He landed on the tracks, a soggy Steris in one arm, cord in the other. He could imagine Ranette’s grin as he told her how well the thing had worked. He disengaged the hooks and yanked the device back into his hand, though he had to wind the cord manually.

Steris’s teeth chattered audibly, and he glanced at her as he finished winding, expecting to see her frightened and miserable. Instead, despite being dripping wet, she had a stupid grin on her face, eyes alight with excitement.

Wax couldn’t help smiling himself as he stowed Ranette’s sphere and tied on his gunbelt, then shoved his shotgun into the holster. “Remember, you’re not supposed to find things like that fun, Steris. You’re supposed to be boring. I have it on good authority from this woman I know.”

“A tone-deaf man,” Steris said, “can still enjoy a good choir—even if he could never participate.”

“Not buying the act, my dear,” Wax said. “Not any longer. You just climbed on top of a moving train car and shot a bandit, rescuing your fiancé.”

“It behooves a woman,” she said, “to show an interest in her husband’s hobbies. Though I suppose I should be outraged, as this is the second dunking you’ve given me in a very short period of time, Lord Waxillium.”

“I thought you said the first one wasn’t my fault.”

“Yes, but this was twice as cold. So it evens out.”

He smiled. “You want to wait here, or join me?”

“Um… join you?”

He nodded to the left. Far below, the train hit the end of its switchbacks down the hillside, leveling out to approach the final bend before heading southward. Her eyes opened wider, then she grabbed him in a tight grip.

“When we land,” he said, “keep your head down and find a place to hide.”

“Got it.”

He took a deep breath, then launched them high in a powerful arc through the night air. They sailed across the river, coming down like a bird of prey toward the front of the train.

Wax slowed himself and Steris with a careful Push on the engine, setting down atop the coal tender. Inside the cab right in front of them, a bandit held a gun to the engineer’s head. Wax let go of Steris, then spun around and pumped the shotgun—popping the expended shells into the air—and Pushed on the shells, sending them through the back of the engine cab and right into the bandit’s head. She dropped, falling on the engine controls.

Wax was nearly thrown off as the train lurched, slowing down. He spun, grabbing Steris by the arm. To his right, the startled engineer grabbed the lever, smoothing out the deceleration. Holding Steris to him, Wax leaped with a short Push into the open rear of the engine, where they landed beside the engineer and the dead bandit.

“What are they doing?” he asked, dropping Steris, then kneeling and taking the dead bandit’s pistol.

“They have some device,” the engineer said, frantic, pointing. “They’re installing it between the coal tender and the first car. Shot my fireman when he tried to defend me, the bastards!”