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As always, thanks to his Feruchemy, he was lighter than he should have been. He hardly knew anymore what it felt like to go around at his full weight.
He couldn’t Pull on metals, only Push—he wasn’t some mythological Mistborn from the old stories, like the Survivor or the Ascendant Warrior. One Allomantic power, one Feruchemical power, that was all a Metalborn could have. In fact, having even a single power was a rare privilege—being Twinborn like Wax was truly exceptional.
a combination of a Coinshot and a Skimmer like him was called a Crasher. He rarely bothered to think of himself that way.
Most Allomancers didn’t use whiskey in their metal vials. Most Allomancers were missing out on a perfect opportunity.
He closed the lid of the trunk on his old life.
city of Elendel.
eeee
“You do realize I’m forty-two years old? ‘Young master’ doesn’t exactly fit any longer.”
Waxillium swiftly pulled the door shut behind him. “Wayne? What are you doing here?”
“It’s in the contract,” she said. “Page fifteen.”
lol
Aluminum and a few of its alloys were Allomantically inert; you couldn’t Push or Pull on them. It was also very expensive. It cost more than gold or even platinum. The bullet was designed to kill Lurchers and Coinshots, men like Waxillium.
“But I need something, Wax. A place to look. You always did the thinking.” “Yes, having a brain helps with that, surprisingly.”
Allomancer Jak
Reshelle Tekiel
There is great importance to tea. It should never merely be ‘whatever.’
The Vanishers were gathering Allomancers. And Allomantic metals—so far raw steel, pewter, iron, zinc, brass, tin, and even some bendalloy had been stolen. “This is dangerous,” Waxillium whispered. “Very dangerous.”
But I do offer warning. Even a good thing can become destructive if taken to excess.
But the mark of a great man is one who knows when to set aside the important things in order to accomplish the vital ones.”
He reached into his pocket and fished out his earring. It was a simple thing, stamped on the head with the ten interlocking rings of the Path. He slipped it into his ear, which was pierced for the purpose,
must have to do with Vin!
The Path was to study them, learn from their moral codes. A few rules were central. Do not seek lust without commitment. See the strengths in all flaws. Pray and meditate fifteen minutes a day. And don’t waste time worshipping Harmony. Doing good was the worship.
okay so Sazed
“It’s not the soup,” Waxillium said. “I’ve just recalled something I forgot to do.” It involves strangling someone.
“By the same ratio Lord Ladrian described, we should have roughly twelve hundred constables. But we don’t. It’s somewhere closer to six hundred,
numbers in the audiobook are 2,000 and 1,000
“I once shot the tail off a dog by mistake,” Waxillium said idly. “It’s kind of a funny story.” “Shooting dogs is hardly appropriate dinner conversation,” Steris said. “I know. Especially since I was aiming for its balls.” Marasi just about spat her soup across the table. “Lord Ladrian!” Steris exclaimed, though her father seemed amused. “I thought you said I couldn’t shock you any longer,” he said to Steris. “I was merely testing your hypothesis,
lol
Several things stood out. Each of them could trace back to the Lord Mistborn himself. Because of that, most of them also had a strong heritage of Allomancy in their past. They were all fairly closely related, third or fourth cousins, some first.
bulging forearms and a mottled greyish complexion, almost as if his face were made of granite. Koloss blood, Waxillium thought. Dangerous.
“That’s a terrible metaphor. How would an ammunition store get into a volcano?”
Wayne grinned. “You owe me a pint for lying to me, by the way.” “Lying?” “You said you hadn’t brought a gun.” “I didn’t bring a gun,” Waxillium said, reaching to the small of his back and sliding a second pistol out. “You know me better than that, Wayne. I never go anywhere with only one.
No blue lines. Rust and Ruin … an entire gun made of aluminum?
As the type of Feruchemist called a Bloodmaker, if Wayne spent time being sickly and weak—his body healing itself much more slowly than usual—he could store up the health and healing ability in a metalmind the same way Waxillium stored weight.
Marasi knelt on the balcony where he’d left her. She’d fetched the rifle from the bandit he’d crushed, and she obviously knew how to use it.
he couldn’t be facing Miles. Miles was a lawman. One of the best.
Harmony protect us from small-minded men with too much power. He
💯
Marasi frowned. “I … I’m not sure I know how to respond.” “That’s a common reaction to Wayne,” Waxillium said.
She should probably just go up and knock. But didn’t she have a right to be nervous when confronting a man such as Waxillium Ladrian? A living legend, one of her personal heroes?
“There’s no need to be formal with me. I have a rule—saving my life entitles you to use my given name.” “You saved mine first, I believe.” “Yes. But I was already in your debt.” “Because?” “Because you gave me an excellent excuse to shoot things,”
If you remove the foundation of trust from a relationship, then what is the point of that relationship?”
That works for people too, oddly. A tiny change can result in creating an entirely new person. How like metals we are…”
A simple method to determine the type of criminal is based on whom they kill and when,’”
“You realize I spent all night coming to those conclusions? You just reached them in all of … what? Ten minutes?”
“Genetic. Taking all women. Waxillium, don’t you see? They’re not intending to build an army of Allomancers. They’re intending to breed one. They’re taking the women with the most direct Allomantic lines back to the Mistborn.”
Ironeyes himself.
Marsh?
Bad hats. A bad hat could make a man right disagreeable, and that was the truth.
Act like you were important, act like you were angry, and people just wanted to get out of your way. Basic psychology,
The fellow had tried to shoot him, so Wayne had broken his arm with a dueling cane. Downright rude, shooting like that. When a fellow pulls out a dueling cane, you should respond with one of your own—or at least a knife. Trying to shoot Wayne was like bringing dice to a card game. What was the world coming to?
“Just gotta talk their language, son.
“Takes a special type to be a proper criminal,” Wayne explained. “You ain’t that type. You see, in this conversation, I tricked you into confirming the name of the guy who recruited you and giving the location of your base.
People today … in general they are good, or sometimes evil, mostly by inertia, not by choice. They act as their surroundings prepare them to act.
Out there, you don’t have to wear lacy dresses or smell like flowers. You can belt on some revolvers and make your own rules. Don’t forget the example set by the Ascendant Warrior herself.” She leaned forward. “Can I admit something to you, Lord Waxillium?” “Only if it’s salacious, personal, or embarrassing.” She smiled. “I like the lacy dresses and smelling of flowers.
“I know the Ascendant Warrior is a model for self-actualized women. We have classes on it at the university, for Preservation’s sake, and her legacy is written into the law. But I don’t really want to put on trousers and be her. Sometimes I feel like a coward for admitting that.”
“How did you do this?” “Whiskey and magic,” Wayne said. “In other words,” Waxillium said, walking up and reading the paper over Marasi’s shoulder, “Wayne did a lot of fast talking. Nice work.”
