Mistborn #04 The Alloy of Law

a ghostly railcar appearing on the tracks?”
    “Yes,” Wayne said. “The railway engineers stop to investigate and—probably—panic. But the phantom railcar vanishes before they can investigate it. They continue on, but when they reach the end of the line, one of their train’s cars is empty. Still locked, no signs of forced entry. But the goods are all gone.”
    “So nobody sees the culprits,” Waxillium said.
    “The recent ones have been different,” Marasi said, growing animated. “They’ve started robbing passenger cars as well. When the train stops because of the phantom on the tracks, men jump into the cars and start going through, collecting jewelry and pocketbooks from the occupants. They take a woman hostage—threatening to kill her if anyone follows—and go. The freight car is still robbed as well.”
    “Curious,” Waxillium said.
    “Yes,” Marasi said. “I think—”
    “My dear,” Lord Harms cut in. “You are bothering Lord Ladrian.”
    Marasi blushed, then looked down.
    “It wasn’t a bother,” Waxillium said, tapping his teacup with his finger. “It—”
    “Is that a bullet in your fingers?” Steris asked, pointing.
    Waxillium looked down, realizing that he was rolling the cartridge between forefinger and thumb. He closed his fist around it before his memories could return. “It’s nothing.” He shot a glare at Wayne.
    The other man mouthed something. Push on it.
    “You are quite certain your unconventional past is behind you, Lord Ladrian?” Steris asked.
    “Oh, he’s certain,” Wayne said, grimacing. “You don’t have to worry about him being unconventional. Why, he’s downright boring! Unbelievably, comically, nonsensically boring . You could squeeze more excitement out of a beggar waiting in line at the soup kitchen on rat meat day. It—”
    “Thank you, Uncle, ” Waxillium said dryly. “Yes, Steris, my past is just that. Past. I am committed to my duties as head of House Ladrian.”
    “Very well,” she said. “We will need a formal entrance into high society as a couple. A public event of some sort.”
    “How about the Yomen-Ostlin wedding dinner?” Waxillium said absently. Push on it. “I received an invitation just this morning.”
    “An excellent idea,” Lord Harms said. “We were invited as well.”
    Push on it. Waxillium reached into his left sleeve and covertly took a small pinch of steel shavings from the pouch he kept there. He dropped it into his tea and took a drink. That didn’t give him much of a reserve, but it was enough.
    He burned the steel, the familiar lines of blue springing up around him. They pointed to all nearby sources of metal.
    Except the one in his fingers.
    Aluminum, he realized. No wonder it’s light.
    Aluminum and a few of its alloys were Allomantically inert; you couldn’t Push or Pull on them. It was also very expensive. It cost more than even gold or platinum.
    The bullet was designed to kill Coinshots and Lurchers, men like Waxillium himself. That gave him a shiver, though he gripped the round more tightly. There were days when he’d have given his best gun for a few aluminum bullets, though he hadn’t heard of an alloy that would produce a bullet with sound ballistics.
    Where? he mouthed to Wayne. Where did you find it?
    Wayne just nodded to the guests, who were looking right at Waxillium.
    “Are you quite all right, Lord Ladrian?” Steris asked. “I know a good zinc counselor if you have need of some emotional aid.”
    “Er … no. Thank you. I am quite all right, and I think this has been a very productive meeting. Wouldn’t you agree?”
    “That depends,” she said, rising, apparently taking that as an invitation to end the conversation. “The wedding party is on the morrow, I believe. I can count on you having reviewed the contract by then?”
    “You can,” Waxillium said, rising as well.
    “ I think this meeting was wonderful,” Wayne said as he stood. “You’re just what my nephew needs, Lady Steris! A firm hand. None of this rabble-rousing he’s been used to.”
    “I agree!” Lord Harms said. “Lord Ladrian, perhaps your uncle can attend the dinner—”
    “No,” Waxillium said quickly before Wayne could say anything. “No, unfortunately, he has to return to his estates. Told me just earlier. He has a very important foaling to attend.”
    “Oh, well then,” Lord Harms said, helping Marasi to her feet. “We will send you word of confirmation once we have accepted the Yomen