The young man nodded, though he’d gone pale.
“Tell her it’s urgent,” Wax said, holding up his finger. “Don’t let her toss it aside and read it in the morning. You stay there until she’s read what I wrote, you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good lad. Off with you.”
The youth ran out. Wayne strolled over to Wax, passing the open door down to the saferoom. The bodies around it had been removed, though the blood remained.
“Ranette?” Wayne asked hopefully.
Wax nodded. “I thought of something that might help.”
“I coulda delivered that, you know.…”
“You, she would shoot,” Wax said.
“Only ’cuz she likes me,” Wayne said, smiling. He’d have welcomed an excuse to go see Ranette. This night was getting darker and darker, it seemed.
“Wayne…” Wax said. “You know she doesn’t actually like you.”
“You always say that, but you’re just not seein’ the truth, Wax.”
“She tries to kill you.”
“To keep me alive,” Wayne said. “She knows I live a dangerous life. So, keepin’ me on my toes is the best way to make sure I stick around. Anyway, was that Marasi I saw in there with the governor and his important folk?”
Wax nodded. “She and MeLaan arrived a short time back. Aradel wants to declare martial law.”
“And you don’t?” Wayne asked, taking a seat on one of the nice couches that didn’t have much blood splattered on it. Important people were meeting nearby. He suspected he knew what would come next, and he intended to wait around for it.
Wax stood for a moment, then shook his head. “Bleeder set this all up, Wayne. She’s been pushing us toward this. ‘I rip out his tongue … I stab out his eyes…’”
“Now, I’m as for dismemberment as the next fellow,” Wayne said, “but that’s a mite violent for this time of day.”
“Bleeder wrote it on the wall down below. A poem of some sort. It doesn’t feel finished to me.”
“She nailed that priest through the eyes,” Wayne noted.
“And ripped out Winsting’s tongue,” Wax said. He fished in his pocket and brought something out, tossing it to Wayne.
“What’s this?” Wayne asked, turning it over in his fingers. It was a piece of painted wood.
“Remains of the Marksman’s mask. Bleeder was wearing it.”
“You think she was him all along?” Wayne asked.
“Maybe,” Wax said. “It would have served her purpose, riling up the people of the slums, reminding them how rich the houses are. By bringing him down, I put myself at odds with the common people.”
“I hate to say it, mate,” Wayne said, “but you ain’t exactly beloved of them anyway.”
“I’m a hero from the Roughs,” Wax said.
“You’re a conner,” Wayne said. “And a house lord, mate. Not to mention the fact that you can, yunno, fly. You can’t treat this like Weathering. You can’t convince a fellow you’re on his side by slapping him in jail overnight, then playing cards with him until he sees you as a regular chap.”
Wax sighed. “You’re right, of course.”
“Usually am.”
“Except that time on Lessie’s birthday.”
“You always have to bring that up, don’t you?” Wayne leaned back, tipping his hat down over his eyes. “Honest mistake.”
“You put dynamite in the oven, Wayne.”
“Gotta hide a gift where nobody’ll look for it.”
“I need to piece this together,” Wax said, starting to pace. “Sketch it out. Write it down. We’re missing something very important.”
Wayne nodded, but was hardly listening. Wax would figure it out. Wayne just needed to get some shuteye, while the getting was still good enough for …
He heard a door click open. He threw back his hat and was on his feet a second later, scrambling for the door. Wax cursed, pulling out one of his guns, following as Wayne dashed into the hallway and intercepted the servant with a plate full of little party foods.
“Aha!” Wayne said. “Thought you could slip by me, didja!”
The kitchen maid looked horrified as Wayne gathered up three of each of the treats. Wax stopped in the doorway, then lowered his gun. “Oh, for Harmony’s sake.”
“Harmony can get his own,” Wayne said, popping a little cake in his mouth. As he turned back to Wax, the maid scuttled away, heading for the meeting.
It was exactly what Wayne had been waiting for. Important folk meeting together always meant snacks. Or canapés, if you knew the code. Wayne popped one in his mouth—candied bacon wrapped around a walnut.
“How is it?” Wax asked.
“Tastes like cotton candy,” Wayne said, relishing the flavor, “made of baby.”
“I did not need to hear that,” Wax said, slipping his gun back into its holster. “I’m going to need to go back out there, see if I can figure out Bleeder’s plan. That leaves you here to protect the governor again.”
Wayne nodded. “I’ll do what I can, but that’s a tall order, mate.”
“I’ve arranged for some help,” Wax said, leading the way over to the ladies’ crapper. He knocked on the door.
“Still changing!” MeLaan’s voice came from inside.
“How long?” Wax said.
The door cracked, and a woman’s face peeked out that looked completely unlike MeLaan’s. “Not long,” she said in MeLaan’s voice. “This lady’s hair was a real pain.” She shut the door.
“I recognize that face,” Wayne said, folding his arms and leaning against the wall.
“One of the guards,” Wax said. “That got shot a little earlier.”
“Oh right.” Wayne had a sinking feeling. “Wasn’t she one of the ones I tried to save?”
“Died shortly thereafter,” Wax said. “MeLaan will keep the arm in a sling—that was where the shot hit first, before penetrating into the woman’s lung. We’ll keep her on the governor’s guard staff, and hopefully Bleeder will be so busy looking for you and me that she’ll miss MeLaan.”
“I hope you appreciate this,” the kandra’s voice came from inside the crapper. “I hate being short. As a side note, this lady tasted awful. Far too lean and tough.” The door cracked, revealing the face again. “Next time, choose a body that’s been sitting around awhile, would you? Nice and aged is the best flavor for…”
She trailed off, looking from Wayne to Wax, noticing their expressions. “Oh right,” she said. “Mortals. I’d forgotten how squeamish you can be.”
“Please,” Wax said, sounding pained, “show some respect for the dead woman. It’s already difficult to let you use her corpse like this.”
MeLaan rolled her eyes—rusts, it was strange to see her behave just like before, but in an entirely different body. “It’s either me or the worms, kids. Don’t you think she’d be happy to go out all at once, munched down in half an hour, rather than sitting there and melting into the ground over the course of—”
“Too much description, MeLaan,” Wax said, his voice strained.
“Fine, fine. I’m almost ready; just have to get the clothing on. How is the hair?”
“Good,” Wayne said. “I think you forgot an eyebrow though.”
MeLaan felt at her face. “Hell,” she said. “This is what you get by forcing me to work so quickly.” She ducked back into the room.
“Speaking of quickly,” Wax said through the door, “is this about what I can expect with Bleeder? A half hour to change bodies?”