Shadows of Self (Mistborn #5)(71)

“You seem to find the idea disturbing,” Wax said, curious.

“I’m a youngster,” she said with a shrug. “Never really had to serve the Lord Ruler. I’ve always served Harmony, who seems like a generally nice fellow.”

An odd way to refer to God. Wax glanced at Marasi, who cocked an eyebrow at him and shrugged. Around them, the pubgoers chattered with a low hum of energy and enthusiasm. Wax and the others had settled into a secluded booth at the side. The warm gas lighting was somehow friendlier, more alive than the electric lights back at his mansion.

“All right,” Wax said to MeLaan. “Let’s talk about what Bleeder can do. And about how to kill her.”

“You don’t need to kill her,” MeLaan said quickly, getting her tower to a second story. She glanced at Wayne, who already had his up to three levels. “Just remove her remaining spike, which will basically immobilize her. She’s confused; we can deal with her once we have her in custody.”

“Confused?” Wax said. “She killed a priest by nailing him through the eyes.”

MeLaan’s smile faded. “She only has one spike. She’s not thinking straight.”

“Yes,” Wax said, “but she pulled the other spike out herself, right?”

“We think so,” MeLaan admitted. “We’re weaker than other Hemalurgic creatures. Only two spikes, and we can be taken. So she removed one.”

“She wanted freedom to kill,” Wax said. “She’s not ‘confused,’ MeLaan. She’s destructive and possibly psychotic. Tell me how to kill her.”

MeLaan sighed. “Acid works, but that’s horribly inefficient. If you crush her skeleton, she’ll have a hard time moving, so maybe use that. Gunshots will be useless, as will most forms of physical damage. The spike—it’s the key. Pull it out, and she’ll revert to her primal state. It is the best way.”

“Her primal state,” Marasi said. “A mistwraith.”

MeLaan nodded.

Wax tapped the table in thought. “If I can get the spike out, chances are that I’ve already immobilized her. If she’s tied up, what good will it do to remove the spike?”

“Waxillium,” MeLaan said, leaning forward, “you do realize what you’re dealing with? Paalm was trained by the ancients, and served the Lord Ruler himself. She quashed rebellions and overthrew kingdoms in his service, and she is intimately familiar with the intricacies of Hemalurgy. By your own accounts, she’s learned to use spikes to grant herself Allomancy and Feruchemy—something we thought impossible. If you have her captured, that is a state she’s not likely to remain in for long. Remove that spike.”

Wax felt a chill. “Right,” he said. “Will do.”

“Rusts,” Marasi whispered. “I thought you didn’t want us to be intimidated by you.”

“Me?” the kandra said. “I’m harmless.” She waved at the barmaid, then pointed at her mug. “I’m far less crazy than Paalm.”

“Great,” Wax said. He glanced at Wayne. “You look concerned.”

“Me?” Wayne said, placing a fourth level onto his tower. “Sorry. Tryin’ to think of how to get everyone in the city drunk.”

“I … I’m not going to ask.” Wax grabbed a few of the coasters as a barmaid dropped more on the table, noticing that they were playing with them. He started building a tower of his own. “So we get the spike out. How?”

“Easiest way is to call me,” MeLaan said. “I can get it out. But if I’m not there, don’t wait on me. Break her bones, start pulling them out, and eventually you’ll find the spike. It will take a strong stomach.”

Great. “Is there a way to spot a kandra? Wound patterns? Blood samples?”

MeLaan dug into her pocket. “Once we’ve shifted shapes, we lock into that body and are that person. We’ll bleed, and if you take off a finger, our prints will remain that of the person we’re imitating. Even another kandra will have trouble spotting a duplicate. Haven’t you read the Historica?”

“Several times,” Wax said, “but the kandra sections are kind of dull.”

“I feel like I should be offended by that.”

“Then you aren’t drunk enough,” Wayne responded. Five levels. Wax shook his head and concentrated on getting his second level built.

“Anyway,” MeLaan said, “locating other kandra was a problem in the past. So we did something about it, just in case. The more scientifically minded among us developed this.”

She slid something onto the table. A pair of needles, about as long as a man’s palm is wide, attached to metal syringes. Wax held one up.

“Inject that into a kandra,” MeLaan said, “and the liquid inside will make her shape droop for a bit. The skin briefly goes clear, reveals who she really is.”

“Nifty,” Wayne said.

“One problem though,” MeLaan said. “If you stick it into someone who isn’t a kandra, it will kill them.”

“Inconvenient,” Marasi said, examining the other one.

“Yeah,” MeLaan said. “We’re working on that part. This is a last resort, obviously, but it will immobilize her briefly. If you want to find Paalm before using it, you can try to catch her in a lie. She won’t have the actual memories of the person she’s imitating. Conversely, if you see someone who isn’t Metalborn use a power, that outs her too.”