The crowd grew quiet. Marasi frowned. Had Aradel’s men prompted that somehow? No… the constables stood in a tight line between the crowd and the mansion, but weren’t doing anything to quell the crowd.

How odd. Though there were a few jeers, for the most part everyone fell silent—watching through the mists, which seemed thinner than they had before, now that lights had been set up all around the square in front of the mansion. The former rioters genuinely wanted to hear what the governor had to say. Well, why shouldn’t they?

Marasi felt their mood, one of hostile curiosity. She felt a calmness too. MeLaan’s speech would work. Everything was fine. Why had she been so worried earlier? It…

Rusts. She was being Soothed.

She snapped alert, suddenly tense. She knew crowds. She’d studied mob dynamics. It was her specialty—and she could tell, easily, that something was wrong here. But who was Soothing? Why? How?

Suit, she thought. Waxillium had said the Set was involved. His uncle had access to Allomancers, and an inclination to see that Bleeder’s plans came to fruition. It didn’t matter what Marasi had written for MeLaan to say; when Suit’s men discovered that “the governor” was deviating from the script, they’d drive the crowd to a frenzy.

Suddenly frantic, Marasi didn’t listen to the beginning of MeLaan’s speech. Could she get to Aradel? No, he was standing on the rusting stage, near MeLaan. Wayne, putting on a brave face despite his wound, hovered near the two of them, ready to help if something went wrong.

Marasi had to move quickly, and quietly, not alerting the Set. She spotted Reddi standing near the base of the steps, watching the crowd with arms folded. Marasi scrambled over to him and seized his arm.

“Reddi,” she said. “There’s a Soother in this crowd somewhere.”

“What?” he asked absently, glancing at her. “Hmm?”

“A Soother,” Marasi said. “Dampening our emotions. Probably a Rioter waiting too, to drive the crowd into a frenzy once they hear the speech.”

“Don’t be silly,” Reddi said with a yawn. “Everything is fine, Lieutenant.”

“Reddi,” she said, tightening her grip. “How do you feel?”

“Fine.”

“Not annoyed at me?” she said. “Not angry that I hold the position you should? Not jealous at all?”

He glared at her, then cocked his head. Then he hissed out softly. “Damn it, you’re right. I usually hate you, but all I feel is a mild dislike. Someone’s playing with my emotions.” He hesitated. “No offense.”

“Can’t feel offense,” Marasi said. “I’m having trouble feeling any strong emotion or urgency. But Reddi, we have to stop them.”

“I’ll get a squad,” he said. “How will we find them though? They could be anywhere.”

“No,” Marasi said, scanning the crowd. Her eyes found a carriage parked discreetly in a small alleyway across from the governor’s square. “Not anywhere. They won’t want to mix with the masses that they’re planning to turn into a murderous mob. Too dangerous. Come on.”