MeLaan went straight for the bookcase, then began pulling books off, toppling them to the ground. “It’s always behind the books,” she said. “People don’t like to read, they like to be seen as someone who reads. I—”

“MeLaan?” Marasi said, then pointed to the large safe in the corner.

“Ah,” MeLaan said, mid-ransack. She knocked the last few books off the shelf, perhaps for completeness’s sake, then strode to the safe. “Hmm… This is going to be a little tougher. Can’t crack something like this with a set of picks.”

“Can you manage it?” Marasi asked.

“Patience,” MeLaan said. “Bring over that lamp.”

Marasi took it from the desk, stretching out the cord to its fullest and directing its light for MeLaan.

“Hmmm…” MeLaan said, then pressed her hand against the safe, ignoring the dial. Her fingers and palm went translucent, and then her flesh began to wiggle, squeezing into the joints, leaving behind crystalline bones held together with the barest of sinew.

Marasi swallowed, mouth suddenly tasting bitter. She’d known MeLaan could do this, but watching it was something else. She busied herself propping the lamp on the arm of the desk chair to give MeLaan light, though the kandra now knelt with eyes closed, so who knew if she needed it any longer? Marasi then started rummaging through the desk drawers to see if she could find anything important.

Harmony send that Irich goes back to the scientists after this, Marasi thought, instead of returning here to catch up on paperwork.

“The world back then,” MeLaan said suddenly, “wasn’t all that different from the one now.”

Marasi hesitated. MeLaan still knelt with her eyes closed, her strange bones exposed. The flesh had gone translucent all the way up to her elbow.

“What do you mean?” Marasi asked.

“People talk about that time,” MeLaan said. “The time of the Lord Mistborn, right after the Catacendre. They speak of it in hushed tones as if it were some time of legends.”

“It was,” Marasi said. “The Counselor of Gods, Hammond, Allrianne Ladrian. They forged a new world.”

“Yeah, sure,” MeLaan said. “But they also squabbled like children, and each one had their own vision of what this ‘new world’ should be. Half the reason you’re having troubles now was because they didn’t care about settlements outside of Elendel. The Originators were big-city people, through and through. You want trends? Want to know what I’ve seen? People are people. Hell, even kandra act the same, in our own way. Life then was like life now, only you have better street food.”

Marasi pondered this, then turned back to the desk. She’d still want to interview some kandra—but perhaps ones who were a little more… reflective than MeLaan.

In the desk, she found a notebook with some of Irich’s observations and sketches about the ship, written in a shaky scrawl, along with a map of the area. The more she discovered, the more certain she was that the Set hadn’t built this vessel. They were studying it as much as repairing it.