“Honored Metalborn,” the captain said, nodding to Wax, “and … unless I miss my guess, Honored Once-Bearer of the Bands?”
“That’s me,” Wax said.
“And also taker of the Bands, which should have been restored to their rightful people.”
“Also me. I delivered them to the kandra, as agreed — to be held so that no nation could control them or their power. If you need to be reminded.”
They were silent for a few moments, staring at one another.
“I am Admiral Daal,” the man said — sounding reluctant. “Welcome to my former ship, Blessed Thief.”
“Former?” Wax asked.
“I’ve been chosen to be the new ambassador from the Malwish Consortium to your nation.”
Malwish … Consortium? It seemed the unification of the South had been completed. “What about Jonnes?” Wax asked.
“She will be returning home,” Daal said. “It has been determined that she has been too … familiar.”
Wonderful. A political shift indeed. It was probably best not to say too much more than simple pleasantries, to avoid inflaming tensions by accident. “Then let me be the first senator to welcome you to the Basin,” Wax said. “I look forward to continued peace and favorable trade between our nations.”
“Favorable?” Daal said. “For you, perhaps.”
“We’ve both benefited. You’ve had access to our Allomancers.”
“Limited access,” he said. “Far too limited compared to the rich accommodations you have received.”
“Three skimmers?” Wax asked. “A handful of medallions? All essentially useless without the ability to maintain them on our own or create more.”
“Surely you don’t expect us to give up the means of our production? One sells the goods, not the factory.”
Every time they tried to get more information on medallions from people in the know, they got stonewalled. Obviously these were Malwish trade secrets, which explained part of it, but interviewing Allik they were able to consistently pick out discrepancies in what he said and what they actually saw. Why weren’t there Feruchemical soldiers in the Malwish army with extremely heightened strength, mental speed, or other dangerous Feruchemical talents? Why weren’t there Allomancer medallions? The more they learned, the more certain Wax became that there was a secret there, indicating the medallions were not as effective or as versatile as the Malwish would like people to believe.
Right, Wax thought. About not inflaming tensions by accident … He was quiet, staring at the admiral. Air as tense as a midday duel.
Then Max tugged his sleeve. “Uh … Dad?”
“Yes?” Wax said, not looking down.
“I need the potty.”
Wax sighed. Tense diplomatic situations were not improved by the presence of a five-year-old. But it could have been worse — he could have brought Wayne instead.
“Is there one available?” Wax asked Daal.
“He can wait.”
“Do you have children, Ambassador?”
“No.”
“Five-year-olds do not wait.”
After another tense moment, the admiral sighed and spun on his heel, leading the way past masked sailors. Wax followed with his son. Years spent near Allik and others from the South had taught Wax to be comfortable around those masked faces. It was still hard to not feel intimidated by that line of shadowed eyes. Not a one speaking, not a one lifting their mask. Wax had laughed and drunk with Malwish in the past, but this crew seemed a different class entirely.
Daal presented the restroom with a gesture.
“Wow!” Max said, peeking in, the electric light flickering on inside. “It’s so small. Like it’s made for me!”
“Quickly, son,” Wax said.
Max closed the door and hummed softly as he did his business. Wax stood with the admiral, feeling awkward. He actually found himself wishing for Wayne, who had a way of breaking tension like this — by creating a different variety of tension entirely. One which allowed you and your presumed antagonist to share a moment of mutual embarrassment, maybe even understanding.
I wonder if he does that on purpose, Wax thought. It was hard to tell with Wayne. At times he seemed deeply insightful. He inevitably ruined that impression. But you couldn’t help wondering …
“The Bands of Mourning,” Daal said. “They are safe, yah?”
“I assume so,” Wax replied. “I haven’t seen them since we delivered them.”
“I passed the gun emplacements at the city perimeter,” Daal said. “I’ve been told about those. The maximum range straight up is what, a thousand feet? Maybe two?”
Wax didn’t respond. It was a little more than that, but … honestly not much, at least not straight upward, despite what propaganda would claim. And though the skimmers that had been delivered to the Basin had a maximum altitude of around fifteen hundred feet, he knew that some Malwish ships could sail so high that the air grew thin and men would die if they remained there too long.
“One wonders,” Daal said, “what would have happened if our people had met during a more … warlike era. Why, one quick bombing campaign and your city would fold like an old flag.”
“Fortunate,” Wax said, “that we met now instead.”
The admiral turned toward him, eyes peeking out through metal-encrusted holes. “What would you have done?” he asked. “If we had simply attacked?”
“I don’t know,” Wax said. “But I think you’d have had a harder time of it than you believe.”
“Curious, how often your papers repeat the same lines,” Daal said. “Boasts about the kandra assassins and Allomancer soldiers. When I know that your demon immortals can’t kill. And your Allomancers? Tell me, how did you reach this ship? By your own power, or…?”
What a delightful individual.
“Of course,” Daal said, “we don’t live during such … brutal times. I am not here to start a war, Honored Twinborn. Do not look so offended. But I represent many among us who feel your people have taken advantage of our … lenient nature. In particular with the Bands of Mourning. They are ours, and should reside with us.”
Wax wanted to leap to arguments. Explain the Bands had been found in Basin territory. That they’d been created by someone from the North, not the South. That a deal had been fairly agreed. But this man was baiting him, and — whatever he’d done in the past — Wax didn’t speak for Elendel. He was only one representative out of many.
He refused to be goaded. “Then,” he said, “that is a discussion you may have with the governor and our legislature. And perhaps with God.”
The masked admiral regarded him, saying no more. But rusts, if tensions were getting worse …
This is the absolute worst time, Wax thought with frustration. With the Supremacy Bill passed, there was a real chance the Basin would crumble as a political entity. How would the South respond to that? Daal said he didn’t want war, but what if the South saw the Basin as easy pickings?
Their initial encounters had wowed the Southerners. A northern land full of Metalborn and walking myths? But the longer they’d interacted, the more each side had recognized the ordinary nature of the other. Myths became men. And every society knew how to kill other men.
Max finally came out, holding up his wet hands to prove he’d washed them. Daal marched them back down the corridor, where Wax strapped his son into the harness again.
“It is good to meet you, Ladrian,” the ambassador said. “Good for me, yah? It shows which stories I should believe.”