“Plan?” Marasi asked.
“Not dyin’.”
“Anything more detailed than that?”
“Not dyin’ … today?”
“The difference between good and evil men is not found in the acts they are willing to commit—but merely in what name they are willing to commit them in.”
“Go,” Marasi said. “Do what you do best, Waxillium Ladrian.”
“Which is what? Break things?”
“Break things,” Marasi said, “with style.”
“If you had to shoot a man, society had already failed.”
“She assumes,” Wax said, “that our detective style isn’t normally the punchy-punchy, stabby-stabby type.” “To be fair,” Wayne said, “it’s usually a more shooty-shooty, whacky-whacky type.”
“The definition of a lawman, Uncle, is easy,” Wax said, feeling blood from a dozen cuts trickle down his face. He lifted Suit by the front of his clothing, bringing him close. “He’s the man who takes the bullet so nobody else has to.”
“Is that the constables?” Aunt Gin asked, sounding horrified.
“Afraid so,” Wax said, pulling the door closed. The carriage lurched into motion, and Steris leaned out the window, waving farewell to the poor innkeeper.
“Framed for murder!” Steris called to her. “It’s on page seventeen of the list I gave you! Try not to let them harass our servants too much when they arrive!”
“Of course I am,” Wax said. “This is my second marriage. I’m an old hand at the practice by now.” Wayne grinned. “Oh, is that how it works? ’Cuz in my experience, marryin’ is the one thing people seem to get worse at the more they do it. Well, that and bein’ alive.”
“Wayne held back a smile, tucking it into his pocket for later use.”
“He grinned, then winked at her as the waiter finally stepped over. “You wanted—” the waiter began. “Liquor,” Wayne said. “Would you care to be a little more specific, sir?” “Lots of liquor.”
“I’m wondering if every person I pass has similar depths, and if there’s any way to avoid the mistake of judging them so shallowly that I’m rocked when they show their true complexity.”
“Focus, Wayne,” Wax said. “How are we going to get in? Shall we try a Fat Belt?”
“Nah,” Wayne said, “too loud. I think we should do Spoiled Tomato.”
“Dangerous,” Wax said, shaking his head. “I’d have to do the placement just right, between the lit perimeter and the shadowed part near the walls.”
“You can do it. You make shots like that all the time. Plus, we got this shiny new metalmind, full o’ health waitin’ to be slurped up.”
“A mistake could ruin the whole infiltration, healing power or no,” Wax said. “I think we should do Duck Under Clouds instead.”
“You kiddin’?” Wayne said. “Didn’t you get shot last time we tried that?”
“Kinda,” Wax admitted.
MeLaan stared at them, baffled. “Duck under Clouds?”
“They get like this,” Marasi said, patting her on the shoulder. “Best not to listen too closely.”
“Tube Run,” Wayne said.
“No glue.”
“Banefielder?”
“Too dark.”
“Blackwatch Doublestomp.”
Wax hesitated. “… The hell is that?”
“Just made it up,” Wayne said, grinning. “It’s a nifty code name though, eh?”
“Not bad,” Wax admitted. “And what type of plan is it?”
“Same as Spoiled Tomato,” Wayne said.”
“I’ve got an idea,” Marasi said.
“How crazy is it?”
“Less crazy than tossing Wayne off a cliff.”
“Not a high bar, but all right. How do we start?”
“The law is there to keep us from ruining everyone else’s ability to explore. Without law, there’s no freedom.”
“Oi,” Wayne said, hustling up beside him. “A good plan that one was, eh?”
“It was the same plan you always have,” Wax said. “The one where I get to be the decoy.”
“Ain’t my fault people like to shoot at you, mate,” Wayne said as they reached the coach. “You should be happy; you’re usin’ your talents, like me granners always said a man should do.”
“I’d rather not have ‘shootability’ be my talent.”
“Well, you gotta use what you have,” Wayne said, leaning against the side of the carriage as Cob the coachman opened the door for Wax. “Same reason I always have bits of rat in my stew.”
“Great. Lovely. Can I have your hat?”
“My … hat?” The elderly woman looked up at the oversized hat. The sides drooped magnificently, and the thing was festooned with flowers. Like, oodles of them. Silk, he figured, but they were really good replicas.
“You have a lady friend?” Aunt Gin asked. “You wish to give her the hat?”
“Nah,” Wayne said. “I need to wear it next time I’m an old lady.”
“The next time you what?” Aunt Gin grew pale, but that was probably on account of the fact that Wax went stomping by, wearing his full rusting mistcoat. That man never could figure out how to blend in.”
“And then,” Steris said softly, “perhaps I came along because of the way it feels.…”
Marasi looked sharply back at her sister.
“Like the whole world has been upended,” Steris said, looking toward the ceiling. “Like the laws of nature and man no longer hold sway. They’re suddenly flexible, like a string given slack. We’re the spheres.… I love the idea that I can break out of it all—the expectations, the way I’m regarded, the way I regard myself—and soar.
“I saw it in his eyes, first. That hunger, that fire. And then I found it in myself. He’s a flame, Waxillium is, and fire can be shared. When I’m out here, when I’m with him, I burn, Marasi. It’s wonderful.”
Marasi’s jaw dropped, and she gawked at her sister. Had those words left Steris’s mouth? Careful, monotonous, boring Steris? She glanced toward Marasi and blushed.
“You actually love him, don’t you?” Marasi asked.
“Well, love is a strong emotion, one that requires careful deliberation to—”
“Steris.”
“Yes.” She looked down at her notebook. “It’s foolish, isn’t it?”
“Of course it is,” Marasi said. “Love is always a foolish emotion. That’s what makes it work.”
“He put the fork, knife, and spoon back in his pocket and tucked the flower behind his ear, then walked to the door, reaching it right before that butler did. He gave the man a glare—it was only a matter of time before he cracked and tried to kill them all—then pulled open the door.
(...)
“Nice flower,” the kandra said. “Can I have your skeleton when you’re dead?”
“My…” Wayne felt at his head.
“You’re a Bloodmaker, correct? Can heal yourself? Bloodmaker bones tend to be particularly interesting, as your time spent weak and sickly creates oddities in your joints and bones that can be quite distinctive. I’d love to have your skeleton. If you don’t mind.”
Taken aback by this request, Wayne stopped in place. Then he ran past him, pushing into the room where Wax and Steris were talking. “Wax,” he complained, pointing, “the immortal bloke is being creepy again.”
“Steris,” he whispered, “I’ve been considering how to proceed once we decide how to infiltrate. I’ve thought about bringing you in with us, and I just don’t see that it’s feasible. I think it would be best if you stayed and watched the horses.”
“Very well.”
“No, really. Those are armed soldiers. I can’t even fathom how I’d feel if I brought you in there and something happened. You need to stay out here.”
“Very well.”
“It isn’t subject to—” Wax hesitated. “Wait. You’re all right with this?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked. “I barely have any sense of where to point a gun, and have hardly any capacity for sneaking—that’s really quite a scandalous talent if you think about it, Lord Waxillium. While I do believe that people tend to be safest when near you, riding into an enemy compound is stretching the issue. I’ll stay here.”
Wax grinned in the darkness. “Steris, you’re a gem.”
“What? Because I have a moderately healthy sense of self-preservation?”
“Let’s just say that out in the Roughs, I was accustomed to people always wanting to try things beyond their capacity. And they always seemed determined to do it right when it was the most dangerous.”
“Well, I shall endeavor to stay out of sight,” Steris said, “and not get captured.”
“I doubt you need to worry about that all the way out here.”
“Oh, I agree,” she said. “But that is the sort of statistical anomaly that plagues my life, so I’ll plan for it nonetheless.”
“Because people were people, and if there was one thing you could count on, it was that some of them would be weird. Or rather that all of them would be weird when circumstances happened to align with their own individual brand of insanity. That”
“You know,” Wayne said, “I’m an Allomancer too.”
The man said nothing.
“I figured you’d want to know,” Wayne said, “since it seems like this is your religion and all. In case you wanted someone else to worship.”
Again no reply.
“I’m a Slider,” Wayne said. “Speed bubbles, you know? Those fancy titles would work for me just fine, I think. Handsome One. Smart One. Um … Guy wif the Great Hat.”
The only sound was that of their footfalls and the gusting wind.
“Now, see,” Wayne said, “this is unfair. Wax doesn’t want you to worship him, right? But you gotta have someone to worship. It’s human nature. It’s ingratiated in us. So, I’m willin’ to be accommodatin’ and let you—”
“He can’t understand you, Wayne,” Marasi said, marching past. “He’s swapped metalminds to keep himself warm.”
Wayne stopped in place as they all hiked onward. “Well, when he gets his brain back, someone tell him I’m a god, all right?”
“Will do,” Wax called from up ahead.”
“Whenever I’m thinkin’ my life is miserable, I remember him, and tell myself, ‘Well, Wayne. At least you ain’t a broke, dickless feller what can’t even pick his own nose properly.’ And I feels better.”
“I don’t want a chance, Wayne. He’s made his decision.”
“Now, what kinda talk is that?” he demanded. “You’ve given up? Is that how the Ascendant Warrior was? Huh?”
“No, in fact,” Marasi said. “She walked up to the man she wanted, slapped the book out of his hand, and kissed him.”
“See, there’s how it is!”
“Though the Ascendant Warrior also went on and murdered the woman Elend was planning to marry.”
“What, really?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t worry about that,” she said, spinning around. “I will get in, and be ready to give you support. But this is your play, Ladrian, not mine. You’re the detective; I’m just around for the punchy-punchy, stabby-stabby.”
(...)
“She assumes,” Wax said, “that our detective style isn’t normally the punchy-punchy, stabby-stabby type.”
“To be fair,” Wayne said, “it’s usually a more shooty-shooty, whacky-whacky type.”
Marasi rubbed her forehead. “Why are we having this conversation?”
“Because we’re tired,” Wax said.”
“(...). You’re good at these things, Steris. You really are—and don’t give me any more of your rhetoric about being ‘boring.’”
Her expression grew distant. “In this case, it’s not that I’m boring, it’s more that … I’m off. I’ve learned to fake being normal, but lists of prepared comments and jokes can only take me so far. People can sense that I’m not being authentic—that I don’t like the things they like or think the way they do. Sometimes it amazes me that people like Wayne, or even those kandra, can be so startlingly human when I feel so alien.”
He wished he could figure out how to keep her from saying things like that. He didn’t know the right words; every time he tried to argue the point, it only seemed to make her withdraw.”
“You bastard!” Wax shouted toward the box.
“Now, now,” the box said. “That’s patently false, Waxillium. You have a very clear understanding of my parentage.”
“Oh, my lord, I know it, I do.” The beggar laughed. “I own the place, technically. Now, regarding those coins for old Hoid, my good lord…”
“People,” Wax said, “are like cords, Steris. We snake out, striking this way and that, always looking for something new. That’s human nature, to discover what is hidden. There’s so much we can do, so many places we can go.” He shifted in his seat, changing his center of gravity, which caused the sphere to rotate upward on its tether.
“But if there aren’t any boundaries,” he said, “we’d get tangled up. Imagine a thousand of these cords, zipping through the room. The law is there to keep us from ruining everyone else’s ability to explore. Without law, there’s no freedom. That’s why I am what I am.”
“And if they could shoot the rusting thing,” Wayne added, “the bullet would be small as a flea.”
Marasi sighed. “Wayne, can’t you ever let a joke die?”
“Hon, that joke started dead,” he said. “I’m just givin’ it a proper burial.”
“Now, no complaining, Waxillium. It will help. I’ve put the list in this little book,” Steris said, producing a palm-sized notebook, “for ease of reference. Each page contains a conversation opener, indexed to the people it will likely work best upon. The numbers below list ways you could segue the conversation into useful areas and perhaps figure out what our targets are up to, and what their connection is to the Bands of Mourning.”
“I’m not socially incompetent, Steris,” Wax said. “I can make small talk.”
“I know that,” Steris said, “but I’d rather avoid an incident like the Cett party.…”
“Which Cett party?”
“The one where you head-butted someone.”
He cocked his head. “Oh, right. That smarmy little man with the ridiculous mustache.”
“Funny how things can stay the same forever and then change so quickly.”
“I’m not sure,” I answer. “I’ll look at our game schedule and his game schedule and see if it works out. But I know Wes would be happy to come if his schedule allows it.” All of their faces light up.”
“Everything can't be explained by some general biological phrase.”
“Hip fractures and osteoporosis are more frequent in populations in which dairy products are commonly consumed and calcium intakes are commonly high.”
“Ubijeđen sam da su, u tim zanosima prvih susreta, Dan i žena pogrešno tumačili ono što u vidjeli jedno u drugom. Svako od njih je vidjeo odraz sopstvenog preklinjanja, ranjen pogled i pogrešno ga protumačio kao želju i ispunjenost. Oboje su bill ptići sa slomljenim krilima, koji su tražili da lete privijeni uz drugu pticu sa slomljenim krilima. Ljudi koje se osjećaju isprazno nikada se ne izliječe stapanjem sa drugom nepotpunom osobom. Naprotiv, dvije ptice sa slomljenim krilima spojene u jednu će letjeti nespretno. Nikakva količina strpljenja im neće pomoći da lete; i, konačno, svaki mora biti poduprt različitim stvarima, a rane se stavljaju u odvojene udlage.”
BookQuoters is a community of passionate readers who enjoy sharing the most meaningful, memorable and interesting quotes from great books. As the world communicates more and more via texts, memes and sound bytes, short but profound quotes from books have become more relevant and important. For some of us a quote becomes a mantra, a goal or a philosophy by which we live. For all of us, quotes are a great way to remember a book and to carry with us the author’s best ideas.
We thoughtfully gather quotes from our favorite books, both classic and current, and choose the ones that are most thought-provoking. Each quote represents a book that is interesting, well written and has potential to enhance the reader’s life. We also accept submissions from our visitors and will select the quotes we feel are most appealing to the BookQuoters community.
Founded in 2023, BookQuoters has quickly become a large and vibrant community of people who share an affinity for books. Books are seen by some as a throwback to a previous world; conversely, gleaning the main ideas of a book via a quote or a quick summary is typical of the Information Age but is a habit disdained by some diehard readers. We feel that we have the best of both worlds at BookQuoters; we read books cover-to-cover but offer you some of the highlights. We hope you’ll join us.