People fixated upon Wax. They had tunnel vision about fighting the infamous lawman Coinshot. It was even worse these days—where news of his exploits had been exaggerated by the broadsheets. He supposed that finding and using the Bands of Mourning themselves hadn’t hurt his reputation.
While everyone was distracted by Wayne, Wax unlocked the door with a quick Push from the side on the deadbolt. When he’dglanced in through the window earlier, he’dnoticed that a wall separated the room with the soldiers from wherever this door led. On cracking it open, he found a small hallway.
If he guessed right, their enemies would soon use this hallway to try reaching the balcony. So he slipped inside and Pushed himself up to the ceiling directly above the door on the other side. He held there, using nails in the floor. As anticipated, a small group of armed men snuck into the darkened hallway, light from the floodlights in the room beyond spilling in around them. Blinding them.
In the old days, Allomancers—Mistborn in particular—had been regarded like shadows. Or the mists themselves. Silent, hidden, practically formless. Wax could well understand the origins of those myths as the three soldiers passed underneath him in a tight cluster. He dropped and disposed of them the old-fashioned way: a few coins flung in the air, delivered noiselessly into their brains from behind. No crack of gunfire. No shouts of pain. Just the thump of bodies on the floor.
They’dleft the door open, and he peeked into the main room. Those floodlights had been prepared for this and could move on wheels. Likely they’dhad scouts watching for Wax bounding over the buildings below, and positioned their ambush where they thought he’denter.
Wayne’s distraction was working well. The soldiers had pushed the floodlights into a line across the middle of the room and were arrayed in the gaps between them, shooting aluminum bullets.
As Wayne had noted, these people weren’t like the common street criminals Wax and Wayne had fought earlier in the day, with their rough clothing, mismatched and rugged gear. These wore red uniforms and carried sleek weapons—modern rifles. They knelt with precise postures, firing carefully. Several were slipping forward along the left side of the room to get an angle on Wayne.
Unfortunately for them, they weren’t watching their own flanks. And while aluminum guns might not be affected by Steelpushes, the enormous floodlights were. Tapping weight to make himself sturdier, Wax Pushed into the room, smashing the lights into one another—and crushing the soldiers who had set up between them.
He crashed all of this into a mess against the far wall, then decreased his weight and slid across the ground, using nails in the wall behind asan anchor. On the other side of the room, he positioned himself and Pushed again, sending some of the wreckage sweeping outward to catch the remaining soldiers—and sending them and the broken lights out the window into the mists.
A moment later, Wayne sauntered into the now-darker room and tossed Wax his mistcoat. “Sorry for the bullet holes.”
“A few holes won’t…” Wax said, then noticed—in the weak light of the room’s flickering ceiling light—that there had to be atleastsixteen holes in it, even in some of the tassels. “How did you not get shot?”
“By not bein’ where the bullets was,” Wayne said.
Wax threw on the mistcoat duster. He had three guns on him. The Big Gun in his left hand. The Steel Survivor, aluminum but loaded with normal lead slugs. And Vindication, with aluminum bullets in the ordinary chambers and two hazekiller rounds ready for dealing with Metalborn.
“We’re really going up the inside?” Wayne said.
Wax nodded. They would need proper climbing equipment to scale the outside, even if there weren’t Set sharpshooters around.
Wayne pulled out a dueling cane. Wax met his eyes and shook his head.
“But—” Wayne said.
“Harmony knew,” Wax said softly. “He knew what I’dneed to become.”
It seemed he had a moment to pause, though more enemies would undoubtedly be on the way. So he reached into his pocket and took out a small sliver of metal. He slipped it into his ear, then carefully—ritualistically—checked Vindication’s chambers to be certain there was a round in each.
As before, he felt a faint disconnect from the trellium earring. But he didn’t see visions. He felt Telsin’s attention come on him, and heard—faintly—what she was doing. Giving orders. Sounding frantic.
She was above. At the top. He couldfeelit.
Waxillium, she said in his mind.You should have left the city as I suggested.
He clicked to the next chamber of his gun. “I have come,” he said, “to clean up our family’s mess.”
Very dramatic, she said.You—
“Don’t make me do this. Don’t force it, Telsin.”
She didn’t reply at first. The only sound was that of him clicking, chamber to chamber.
You are still just a frightened child, Waxillium, she said.All these yearslater, and you still can’t take a risk. Can’t see beyond your own limited mindset. I’m going to become somethingincredible.
“I’ll see you dead first,” Wax said softly.
Wax, she said,you’re thirty floors away from me—and there are hundreds of soldiers from the Hidden Guard between us. My best. Reserved to stop you here.
He snapped Vindication closed.