The Bands of Mourning

There is always another secret

There is always another secret

”…At the precinct, when I accomplish something, everyone assumes I had Waxillium’s help. Sometimes it’s like I’m no more than an appendage.”
“You’re not that at all, Marasi,” Wayne said. “You’re important. You help out a lot. Plus you smell nice, and not all bloody and stuff.”
“Great. I have no idea what you just said.”
“Appendages don’t smell nice,” Wayne said. “And they’re kinda gross. I cut one outta a fellow once.”
“You mean an appendix?”
“Sure.” He hesitated.
“So…” “Not the same thing.”
“Right. Thought you was makin’ a metaphor, since people don’t need one of those and all.”

“Is that the constables?” Aunt Gin asked, sounding horrified.
“Afraid so,” Wax said, pulling the door closed. The carriage lurched into motion, and Steris leaned out the window, waving farewell to the poor innkeeper.
“Framed for murder!” Steris called to her. “It’s on page seventeen of the list I gave you! Try not to let them harass our servants too much when they arrive!”

Hes the man who takes the bullet so nobody else has to.

“He’s the man who takes the bullet so nobody else has to.”

“Do you ever wonder if perhaps the cosmere is out to overwhelm you, Lord Waxillium?”

“Cod-liver oil and metal flakes washed into his mouth. Swallowing took a precious moment.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Power.”

“Since when have you carried one of these?” Wax asked, taking it from her.
“Since about six months ago. I put one into my purse in case you might need it.” She raised her other hand, displaying two more. “I carry the other two because I’m neurotic.”

“Steris, I think we’re all like that. Shuffled from place to place by duty, or society, or God Himself. It seems like we’re just along for the ride, even in our own lives. But once in a while, we do face a choice. A real one. We may not be able to choose what happens to us, or where we’ll stop, but we point ourselves in a direction.”

Poor Wax. That had busted him up right good, it had. And Wayne could see why. Still, an apology? Did people that got killed in a flood expect an apology from God? God did as God wished. You simply hoped to not get on His worse side. Kinda like the bouncer at the club with the pretty sister

The difference between good and evil men is not found in the acts they are willing to commitbut merely in what name they are willing to commit them in

The difference between good and evil men is not found in the acts they are willing to commit—but merely in what name they are willing to commit them in

I’m wondering if every person I pass has similar depths, and if there’s any way to avoid the mistake of judging them so shallowly that I’m rocked when they show their true complexity

“Plan?” Marasi asked.
“Not dyin’.”
“Anything more detailed than that?”
“Not dyin’ … today?”

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A buddy-read with The Lovely Nadia