“I am Admiral Daal,” the man said—sounding reluctant. “Welcome to my former ship, Blessed Thief.”
“Former?” Wax asked.
“I’ve been chosen to be the new ambassador from the Malwish Consortium to your nation.”
Malwish… Consortium? It seemed the unification of the South had been completed. “What about Jonnes?” Wax asked.
“She will be returning home,” Daal said. “It has been determined that she has been too… familiar.”
Wonderful. A political shift indeed. It was probably best not to say too much more than simple pleasantries, to avoid inflaming tensions by accident. “Then let me be the first senator to welcome you to the Basin,” Wax said. “I look forward to continued peace and favorable trade between our nations.”
“Favorable?” Daal said. “For you, perhaps.”
“We’ve both benefited. You’ve had access to our Allomancers.”
“Limitedaccess,” he said. “Far too limited compared to the rich accommodations you have received.”
“Three skimmers?” Wax asked. “A handful of medallions? All essentially useless without the ability to maintain them on our own or create more.”
“Surely you don’t expect us to give up themeansof our production? One sells the goods, not thefactory.”
Every time they tried to get more information on medallions from people in the know, they got stonewalled. Obviously these were Malwish trade secrets, which explained part of it, but interviewing Allik they were able to consistently pick out discrepancies in what he said and what they actually saw. Why weren’t there Feruchemical soldiers in the Malwish army with extremely heightened strength, mental speed, or other dangerous Feruchemical talents? Why weren’t there Allomancer medallions? The more they learned, the more certain Wax became that there was a secret there, indicating the medallions were not as effective or as versatile as the Malwish would like people to believe.
Right,Wax thought.About not inflaming tensions by accident…He was quiet, staring at the admiral. Air as tense as a midday duel.
Then Max tugged his sleeve. “Uh… Dad?”
“Yes?” Wax said, not looking down.
“I need the potty.”
Wax sighed. Tense diplomatic situations were not improved by the presence of a five-year-old. But it could have been worse—he could have brought Wayne instead.
“Is there one available?” Wax asked Daal.
“He can wait.”
“Do you have children, Ambassador?”
“No.”
“Five-year-olds do not wait.”
After another tense moment, the admiral sighed and spun on his heel, leading the way past masked sailors. Wax followed with his son. Years spent near Allik and others from the South had taught Wax to be comfortable around those masked faces. It was still hard to not feel intimidated by that line of shadowed eyes. Not a one speaking, not a one lifting theirmask. Wax had laughed and drunk with Malwish in the past, but this crew seemed a different class entirely.
Daal presented the restroom with a gesture.
“Wow!” Max said, peeking in, the electric light flickering on inside. “It’s sosmall.Like it’s made for me!”
“Quickly, son,” Wax said.
Max closed the door and hummed softly as he did his business. Wax stood with the admiral, feeling awkward. He actually found himself wishing for Wayne, who had a way of breaking tension like this—by creating a different variety of tension entirely. One which allowed you and your presumed antagonist to share a moment of mutual embarrassment, maybe even understanding.
I wonder if he does that on purpose,Wax thought. It was hard to tell with Wayne. At times he seemed deeply insightful. He inevitably ruined that impression. But you couldn’t help wondering…
“The Bands of Mourning,” Daal said. “They are safe, yah?”
“I assume so,” Wax replied. “I haven’t seen them since we delivered them.”