Brandon Sanderson - Shadows of Self

Wayne spun a dueling cane in his fingers, rounding back through an alleyway and popping out near the governor’s mansion. He didn’t go toward the front—more and more angry people were gathering there, and some might recognize him from before. On his head he wore a newsboy’s cap, his other hat carefully stowed in a bush along the way. That was fine; he liked this new cap well enough, but he felt naked in another way—he was out of bendalloy. Completely dry.

That was bad. No more stopping time unless Wax had an extra vial for him. The fellow often carried one.

Wayne slipped around the mansion, intending to head toward the back doors, where he hoped the guards would let him in. He’d wasted time, far too much, getting away from that crowd. The sight of that poor kandra melting in front of everyone else haunted him.

Rusts. He wasn’t sure which side of the argument he came down on, but at least he wasn’t going around melting people for an audience. Besides, for the moment he figured he’d choose the side that wasn’t actively trying to kill him.

He strolled and stuck a new ball of gum into his mouth. Then he hesitated, mists swirling around him, the mansion looming before him like a mesa in the Roughs, lit up all white. He heard a voice drifting toward him.

The accent was wrong. Just slightly wrong, but in a profound way.

And suddenly he knew who Bleeder was impersonating.

The howls were distant from Wax, but they haunted him more than they had during the first chase, for now he knew what made them. If he survived this, he would have to see something done for these creatures.

TenSoon conducted them through the intestines of the Homeland, eventually reaching a wall full of cracks. Wax raised his lantern, inspecting it. The wolfhound beside him had a pelt that was missing hair in patches.

“Well?” Wax said, inspecting the dead end.

“We have been watching this spot,” TenSoon said. “It cracked long ago, and the cracks seem to have widened over the years. If it opens, it will provide another path into the Homeland, and we wish to be aware of each of those.”

Wax ran his fingers along the cracks in the stone wall. Air moved through them, he thought, catching a whiff of something more … rotten. More like the city he knew. Familiar and disgusting all at once.

He tapped his metalmind, increasing his weight, then threw his shoulder against the wall. This was tricky, as his strength hadn’t increased except in its ability to lift his own limbs and manipulate his heavier muscles. That lent him some ability, but mostly he had to try to force things just right so that he was falling into the wall as much as pushing on it.

He finally got the correct leverage, shoving through the cracked rock and causing a clatter. He was able to pick his way through into a narrow rift, like a very thin slot canyon out in the Roughs. The walls were slick with water, and knobby as in so much of this underground realm.

“What now?” Wax asked.

“Now we climb, human,” TenSoon said. He melted again, dumping his bones and fur to the ground, becoming a group of muscles. Here, in these narrow confines, that was an advantage. TenSoon was able to push on both walls and start sliding up the crack, filling holes and clefts with his mass, then using his muscles to propel himself upward. A bag, like a stomach, had formed around the wolfhound bones, and he carted these up behind him.

It was grotesque yet fascinating. This was the natural state of the kandra, the sludgelike collection of muscles that at times acted human.

Of course, Wax thought, starting to climb, what am I but a pile of blood and meat that gets up and walks around?

This climb was difficult, particularly with the lantern, though decreasing his weight substantially helped. After only a short time, he heard the creatures come in below, howling and scrambling. His heart beat more quickly, but they didn’t seem to have much luck climbing. He continued to inch upward, until—in his haste for a handhold—he fumbled with the lantern and dropped it.

It bumped and clanged against the stones before smashing down below. The light went out.

In that moment, Wax realized he was buried in the earth, clinging to rocks in the darkness. The walls seemed to press against him, and twisted monsters howled below and sought his blood. He gasped in sudden panic.

Then his eyes adjusted and a soft blue light revealed the world to him. He wasn’t trapped. There was a way out above. He could see it by the patina of blue fungus growing on the walls, giving a gentle light to everything.

“Harmony made sure it spread here,” TenSoon’s voice said from above. “He wanted to make certain that no person was ever trapped in darkness in this place again.”

Wax forced himself to continue upward. He recognized where he was now, from the stories. The holes in the walls that he used as handholds had once been overgrown with crystals, and within, geodes containing a bead of the lost metal. Legendary atium.

He was climbing the Pits of Hathsin themselves.

“Peace, lawman,” TenSoon said from above. “Keep climbing.”

Had he heard Wax’s breathing quicken? He steadied himself and continued. This place was no longer a prison. No more did it cut and lacerate, as it had done to the Survivor’s arms. The climb was actually easy, with all those holes. The sounds from below grew softer.

Finally, he crawled from the crevice into a section of man-made tunnel. One of the city sewers; the crack behind him was just a thin cleft in the rock that gave no hint of its ancient origin. Wax shivered, breathing in the awful stench of the sewers, but still glad to be free. TenSoon convulsed as a mass nearby, then formed into a wolfhound again. “I can see why Paalm might want me distracted and unable to stop my people from being caught in her trap,” he said. “But what happened below, that was not for me, but you, human. What was she trying to distract you from?”

Wax didn’t reply, but could think of only one reason. Once she dealt with the kandra, her plan would be ready for the final steps. She’d need to drive the people of the city further into a frenzy, freeing them, as she saw it, sending them forth as a mob to rage and hate, destroying Elendel.

The governor was planning to speak to the people of the city. Bleeder hadn’t succeeded in killing him yet, and Wax suspected he knew why.

Because when she murdered him, she wanted an audience.

Mist seemed to burn in the night, like clouds before the sun. Wax dropped through it, slamming to the steps of the governor’s mansion, surprising the guards there. Constables, by the uniforms, rather than the normal guards. Good. They’d been running low on the latter.

Wax stood up straight, turning and regarding the crowd gathering in front of the mansion. Constables with rifles made an uneasy barrier between them and the building. Nearby, workers erected a small stage on the steps. Aradel supervised, though judging from his sour expression, he was rather displeased with the governor’s plan.

Wax agreed. Addressing the crowd would be playing right into Bleeder’s hands. He grabbed one of the constables. “I assume there hasn’t been another attempt on the governor’s life?”

“No, sir,” the constable said. “He’s in his study, sir.”

Wax nodded and barged into the mansion, trailing wisps of mist behind him. He stalked toward the back, and in the hallway Marasi intercepted him, taking him by the arm. “Kolossblood,” she said, giving him the password he’d given her, proving she wasn’t a kandra.