“Good,” Moonlight said softly. “I was hoping you’dtake the cue and slip out to meet me.”
“I didn’t, actually,” Marasi said. “We should go explain who you are to the others—there’s no reason to keep it a secret.”
“I’dprefer not to,” Moonlight said lightly. “I’m not here for them. I’m here for you.”
“I thought you couldn’t interfere?”
“Not without orders,” Moonlight said. “I’ve received some: I can help, but I’m not to reveal myself to the other two. My mentor is worried about their connections to Harmony.”
Marasi stopped in the hallway, which was empty save for them. “I’m not going to lie to my companions, Moonlight.”
“You already have.”
“Only to avoid revealing you to Blantach,” Marasi said.
“And do you assume those two tell you everything about their lives?” Moonlight said. “Every little detail?”
“The important ones.”
“What did Waxillium and Harmony discuss when he died?”
“That’s… not important.”
“Seems to me that it is.” Moonlight stepped around Marasi to stand right in front of her. Not really blocking her way, but making certain Marasi met her eyes. “Do you want answers? We have those. Do you want to protect Scadrial? That’s our main purpose. But wecan’tmove in the open. That invites our enemies to strike—beings like Trell are too powerful and Harmony is too indecisive. What’s he doing to help?”
“He sent us,” Marasi said.
“He tossed you into the line of fire and said, ‘Good luck!’ It’s not his fault—my mentor speaks of him quite fondly. But the reality of your planet’s situation is dire, and so wemustmove in the shadows. And our secretsmustbe maintained—known only by those who have proven themselves.”
“Wax is the single most ‘proven’ man alive.”
“We’re not interested in him,” Moonlight said. “We’re interested inyou.Doesn’t it excite you, to know things that he doesn’t—things almost no one else does? The secrets of the cosmere itself?”
“I don’t need to keep secrets from others to feel special.”
Moonlight smiled. “I believe you. How interesting. Well, for now I’m demanding you keepmysecret. That’s the cost of my aid. I havemetAutonomy; I know how she operates. You need me. But if you tell anyone about me, I’ll leave.”
“That’s your play? Extortion?”
“Extortion?” Moonlight said. “It’s just a deal. I have agency, Marasi. I don’thaveto help you. I have a lead now—I can probably find my way to this Tobal Copper’s place on my own long before you.” She shrugged. “Waxillium trusts you. He’ll understand when you explain why you couldn’t tell him.”
She stepped aside and continued down the hallway, her mannerisms changing as she reached the meeting room door. She became jumpy and excited, and—after first pushing on it and blushing when it didn’t budge—pulled it open.
Marasi continued on her way, uncertain. Therewassomething about how Moonlight talked… Chasing petty thugs, or even mobsters with dangerous intentions, had once thrilled Marasi. But the more she learned of the world and the forces moving in it, the less satisfied she was.
Long ago, she’dexplained to Wax her philosophy on becoming a constable. She’denvisioned making the entire city safer—not by chasing criminals, but by changing the way people and neighborhoods saw themselves. Lock a man in prison, and you might stop him from committing crimes. Teach a man to respect himself and his community, and you stopped everyone he might have taught, recruited, or bullied.
She didn’t want to focus on individuals. She wanted to change the world. At least, that was how she’dthought when she’dfirst dreamed of becoming a constable. Had she let the day-to-day grind of the job turn her into something else?
By the time she returned from sending Allik the message, the research team had already arrived with answers—and was spreading out relevant broadsheets and city records for Wax. Marasi stepped up beside him—Moonlight sat primly in the corner with a disarming grin on her face. Wayne was pretending to nap, but he had one eye cracked, watching Moonlight.
Don’t overdo the act, Moonlight,Marasi thought with satisfaction.He’ll catch you.
“Tobal Copper,” one of the researchers was saying, pointing at a listing. “Age fifty-three. A chemist, specializing in rubber and manufacturing. Worked for Basin Tires, making… well, tires.”
“He lost his job,” another explained, “about five years ago for… erratic behavior.”
“Which means what, exactly?” Marasi said, surveying the papers set out on the long table.