In the hall, he headed toward his chambers, crossing over inlaid floors and beneath a row of chandeliers. Crystal and marble. This was his life now. Everything he’d fled as a young man ornamented each footstep, and the shadows seemed darker now, despite the twinkling light from above.
He believed his accomplishments as a senator could far outshine his accomplishments as a lawman, in terms of the raw good done to help the most people possible. That meant his failures carried much higher stakes. In the Roughs you depended on your gun, your instincts, and your ability to ask the right questions. Here he had to depend on others to do the right thing. And so far there had been no greater test of his faith in humanity — serial killers included — than working with politicians.
He shoved into his chambers and found his family and Kath, the governess, there already. He tried not to let his displeasure show, but Max still sensed the mood, staying back with Kath and playing with his Soonie pup.
“Well,” Wax snapped, throwing himself into his seat, “there goes over a year of work.”
“We did everything we could,” Steris said, settling down beside him.
“Did we?” Wax asked, glancing at her stack of notebooks. “I know you have six of those full of new ways to try to persuade individual senators. If we’d had more time…”
“We did everything it was reasonable for us to do,” she said, “accounting for our other obligations.” Then she hesitated. “Didn’t we, Wax?”
He met her eyes, and saw she was trembling. Hell. This would be just as hard for her, wouldn’t it? Pay attention, you rusting idiot. He took her hands and squeezed them.
“We did,” he said. “We tried with everything we had, Steris. In the end though, it wasn’t our decision.”
He squeezed her hands tightly. Steris was incredibly stable — she’d been there for him ever since his return to Elendel, though he’d never imagined how much she would come to mean to him. In that moment though, he felt her shaking. And … rust him if he wasn’t doing the same himself. They’d poured so much into stopping this bill. And every single rusting senator he’d talked to had said they needed more time. Now they voted like this? Now they–
No. It’s done.
“We need to move forward,” he said.
“Yes. Forward.” She nodded, then looked around. “And maybe get out of this building for a while. Currently, all that’s going through my mind are the various ways a convenient natural disaster could turn it to rubble.”
Wax grunted, and helped Steris gather the rest of their things. As they did, Wax saw an envelope on the corner of his desk. That hadn’t been there before, had it? Picking it up, he felt something heavy slide to the corner. A bullet?
No, he discovered after slipping it open. An earring. And with it a small note. You’ll need to make a second, once the proper metal arrives.
He had no idea what that meant. And he didn’t care. Not today, Harmony, he thought. Leave me alone.
“What’s that?” Steris said.
“Something from Harmony,” Wax said.
She paused, looking at him.
“So, likely,” he added, “something useless.”
Steris drew her lips to a line. She was a Survivorist, and didn’t strictly worship Harmony, who was seen as the god of the Path — a distinct but complementary religion. Still, after all they’d done and the things he’d seen, Steris had adopted a somewhat … cross-denominational view of God. At any rate, she knew he’d once worshipped Harmony.
These days … Well, he and God had history. Wax felt he’d overcome his worst problems with Harmony, ever since their conversation directly before he’d donned the Bands of Mourning. But that didn’t stop Wax from making the occasional snide remark. Today, he shoved the envelope in his back pocket and put it out of his mind.
They packed up their things — rusts, with kids there were so many things to cart around. Steris wanted another child, but Wax worried about that. He didn’t fancy being outnumbered.
But then again … he couldn’t help smiling as Max went running down the hall, making his Soonie pup leap between black squares of marble, avoiding the white ones. Wax didn’t normally see the other senators with families; they claimed that having children in the building wasn’t respectful. But if they respected the building so much, why had they made a mockery of it with that vote?
A good number did vote as you wanted, Wax had to remind himself. And others are scared. Of being seen as weak. Of outside interests. They’re not all slag for voting against you. Remember that. There are some good ones. Same as in every profession. It was just … well, he didn’t want to think about that right now.
Outside the building, fleets of motor carriages had arrived to pick up senators. They’d drive off to parties, or appearances, or informal get-togethers. Even those who worked with Wax rarely invited him along unless they wanted to strategize. It was like they thought he was above simple socializing. Or maybe he made them uncomfortable.
As his family gathered to wait for their driver, Max tugged on his suit coat. “Is ya sad, Pa?” he asked loudly. “I hates the sads. Right bad, they is.”
The way he said it caused several nearby senators to turn their noses up and sniff. Wax cocked an eyebrow. “Has Uncle Wayne been teaching you accents again?”
“Yeah,” Max said, softer. “Says I shouldn’t tell you though, so you’d think I was a genius for doing it on my own.” He smiled. “He told me to talk like that around the senators because it’ll upset them. And they need to be upset today, don’t they? Because they made you and Mother sad?”
Wax nodded, kneeling down. “You don’t need to worry about that though.”
“Know what makes me feel better when I’m sad?” Max asked.
“Hugging Tenny?” Wax said, patting the stuffed kandra on the head.
“Well, that,” Max said, “and … um … flying?” He looked at Wax with big, hopeful eyes.
Nearby, their motorcar pulled up to the curb and Hoid, the driver, stepped out. “Your carriage, sir,” he said, holding the passenger door. But rusts, who could deny a child when he looked at you like that?
“Thank you, Hoid,” Wax said. “Please take my wife wherever she would like to go. Kath, you have the harness?”
“I do, m’lord,” she said, handing Steris the baby, then digging into the enormous bag of extra clothing and washcloths. She tossed the harness to Wax, who gave her his coat and vest in exchange.
It gave him an impish stab of glee to pull on the leather harness and strap Max to his back in front of everyone. Then, with a fond kiss for Steris — and a promise to meet her at home — he dropped a bullet casing and turned toward the crowd.
“Don’t none of you get jealous or nothin’!” Max shouted. “He can give you a ride fer cheap, if you ask real nice and stop being a pile o’ bad turds!”
Yeah … maybe Wax should have a little talk with Wayne. But for now he waved to the crowd, then launched himself into the air, Max letting out a whoop of riotous glee.
6
The tunnel Marasi entered bore signs of ancient civilization: the remnants of brick walls covering up the rough natural stone. A smooth floor, chiseled and graded. Sconces on the walls, now pocked with rust as if suffering some terrible disease.
She took out the last of her grenades, the one Wax had charged for her. These newer ones could hold a charge for hours — though by now the effect wouldn’t last long once activated. Three or four minutes at most. She still felt better holding it — and so, reluctantly, she set her rifle on the ground and instead drew her pistol. It also contained less metal than the rifle, making it a slightly better tool against a potential Allomancer. For the same reason, she left her pouch with extra metals, though she kept her belt with a few non-metal tools useful for fighting Allomancers.