The Alloy of Law (Mistborn, #4)

by Brandon Sanderson

Lord Harms coughed into his hand. “I suggested she write down her thoughts,” he said. “And … well, my daughter is a very thorough woman.” “I can see that,” Waxillium said. “I suggest that you never ask her to pass the milk,” Wayne added under his breath, so only Waxillium could hear. “As she seems likely to throw a cow at you, just to be certain the job is done thoroughly.”

“And … well, my daughter is a very thorough woman.” “I can see that,” Waxillium said. “I suggest that you never ask her to pass the milk,” Wayne added under his breath, so only Waxillium could hear. “As she seems likely to throw a cow at you, just to be certain the job is done thoroughly.”

“Thank you,” Waxillium said, taking the cup of tea. “I almost have myself entirely persuaded.” He took a sip. “Preservation’s Wings, man! This is good.”

“I suggest that we begin compiling a list of conversational topics we can employ when in the company of others. The topics should not touch on politics or religion, yet should be memorable and give us opportunities to appear charming. Do you know any particularly witty sayings or stories that can be our starting point?” “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.

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. How much bendalloy do you have?”

“Did you succeed?” Waxillium asked, standing up, then reached down to help Marasi to her feet. “Sure did—I got some scones.” Wayne grinned. “And the dirty conners even paid for them.” “Wayne?” “Yes?” “We’re dirty conners.” “Not no more,” he said proudly. “We’re independent citizens with a mind toward civic duty. And eating the scones of dirty conners.”

“Your mansion isn’t safe?” “My butler failed to poison me, then tried to shoot me, then set off an explosive in my study.” “Huh.” She cocked the pistol a few times. “You need to screen these people better, Wax.”

“It’s a pretty good book,” Wayne said, flipping a page. “You should try it. It’s about bunnies. They talk. Damnedest thing ever.”