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The vial hit the ground and exploded, but the metal inside was enough of an anchor. He slowed and hit the ground in a skid, mistcoat tassels flying around him. His heart thundering, he ripped his gun from its holster and pointed upward.

But the sky was empty. The man had decided to cut his losses and flee.

Wax had landed in a city square with decorative paving stones and a few impressive statues—designed in a strange chunky and blockish art style. His drop had drawn… well, more than a little attention. It seemed he had interrupted a dedication ceremony for a new building, for a journalist was there with an evanotype stand for taking pictures.

One flash of light later, and Wax had the sinking realization that he would be top-of-the-fold news in the afternoon broadsheets. Delightful. He stood up, calming himself, and took cover beneath an awning just in case. Then, as he was considering what to do next, a sleek black car rolled up and Hoid the coachman, of all people, popped out—wearing a chauffeur’s cap and white gloves. What washedoing here?

“Your carriage, sir,” Hoid said, gesturing.

“How on Scadrial did you find me?” Wax asked.

Hoid cocked an eyebrow at the gathering crowd. “Pardon, Lord Ladrian, but youdocreate quite a spectacle. It’s not terribly difficult to track you.”

Well, that was fair. As the crowd started chattering, Wax could see the appeal of slipping into the car and driving off. But the others were still fighting for their lives.

“Thanks, Hoid,” he said. “But Wayne and Marasi need me.” He launched into the air, drawing even more attention—and a second flash of light from the evanotype machine.

26

Marasi reluctantly agreed to let the local constables handle cleaning up the site—though she’dmanaged to retrieve two of her Allomantic grenades—and imprisoning the Set members they’dmanaged to capture. She disliked the idea, as it would possibly mean the captives ended up in the Set’s hands. But there wasn’t much she could do about that at the moment. Her wounded officers were a more pressing concern.

Beyond that… well, the moment Blantach and her people had arrived, the entire mission had become a huge mess. Which was how—three hours after rolling into Bilming—she found herself with Wayne, VenDell, and Wax in a room of the Bilming Constabulary headquarters. She’dseen to her people in the hospital, and was sitting with the casualty report.

Two dead constables. Rusts, it hurt to read their names. This was a disaster.

For now though, she tried to keep her mind on their predicament. “So you’re saying,” she said, “that Harmony isblind?”

Wax nodded, his eyes distant as he stood nearby, staring at the wall. “He said he’dsend us what help he could. But he was frightened, Marasi. Legitimately frightened. And given what Steris and I uncovered… I worry our enemies are close to a weapon. Dangerously close.”

He glanced at her, then fell silent. They didn’t want to say too much, in case they were being observed. No one was at the door, but they could listen in on this little room in other ways. Wan yellow walls and a free-hanginglight bulb gave the place an intentionally bleak air. She bet they used it for interrogations.

The Bilming officers hadn’t locked the door—they wouldn’t dare—but Wax and the others had been forced to surrender their weapons. And when they’dbeen dropped off in here, the implication had been clear:Don’t try anything.

Though they had been given four chairs, only Marasi sat—at the back of the room. Wax paced in front of the door. VenDell sat on the floor by the wall, looking exhausted. He’dstitched up his bones, holding them in place with sinew, making the features lumpy and unnatural. Like a ceramic sculpture that had been dropped, then glued back together with the pieces misaligned.

Wayne was, of course, napping.

On the floor, hat over his eyes, rolled-up jacket under his head as a pillow. Rusting man. She wished it were so easy for her. With two dead, she felt her confidence crumbling. Cali Hatthew had been a constable for only two years—and had begged to come on this mission. That blood was on Marasi’s hands. She thought she’dplanned well, but…

Wax walked over and squatted down. “Hey,” he said, “you all right?”

She shook her head, tapping the casualty report. “The two people who knew anything useful escaped, and I lost two good constables. At least a dozen others have serious wounds,andI caused a potential intercity incident. Oh, and the Set will have all their people released, just for anextrakick to the shins.”

He winced. “Marasi, we’re fighting some of the craftiest and most powerful people in the world. Wearegoing to be outmaneuvered now and then. You did well, keeping everyone as safe as possible.”

“We’dbe dead if you hadn’t arrived.”

“But I did. You’re not a killer, Marasi. Not by trade. Your job is to investigate, plan, and enforce the law.”

“And your job?” she asked.

He stood up. “I’m Harmony’s sword, Marasi. Recently taken off the weapon rack, the dust blown free. Regardless of what happened today, we need to keep working. Because something bigishappening in this city. Something extremely dangerous. You lost two good people today—but they died trying to prevent the deaths ofmillions.”

She nodded, rubbing her temples to try to banish her headache. If heand Steris were right… if the enemy was trying to sneak a bomb into Elendel…

“All right,” she said, trying to focus. “We need leads. What do we do now that the Sequence escaped? Where do we look?”

“Working on that,” he said. “The man I fought was spiked. So was the Cycle you killed, as was the woman Wayne fought. Each of those spikes requires the death of a Metalborn.”