Page 104 of The Lost Metal

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“So,” Wax said, “we should choose our next course soon. Because if I somehow actually managed to lose the Set when slipping away from Telsin, they’ll surely spot us before too long.”

“’Cuz you stand out like pink shoes on a pallbearer.”

“’Cuz I stand out like pink shoes on a pallbearer.”

“I like the idea of shakin’ down Entrone,” Wayne said. “On principle, at least. But I worry about how much attention that would draw. So maybe we don’t need to interrogate him specifically. After all, we do know where he lives.”

Wayne pointed across the city, up the road, to the silvery-white building sitting at the end. It wasn’t the highest building in town. The central spire, dominating the very middle of the city, was the highest by a lot. And they were even adding to it at the top, it seemed, with new construction.

Still, there was a certain majesty about the mayor’s mansion. The kind that said, “Oi, mate! Don’t use words like ‘oi, mate’ ’round here.”

“Entrone,” Wayne said, “is obviously involved in all this. He’s the type to have secrets written down somewhere, maybe give us a lead on where that bomb is being kept. He’s probably got a safe or something full of answers.”

“You just said shaking him down would create another incident,” Wax said, his hands on his hips, holstered guns jutting out and making basically everybody nearby nervous. “Now you’re suggesting we ransack hismansion?”

“I’m suggesting,” Wayne said, giving it a nice upper-class, Fifth Octant, old-money accent, “that once we have completed our radio communication, we give the esteemed lord mayor an evening turn-down service with mints on his pillow, folded towels in the shape of a monkey, and a light despoiling of his intimate affairs. Done withonlythe mostdelicateattention, mind you. Acourteouslooting. An… upper-class plundering.”

“Is that so?” Wax said.

Wayne leaned in. “I mean, we’ll still break all his stuff and steal his secrets. I just won’t fart on his chair before we go. You know. To keep things classy.”

Wax took a deep breath. “Well, I suppose that does walk the line between accosting the man himself and doing something that has a good chance of success. Let’s do it.”

Wayne grinned.

“ButI’lldo the ransacking,” Wax said. “Youhandle the distraction.”

38

Steris threw open the door to the governor’s chamber, where he was holding his private council on what to do about Bilming. Then held that door open for Constable-General Reddi. He’dbeen invited to the meeting along with his staff. Today that included two other people: Constable Gorglen as record keeper. And Steris.

The governor sat at the head of the meeting table. Adawathwyn immediately glared at Steris through dark brown eyes. The three senators—Lord Cett, Lady Hammondess, and Lady Gardre—were in attendance, as well as Ambassador Daal, his expression unreadable behind his bloodred mask. The shorter man hadn’t taken a seat at the table, but instead stood by the wall, his posture prim and sharp.

“Ah, finally,” the governor said, looking up from the broadsheets. “Reddi. You… Wait. What isshedoing here?”

“Lady Ladrian?” Reddi said. “Subject matter expert, on my payroll.”

As of fifteen minutes ago, at least. Steris had insisted he actually pay her, and she clutched the single coin in her fist as she shut the door behind Reddi. Then she stepped forward and sat down at the table beside him.

“Did she tell you,” the governor said, “that I specifically excluded her from this council?”

“Yes, she did,” Reddi replied. “And frankly, Your Grace, I thought that an unwise move. She’s the wife of the man who alerted us to this crisis.When Lady Ladrian approached me and explained why I should employ her, I realized she’dundoubtedly have information this council needs.”

The vice governor folded her arms on the table, scowling. But the governor… he nodded. Steris always hesitated to read too much into people’s expressions, but now she wondered. Was there a rift between these two? She’dalways assumed Varlance was entirely in Adawathwyn’s pocket.

But then, no person ever fit comfortably in a pocket.

“Very well,” the governor said. “I’m afraid we started without you. As the information has come in and we’ve gauged the feelings of Outer Cities governments, we’ve come to see that our path is inevitable. It looks like war.”

“War?” Reddi said.

“It’s the necessary course of action,” Lady Hammondess said. She had a small gap between her front teeth, of the sort men often described as cute—as if it were the reason for her beauty rather than her flawless skin, delicate features, and long lashes. Curious, how minor flaws became cute when their bearer also happened to be conventionally attractive. “The Outer Cities are building up for war.”

“Warships in Bilming,” Lord Cett agreed. He was a striking man, if you liked the smooth and well-dressed sort. Steris wondered how much work it took to keep one’s rough edges so contained behind powders and soft clothing. “Railroad blockades to the south. Recruitment flyers in the Roughs, offering jobs for ‘security forces.’”

“Which is why,” Constable Reddi said, “we need to work so hard to soothe the situation and reconcile!”

“Better,” Lady Hammondess said, “we should strike first. We’ve been ignoring the warning signs for too long. If we don’t move soon, we willnotbe able to win.”


Tags: Brandon Sanderson Fantasy