The Lost Metal (The Mistborn Saga #7)

by Brandon Sanderson

City folk, particularly politicians, were intimidated by small arms. They preferred to kill people with more modern weapons, like poverty and despair.

People are elastic, Wax thought. We can keep reshaping ourselves. And if we’re not quite the same as before, well, that’s good. It means we can grow.

He shouldn’t want her to stay in those circumstances. But he did. Damn him, he did. Still, he held his tongue. Sometimes you just had to stand there and get shot.

They still hadn’t seen their actual server, which made sense. This was a seriously fancy place; you could tell by their contempt for their customers.

“Assassinating the Lord Ruler?” Wax asked. “Isn’t that a little violent for a children’s book?” “Mate,” Wayne said, “it ain’t violence if it’s religion. Don’t you know anythin’?”

“How did you not get shot?” “By not bein’ where the bullets was,” Wayne said.

People suffered when the truth became a commodity to be speculated upon.