It wasn’t something he’d always been able to do, and he wasn’t entirely certain how he did it. Oh, the basic mechanics were obvious: he burned steel, then Pushed lightly outward from himself in all directions at once. But how had he learned to exempt metal he himself carried? He still didn’t know. It was just something that had happened, over time.

With the bubble on, his Allomantic instincts searched out any bits of metal moving quickly toward him, and would Push on those with increasing force as they drew closer. He was getting better and better at that. Standing and letting Darriance shoot at his chest while wearing about twelve inches of padding and armor had helped. He couldn’t dodge bullets, but the bubble helped.

“What did you just do?” Steris asked as he reached her. “My bracelet wants to leap off my arm.”

“Remove it,” Wax said. “If there’s an Allomantic fight, I don’t want you wearing any metals.”

Steris raised an eyebrow, but took off the bracelet and dropped it in her handbag. Wax mentally added an exception for it.

“I don’t know that it will matter,” Steris said. “This place is positively teeming with metal. What are you doing with your drink?”

Wax looked up. He’d just finished covertly dumping a bit of brown powder into his cup. “I got water,” he said. “The powder will make it look like I’m drinking brandy. If I can feign drunkenness later, it might give me an edge.”

“Fascinating,” Steris said. She seemed genuinely impressed.

They moved through the room, passing under a chandelier. The separate bits of crystal—which had wires suspending them—moved subtly away from Wax, like the needle of a compass confronted by a magnet’s matching pole. He accidentally knocked a nugget off a pedestal as they passed. Rusts. Against his better judgment, he dampened his steel bubble.

“Let’s find the governor,” Steris said.

Wax nodded. He couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter which way he turned, someone had a gun pointed at his back.

Someone else moves us, lawman.

Red on the bricks. Lessie in his arms, already dead. His hands stained with her blood…

No. He’d moved past that. He’d grieved. He wouldn’t be sucked down into that spiral again. As they continued through the party, a pair of lesser nobles wearing dark colors moved to intercept them, but Wax gave them a glare, which was enough to get them to back off.

“Lord Waxillium…” Steris said.

“What?” Wax asked. “You said we were going to the governor.”

“That doesn’t mean you can growl at everyone else.”

“I didn’t growl.” Did he?

“Let me handle it next time,” Steris said, guiding them around a pedestal displaying—oddly—nothing at all. The plaque read: ATIUM, THE LOST METAL.