The Bands of Mourning (Mistborn #6) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,155
trouble approached Waxillium and Steris in the form of Allik’s captain and some of her airmen. The two groups faced one another, MeLaan and Wayne falling in beside Waxillium—Wayne casually carrying that shotgun, MeLaan standing a good two inches taller than anyone else, arms folded, her posture unyielding.
Right. “Let’s go,” Marasi said to Allik.
Allik’s captain, Jordis, wore one of the translation medallions—and she didn’t flinch before the gust of wind that accompanied Marasi as she arrived.
“We thank you for your help,” Jordis was saying, her voice touched by the same accent Allik had. “But our appreciation does not allow us to ignore thievery. We expect that our property will be returned.”
“I don’t see any of your property here,” Waxillium replied coldly. “I see only an artifact we recovered. Well, that and my airship.”
“Your—” Jordis sputtered. She stepped forward. “Since crashing in your lands, my crew has been incarcerated, tortured, and murdered. You seem to be itching for a war, Allomancer.”
Drat. Marasi had been hoping she’d share Allik’s reverence for Waxillium. Indeed, much of the crew seemed nervous about him, but the captain obviously didn’t mean to back down.
“If there is to be war,” Waxillium said, “giving you a powerful weapon does not seem the method to save my people. I cannot help what Suit and his people did to you—they are outlaws, and what they did was deplorable. I will see them brought to justice.”
“And yet you steal from us.”
“Do you deny,” Waxillium asked, “that this temple was empty upon my arrival? Do you deny that this airship was from nation other than your own? I cannot steal what was not owned, Captain. By right of salvage, I claim this relic and that ship. You may—”
Marasi was about to step between them when, curiously, Steris spoke up, interrupting Wax.
“Lord Waxillium,” she said. “I think it prudent to let them take the ship.”
“What? Like hell I’m going to—”
“Waxillium,” Steris said softly. “They’re tired, miserable, and a long way from home. How do you suggest, otherwise, that they are to return to those they love? Is that justice?”
His lips tightened. “The Set has one of these ships to study, Steris.”
“Then,” Steris said, looking to Jordis, “we will beg—in return for the generosity of this gift—that the Malwish people open trade with us. I suspect we can purchase ships from them more quickly than the Set can build their own.”
Marasi nodded. Not bad, Steris.
“If they’ll sell,” Waxillium said.
“I think that they will,” Steris said, looking to Jordis. “Because the good captain will persuade them that access to our Allomancers is worth relinquishing a technological monopoly.”
“That’s true,” Marasi said, stepping up to the rest, Allik with her. “We’re rare among you, aren’t we?”
“We?” Allik asked as the captain looked to her.
“I’m an Allomancer too,” she said, amused. “You didn’t see me charging the cube device back in the warehouse?”
“I was … a little distracted.…” he said, sounding woozy. “Oh dear. Um. Great One.”
Marasi sighed, looking to Jordis.
“I can promise you nothing,” the captain said to Steris, sounding reluctant. “The Malwish are but one of many. Another nation among us may see you up here as weak and decide to strike.”
“Then,” Steris said, “you might want to inform them that the Bands of Mourning are here, ready to punish those who attack.”
Jordis hissed. Marasi couldn’t see her features behind the mask, but the hand swipe she made did not look pleased. “Impossible. You give me the lesser prize to distract me from the greater, yah? We will not give you the Sovereign’s weapon.”
“You’re not giving it to us,” Steris said. She looked to MeLaan, who watched with crossed arms. “Allik. Your people have stories of creatures like her, do you not?”
“Tell the others,” Marasi said to Allik. “Please.”
He removed his medallion and launched into a furious explanation in his language, waving his hands, then gesturing at MeLaan. She cocked an eyebrow, then made her skin translucent—displaying a skeleton that was so cracked and mangled, Marasi was left momentarily stunned. How was MeLaan still standing?
The captain took this in.
“We,” Steris said, “will give the Bands to the immortal kandra. They are wise and impartial, tasked with serving all people. They will promise not to let us use the Bands unless we are attacked by your kind.”
There was no way to tell what Captain Jordis thought, her expression hidden behind that mask. When she did speak, she made a few curt gestures—but those could be faked far more easily than facial expressions, Marasi figured. What did one