One of the Set’s primary long-term goals was to gain access to Allomantic powers, and the fact that the Set had so much access to spikes indicated that some of those who had been kidnapped had met with gruesome ends. But this group, and the fact that only the most important Set members had spikes so far, whispered of a much longer-term plan. Down here, they’d have a literal breeding ground for children likely to be Metalborn — excellent for recruitment, or for creating spikes. It turned her stomach in knots, particularly when she thought to look at the women in the room and noticed that two might be pregnant.
That playground the man had been building earlier suddenly took on a darker cast. Yet … these people didn’t seem terrified their children would be taken. There was a hope, and a good one, that Marasi had found them in time. Not to prevent all the trauma, unfortunately — these people had been stolen from their families and lives and locked down here — but at least the Set hadn’t started turning them into spikes yet.
The lord mayor called the Community “Edwarn’s project,” she thought. This whole thing had been the scheme of Wax’s uncle, a long-term solution to providing Allomantic powers to the Set. She suspected that upon his death, much of this infrastructure had been co-opted, with Telsin taking command and Autonomy breathing down their necks. A cavern that had been designed as an Allomantic eugenics experiment had now expanded to become a bunker housing the lord mayor’s loyalists. Further experiments with spikes were leading to different innovations.
But this old experiment remained, and the people trapped in it. Marasi had stumbled upon the solution to one of her most troubling unsolved mysteries. She could rescue these people. Assuming she could save the world itself first.
“I know you,” Marasi said to the blonde woman. “You’re Armal Harms, aren’t you?”
“Well, I was a Harms,” the woman said. “Before marrying down here. Did I … know you?”
“I’ve only seen pictures,” Marasi said. “I’m Marasi Colms. Steris’s … cousin.” It was the lie they’d always used, before her father had been willing to publicly admit to his infidelity.
“Steris?” Armal asked, perking up. “Is she … I mean…?”
“She’s alive,” Marasi said. “Armal … they all are. You’ve been lied to in a terrible way. I don’t know how to be more delicate about this. There was no ashfall. The Basin didn’t fall. It’s a hoax.” She grimaced. “You were all kidnapped by some horrible people.”
Those in the room looked at one another.
“Ash sickness,” one of the other women said.
The mousy woman nodded, then patted Marasi on the shoulder. “You’re disoriented, seeing delusions, dear.”
Marasi sighed. Of course the Set would have come up with an excuse like that — they’d want a fallback explanation in case someone snuck through the defenses.
“I can’t prove it to you now,” Marasi said. “Though I will find a way. Please, consider my words. They will soften the blow when you have to confront the truth. I’m a senior officer in the Elendel Constabulary.” She pulled out her credentials. “For years I’ve been trying to trace you: people kidnapped by a mysterious organization called the Set. They have other plans in motion — even more dangerous ones — which is why I can’t stay. But the truth is, Armal, that you were taken because they wanted Allomancers. And they are willing to play the long game to get them.”
Armal glanced upward — as small feet thumped on the upper floor, and the laughter of children drifted down.
“You have to agree it is odd,” Marasi said, “that you were kidnapped by a group of armed men during a robbery.”
“They had to act that way,” Armal said. “To hide what they were doing. To avoid a mass panic.”
“Posing as a group of thieves?” Marasi asked.
“It worked in the Words of Founding,” she replied. “The Survivor himself pretended to be a thief.”
Marasi didn’t have time to continue this argument. “I need to locate Gave Entrone,” she said. “Do you know where I could find him?”
At that very moment, as if decreed by Harmony, a voice blasted from a set of speakers outside. Echoing in the vast cavern through the public address system.
It was Gave Entrone, the lord mayor.
“Be warned, people of Wayfarer,” he said in a tinny broadcast voice. “A dangerous outsider has been spotted slipping through the outer tunnels, possibly coming in this direction. She is likely armed, and known to be very, very ash-sick.
“Treat her as extremely dangerous and report sightings of her to your neighborhood tranquility officer immediately. Do not approach her. Do not engage with her. She has killed already, and will kill again if given the chance.”
The group of people all looked upward, and Marasi tensed. How far would their congeniality extend now?
“Hell,” Armal said. “We have to hide her.”
“Others saw her entering,” the man with the tools said.
“We’ll rough up the room,” Armal said, “and claim she threatened us and ran out.” She looked to Marasi. “You’re confused and ash-sick. But … do you remember how to get out of here? The path through the caverns?”
“Forget that,” said the mousy woman, suddenly fierce. “Do you have weapons? Anything we could use to overthrow Entrone?”
“We’re not going to overthrow him!” Armal said. “All we need to do is follow our plan: sneak up to the surface, find survivors, and bring them here. Prove to everyone that we can do something to help. That will shift the lord mayor to our line of thinking.”
That was a noble philosophy. And also completely hopeless. Marasi did not have time to try to persuade them further. “Where is Entrone?” she said, standing.
“He has a new mansion at the edge of town,” Armal said. “Large, with the broadcast station in it. It’s dangerous there because he needs metals to work the devices — if mutants ever invade, they’ll go for him first.”
“How very brave of him,” Marasi said, hurrying to the window — the others moved aside for her. “No doubt he has a nice tunnel to the surface too. You know the flat outer walls? Those have one-way glass. They watch you through it.”
“Ash sickness,” one of the women hissed.
“Is there…” Marasi said, trying to figure out how to phrase it, “some kind of portal around here? Rusts. I don’t even know what it would look like. A large construction of some sort, maybe? Or an area that is specifically off-limits?”
They just stared at her, confused. Should have expected that, Marasi thought. Of course they wouldn’t know. They were captives, not confidants.
But something about that puzzled her. If Entrone was creating a portal for Autonomy’s army, why would he do it here, near these people? Why not do it in a more isolated portion of the cavern complex, away from his test subjects? Yet he’d specifically said he was coming here to open the portal.
She glanced to Armal — who was holding Marasi’s credentials, a frown on her face. “Why would you go to the trouble,” she said, “of carrying fake credentials? Going all the way to create a fake stamp, for this year’s date…?”
“She must be far gone,” one of the others said.
Armal met Marasi’s gaze, her frown deepening.
“It’s because I’m telling you the truth,” Marasi said. “Now I need to get to Entrone and stop him.”