Mistborn #04 The Alloy of Law

Lurcher to turn it off or on.”
    “The switch is embedded inside the grip,” Ranette said. “No exterior sign that it’s there. With that, you’ll never have to worry about someone firing your own gun at you.”
    “Ranette,” Waxillium said, sounding awed. “That’s genius .”
    “I call the gun Vindication,” she said. “After the Ascendant Warrior.” Then she hesitated. “You can borrow it. If you bring me a field-test report.”
    Waxillium smiled.
    “This is Nouxil’s work, by the way,” Ranette said, waving to her table.
    “The aluminum gun?” Waxillium asked.
    Ranette nodded. “I thought it might be so from the shape of the barrel, but the mechanics inside are distinctive.”
    “Who is he?” Wayne asked, leaning down further.
    Ranette pointedly put a hand to Wayne’s forehead and pushed him back. “Gunsmith. Disappeared about a year ago. We had a correspondence going. Nobody’s heard from him.” She held up a piece of metal from inside the gun grip. “Anyone here speak High Imperial?”
    Waxillium shook his head.
    “Makes my head hurt,” Wayne said.
    “I can read it, kind of,” Marasi said, taking the square piece of metal. There were several characters scratched into the metal. “Wasing the where of needing,” she read, forming the unfamiliar words. The lofty tongue was used for old documents dating to the time of the Origin, and occasionally for government ceremony. “It’s a call for help.”
    “Well, we know how Miles got his guns,” Waxillium said, taking the plate and looking it over.
    “Wax,” Ranette said. “Miles always had a darkness in him, I know. But this? Are you sure ?”
    “Sure as I can be.” He raised Vindication up beside his head. “I saw him face-to-face, Ranette. He spouted some rhetoric about saving the city as he tried to kill me.”
    “That’ll be useless against him,” Ranette said, nodding to Vindication. “I’ve been trying to figure out a gun to use against Bloodmakers. It’s only half finished.”
    “This will be fine,” Waxillium said, voice even. “I’ll need every edge I can get.” His eyes were hard, like polished steel.
    “I’d heard rumors you’d retired,” Ranette said.
    “I had.”
    “What changed?”
    He slid Vindication into his shoulder holster. “I have a duty,” he said softly. “Miles was a lawkeeper. When one of your own goes bad, you put him down personally. You don’t rely on hired help. Wayne, I need shipping manifests. Can you borrow me some from the railway offices?”
    “Sure. I can have them in an hour.”
    “Good. You still have that dynamite?”
    “Sure do. Here in my coat pocket.”
    “You’re insane,” Waxillium said without missing a beat. “But you brought the pressure detonators?”
    “Yup.”
    “Try to avoid blowing anything up by accident,” Waxillium said. “But hold on to that dynamite. Marasi, I need you to buy some fishing nets. Strong ones.”
    She nodded.
    “Ranette,” Waxillium began, “I—”
    “I’m not part of your little troop of deputies, Wax,” Ranette said. “Leave me out of this.”
    “All I was going to do was ask to borrow a room in your house and some paper,” Waxillium said. “I need to sketch this out.”
    “Fine,” she said. “So long as you’re quiet about it. But Wax … you really think you can take Miles? The man is immortal. You’d need a small army to stop him.”
    “Good,” Waxillium said. “Because I intend to bring one.”

15

    “Wax is slippery,” Miles said, walking alongside Mister Suit through the dark tunnel connecting the dorms to the forging hall of the new lair. “He has lived so long precisely by learning to avoid being killed by people who are stronger and craftier than he is.”
    “You shouldn’t have revealed yourself,” Suit said sternly.
    “I wasn’t about to shoot Wax without him seeing me, Suit,” Miles said. “He deserves more respect than that.” The words gnawed at him as he said them. He hadn’t mentioned the first shot he’d taken at Wax, the one while the man’s back had been turned. Nor had he mentioned the cloth of his mask, pushed back into his flesh by Wax’s bullet, making it hard to heal his eye. He’d needed to pull it free.
    Suit snorted. “And it’s said that the Roughs are the place where honor goes to be murdered.”
    “It’s the place honor goes to be strung up, flayed within an inch of its life, then cut down and left in a desert. If it survives something like that, it’ll