Shadows of Self (Mistborn #5)(91)

“And you claim to be on the side of the common man,” Wax said dryly.

“Hardly. I want power. Wealth. Influence. Just like the people in the Survivor’s crew, actually.”

“They were heroes.”

“And thieves.”

“They were what they had to be.”

“And Kelsier himself?” Edwarn said. “In the years before his grand gambit? What of the Ascendant Warrior, living on the street, scamming noblemen and priests for a living? Have you read the Words of Founding, Nephew? The Historica speaks frankly about their ambitions. The Survivor didn’t just want to overthrow the Lord Ruler; he wanted to steal the empire’s riches. He wanted to rule the world that came about upon the Lord Ruler’s fall. He wanted power. Influence. Wealth.”

“I’m not going down this road, Uncle,” Wax said.

“Have you ever wondered,” Edwarn mused, ignoring Wax’s objection, “if you’d get along with them? If you’d lived back then, what would you have seen? A bunch of miscreants? Lawbreakers? Would you have trussed up the Ascendant Warrior and tossed her in a cell? The law is not something holy, son. It’s just a reflection of the ideals of those lucky enough to be in charge.”

“I don’t know any constables,” Wax said, “who think the law is perfect or the courts infallible. But they’re the best damn things we have right now, and I’m not going to entertain for a second the idea that you’re some kind of secret seeker of justice. You’re as rotten as they come, Uncle.”

“So pleasant,” Edwarn said. “And this is what I get for responding to your invitation? Insults and vitriol. And one wonders why our house is considered a laughingstock these days. I’m told they invite you to parties just to see you strut.”

“I sent to you,” Wax said through clenched teeth, “because I think we might have a common enemy. I know you want to rule this city. Well, I need you to see reason. I’ve spoken with the creature. If we don’t stop her, there might not be a city to rule.”

Edwarn didn’t respond, holding his pipe and looking through the coach’s glass window at the curling mists in the darkness just outside.

“What do you know?” Wax asked, almost a plea. “I’m certain the Set has been watching events with interest. Your attempt to kill me earlier—tell me that was just a strike of opportunity. Tell me you aren’t working with her. She’ll see it all burn, Uncle. Help me bring her down.”

Edwarn mused silently awhile, enjoying his pipe. “Do you realize what your overzealous campaign against us has accomplished, Nephew?” he finally asked. “Half the city’s elements are too frightened to work with the Set, for fear that you’ll show up on their doorstep and shoot their mothers. The money you’ve seized hasn’t ruined us, but it has made some of our members very, very upset.”

“Good,” Wax said.

“You say that because you’re ignorant,” Edwarn spat. “Among the members of the Set, I am conservative. I speak against brashness, against violence. The more you shove, however, the weaker my influence becomes, and stronger grow the voices clamoring for change. At any cost.”

“Oh, Harmony,” Wax whispered. “You are working with her.”

“It’s more like we’re riding the storm,” Edwarn said. “Personally, I’d love to see you bring this creature down. It might topple some of my rivals, give me a chance to propose something audacious of my own to the Set. But I’m not going to help you, Nephew. Perhaps this is what needs to be.”

“How can you do this?” Wax asked. “You’re going to watch it all burn?”

“Ashes are excellent fertilizer,” Edwarn said.

“Unless they pile so high they smother everything.”

Edwarn drew his lips to a tight line. “You are shortsighted and self-righteous. You were ever so, even during your youth. But still I love you, Nephew. I consider it a sign of that love that I haven’t actually had you killed. I keep hoping you’ll see we are not your enemy. We are the thieves and miscreants of this day who will someday be hailed as heroes. The men and women who will change the world because … what was it you said?… this is what we need to be in order to survive.”

“And my sister?” Wax said. “Is holding her captive part of what you need to do to survive?”

“Yes, actually,” Edwarn said, meeting his eyes. “Because I don’t doubt that someday I’m going to need to use her against you. Kill me, and your sister is as good as dead, Waxillium.” He knocked again on the ceiling beneath the driver. The carriage slowed to a stop.

“Run along now,” Edwarn said. “Go be the toy soldier and pretend you wouldn’t have murdered the Survivor’s entire crew, if you’d lived under the Lord Ruler. Try to pretend you went out into the Roughs to find justice, and not because you realized life in this city was just too damn hard for you.”

They sat in the quiet, immobile coach. Wax held himself steady, though Edwarn’s eyes flicked toward Wax’s shoulder holster, as if he was expecting Wax to draw. He could. He could shoot this man right here and now—he’d broken promises before, and to far better men than his uncle.

Kill me, and your sister is as good as dead.…