The Alloy of Law - Brandon Sanderson [58]
“Aliases,” Brettin said, dissatisfied.
“Any of them give the name Sindren?”
Brettin looked at his men. They shook their heads.
Excellent. “I want to see the other men. I’m going to pick which one to interview next.”
“That wasn’t part of the deal,” Brettin said.
“And I can still march on home and start up paperwork for a transfer…”
Brettin stewed for a moment, then led Wayne to the cells. Sindren was easy to pick out. The large-eared man looked young; he was wide-eyed as he watched the conners look into his cell.
“Him,” Wayne said. “Let’s go.”
They grabbed him and brought him to an interrogation room. Once Sindren was chained down, Brettin and his men waited in the room.
“A little space to breathe, please,” Wayne said, glaring at them.
“Fine,” Brettin said. “But no more whispering. I want to hear what you have to ask him. He is still our prisoner.”
Wayne glared at them, and they shuffled out, but left the door open. Brettin stood outside with his arms folded, looking at Wayne expectantly.
All right then, Wayne thought. He turned to the captive and leaned in. “Hello, Sindren.”
The boy actually jumped. “How do you—”
“Clamps sent me,” Wayne said softly in a street-tough accent. “I’m working on a way to get you out. I need you to remain perfectly still.”
“But—”
“Still. Don’t move.”
“No whispering!” Brettin called in. “If you say—”
Wayne put up a speed bubble. It wasn’t going to last long; he hadn’t been able to scrounge up much bendalloy. He’d have to make it work.
“I’m an Allomancer,” Wayne said, holding perfectly still. “I’ve sped up time for us. If you move, they’ll notice the blur and know what happened. Do you understand? Don’t nod yes. Just say so.”
“Um … yes.”
“Good,” Wayne said. “As I said, Clamps sent me, and I’m here to get you out. Seems the boss worries you fellows will talk.”
“I won’t!” the youth said, voice nearly a squeak as he obviously worked hard to keep himself from moving.
“I’m sure you won’t,” Wayne said, moving his accent subtly to match the area this youth was from, Inner Seventh. He tossed in a sprinkle of millworker, which he caught in this lad’s dialect. Probably from his father. “If you did, Tarson would have to break some of your bones. You know how he likes that, eh?”
The boy started to nod, but caught himself. “I know.”
“But we’ll get you out,” Wayne said. “Don’t worry. I don’t recognize you. You new?”
“Yes.”
“Clamps recruited you?”
“Just two weeks back.”
“Which base were you working out of?”
“Which one?” the lad said, frowning.
“We have several stations of operation,” Wayne said. “But of course you don’t know that, do you? The boss only shows one to new kids, in case they get caught. Wouldn’t want you to accidentally lead people to us, eh?”
“That would be awful,” Sindren agreed. He eyed the door, but kept himself still. “He put me in the old foundry over in Longard. I thought we were the only ones!”
“That’s the idea,” Wayne said. “We can’t let a simple mistake stop us from getting payback.”
“Er, yes.”
“You don’t believe in all that, do you?” Wayne said. “It’s okay. I think the boss gets a little crazy with that stuff too.”
“Yeah,” the youth said. “I mean, most of us just want the money, you know? Payback’s nice. But…”
“… money’s better.”
“Yeah. Boss is always talking about how things will be better when he’s in charge, and how the city betrayed him, and stuff. But the city betrays everyone. That’s how life is.” The youth glanced again at the constables outside the door.
“Don’t worry,” Wayne said. “They think I’m one of them.”
“How’d you do it?” the boy asked softly.
“Just gotta talk their language, son. Surprising how many people never figure that out. You’re sure they never told you about any of the other bases? I need to know which ones are in danger.”
“No,” the youth said. “I only ever went to the foundry. Stayed there pretty much all the time, except when we went out on runs.”
“Can I give you some advice, son?” Wayne asked.
“Please.”
“Get out of this business of robbing folks. You aren