All eyes in the room went to TenSoon. The kandra had validated the treaty and had become keepers of the relic. It appeared the others thought he could agree to this, and Steris supposed he was as close to an arbiter as they had.
“Harmony is preoccupied,” TenSoon said, “but our time is tight. So I will agree to this if the humans do. The Basin may use the Bands right now. But they revert to the Malwish.”
“Do it,” the governor said. “If it could save the city … I agree.”
It was not the best situation for a negotiation, and Steris wondered how badly they were being played. Daal must see this as the perfect opportunity to get what he wanted. Regardless, she still didn’t understand why TenSoon thought this might work. Yes, the Bands made a person a powerful Metalborn, but Daal acted as if they could win wars on their own — and TenSoon had this distant expression. He met her eyes.
“What?” she asked.
“We believe,” he whispered, “there is a way to transport objects large distances using a conflux of Metalborn powers. It is a thing Harmony doesn’t yet understand himself. But I wonder … if someone feeling the transcendent power of the Bands … could solve the puzzle.”
Fascinating. She took notes.
TenSoon opened the box to present the Bands — which were in the shape of a large spearhead, made of multiple bands of different kinds of metal. The governor nodded for Adawathwyn to take them. She reached in and touched them, her eyes alight. She picked them up, held them for a moment, and frowned.
“How…” she said. “How do I activate them?”
“It was natural for Wax,” Steris said, walking over. She hesitantly poked the Bands, and felt nothing.
They passed them around, letting everyone try. Finally TenSoon took them, his face scrunched up in thought. Then horror followed. “They’re drained,” he whispered. “Something has happened … How…?”
Without their power, the Bands of Mourning were essentially just a heavy piece of history. Like a statue’s broken arm.
The governor gave a groan of despair and leaned back in his chair, squeezing his eyes shut. Salvation had just flitted away on butterfly wings. Steris couldn’t help wondering what she was missing. She’d never anticipated this. The Bands could be drained? By whom? And how?
Daal stepped forward and touched them with one finger. “It’s true,” he muttered. “What have you done? Have you been using these in secret?”
“What?” Adawathwyn said. “No! We haven’t seen them in years, not since the treaty!”
Daal picked up the Bands in one hand. “I will return them to my people.”
“Wait,” Steris said, standing. “That wasn’t the deal.”
“Wasn’t it?” he said. “You had your chance to use them. It happens they are useless to you. Now we must have our chance. I wonder if it is piety that makes them work, yah? Or if maybe I am right, and you’ve been using them all along. Our scholars will know if you are trying to pass off some fake.”
Steris looked at him and had the distinct impression that was … a prepared speech? Yes. She prepared words to say even in common conversations. His mannerisms felt practiced, rehearsed. But surely she was wrong. He couldn’t have been prepared for this?
Unless he’d known the Bands would be drained. Unless he’d come to Elendel looking for a crisis that would make them call on the Bands, so he could offer his deal. And then …
“I don’t know if I can allow this,” the governor said.
“I don’t know that we can forbid it,” TenSoon growled back. “You agreed.”
“Ah,” Daal said. “Perhaps your Faceless Immortals can actually be impartial? Curious. I had not believed it.”
Daal took the Bands’ case from TenSoon, who growled low and dangerous — but let it go.
Steris watched with an odd feeling of disconnect. This was … this was some kind of Malwish ploy, completely separate from the tensions at Bilming. Which made it a problem for another time, when they weren’t being threatened with extinction. The Bands were not the solution today. But there was a secret here that eventually she would like to tease out.
The ambassador walked to the door, but paused there, the Bands under his arm. “I did promise you passage, Governor. If this city is doomed, as you all think, then … if you wish, any of you may join me now. I will drop you at a safer location.”
“I’ll go,” Adawathwyn said immediately. She snatched her things off the table.
“Maybe…” the governor said. “Maybe we’re wrong. Mistaken somehow about this danger…”
“Are you a betting man, my lord governor?” Reddi asked. “Because I am. And I’ve learned to never bet against one particular man. If Dawnshot says a bomb is pointed at us, it is.”
“We need to evacuate the city.” Steris thumped her notebooks. “I have the plans here. Full citywide emergency plans for various categories of disaster. I had free time a few summers ago and was bored.”
“This is what you do for fun?” Reddi asked.
“Well, the house taxes were already done for the next year,” Steris said. “Here. This plan is the best for this situation. It gets the most people out of the city the fastest. The longer we have, the more we save. It’s one of my most efficient creations.” She looked up to the governor. “Please. We can’t leave. We have to protect the city.”
“Are you coming or not?” Daal snapped from the doorway. Perhaps he wanted the honor — and political bargaining chip — of having saved the governor.
Governor Varlance glanced from him to Steris. Then toward Adawathwyn — whose robes flashed as she vanished out the door. The other senators hastened to follow.
“You,” Steris said softly to the governor, “are the captain of this city. This entire nation. You were chosen by the people to represent them. I need your authority to save as many of them as possible. There will be time for you to escape later. For now, help me save this city.”
“You … really have a plan?” the governor said. He wiped his brow. “An evacuation plan?”
“Yes. We can do this, Varlance.”
He nodded. A quick, hesitant nod, frightened. “I want to try. Where do we start?”
49
There wasn’t no cover in this canyon, so Wayne had to do the smart thing: turn into some.
He stepped in front of Wax, who was ducking backward around the corner. Too slow, but fortunately the next shots from the enemy hit Wayne, making him grunt. Bullets really hurt. He supposed that was the point, but some other wounds were so big that your body kinda freaked out and decided not to hurt, least at first. Like it was saying, “Whoa. This is gonna suck hard. Better take a deep breath.”
Bullets though, they didn’t send him into shock or anything. So they just hurt. Like Death’s own eyes.
Still, it kept Wax from bein’ hit. Together he and Wayne ducked back around the curve in the tunnel, out of sight. The two of them waited there, Wax with guns out, ready to fire. They were perhaps thirty yards from where they’d spotted the two doppel-dummies, blocking the way farther through the tunnel.
Wayne rolled his shoulder as the bullet wounds healed, draining his metalminds a little further. He was using up his reserves pretty fast these last few days. Fortunately, most of his work with Marasi hadn’t required much healin’. Her missions didn’t usually involve things like throwing Wayne out windows like he was a rustin’ cat.
“Oi!” the not-Wayne called from farther down the tunnel. “We can’t shoot you if you keep hidin’! Come out so we can get on with killing you, mates!”