“Excellent,” Steris said. “And the other thirty-seven seats in your section?”

“Invite leaders among the seamstresses and forgeworkers of my house,” Wax said. “And the constables-general of the various octants. It will be a nice gesture.”

“Very well.”

“If you want me to help more with the wedding planning—”

“No, the formal request to perform the ceremony that you sent to Father Bin was the only task required of you by protocol. Otherwise I can handle it; this is the perfect sort of thing to occupy me. That said, someday I would like to know what is in that little book you peruse so often.”

“I—”

The front door to the mansion slammed open down below, and booted feet thumped up the steps. A moment later, the door to the study burst open and Wayne all but tumbled in. Darriance—the house butler—stood apologetically just behind him.

Wiry and of medium height, Wayne had a round clean-shaven face and—as usual—wore his old Roughs clothing, though Steris had pointedly supplied him with new clothing on at least three occasions.

“Wayne, you could try the doorbell sometime,” Wax said.

“Nah, that warns the butler,” Wayne said.

“Which is kind of the point.”

“Beady little buggers,” Wayne said, shutting the door on Darriance. “Can’t trust them. Look, Wax. We’ve got to go! The Marksman has made his move!”

Finally! Wax thought. “Let me grab my coat.”

Wayne glanced toward Steris. “’Ello, Crazy,” he said, nodding to her.

“Hello, Idiot,” she said, nodding back.

Wax buckled on his gunbelt over his fine city suit, with vest and cravat, then threw on his mistcoat duster. “Let’s go,” he said, checking his ammunition.

Wayne pushed his way out the door and barreled down the stairs. Wax paused by Steris’s couch. “I…”

“A man must have his hobbies,” she said, raising another sheet of paper and inspecting it. “I accept yours, Lord Waxillium—but do try to avoid being shot in the face, as we have wedding portraits to sit for this evening.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“Keep an eye on my sister out there,” Steris said.

“This is a dangerous chase,” Wax said, hastening to the door. “I doubt Marasi will be involved.”

“If you think that, then your professional faculties are suspect. It’s a dangerous chase, so she’ll find a way to be involved.”

Wax hesitated by the door. He glanced back at her, and she looked up, meeting his eyes. It felt as if there should be something more to their parting. A send-off of some sort. Fondness.

Steris seemed to sense it too, but neither said anything.

Wax tipped his head back, taking a shot of whiskey and metal flakes, then charged through the doorway and threw himself over the balcony railing. He slowed himself with a Push on the silver inlays in the marble floor of the entrance hall, hitting with a thump of boots on stone. Darriance opened the front door ahead of him as he raced out to join Wayne at the coach, for the ride to…