Mistborn #04 The Alloy of Law

and a light black jacket instead.
    He sat on the floor, back to the side of the cargo container, legs stretched out. He held Vindication in his hand, absently spinning the cylinder and hitting the switch to lock it on to the special chambers. He had two of each type of hazekiller round in his pocket, and had loaded a Coinshot round and a Pewterarm round into the special chambers.
    He still had his earring in.
    You wanted me to do this, he thought toward Harmony. Did an accusation count as a prayer? Well, here I am. I’ll expect a little help, if that’s acceptable to your immortal plan, and all that.
    The cargo box was beside him. He could see why House Tekiel was so proud of the job they’d done; the welded strongbox would be ridiculously difficult for thieves to steal. Getting it out of the car would require hours spent cutting it free with a gas torch or a large electric saw. That, plus the clever door and the supposed existence of guards, would make for a daunting—perhaps impossible—robbery.
    Yes, the Tekiels had been clever. Problem was, they were thinking about this all wrong.
    Waxillium pulled a package from beneath his coat. The dynamite and detonator that Wayne had found. He set the package beside him on the floor, then eyed his pocket watch. Right about now …
    The train suddenly started to slow.
    * * *

    “Yup,” Wayne said, looking through the spyglass as he crouched against the hillside. “He’s right. Wanna see?”
    Marasi took the spyglass nervously. The two of them were in position following a hasty gallop out of the city. She felt naked, wearing a pair of Ranette’s trousers. Completely improper. Every man they passed would stare at her legs.
    Maybe that will stop the Vanishers from shooting, she thought with a grimace. They’ll be too distracted. She raised the spyglass to her eye. She and Wayne were atop a hill along the railway route, outside of the City. It was nearly midnight when the train had finally come chugging along.
    Now it was slowing, and the brakes caused screeches and sparks in the night. Ahead of the train, a ghostly apparition was approaching in the opposite direction, a bright light shining in front of it. She shivered. The phantom railcar.
    “Wax’ll be happy,” Wayne said.
    “What?” she asked. “About the phantom?”
    “No. There’s mist tonight.”
    She started, realizing that it was forming in the air. The mist wasn’t like a normal fog; it didn’t come rolling in over the ocean. It grew in the air, sprouting like frost on a cold piece of metal. She shivered as it began to envelop them, giving the headlamps below a ghostly cast.
    She focused the spyglass on the approaching train. Because she’d been warned what to look for, and because of her angle, she could easily see the truth. It was a decoy. A hand-propelled rail wagon behind a wooden engine facade.
    “How do they make the light work?” she said.
    “I dunno. Magic?”
    She snorted, trying to get a good look at what was behind the framework. “Must be some kind of chemical battery. I’ve read of the work … but Rust and Ruin, that’s a powerful light. I doubt they can run it for long.”
    As the real train pulled to a halt, some men sprang from its sides. House Tekiel had sent guards. That gave Marasi a smile. Maybe the robbery wouldn’t happen after all.
    The front portion of the phantom train dropped.
    “Aw, hell ,” Wayne said.
    “What is—”
    She was cut off by a loud series of shots, incredibly fast. She jumped back by reflex, ducking down, though nothing was aimed at them. Wayne grabbed the spyglass, raising it.
    Marasi couldn’t make out what happened next through the darkness and the mists. And she was glad. The shots continued, and she heard men screaming.
    “Rotary gun,” Wayne said softly. “Damn, these people are serious .”
    “I have to help,” Marasi said, unslinging the rifle Ranette had given her. It was of an unfamiliar make, but the woman swore it would be more accurate than anything Marasi had ever used. She raised the rifle. If she could hit the Vanishers …
    Wayne took the barrel of her rifle in one hand, gently pushing it down. The rotary gun stopped firing, and the night grew silent.
    “There’s nothing you can do, mate, and we don’t want to draw the attention of that damn rotary. Besides, you really think you can hit one of them from all the way up here?”
    “I’ve hit red at five hundred paces.”
    “At night?” Wayne said. “In the