Mistborn #04 The Alloy of Law

of my fingers.”
    “It’s not going to explode, Wayne,” he said dryly.
    “You said that—”
    “It happened once, ” Waxillium said.
    “Do you know how bloody annoying it is to regrow fingers, Wax?”
    “If it’s on par with your complaining, then it’s likely appalling indeed.”
    “I’m just sayin’,” Wayne said, scanning the desk until he found the bottle of bendalloy flakes. He snatched that, then backed away warily. “The most innocent-looking of things have a tendency to explode around you. A bloke has to be cautious.” He shook the bottle. “This isn’t much.”
    “Don’t act spoiled,” Waxillium said. “That’s far more than I could have gotten you on short notice if we’d been out in the Roughs. Drop the hat. Let’s go look at this foundry your notes mention.”
    “We can use my carriage, if you like,” Marasi said. To the side, Tillaume walked in, carrying a basket in one hand and a tray with tea in the other. He set the basket beside the door, then set the tray on the table and began pouring tea.
    Waxillium eyed Marasi. “You want to come? I thought you said you wanted to leave the shooting to men like me.”
    “You said they won’t be there,” she replied. “So there’s really no danger.”
    “They still want you,” Wayne noted. “They tried to grab you at the dinner. It’ll be dangerous for you.”
    “And they’d likely shoot either one of you without blinking,” she said. “So how will it be any less dangerous for you?”
    “I suppose it ain’t,” Wayne admitted.
    Tillaume walked over, bringing a cup of tea for Waxillium on a small tray. Wayne plucked it off with a grin, though Tillaume tried to pull the tray away.
    “How convenient,” Wayne said, holding the teacup. “Wax, why didn’t you ever get me one of these chaps back in Weathering?” The butler shot him a scowl, then hurried back to the table to prepare another cup.
    Waxillium considered Marasi. There was something he was missing, something important. Something about what Wayne had said …
    “Why did they take you?” Waxillium asked Marasi. “There were better targets at that party. Women closer to the bloodlines they wanted.”
    “You said she might have been a decoy to throw us off,” Wayne said, dumping some bendalloy into his teacup, then downing the entire thing in one draught.
    “Yes,” Waxillium said, looking into her eyes and seeing a flash of something there. She turned away. “But if that were the case, they’d have wanted to take someone that wasn’t close to the same bloodline at all, not one who was a near cousin.” He pursed his lips, and then it clicked. “Ah. You’re illegitimate, then. Steris’s half sister, by Lord Harms, I assume.”
    She blushed. “Yes.”
    Wayne whistled. “Wonderful show, Wax. Usually I wait to call someone a bastard until the second date.” He eyed Marasi. “Third if she’s pretty.”
    “I…” Waxillium felt a sudden burst of shame. “Of course. I didn’t mean…”
    “It’s quite all right,” she said softly.
    It made sense. Marasi and Lord Harms had grown so uncomfortable when Steris had spoken of mistresses. And then there was the specific clause about them in the contract; Steris was accustomed to infidelity on the part of a lord. That also explained why Harms was paying for the education and housing of Steris’s “cousin.”
    “Lady Marasi,” Waxillium said, taking her hand. “Perhaps my years in the Roughs affected me more than I’d assumed. There was a time when I gave thought to my words before speaking them. Forgive me.”
    “I am what I am, Lord Waxillium,” she said. “And I have grown comfortable with it.”
    “It was still crude of me.”
    “You needn’t apologize.”
    “Huh,” Wayne said thoughtfully. “Tea’s poisoned.”
    With that, he toppled to the ground.
    Marasi gasped, immediately going to his side. Waxillium spun, looking at Tillaume just as the butler turned from his supposed tea preparations and leveled a pistol at Waxillium.
    There was no time for thought. Waxillium burned steel—he kept it in him when he thought he might be in danger—and Pushed on the third button of his vest. He always wore one made of steel there, to use either for restoring his metal reserves or as a weapon.
    It burst from his vest, streaking across the room and striking Tillaume in the chest just as he pulled the trigger. The shot went wild. Neither the bullet nor the gun registered as metal to Waxillium’s