The Bands of Mourning (Mistborn #6) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,156

make of a society where everyone hid their true feelings behind a mask, only letting out calculated reactions?

“This is an unpleasant accommodation,” Jordis said. “It means I will limp back to my people, half my crew dead and my ship exchanged for one decades out of date.”

“True,” Steris continued at Waxillium’s side—he merely stood there with arms folded, looming, as he was so good at doing. “But Captain, you will return with something more valuable than an old relic or even your fallen ship. You’ll have new trading partners in a land brimming with Metalborn. Has it been mentioned that my lord Waxillium holds an important seat in our government? That he has a dramatic influence over trade, tariffs, and taxation? Those among your people who secure favorable treaties with us could become very rich indeed.”

Jordis regarded them, then folded her arms, facing Waxillium directly. “It is still unpleasant.” Jordis was much shorter, but she managed to loom pretty well herself. In fact, Marasi got the distinct impression that the woman wanted to shout at them, attack in a rage, seek retribution for what had been done to her and hers. Anything but just simply trade.

Perhaps some emotions were too strong to be hidden even by a mask.

Jordis finally nodded. “Very well. Let it be done. But I will not leave without a draft agreement—a promise of intentions, if nothing else.”

Marasi breathed a sigh of relief, shooting Steris a nod of appreciation. Still, she did not miss the stiffness in Jordis’s posture as she and Waxillium shook hands. The Basin had not made a friend this day. Hopefully some last-minute scrambling had prevented them from making an enemy.

“I have one further request,” Waxillium said to her.

“What?” Jordis asked, suspicious.

“Nothing terrible or costly,” Waxillium said. “Honestly, I’d just like a ride.”

* * *

The Southerners agreed, fortunately. They didn’t particularly want to carry a brigful of enemy soldiers all the way south. Wax had to make it very clear they couldn’t keep Suit himself, and the captain relented with minimal argument. She seemed to realize that her best chance of seeing justice done to all of those who had brutalized her crew lay in letting Wax do some thorough interrogations.

He kept his relationship to the man quiet.

As the Malwish crew prepared the ship for travel, Wax stood before the statue of the Lord Ruler, with that single spike in his eye. He’d checked the belt, which was aluminum. No kind of charge. If there had ever been two bracers, he had to assume they’d been made into this one spearhead.

Marasi passed behind him. “I’m going to go check our skimmer for supplies we might have left behind.”

Wax nodded. I held your power, he thought toward the statue, if only a tiny bit of it. Rusts … I think I understand.

He’d given the Bands to MeLaan, and she had made them vanish into her flesh. He was glad to know that they were effectively out of his reach. Too much power.

He raised his finger in farewell to the Lord Ruler, then jogged off after Marasi.

“Aradel and the Senate won’t like this deal,” Wax noted as he reached her. “Particularly the part about us giving away the Bands.”

“I know,” Marasi said.

“As long as I can tell him it wasn’t my idea.”

She glanced at him. “You don’t seem too broken up about losing the Bands.”

“I’m not,” he admitted. “I was worried, honestly. The Bands are drained, mostly, but we could probably recharge them by compounding. The power they offer is something…”

“… Sublime and devastating at once?” Marasi asked. “Dangerous because of what it could do in the wrong hands, yet somehow more dangerous in your own?”

“Yes.”

They shared something in that moment, swept by winds. Something they’d touched, something—hopefully—only they would know.

They turned together without a word, seeking the skimmer. Jordis would want to load it on the ship, but first there was a corpse Wax needed to see. He didn’t blame Wayne for what he’d done to Telsin. Yes, taking her to Elendel for justice—and interrogation—would have been better. And yes, he found that he’d rather have pulled the trigger himself. Harmony was right about that.

But either way, Telsin was dealt with. That meant—

Blood on the snow.

No skimmer.

More importantly, no body.

Marasi froze in place as they drew near, but Wax approached the empty patch of ground. She had slipped away, again. He found he was not surprised, though he was impressed. She’d gotten the skimmer aloft and away during the fighting, escaping during the chaos.

Wayne

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