Wax spun, whipping out his gun. He pointed it not at Edwarn, but at his sister. She stared him down, hand at her pocket. Then she slowly removed a gun. Where had she gotten that? He couldn’t sense it. Aluminum. “Telsin,” Wax said, voice hoarse. Edwarn wouldn’t have come in here without a mole. She made the most sense. But rusts. “I’m sorry, Waxillium,” she said.
