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Max took out a pouch of twirly-seeds and began dropping them off the side of the building, watching them go spinning down toward the busy street below. Despite the height, Wax could hear cars honking on the roadway. Six years, and there was barely a horse-drawn carriage to be seen in the arteries below. Progress here was like a wrecking crew. You moved with it or you became rubble.

The platform faced north. To his left, the shimmering waters of Hammondar Bay were a vast highway toward… well, he didn’t rightly know what. The people of the Basin weren’t explorers. For all their love of stories about Wax in his young days, or worse that fool Jak, most were content to enjoy their city. That was a problem with Elendel: it had everything you thought you’dneed, so why go looking elsewhere? They hadn’t even realized there was an entire Southern Continent out there until an airship had sailed up to investigate the Basin.

Yes, there had been expeditions since then. But most people were content here, and he couldn’t blame them. His best efforts at improving life had been focused on the Basin. He didn’t know what to do about the Malwish. Six years, and he still found the suddenly expansive size of the world intimidating.

Max hopped up and down with glee, throwing out an entire handful of twirly-seeds. The boy’s fascination with heights made Kath uncomfortable—but that was what happened when, from infancy, you were often strapped to a father who found ordinary means of transportation too time-consuming.

Wax looked north toward the Roughs. Toward wonder, mystery, and a life he’dloved. He felt…

Rusts. He didn’t feel sad.

He blinked, cocking his head. Ever since his return, Elendel had felt like a duty to him. Adventure and comfort had both been outside the city, calling to him. Though things had improved over the years, he’dcontinued to feel it. That call. Until…

Until today. Today, he remembered the parts of his life he’dloved in the north—but he didn’t want them back. He had a life here he loved equally. Maybe more, judging by the warmth he felt as Max laughed. This…thiswas where he belonged. More, this was where hewantedto belong.

It felt calming to realize these things. He’d… finally stopped grieving, hadn’t he?

With a grin of his own, he scooped Max up and gave the child a powerful hug—though Max had been too wiggly, even as a baby, to stand that sort of thing for long. Soon, at the boy’s urging, they were playing a game of fetch, a variety Max had invented a few months back. Max tossed a wicker ball with a tiny metal weight at its center, then Wax tried to launch it onto the top of a nearby building. The wicker would keep it from doing damage if it fell, but the metal let him aim it. Once it was in place on a roof, they would jump over and retrieve it.

Max threw, but Wax struggled to get the ball to go far enough. “Toss it higher,” he suggested to Max once they’drecovered it.

“If I throw it up,” Max complained, “it will come down on our heads. I want to go onto that building over there.”

“Height first,” Wax said. “Trust me. The higher you throw it, the farther I can get it to fly.”

Max tried again. With more height to the throw, Wax was able to land the ball on the rooftop Max wanted. Then they leaped after it. He wondered what the people in the neighboring skyscrapers thought of the frequent sight of a senator shooting past their windows with a child strapped to his back.

Unfortunately, the fun of the game could only distract him for so long. They’dbeen playing for half an hour when he topped a building and was confronted by an awesome sight. The Malwish ship he’dseen earlier had come closer.

The wooden construction, moved by giant fans, loomed in the airover Elendel. Wax had seen Basin attempts to design their own airships using helium or hot air. But the size of the cabin those ships could lift— in the most optimistic of projections—was nothing compared to what the Malwish could field. Their ship soared, a fortress in the sky.

This was no trade ship as he’dthought earlier. It was a warship. A show of force, though not an overtly hostile one—as it was approaching slowly and low in the sky. It was meant to make a statement, not a threat.

So, with Max strapped securely back into place, Wax launched them into the air toward the vessel, intent on finding out what was going on.

8

Marasi eventually managed to find a service ladder to get her down into the chasm and back up the other side. Worn out, she approached the main chamber, shaken by what she’dheard and been forced to do. But she carried a small book of numbers and shipping dates she’dfound on the corpse, and that looked promising.

She also carried something more dangerous. Four spikes. Curiously, the red-spotted one did not like touching the others—it pulled away from them if brought close. So she’dwrapped it in a bundle of cloth and kept them in separate pockets.

She stumbled through the reinforced metal door and found a scene of utter chaos. A large blast had set off several other explosions, judging by the scars on the ground. The cavern was littered with shrapnel, pieces of equipment, and an alarming number of bodies.

Wayne squatted in the center of it all, his clothes ripped, playing cards with a whole group of tied-up gangsters. He had their cards laid out on the floor in front of them—though their hands were tied behind their backs.

“You sure you want to lead with that one, mate?” Wayne asked, nodding at the card one of the men had tapped with his toe.

“It’s the high card,” the fellow said.

“Yeah, but are yousure,” Wayne said, eyeing his own hand.

“Um… I think so.”

“Damn,” Wayne said, laying down his hand. “I play three eights on the back of the nines. You win.”

“But…” another of the men said, “you know our hands… Why would you play it that way?”

“Gotta pretend I can’t see your cards, friends,” Wayne said. “Otherwise, where’s the sport in it? Cheatin’s one thing, but if I can justseewhat you’re going to do, then… well, might as well be playin’ with myself. And there are much funner ways to do that.”