picking out an open window on the second floor.