“I guess,” Marasi continued, “it’s hard to know what you want. We never have all the information. We merely have to do what we can with what we have.” She met Kelsier’s shadowed gaze. “If I join, will you let me share what I discover with the constabulary?”
“What do you think?” Kelsier asked.
“I think,” she said, “that I am a servant of the people.” She moved to set the card on the table beside the door. “That any power or authority I have comes from them. They are not served by darkness and lies, no matter how well intentioned.”
“Be careful,” Kelsier said before she could put the card down. “Are you certain this is what you want?”
“No,” she said. “My job isn’t to be certain. My job is to do the best I can. Even with limited information.” She dropped the card.
She still needed to find something. An answer for herself. But this wasn’t it.
“I’m a servant of the government,” Marasi said, “and of the law. Things that you, I believe, have historically had a problem with, Survivor. I appreciate your help on this mission. I’d accept it again in the future.” She shook her head. “But I’m not a good match for your organization. I won’t keep secrets when the truth could save lives.”
She needed to know what was hidden here — but she was a detective. She’d find answers without selling her soul. Even if it was to the Survivor himself.
Kelsier did not seem like the type of man who appreciated being rejected. But he did eventually nod in acceptance. She shook hands with TwinSoul, offered to help him with Moonlight anyway, then let herself out.
Back into the city.
Back to the people of Elendel.
And as she walked among them — hearing their concerns, their fears, their uncertainty — she remembered things she’d lost to the doldrums of daily work. Plans for her life she’d followed for years, but had eventually grown beyond.
Had she grown back into them, then? Wiser, more understanding, more nuanced?
It was then, wrung out and exhausted, yet victorious, that she realized what she wanted.
All she needed was a plan.
* * *
Prasanva — TwinSoul — watched her go, then shook his head. Unfortunate. And also remarkable. He liked seeing people uphold their personal codes. The aethers, after all, had created all people to think differently from one another.
As the main hallway door shut outside — and Marasi Colms left — Dlavil eased from the shadows behind Kelsier’s seat. The short man bore an intricate and fearsome mask, wooden and painted — but when he spoke, his accent was not that of the Southern Scadrians. It was of Silverlight.
“We will need to deal with her,” Dlavil said softly.
“She is a woman of integrity,” TwinSoul said. “I will not permit harm to come to her.”
“She knows our secrets,” Dlavil said. “She knows this base. She saw what you and Moonlight can do. She glimpsed the maps, the powers, the knowledge. She is dangerous to us now.”
“We offered these things freely,” TwinSoul said, “and although she rejected us, she did not take from us. Master Kelsier, rein him in.”
“Enough, Dlavil,” Kelsier said, flicking on the light and leaning back in his seat. “TwinSoul is right. She knows nothing that couldn’t be learned from a cursory exploration of the cosmere. We might have to move bases, but that’s our own fault. Moonlight was so certain she’d join.”
Dlavil held his tongue, his eyes inscrutable behind that cursed mask. TwinSoul hated being unable to get a full read on the man’s expressions, but Dlavil — like his sister who ran amok on Roshar — wore a mask that he never removed; it was grown in to the point that it was practically part of his skin.
“I mean it, Dlavil,” Kelsier said. “You will not move against her, or anyone in this city, without my permission. You understand?”
“Yes, Lord Kelsier,” Dlavil said, and withdrew through the back door.
Kelsier sighed audibly, rising from his seat. He joined TwinSoul beside the window, where they looked out at the city.
“Good work yesterday,” Kelsier told him. “Very good work, old friend. We almost lost everything.”
TwinSoul bowed his head in acceptance of the praise. It felt good.
You are blessed, Silajana said in his mind. And worthy of commendation.
That felt even better.
“It should never have gotten this far,” Kelsier said. “Something is wrong with Sazed. It’s getting worse.”
“What do we do, my lord?” TwinSoul asked.
Kelsier narrowed his eye. “I,” he whispered softly, “am going to have a difficult conversation with ‘God.’”
STERIS
TWO DAYS AFTER DETONATION
On the second day of the city’s recovery, Steris finally got to bring Waxillium home from the hospital. They limped out of Hoid’s car, Wax on crutches, then looked up at the enormous skyscraper that held their suite. Wax stared at it, his eyes faintly haunted.
“Thinking of the Shaw?” Steris asked softly.
He nodded. “On that rooftop, Wayne made me get him a spike. If I hadn’t listened, he wouldn’t have been able to Push me away.”
“So you could have done what?” she said gently. “Stayed with him to die? He knew what he needed to do.”
Wax looked to her, and she saw the same pain in his eyes that she’d seen after Lessie’s second death. Tempered this time, but haunting nonetheless. She hated seeing him in pain. It happened far too often.
“I should have at least said goodbye,” Wax whispered. “He left the Roughs because of me…”
“And he lived because you gave him a second chance,” Steris said. As he was staring up at the roof, she covertly consulted her notes from the books on trauma she’d been reading. “This wasn’t your fault, Waxillium. You need to allow Wayne his agency, allow him to have made his own choice. You would have sacrificed yourself for the city; we both know it. So let him have the same decision.”
He was silent for a moment, and she tried — anxiously — to figure out what he was feeling. Was that scrunched-up face annoyance? Or was it pain? Ruin, had she made it worse?
“You’re right,” he said softly, then blinked tears from his eyes. “You’re right, Steris. I need to let him be the hero, don’t I? Harmony … he really is gone.”
She slipped her notebook into her pocket and held him close, ignoring the world around them. She dimmed everything else, like an old gas lantern with a dial. Turned it down until only the two of them remained. Only the two of them mattered.
He held to her, then took a long, deep breath. “Marasi still doesn’t believe he’s gone. She thinks he’s going to come sauntering back in a few months, wearing a straw hat and telling us how great the fruity drinks are in the Malwish Consortium. But she’s wrong. This time it’s over.”
“Yes,” Steris whispered. “He’s gone. But nothing is over, Wax. You said the same thing when Lessie died. It wasn’t true then. It’s not true now. It will take time for you to believe, but you can trust that it will happen.”
He squeezed her hand. “Again, you’re right. How did you get so good at this, Steris?”
“I learned from Wayne.”
“About … helping people deal with pain?”
“No,” she said, then slipped out her notebook. “About cheating.”
Waxillium smiled. The first genuine one she’d seen from him since the incident. Then he handed her his crutches and dropped a spent bullet casing to the ground.