The Bands of Mourning (Mistborn #6) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,57
one of my shoes in trade,” Wayne said, then dug in his duster’s pocket, pulling out the other shoe. “Speaking of that, Gin, will you swap me your hat for this one?”
“Your shoe?” Aunt Gin asked, turning back toward him, then jumping as Wax forced open another window.
“Sure,” Wayne said. “They’re both clothes, right?”
“What would I do with a man’s shoe?”
“Wear it next time you gotta be a fellow,” Wayne said. “You’ve got the perfect face for it. Good shoulders, too.”
“Well, I—”
“Please ignore him,” Steris said, rising and walking over. “Here, I’ve prepared for you a list of possible scenarios that might transpire during our residence here.”
“Steris…” Wax said, forcing open the third and final window.
“What?” she demanded. “I will not have the staff unprepared. Their safety is our concern.”
“That one is completely unfair,” Wax said. “You’ve been listening to Wayne.”
“Things do explode around you, mate,” Wayne said, munching peanuts. Nice bit of salt on these.
“He’s right, unfortunately,” Steris said. “I’ve accounted for seventeen explosions involving you. That’s a huge statistical anomaly, even considering your profession.”
“You’re kidding. Seventeen?”
“Afraid so.”
“Huh.” He had the decency to look proud of it, at least.
“A pastry shop once blew up while we was in it,” Wayne said, leaning in to Aunt Gin. “Dynamite in a cake. Big mess.” He held out some peanuts toward her. “How about I throw in these peanuts with the shoe?”
“Those are my peanuts! From this very room!”
“But they’re worth more now,” Wayne said. “On account of my being real hungry.”
“I told you to ignore him,” Steris said, tapping on the notebook she’d handed Aunt Gin. “Look, you only read the table of contents. The rest of the pages contain explanations of the possible scenarios I’ve outlined, and suggested responses to them. I’ve sorted the list by potential for property damage.”
Wax leaped into the center of the room, then thrust his hand forward. The door quivered.
“What … what is he doing?” Aunt Gin asked.
“Checking to see where the best places in the room are for slamming the door with his mind,” Wayne said. “In case someone bursts in on us.”
“Just read the notebook, all right?” Steris requested in a pleasant tone.
Aunt Gin looked toward her, seeming bewildered. “Are these things … threats?”
“No, of course not!” Steris said. “I only want you to be prepared.”
“She’s thorough,” Wayne said.
“I like to be thorough.”
“Usually that means if you ask her to kill a fly, she’ll burn down the house just to be extra sure it gets done.”
“Wayne,” Steris said, “you’re needlessly making the lady concerned.”
“Flooding from a diverted waterfall,” Aunt Gin said, reading from the book again. “Koloss attack. Cattle stampede through the lobby?”
“That one is highly unlikely,” Steris said, “but it never hurts to be prepared!”
“But—”
The door to the adjoining suite slammed open. “Hello, humans,” MeLaan said, stepping into the doorway wearing nothing more than a tight pair of shorts and a cloth wrapped around her chest. “I need to put on something appropriate for tonight. What do you think? Large breasts? Small breasts? Extra-large breasts?”
Everybody in the room paused, then turned toward her.
“What?” MeLaan said. “Picking a proper bust size is vital to a lady’s evening preparations!”
Silence.
“That’s … kind of an improper question, MeLaan,” Steris finally said.
“You’re just jealous because you can’t take yours off to go for a run,” MeLaan said. “Hey, where is that bellboy with my things? I swear, if he drops my bags and cracks any of my skulls, there will be fury in this room!” She stalked away.
“Did she say skulls?” Aunt Gin said.
The door slammed.
“Aha!” Wax said, lowering his hand. “There it is.”
Marasi approached and wrapped her arm around the elderly lady’s shoulders, leading her away. “Don’t worry. It won’t be nearly as bad as they make it seem. Likely nothing will happen to you or your hotel.”
“Other than Wax rippin’ your windows apart,” Wayne noted.
“Other than that,” Marasi said, giving him a glare.
“Young lady,” Aunt Gin said under her breath, “you need to get away from these people.”
“They’re fine,” Marasi said, reaching the door. “We’ve just had a long night.”
Aunt Gin nodded hesitantly.
“Good,” Marasi said. “Now, when you get down below, would you please send someone to the trade bureau for me? Have them collect the names of each and every person who works at the local graveyards.”
“Graveyards?”
“It’s vitally important,” Marasi said, then pushed the woman out and shut the door.
“Graveyards?” MeLaan said, sticking her head into the room. She was now completely bald.