The Alloy of Law - Brandon Sanderson [99]
“I found some, finally,” she said, walking up beside him, looking over the notations. “You can make sense of this?”
“For the most part. Except Wayne’s doodles.”
“They … appear to be pictures of you. Unflatteringly ugly ones.”
“That’s the part that doesn’t make sense,” Waxillium said. “Everyone knows I’m irreparably handsome.” He smiled to himself. That was one of Lessie’s phrases. Irreparably handsome. She’d always claimed he’d look better with a nice scar on his face, after good Roughs fashion.
Marasi smiled too, though her eyes were on his notations and scribbling. “The phantom railcar?” she asked, pointing to his drawing of a ghostly train coming down the tracks, alongside a diagram of how it had probably been made.
“Yes,” he said. “Most of the attacks happened on misty nights, apparently to make it much easier to hide the fact that the phantom ‘train’ is really just a false front with a large headlamp, attached to a moving rail platform.”
“You’re certain?”
“Reasonably,” Waxillium said. “They’re using the canals to attack, and so they need some sort of diversion to keep eyes off what is sneaking up behind.”
She pursed her lips, thoughtful.
“Was Wayne out there?” Waxillium asked.
“Yes, he’s bothering Ranette. I … honestly left the room because I worried she’d shoot him.”
Waxillium smiled.
“I picked up a broadsheet when I was out,” she said. “The constables have found the old hideout.”
“Already?” Waxillium said. “Wayne said we had until dark.”
“It’s dark already.”
“It is? Hell.” Waxillium checked his watch. They had less time than he’d thought. “It still shouldn’t be in the papers yet. The police found the hideout early.”
Marasi nodded toward his sketches. “This indicates that you know where the Vanishers will strike. I don’t want to pound a brittle metal, Lord Waxillium, but we really should tell the constables that fact.”
“I think I know where the attack will happen. If we let the constables know, they’ll flood the area and scare off Miles.”
“Wax,” she said, stepping closer. “I understand that independent spirit; it’s part of what makes you what you are. But we’re not in the Roughs. You don’t have to do this all by yourself.”
“I don’t intend to. I’ll involve the constables, I promise. Miles, however, is not an ordinary criminal. He knows what the constables will try, and he will watch for them. This has to be done at the right time, in the right way.” Waxillium tapped his notations on the wall. “I know Miles. I know how he thinks. He’s like me.”
Almost too much so.
“That means he can anticipate you too.”
“He undoubtedly will. I’ll anticipate him better.”
The moment Waxillium had drawn his gun and fired back against the Vanishers, he’d started down this path. Once he got his teeth into something, he didn’t let go.
“You are right about me,” he said.
“Right? I don’t believe I said anything about you, Lord Waxillium.”
“You’re thinking it,” he said. “That I’m arrogant for wanting to do this my way, for not handing this over to the constables. That I’m foolhardy to not look for help. You’re right.”
“It’s not so bad as that,” she said.
“It’s not bad at all,” he said. “I am arrogant and foolhardy. I am acting like I’m still in the Roughs. But I’m also right.” He reached up, drawing a small square on the paper, then an arrow from it toward the precinct building.
“I’ve written a letter for Ranette to send to the constables,” he continued. “It details everything I’ve discovered, and my guesses on what Miles will do, should I fail to best him. I won’t make any move tonight until we’re well away from the railway and any passengers. The Vanishers won’t take a hostage tonight. They’ll try to be as quick and as silent as possible.
“But it will still be dangerous. People might die, innocent ones. I’ll try my best to keep them from harm, and I firmly believe I have a better chance against Miles than the constables would. I realize that you are studying to be an attorney and a judge, and that your training mandates you should go to the authorities. Considering my plans,