Wax breathed in sharply. “You got one. How?”
“Remember that lead in the sewers I told you about?” Marasi said. “Found a member of the Set there, augmented with Hemalurgy, heading up a gang of ruffians.”
“Fortunately,” Wayne said, “he didn’t have any use for the spike once Marasi was finished with him.”
“Technically, he did still have a use for it,” she said. “Which is why I had to remove it. Wax, he had four spikes. Isn’t that supposed to give Harmony control over a person?”
“Supposedly,” he said. That had been the whole issue with Lessie. Though the numbers varied by species, the principle was the same: spike yourself too many times, and Harmony could control you. It was an exploit to Hemalurgy that went back to the ancient days, when Ruin had directly controlled the Inquisitors, like Death himself.
But lately, Marasi had begun to encounter members of the Set with too many powers. Wax hadn’t believed at first, but if she’d confirmed it …
“The limitation has been circumvented somehow,” Wax said, inspecting the trellium spike. “Perhaps it has to do with the placement of this spike, as a linchpin?”
“Wax,” Marasi said, “this group was packing supplies for Bilming. Weapons and field rations.”
He shared a look with Steris. Rusts … the Outer Cities apparently thought war was inevitable. And with the vote today, it very well might be.
Still, to have another trellium spike after all these years … It reminded him of what had happened to Lessie, but he forced himself to hold it anyway. This wasn’t from her body. They didn’t know if her strange trellium spikes had influenced her madness. The kandra all said the spikes hadn’t been to blame, but something had turned her against Harmony, sent her down a paranoid path. Something had taken the woman he loved and turned her into Bleeder. He refused to accept that she’d been fully in control of herself.
Those old pains were dead and buried these days, so he was able to pick up the spike and inspect it. This metal was a manifestation — presumably — of the body of a god. Much like harmonium, also called ettmetal. What could he learn from this new sample?
The door swung open, revealing MeLaan wearing stylish blue trousers and a buttoned shirt. She’d been going for an androgynous look these days, with very short blonde hair and almost no hint of breasts. For her friends, she often maintained relatively similar features. This face, for example, looked like her — just thinner, less overtly feminine.
As usual she had picked a tall, limber body — this one was at least six foot four. She was toweling off her hair — she liked to wash it after putting on a new body, to better style it and make sure she’d got the grain right.
“Hey!” she said, seeing the spike in Wax’s fingers. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Yup,” Wayne said. “Marasi turned some bloke into hamburger to get it.”
“Nice!” MeLaan said.
“I did not turn anyone into hamburger,” Marasi said.
“She’s more a fan of liver,” Wayne said, and earned a glare.
“Speaking of meat,” Wax said, “did you leave a meat bun in the pocket of my mistcoat?”
“Uh…” Wayne said. “It was … um…”
“You realize I’ll have to get that thing laundered,” Wax said. “And you’re going to pay.”
“Hey,” Wayne said. “You don’t got no proof I did that.”
Wax gave him a flat stare.
“You can’t convict me on a hunch,” Wayne said, folding his arms. “I know my rights. Marasi’s always quoting them to people once we finish beating them up. I get a trial by my peers, I do.”
“Yes,” Steris said, “but where would we find so many slugs on short notice?”
Wayne spun toward her, then — after just a brief pause — grinned widely. Those two were getting along better these days, which Wax enjoyed seeing. For now, he kept inspecting the spike. What were its properties? Could it be melted? Could it …
He paused, then reached to his back pocket. There, nearly forgotten, was the envelope he’d found on his desk earlier. He opened it again and slid out the iron earring, a traditional accoutrement of the Pathian religion — and a means of communing with Harmony. Piercing your body with metal was a way to connect to God and give him some measure of influence over you.
He read the note again: You’ll need to make a second, once the proper metal arrives.
Rusts. Why would Harmony tell him to make a second earring, presumably out of Trell’s metal?
There was no explanation in the envelope, of course. Harmony knew Wax far too well. A mystery was a better way to get his attention than an explanation.
Damn him.
He tucked that envelope away again. “Nice work,” he said to Marasi. “Very nice work.”
“Thank you,” she said. “We should have a chance at some more members of the Set soon. I’m planning a sting.”
She turned toward MeLaan, who was leaning against the wall, arms folded. For someone who spent her life in subterfuge — imitating others and doing missions for God himself — she certainly did like to stand out. Today she had left her cheeks faintly transparent to allow the emerald of her skeleton to show through.
“I could use your help, MeLaan,” Marasi said. “I have a corpse that needs to get up and walk around — just long enough to trick the Set.”
MeLaan grimaced. “I would love to, but … I’ve got a thing…”
“We could work around your schedule,” Marasi said.
“That might be hard,” MeLaan said. “Since it’s kind of on another planet…”
“Another planet?” Marasi said.
“Well, maybe between planets?” MeLaan said. “I’m not entirely sure. Harmony wants some of us to strike out, begin exploring, learning about the cosmere. It’s become evident that the cosmere knows about us.” She nodded toward the spike pinched between Wax’s fingers.
“What’s it like?” Marasi asked MeLaan, with a certain … hunger in her eyes. “Traveling out there. How … do you even do it?”
“It’s difficult,” she said. “Both to get to the other side — which is an inversion of the real world — and to travel while there. I’ll be leaving soon, I’m afraid, but finding out what’s happening with the Set is a priority for Harmony. I’ll ask him to get you one of us to help on your mission, Marasi.”
Wax glanced at Wayne. MeLaan was leaving. Soon? He’d have to corner his friend and ask how he felt about that.
At that moment however, Allik burst through the door bearing a tray full of steaming pastries. “Aha!” he said, mask up to show off his grin. “A full room. Who wants cinnamon puffs with hot chocolate for dipping! You are obviously planning to save the world again, with those concerned faces. This is an action that requires much choc, yah?”
Wax smiled, enjoying Allik’s enthusiasm. He’d bounced back from the tragedy of losing so many friends to the Set years ago — tortured for information about airships. People are elastic, Wax thought. We can keep reshaping ourselves. And if we’re not quite the same as before, well, that’s good. It means we can grow.
Allik handed Marasi a mug of hot chocolate — almost comically large — with a wink. She took his hand and smiled, squeezing it. Four years of flirting and two years of formal dating, and those two still acted like schoolkids sometimes. Wax knew more about it than he really cared to, because Steris tended to take notes, then ask if she should be acting in equally ridiculous ways.
“There’s one other thing, Wax,” Marasi said. “I took a notebook from the Cycle I killed today. What do you make of this page?”