Red caught the coin. “Why is this wet? Were you sucking on it?”

“Allomancers can’t Push on my coin if it’s in my mouth!” Wayne called.

“You’re drunk, Wayne!” Red said with a laugh, shoving off from the dock with his pole.

“Not nearly drunk enough,” Wayne called back. “That cheapskate Wax didn’t even have the decency to stock a full bottle!”

Red turned the canal boat, poling it out into the waters, wind rippling his cloak. Wayne walked away from the post marking the canal-side mooring, and was faced with the most intimidating sight a fellow could see. The Elendel University.

It was time for Wayne’s three tests.

He reached for the rum, then remembered—a little foggily—that he’d finished it all. “Rust and Ruin,” he muttered. Perhaps he shouldn’t have downed the whole thing. Then again, it made his sniffles easy to ignore. When he was properly smashed, he could take a punch or two to the face and not even feel it. There was a kind of invincibility to that. A stupid kind, but Wayne wasn’t a picky man.

He made his way up to the university gates, hands stuffed in his coat pockets. The etched letters over the top proclaimed, in High Imperial, WASING THE ALWAYS OF WANTING OF KNOWING. Deep words. He’d heard them interpreted as, “The eternal desire of a hungry soul is knowledge.” When Wayne’s soul was hungry he settled for scones, but this place was full of smart kids, and they were a strange sort.

Two men in black coats leaned casually against the gates. Wayne hesitated. So they were watching for him out front this time, were they? The first of his three trials was upon him. Rusting wonderful.

Well, after the nature of any great hero from the stories, he was going to do his best to avoid this particular trial. Wayne ducked to the side before the two men could spot him, then followed the wall. The university was surrounded by the thing, like it was some kind of bunker. Were they afraid all their knowledge would leak out, like water from a swimmer’s ears?

Wayne craned his neck, looking for a way in. They’d bricked up the broken part he’d used last time. And the tree he’d climbed that other time had been cut down. Drat on them for that. He decided to follow another great tradition of heroes facing trials. He went looking for a way to cheat.

He found Dims on a nearby corner. The young man wore a bowler hat and a bow tie, but a shirt that had the sleeves ripped off. He was head of one of the more important street gangs in the area, but never stabbed people too badly when he mugged them and was polite with the people he extorted. He was practically a model citizen.

“Hello, Dims,” Wayne said.

Dims eyed him. “You a conner today, Wayne?”

“Nope.”

“Ah, good,” Dims said, settling down on the steps. He took something out of his pocket—a little metal container.