The Bands of Mourning (Mistborn #6) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,33
person. The puzzles I’ve seen you solve, the answers I’ve seen you tease out … Why, they’re nothing short of remarkable. You are most certainly capable of caring for your house. Begging your pardon, I’d say it is not your mind, but what you mind, that is the issue.”
Wax smiled, looking toward her. “Steris, you’re a delight. How could anyone ever think you dull?”
“But I am dull.”
“Nonsense.”
“And when I asked you to help me review my list of preparations for the trip?”
That list had been twenty-seven pages long. “I still can’t believe you got all those things into our bags.”
“All of—” Steris blinked. “Lord Waxillium, I didn’t bring all of those things.”
“But you made a list.”
“To think of everything we might need. I feel better when something goes wrong if I’ve contemplated that it might. At least this way, if we run into something we’ve forgotten, I can feel good knowing I figured we might need it.”
“But if you didn’t bring all of that stuff, then what is in all those boxes? I saw Herve struggling to lug a few of them up to the train.”
“Oh,” Steris said, opening the suitcase she’d gotten down. “Why, our house finances, of course.”
Indeed, inside was a large stack of ledgers.
“This trip was unplanned,” Steris explained, “and I have to prepare an accountability report for the banks by next month. House Ladrian has recovered for the most part from your uncle’s spending—but we need to maintain strict books in order to convince lenders we’re solvent, so they will be willing to work with us.”
“We have accountants, Steris,” Wax said.
“Yes, this is their work,” she said. “I need to check it over—you can’t simply turn in someone else’s work without making certain the work was done properly. Besides, they’re off three clips in this quarter’s financials.”
“Three clips?” Wax said. “Out of how much money?”
“Five million.”
“They’re off three hundredths of a boxing,” Wax said, “out of five million. I’d say that’s not bad.”
“Well, it’s within the thresholds the banks demand,” Steris said, “but it’s still sloppy! These financials are how we represent ourselves to the world, Lord Waxillium. If you want to overcome the impression people have of House Ladrian and its indulgences, you must agree that we have a responsibility to present ourselves— You’re doing it again.”
Wax started, sitting up straighter. “Excuse me.”
“Distant look in your eyes,” Steris noted. “Aren’t you the one who is always talking about the responsibility men have to uphold the law?”
“Different thing entirely.”
“But your responsibility to your house—”
“—is why I’m here, Steris,” Wax said. “Why I came back in the first place. I recognize it. I acknowledge it.”
“You just don’t like it.”
“A man doesn’t have to like his duty. He just has to do it.”
She clasped her hands in her lap, studying him. “Here, let me show you something.” She rose, reaching for another suitcase on the rack above her seat.
Wax took her moment of distraction as a chance to slip the book she’d been reading out from its hiding place. He flipped forward to the page she’d marked, curious to discover exactly what about New Seran had captivated her so.
He was completely shocked, then, when the page didn’t contain a historical description, but instead anatomy sketches. Along with long descriptions explaining … human reproduction?
The room grew very still. Wax glanced up to find Steris staring at him with a look of horror on her face. She went beet red and dropped to her seat, covering her face with her hands and groaning loudly.
“Um…” Wax said. “I guess … hm…”
“I think I’m going to throw up,” Steris said.
“I didn’t mean to pry, Steris. You were just acting so odd, and so fascinated by what was in the book—”
She groaned again.
Wax sat, awkward in the shaking train car, searching for words. “So … you don’t have any … experience in these matters, I assume.”
“I keep asking for details,” Steris said, slumping back into her seat and leaning her head back against the wall, looking up at the ceiling. “But nobody will tell me anything. ‘You’ll figure it out,’ they say with a wink and a grin. ‘The body knows what to do.’ But what if mine doesn’t? What if I do it wrong?”
“You could have asked me.”
“Because that wouldn’t be embarrassing,” Steris said, closing her eyes. “I know the basics; I’m not an idiot. But I need to provide an heir. It’s vital. How am I supposed to do this properly if I don’t have any information? I tried to interview