Mistborn #04 The Alloy of Law

aristocratic condescension he could manage. Madion Ways accent, the richest area of the First Octant—where House Tekiel owned much of the land. “What kind of ruffian was that, Captain! The launch was supposed to be handled with poise and care!”
    The guard froze, and Wayne could see his mind working. He’d been expecting a random nobleman, but this person sounded like a member of House Tekiel—the guard’s employers.
    “Sorry, m’lord!” the guard said. “But I chased ’im off.”
    “Who was he?” Wayne said, walking over to the wig. “He threw this aside as he passed me.”
    “Was dressed up like an elderly woman,” the guard said, scratching his head. “Asking me questions about the Breaknaught.”
    “Damn it all, man. That must have been one of the Vanishers!”
    The guard paled.
    “Do you know how embarrassed our house will be if something happens on this trip?” Wayne said, stepping in, shaking the cane. “Our reputation is on the line. Our heads are on the line, Captain. How many guards do you have?”
    “Three dozen, m’lord, and—”
    “Not enough! Not enough at all! Send for more.”
    “I—”
    “No!” Wayne said. “I’ll do it. I have several of my own guards here. I’ll send one to fetch another division. Your men are watching the area for more creatures such as that one?”
    “Well, I haven’t told them yet, m’lord. Thought I’d try to get ’im myself, you see, and—”
    “You left your post?” Wayne screamed, raising hands to the side of his head, cane dangling from his fingers. “You let him lure you away ? Idiot! Get back, man! Go! Alert the others. Oh, Survivor above. If this goes wrong, we’re dead. Dead!”
    The guard captain scrambled back and ran for the train, where people were moving away in a panic. Wayne leaned back against the wall, checked his pocket watch, then waited for a good moment when he had enough space to put a speed bubble. He was reasonably sure nobody was looking.
    Off came the hat. He dropped the cane and reversed his jacket, turning it into a brown and yellow military coat, matching that of the guards. He pulled off his fake nose and took a triangular cloth cap out of the bag he’d dropped by the wall.
    He put this on his head instead of the gentleman’s hat. Always have the right hat. That was key. He strapped a handgun on over the coat after dropping his pants, revealing the soldier’s uniform beneath. Then he collapsed his bubble and jogged around the corner, making his way up to the tracks. He found the captain organizing his men, yelling orders. There were some angry noblemen arguing with one another nearby.
    The cargo wasn’t being unloaded. That was good. Wayne had figured they’d just give up on this run, with all the fuss, but Wax had disagreed. He said that the Tekiels had made such a big deal of the Breaknaught that a hiccup or two wouldn’t stop them.
    Fools, Wayne thought, shaking his head. Farnsward didn’t agree with the decision. He’d been in House Tekiel’s private guard for ten years now, though he’d mostly served on the Outer Estates with his lord, who was chronically ill. Farnsward had seen a lot in his time, and he’d learned that there were reasons to take risks. To save a life, to win a battle, to protect the house’s name. But to take a risk just because you’d said you would? Foolishness.
    He jogged up to the captain he’d talked to earlier and saluted. “Sir,” he said. “I’m Farnsward Dubs—Lord Evenstrom Tekiel said I should report to you.” An Outer Estates accent with a hint of aristocracy, picked up from so long associating with them.
    The man was looking frazzled. “Very well. I guess we can use every man.”
    “Sorry, sir,” Wayne said, leaning in. “Lord Evenstrom is excitable, sometimes. I know how it goes; this isn’t the first time he’s sent me to help someone who didn’t need it. Bren and I will stay out of your way.”
    “Bren?”
    “Oh, he was right behind me,” Wayne said, turning around, looking confused.
    Wax ducked out of the station, wearing a uniform similar to Wayne’s. He also had a fake paunch of some size, hiding some specific materials he’d need for the night.
    “There he is,” Wayne said. “He’s a dull-minded lout, sir. His father left him the position, but you could hit his steel against flint all night and not get a spark, if you know what I mean.”
    “Well, stay here,” the captain said. “Guard this post. Don’t let anyone approach