Wax followed, Pushing on the same nails, sending himself into the sky. He could see why she’d chosen to become a Coinshot; Steelpushing lent great maneuverability and speed, and logically gave her the best chance of escaping.

There was a problem with that, of course.

Steel was his domain.

The pile of bones on the floor of the little shack proved that at least one person was having a worse night than Wayne was. He nudged the pile with his toe, then grimaced at his wounded leg. Rusting inconvenient, that was. He had to grab the wall for support.

He looked toward Marasi. “I can’t decide,” he said, “if the governor already bein’ dead means we did a really terrible job, or a really good one.”

“How,” Marasi replied, kneeling beside the corpse, “could you see this as anything other than terrible?”

“Well, see, we weren’t the ones what was in charge of keepin’ him alive when he died.” Wayne shrugged. “Guess anytime I find a corpse and it ain’t my fault they’re dead, I feel a little relieved.”

MeLaan strolled into the cottage, still wearing the body of the guardswoman—though she had moved back to speaking with her own voice now. “It’s getting rough out there. We’ll want to get back into the mansion soon.”

Marasi continued to kneel by the bones, which were lit by Wayne’s lantern. His wrists still chafed from his confinement, and his leg smarted something fierce. Rusting kandra. She’d known just how to take him out: a quick burst of speed, tie his legs together, gag him, steal his metalminds—even though it didn’t matter none how quickly he could heal if he was tied up.

Course, she should have checked his hands for gum as she towed him into the room.

“The governor is dead,” Marasi whispered.

“Yeah,” Wayne said, “havin’ your skeleton removed tends to do that to a guy.”

“What does it mean?” Marasi said, looking out the side of the shack, in the direction they’d seen Wax escape.

“Well, it means he won’t be makin’ it to his tap-dancing lessons this—”

“Wayne?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Marasi closed her eyes, and Wayne leaned back against the wall, looking out at that crowd. Angry, waiting for the governor to give them his speech. The speech that was supposed to stop all this.

“Bleeder was planning to outrage them,” MeLaan said. “I heard some of his speech. Maybe we can make them disperse?”

“No,” Marasi said, standing. “We can do better than that.” She turned to MeLaan, then nudged the governor’s skull with her foot. “How long will it take you to imitate him?”

“I didn’t digest his corpse—and don’t wince like that, it’s not my fault you people happen to be edible. If it helps, you taste terrible, even if you’re properly aged. Anyway, it will be tough. TenSoon’s pretty good at re-creating a face from a skull, but I’m way less practiced.”

Wayne didn’t say anything. He could shut it. Damn right he could shut it, when he needed to. Even if there was jokes that practically begged to be said.