A part of him did. But if she wanted to tell him about it … if she was offering …
Rusts, then she was stalling.
She was desperate, trying to buy as much time as she could. That piece clicked into place. She was talking to him because she had to keep him distracted. The trick wasn’t to realize that she was stalling, it was to recognize that as long as he let her tease him with information, she held all the cards.
There was only one way to win this particular game. And that was to leave the table.
“She’s going to destroy us?” he said, strolling across the top of the roof behind her.
“Unless I prove to her that we’re worth saving,” she explained, turning to survey the city. As before, she didn’t seem to care that she had her back to him. “Autonomy is … odd. She respects those who are bold, strong, able to survive on their own. But she also wants them to obey her. I suppose that is the irony of godhood. Half the time, being ‘autonomous’ means following her plan. And there’s no Whimsy to her — that’s a different god.
“Autonomy is rugged individualism filtered through the lens of a god who thinks she knows best. And in that context, individualism is a virtue best applied to finding ways to carry out the plans she has outlined. You get to be individual in your chosen path to do what she says…”
Wax missed the next part, as he had quietly slipped over the side of the roof. With luck, she’d keep right on talking, giving him time to get away.
36
Marasi and Moonlight hurriedly finished up in the basement — Moonlight grabbing a last few rubbings of the wall plates and tucking them away in her case. Together they then climbed to the main floor, where they found the grey-haired editor Maraga standing in the center of a cluttered room, holding an overstuffed travel bag and looking frazzled.
“On his way out,” she said to Marasi, “Dawnshot told me to go to family in the countryside. But all of my family is either here or in Elendel. Should I … go to them?”
“Probably not wise,” Marasi said. Any family in Bilming would be easily tracked down by the Set, and Elendel … well, it had a massive bomb pointed at it.
That thought filled Marasi with worry. But she needed to focus on preventing the disaster. She had to leave helping Elendel to her sister.
“Moonlight,” Marasi said, “surely there’s a place in the city you could send Maraga? A place of safety for someone who did us such great service?”
Moonlight considered for a moment. She wasn’t the type to rush into things, it seemed. Careful. Calculating. Finally she slipped a small card from her sleeve, marked with the interlocking diamond symbol. “Do you know the Knightbridge district?”
“Yes,” Maraga said, hesitantly taking the card.
“Go to Thirty-Third and Finete, house number one eighty-seven. Knock, show them this, and tell them Moonlight said you could ask for asylum as recompense for services rendered. They’ll take you in. Even the Set will have trouble assaulting that place.”
“Thank you,” the woman said, clutching the card to her chest.
“I’ll send someone to collect your research,” Moonlight said. “Though I have the plates all copied. You need to go. Quickly.”
“I’m going to fetch my sister too,” Maraga said. “Please?”
“If you must,” Moonlight said. “But be warned, since the Set knows we’re here, each moment you waste endangers your life.”
Maraga rushed to the door. She paused to look over what she was leaving, then steeled herself and hurried out.
“What about us?” Moonlight asked.
“We need to determine a likely entry point to the underground caverns,” Marasi said. “Do you have maps of enemy movements? Lists of places you think might be owned by the Set?”
“Not on me,” Moonlight said. “Perhaps we could return to the records office and do some research.”
“I think I have a better idea,” Marasi said, leading the way out the front door. “Riskier, but hopefully faster.”
“I’m intrigued,” Moonlight said, joining her as they walked to a busier street where — with some effort — Marasi managed to flag down a cab. She found it amazing how quickly coachmen had made the swap between horse-drawn carriages and motorcabs.
They settled in the rear of the motorcar, and the cabbie — a woman with dark hair in a ponytail — glanced back at them. “Where to?”
“Knightbridge district,” Marasi said. “Thirty-Third and Finete.”
The cabbie nodded, pulling out into the flow of traffic and taking them westward.
“Clever,” Moonlight said to Marasi. “I’m going to have to watch myself around you. But what makes you think our safehouse will have the maps you want?”
“You found me in the caverns beneath Elendel,” Marasi said. “Plus, a moment ago you implied such maps existed — you didn’t have them ‘on you.’ Ergo, I assumed this was a good path forward. Your people will have the information we need.”
“They might not let you in,” Moonlight said. “What then? You’ll have wasted time.”
“Wasted time,” Marasi snapped.
“Wasted time?”
She glanced toward the cabbie, uncertain what she should say.
“Darkwater, dear,” Moonlight said to the cabbie, “give us a little privacy.”
“Sure thing, Moonlight,” the cabbie said, shutting the window separating the front of the car from the back.
Marasi gaped. Then she looked at Moonlight, who shrugged.
“Moonlight,” Marasi said, focusing her thoughts, “what kind of game do you think we’re playing? Didn’t you say your entire purpose was protecting this planet? Now you imply you’d keep me locked out of your safehouse, and the vital information it contains?”
Moonlight settled in her seat, thoughtful. “My organization,” she eventually said, “was created to protect and advance the needs of the planet Scadrial. It’s not my homeland, but I am committed to seeing it remain stable. There are terrible forces moving in the cosmere; my people are going to need allies.”
“So why are you so resistant to helping me?”
“To be honest,” Moonlight said, “I’m worried we’re being played. Autonomy is adept at misdirection, at false leads and confusing shadows of half-truths. Restarting the ashfalls? That seems … outrageous. Impossible even for her. Something is off about all this. A shade too red to be natural.”
“So help me find the truth, Moonlight,” Marasi said. “Stop toying with me.”
“I’m not toying with you,” Moonlight said. “This is an audition.”
Marasi blinked. What?
“Until a little while ago,” Moonlight continued, “I assumed we had months to unravel the Set’s plan.” She tapped her armrest with a fingernail, then looked at her bag, where the rubbings she’d taken were peeking out.
During their short time working together, Marasi had started to see Moonlight as all-knowing — someone mysterious, alien. But that concern in her eyes, the way she was fighting uncertainty … that was all too human.
“I’ll let you into the safehouse,” Moonlight finally said. “And deal with the ramifications later, if this proves to all be another of Autonomy’s shadow games. But I’m not sure I can give you everything you want.
“We don’t have the caverns in the city mapped, but we do watch their agents.” She patted her bag, and the rubbings. “This lists coordinates of the explosions. So if we compare where the blasts have been happening with the places where Set agents appear and vanish…”