The Alloy of Law (Mistborn #4)(56)

She poked around, looking for anything that had been discarded, but succeeded only in making herself jump a few times when she thought she saw something from the corner of her eye. This side of the chamber was very dim.

Was Wayne taking too long? She fidgeted, then finally decided to climb the stairwell.

It was dark inside. Not pitch dark, just dark enough that she thought she should be able to see what she was doing—but couldn’t. She hesitated halfway up the stairs, then decided she was a fool and pushed forward.

“Wayne?” she said, nervous as she peeked out of the stairwell. The upper floor was lit by a few windows, darkened by soot, despite being in an area where there would be no forging or casting. That reinforced her theory. And her nervousness.

“He is dead, young lady,” an aged, distinguished voice said from the darkness. “I am sorry for your loss.”

Her heart just about stopped.

“Yes,” the voice continued, “he was simply too handsome, too clever, and too immensely remarkable in all aspects of his existence to allow to live.” Someone pushed open a window, letting in light and revealing Wayne’s face. “I’m afraid it took a hundred men to bring him down, and he killed all but one. His last words were, ‘Tell Wax … that he’s a total git … and he still owes me five notes.’”

“Wayne,” she hissed.

“Couldn’t help myself, mate,” he said, switching back to his own voice, which was completely different. “Sorry. But you shouldn’t have come up here.” He nodded to the corner, where a few sticks of something lay against the wall.



“More explosives?” she said, feeling faint.

“Yeah. We missed them on the first pass. Were rigged to blow when the latch was opened on a chest in the corner.”

“Was there anything in the chest?”

“Yeah. Explosives. Weren’t you listening?”

She gave him a flat stare.

“No,” he said, chuckling. “I don’t know what Wax expects us to find in this place. Swept it clean, they did.”

By the light of the open window, she could make out a low-ceilinged room. Well, more of a loft. She and Wayne could walk in it without bending over, but him just barely. Waxillium would have to stoop.

The floorboards were warped and there were nails sticking out in places. She had images of prying one up and finding some stash of hidden clues, but as she felt across the floor, she realized she could see between the boards to the floor below. There wasn’t really any space for hiding things.

Wayne poked through some cupboards built into the wall, checking for explosives, then knocking for hidden compartments. Marasi looked around, but quickly determined that there wasn’t anything to find here. Other than, perhaps, the explosives.

Explosives.

“Wayne, what kind of explosives are those?”

“Hum? Oh, ordinary stuff. They call it dynamite, used for blowing holes in rock out in the Roughs. Pretty easy to get, even in the city. These are smaller sticks than I’ve seen, but basically the same stuff.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “Were they in anything?”

He hesitated, then looked back at the trunk. “Huh.” He reached in and held up something. “They weren’t in anything, but someone used this to prop up the fuse and the detonator.”

“What is it?” she asked, hurrying over.

“Cigar box,” he said, letting her see it. “Citizen Magistrates. Expensive brand. Very expensive.”

She looked over the box. The top was painted gold and red, with the brand splayed across in large letters. There weren’t any cigars left, though it did look like some numbers had been scribbled across the inside of the lid in pencil. The sequence didn’t make any sense to her.

“We’ll show it to Wax,” Wayne said. “This is just the sort of thing he likes. It’ll probably lead him to some grand theory about how our boss smokes cigars, and that’ll somehow let him pick the guy out of a crowd. He’s always doing stuff like that, ever since we started working together.” Wayne smiled, taking the cigar box back, then returned to poking around the cupboards.

“Wayne,” Marasi said. “How did you end up with Waxillium, anyway?”

“That wasn’t in your reports?” he asked, knocking at the side of a cupboard.

“No. It’s considered a bit of a mystery.”

“We don’t talk about it much,” Wayne said, voice muffled, head inside the cupboard. “He saved my life.”

She smiled, sitting down on the floor, resting her back against the wall. “That’s probably a good story.”

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” he said, pulling his head out. “I was to be hanged over in Far Dorest, by the lawkeeper there.”

“Wrongfully, I assume?”

“Depends on your definition of that particular word and all,” Wayne said. “I shot a man. Innocent one.”

“Was it an accident?”

“Yeah,” Wayne said. “I only meant to rob him.” He paused, looking at the cupboard, seeming distant. He shook his head, then crawled inside, pushing hard and breaking in the back wall.

That wasn’t what she’d expected to hear. She sat back, hands around her legs. “You were a criminal?”