The Alloy of Law (Mistborn #4)(70)

“It’s all right,” Waxillium said, laying a hand on her shoulder. “There are much worse things to be than genuine, Marasi. Besides, Wayne wasn’t much better when he was new to all of this. Why, he used to get so nervous that he would start—”

“Hey,” Wayne said, “no use bringin’ that up.”

“What?” Marasi asked, lowering her hands.

“NOTHING,” Wayne replied. “Come on. We should move, right? If Mister Miles Murderer is still alive, he’ll be wanting to shoot us, right? And as good as Wax is at getting shot—he’s had lots of practice, you see—I think we best be avoiding more of that sort today.”

“He’s right,” Waxillium said, pulling on his vest, then putting on his shoulder holsters. He winced.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Marasi asked.

“He’s fine,” Wayne said, holding the door open for them. “I got quite near my entire rusted back blown off earlier, if you’ll kindly recall, and I didn’t hear nearly an ounce of the sympathy you’re showin’ him.”

“That’s different,” Marasi said, walking past him.

“What? Why? ’Cuz I can heal?”

“No,” she said, “because—even after knowing you only a short time—I’m fairly certain that on one level or another, you deserve to get blown up every now and again.”

“Oi,” Wayne said. “That’s harsh.”

“But untrue?” Waxillium said, pulling on his coat. It was looking quite ragged.

“Didn’t say that now, did I,” Wayne said, and sneezed. “Keep moving, slowboy. Rusts! A man gets shot, and he thinks he can take all afternoon. Let’s move!”

Waxillium walked past. He forced himself to smile, though he was starting to feel as ragged as his coat. There wasn’t much time. Miles had taken off his mask, but had obviously expected to kill Waxillium. He now knew that he’d been outed, and that would make him even more dangerous.

If Miles and his people were going to strike for more aluminum, they’d do it soon. Tonight, probably, assuming there was a shipment. Waxillium expected one soon; he’d read something in the broadsheets about House Tekiel boasting of their new armored freight cars.

“So what do we do when we get back?” Wayne asked softly as they walked toward the railway car. “We’re going to need someplace safe to plan, right?”

Waxillium sighed, knowing what Wayne was fishing for. “You’re probably right.”

Wayne smiled.

“You know,” Waxillium said, “I’m not sure I’d call any place near Ranette ‘safe.’ Particularly if you are there.”

“Better than being exploded,” Wayne said happily. “Mostly.”

14

Waxillium pounded on the door of the townhome. The area around them was a typical Elendel neighborhood. Vibrant, lush walnut trees lined either side of the cobbled street. Even after seven months back in the city, the trees still made him stare. Out in the Roughs, trees as large as these were rare. And here was an entire street full of them, mostly ignored by the inhabitants.

He, Wayne, and Marasi stood on the porch of the narrow, brick-faced home. Before Waxillium had a chance to lower his hand, the door swung open. A lean, long-legged woman stood inside. Her dark hair was pulled back into a shoulder-length tail, and she wore brown trousers and a Roughs-style long leather coat over a white, no-nonsense laced shirt. She took one look at Waxillium and Wayne, then slammed the door shut without saying a word.

Waxillium glanced at Wayne, and then they both took a step to the side. Marasi looked at them in confusion until Waxillium took her by the arm and pulled her over.

The door slammed back open, and the woman shoved a shotgun out. She glanced around the corner at the two of them, then narrowed her eyes.

“I’ll count to ten,” she said. “One.”

“Now, Ranette,” Waxillium began.

“Two three four five,” she said in quick succession.



“Do we really have to—”

“Six seven eight.” She raised the gun, taking aim at them.

“All right then…” Waxillium said, hustling down the steps, Wayne following, hand holding his carriage man’s cap in place.

“She wouldn’t really shoot us?” Marasi asked softly. “Would she?”

“Nine!”

They reached the sidewalk beneath the towering trees. The door slammed closed behind them.

Waxillium took a deep breath, turning around and looking at the house. Wayne leaned back against one of the tree trunks, smiling.

“So, that went well,” Waxillium said.

“Yup,” Wayne replied.

“Well?” Marasi demanded.

“Neither of us got shot,” Waxillium said. “You can’t always be sure, with Ranette. Particularly if Wayne is along.”

“Now, that’s right unfair,” Wayne said. “She’s only shot me three times.”

“You’re forgetting Callingfale.”

“That was in the foot,” Wayne said. “Barely counts.”

Marasi pursed her lips, studying the building. “You two have some curious friends.”

“Curious? Nah, she’s just angry.” Wayne smiled. “It’s how she shows affection.”