He popped a ball of gum into his mouth and wandered over toward the pile of guards, going over his notes. That server up above, he thought, tapping his pad with his pencil, was not the kandra. Wayne had talked to a dozen of the staff. All knew the fellow and said he hadn’t been acting strange at all. But none of them liked him. He was a screwup, and none were surprised that he’d turned out to be rotten.

An amateur might think that picking the new guy made for a good disguise, but this Bleeder, she could be anyone. Why would she pick the low man on the list, someone who had only joined the staff a few weeks back? Sure, being new would give you an excuse to not know people’s names, but by reports, this fellow hadn’t forgotten anyone’s name tonight. And picking a habitual klutz with a bad reputation would just lead to everyone watching over your shoulder. A terrible choice for an imitator.

That guy had been some other kind of mole. He shook his head.

“Where’s Drim?” he asked the guards. “I wanna show him what I’ve got.”

The guard leaned over, looking at Wayne’s notepad. “All that’s on there is a bunch of scribbles.”

“It’s for show,” Wayne said. “Makes people talk more if they think you’re writin’ stuff down. Dunno why. I sure wouldn’t want anyone rememberin’ the slag I say…” He hesitated, then shoved aside the guard, looking into the middle of the pile. Drim wasn’t there, and neither was the governor.

“What’d you do with him!” Wayne said, turning on the others. A smug group of bastards, they were.

“It was best everyone thought he was still here,” the guard said. “In truth, he and Drim headed to a secure location ages ago. If we fooled you, then hopefully we fooled the assassin.”

“Fooled… I’m supposed to be protectin’ the guy!”

“Well, you’re doing a rusting good job of that, mate, ain’tcha,” the guard said, then smirked.

So Wayne did the only reasonable thing. He spat out his gum, then decked the fellow.

Wax rarely appreciated the city as much as he did when he needed to get somewhere quickly.

To the eyes of a man burning steel, Elendel was alight and full of motion, even while shadowed by darkness and mist. Metal. In some ways, that was the true mark of mankind. Man tamed the stones, the bones of the earth below. Man tamed the fire, that ephemeral, consuming soul of life. And combining the two, he drew forth the marrow of the rocks themselves, then made molten tools.