Brandon SANDERSON - The Bands of Mourning

Wayne joined him outside their room, and they stepped aside as a few wearied airmen passed. He couldn’t see their faces, but could read a world of emotions from their hunched backs and subdued speech.

“They’ve been broken,” Wayne whispered, looking over his shoulder as the airmen continued on. “Ain’t fair what happened to these folks, Wax.”

“Is life ever fair?”

“It has been to me,” Wayne said. “More than fair, I reckon. Considering what I deserve.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Wax asked.

“What?”

“You used a gun, Wayne.”

“Bah, that was a shotgun. Barely counts.”

Wax rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

Wayne shrugged. “Guess my body figured, ‘What the hell?’”

“I thought it meant you’d forgiven yourself.”

“Nah,” Wayne said. “I was just real mad at your sister.”

“You knew, didn’t you?” Wax asked, frowning. “That she’d heal?”

“Well, I didn’t wanna kill someone in cold blood–”

“That’s good, I suppose.”

“–but there weren’t no fire around to light her with first.”

“Wayne…”

The shorter man sighed. “I saw the metalminds peekin’ outta her sleeves. Figured, if you’re gonna give yourself one power from a Feruchemist, you’d wanna be able to heal. I ain’t gonna kill your sister, mate. But I didn’t mind makin’ her jump a bit, and I needed MeLaan’s spikes.”

Wayne’s gaze grew distant. “Shoulda stayed there, I suppose. To stop her from runnin’, you know? But I wasn’t of sound mind, so to speak. I thought you were dead, mate. Really thought it. And I kept thinkin’ to myself, ‘Would Wax kill her for real? Or would he give her another chance, like he gave me?’ So I let her be. I stayed my hand, ’cuz it was the last thing I could do for you. Does that make sense?”

Wax squeezed Wayne’s shoulder. “Thank you. I’m glad you’re learning.”

It felt disingenuous to say that when inside, in truth, he wished Wayne had stripped off her metalminds and left her a frozen corpse.

Wayne grinned. Wax nodded in the direction the airmen had gone. “I’ll meet you up there.”

“Going to go fetch your woman?” Wayne said. “She’s gonna have a hard time adjustin’ to life back here, away from her native habitat of the frozen, icy, desolate wastes up–”

“Wayne,” Wax interrupted, soft but firm.

“Hum?”

“Enough.”

“I was just–”

“Enough.”

Wayne stopped with his mouth open, then licked his lips and nodded. “Right, then. See you up above in a few, mate?”

“We’ll be right along.”

Wayne scampered off toward the bridge. Wax trailed through the hallway, heading down several doors to the room Steris and Marasi had been sharing. He raised his hand to knock, but it was cracked, so he peeked in. Steris lay on a bunk, wrapped in a blanket, sleeping softly. There was no sign of Marasi; she’d mentioned wanting to watch the approach to the city from the bridge.

He hesitated at the door, watching her sleep. He almost left; she’d been through so much these last few days. She had to be exhausted. Once they reached Elendel, they’d still have to unload the prisoners and bring the supplies on board – it could be hours before the ship had to leave. She could sleep a little longer, couldn’t she?

The door creaked as he leaned against it, and Steris started awake. Her eyes found him immediately. Then she smiled, relaxing, and huddled up against her pillow. She was wearing a travel dress under the blanket.

Wax stepped into the room and took a seat on the bunk across from Steris; there was so little space in this room that his knees touched her bunk after he sat. And these were the rooms the airmen considered large. He leaned forward, taking Steris’s hand in his.

She squeezed it, eyes closed once more, and they sat there. Still. Everyone else could wait a few minutes.

“Thank you,” Wax said softly.

“For what?” she said.

“Coming with me.”

“I didn’t do much.”

“You were extremely helpful at the party,” Wax said. “And your negotiations with the Malwish … Steris, that was incredible.”

“Perhaps,” she said. “But I still feel that I was basically luggage for most of the trip.”

He shrugged. “Steris, I think we’re all like that. Shuffled from place to place by duty, or society, or God Himself. It seems like we’re just along for the ride, even in our own lives. But once in a while, we do face a choice. A real one. We may not be able to choose what happens to us, or where we’ll stop, but we point ourselves in a direction.” He squeezed her hand. “You pointed yourself toward me.”

“Well,” she said, smiling, “being near you is generally the safest place.…”

He cupped her face with his hand, all callused and rough. Another adventure.

Eventually, an airman came looking for them, and Wax reluctantly stood, helping Steris up. Then they walked – arm in arm – through the hallways of the ship and up to the bridge, where the others waited.

Here, Wax was able to appreciate what Wayne had seen. With the panoramic view from the bridge, the city really was gorgeous at night. Is this a sight that will become commonplace? Wax thought as Steris squeezed his arm, grinning at the sight. This airship technology was new, but not many years had passed since he’d seen his first motorcar on the road.

Marasi had been directing Captain Jordis through the city. Wax couldn’t read anything in the captain’s posture, or those of her crew. Were they impressed by the size of the city and the height of the skyscrapers? Or were these things commonplace in the South?

They approached Ahlstrom Tower, and Wax could only imagine the stories this would prompt in the broadsheets the next morning. Good. He hated subterfuge; let the people of Elendel know, to a man, that the world had just become a much larger place.

Ahlstrom Tower, in which Wax had an ownership interest, had a flat top. The captain had assured him that she could land her ship “on a nail, so long as the head is smooth enough.” True to her word, they set it down.

“You’re certain you don’t want to stay?” Marasi asked Jordis. “Visit our city, find out what we’re actually like?”

“No. Thank you.” The words sounded forced, to Wax. But who was to say, with the accent muddying things? “We will take your offer of supplies and be away tonight.”

Time to debark. Together – the others filing after – Wax and Steris made their way through the halls again.

“It almost feels,” Steris said softly, “like this entire experience was a dream. I need to write it all down quickly, lest it fade.”

Wax found himself nodding as he thought of his meeting with Harmony.

The hallway led to a junction where the wall had opened and a long docking bridge had been settled in place, leading down to the rooftop. Below, Wax picked out several figures craning their necks to look at the ship. Governor Aradel had come in person.

Allik stood at the door, and he lifted his mask as Wax approached. No bow or nod, just the mask lift. Among this people, perhaps that was the same thing – as behind him, the other airmen did the same.

“Mighty One,” Allik said to Wax. “May your next fire be known to you.”

“And you, Allik.”

“Oh, it is,” he said with a grin. “For my next fire is home, yah?” He looked to Marasi, and then reached up and removed his mask – the broken one, which he had glued. He held it out with two hands, which caused a few gasps behind him.

“ Please, ” Allik said. The word had more accent to it than the way he’d been speaking before.