The Alloy of Law (Mistborn #4)(49)

“Wise of you. Your stupidity can be infectious.”

“Don’t use your fancy words ’round me, son.” Wayne strolled in. Though he wore the constable’s hat, he was otherwise normally dressed in his duster and trousers, dueling canes at his hips.

“Did you succeed?” Waxillium asked, standing up, then reaching down to help Marasi to her feet.

“Sure did—I got some scones.” Wayne grinned. “And the dirty conners even paid for them.”

“Wayne?”

“Yes?”

“We’re dirty conners.”

“Not no more,” he said proudly. “We’re independent citizens with a mind toward civic duty. And eating the scones of dirty conners.”

Marasi grimaced. “They don’t sound that appetizing when described that way.”

“Oh, they were good.” Wayne reached into the pocket of his duster. “Here, I brought you some. Got a little mushed up in my pocket, though.”

“No, really,” she said, paling.

Wayne, however, chuckled and brought out a paper that he waved at Waxillium. “Location of the Vanishers’ hideout in the city. Along with the name of their recruiter.”

“Really?” Marasi said eagerly, rushing over to take the paper. “How did you do this?”

“Whiskey and magic,” Wayne said.

“In other words,” Waxillium said, walking up and reading the paper over Marasi’s shoulder, “Wayne did a lot of fast talking. Nice work.”

“We need to get going!” Marasi said, urgent. “Go there, get Steris, and—”

“They won’t be there anymore,” Waxillium said, taking the paper. “Not after having several of their members captured. Wayne, did you manage to get this without the constables hearing?”

He looked offended. “What do you think?”

Waxillium nodded, rubbing his chin. “We should probably go soon. Get to the scene before it gets too cold.”

“But…” Marasi said. “The constables…”

“We’ll drop them an anonymous tip once I’ve seen the place,” Waxillium said.

“Won’t be needed,” Wayne added. “I set a fuse.”

“For when?”

“Nightfall.”

“Nice.”

“You can show your appreciation with a big fat nugget of a rare and expensive metal,” Wayne said.

“On the desk,” Waxillium said, folding the paper and sliding it into his vest pocket.

Wayne walked over, glancing at the apparatus set up on the desk. “I’m not sure if I want to touch any of this, mate. I’m rather fond of all of my fingers.”

“It’s not going to explode, Wayne,” he said dryly.

“You said that—”

“It happened once,” Waxillium said.

“Do you know how bloody annoying it is to regrow fingers, Wax?”

“If it’s on par with your complaining, then it’s likely appalling indeed.”

“I’m just sayin’,” Wayne said, scanning the desk until he found the bottle of bendalloy flakes. He snatched that, then backed away warily. “The most innocent-looking of things have a tendency to explode around you. A bloke has to be cautious.” He shook the bottle. “This isn’t much.”

“Don’t act spoiled,” Waxillium said. “That’s far more than I could have gotten you on short notice if we’d been out in the Roughs. Drop the hat. Let’s go look at this foundry your notes mention.”

“We can use my carriage, if you like,” Marasi said. To the side, Tillaume walked in, carrying a basket in one hand and a tray with tea in the other. He set the basket beside the door, then set the tray on the table and began pouring tea.

Waxillium eyed Marasi. “You want to come? I thought you said you wanted to leave the shooting to men like me.”

“You said they won’t be there,” she replied. “So there’s really no danger.”

“They still want you,” Wayne noted. “They tried to grab you at the dinner. It’ll be dangerous for you.”

“And they’d likely shoot either one of you without blinking,” she said. “So how will it be any less dangerous for you?”

“I suppose it ain’t,” Wayne admitted.

Tillaume walked over, bringing a cup of tea for Waxillium on a small tray. Wayne plucked it off with a grin, though Tillaume tried to pull the tray away.

“How convenient,” Wayne said, holding the teacup. “Wax, why didn’t you ever get me one of these chaps back in Weathering?” The butler shot him a scowl, then hurried back to the table to prepare another cup.

Waxillium considered Marasi. There was something he was missing, something important. Something about what Wayne had said …

“Why did they take you?” Waxillium asked Marasi. “There were better targets at that party. Women closer to the bloodlines they wanted.”

“You said she might have been a decoy to throw us off,” Wayne said, dumping some bendalloy into his teacup, then downing the entire thing in one draught.

“Yes,” Waxillium said, looking into her eyes and seeing a flash of something there. She turned away. “But if that were the case, they’d have wanted to take someone that wasn’t close to the same bloodline at all, not one who was a near cousin.” He pursed his lips, and then it clicked. “Ah. You’re illegitimate, then. Steris’s half sister, by Lord Harms, I assume.”