“What now?” Wax asked.
“Now we climb, human,” TenSoon said. He melted again, dumping his bones and fur to the ground, becoming a group of muscles. Here, in these narrow confines, that was an advantage. TenSoon was able to push on both walls and start sliding up the crack, filling holes and clefts with his mass, then using his muscles to propel himself upward. A bag, like a stomach, had formed around the wolfhound bones, and he carted these up behind him.
It was grotesque yet fascinating. This was the natural state of the kandra, the sludgelike collection of muscles that at times acted human.
Of course, Wax thought, starting to climb, what am I but a pile of blood and meat that gets up and walks around?
This climb was difficult, particularly with the lantern, though decreasing his weight substantially helped. After only a short time, he heard the creatures come in below, howling and scrambling. His heart beat more quickly, but they didn’t seem to have much luck climbing. He continued to inch upward, until—in his haste for a handhold—he fumbled with the lantern and dropped it.
It bumped and clanged against the stones before smashing down below. The light went out.
In that moment, Wax realized he was buried in the earth, clinging to rocks in the darkness. The walls seemed to press against him, and twisted monsters howled below and sought his blood. He gasped in sudden panic.
Then his eyes adjusted and a soft blue light revealed the world to him. He wasn’t trapped. There was a way out above. He could see it by the patina of blue fungus growing on the walls, giving a gentle light to everything.
“Harmony made sure it spread here,” TenSoon’s voice said from above. “He wanted to make certain that no person was ever trapped in darkness in this place again.”
Wax forced himself to continue upward. He recognized where he was now, from the stories. The holes in the walls that he used as handholds had once been overgrown with crystals, and within, geodes containing a bead of the lost metal. Legendary atium.
He was climbing the Pits of Hathsin themselves.
“Peace, lawman,” TenSoon said from above. “Keep climbing.”
Had he heard Wax’s breathing quicken? He steadied himself and continued. This place was no longer a prison. No more did it cut and lacerate, as it had done to the Survivor’s arms. The climb was actually easy, with all those holes. The sounds from below grew softer.
Finally, he crawled from the crevice into a section of man-made tunnel. One of the city sewers; the crack behind him was just a thin cleft in the rock that gave no hint of its ancient origin. Wax shivered, breathing in the awful stench of the sewers, but still glad to be free. TenSoon convulsed as a mass nearby, then formed into a wolfhound again. “I can see why Paalm might want me distracted and unable to stop my people from being caught in her trap,” he said. “But what happened below, that was not for me, but you, human. What was she trying to distract you from?”
Wax didn’t reply, but could think of only one reason. Once she dealt with the kandra, her plan would be ready for the final steps. She’d need to drive the people of the city further into a frenzy, freeing them, as she saw it, sending them forth as a mob to rage and hate, destroying Elendel.
The governor was planning to speak to the people of the city. Bleeder hadn’t succeeded in killing him yet, and Wax suspected he knew why.
Because when she murdered him, she wanted an audience.
PART THREE
22
Mist seemed to burn in the night, like clouds before the sun. Wax dropped through it, slamming to the steps of the governor’s mansion, surprising the guards there. Constables, by the uniforms, rather than the normal guards. Good. They’d been running low on the latter.
Wax stood up straight, turning and regarding the crowd gathering in front of the mansion. Constables with rifles made an uneasy barrier between them and the building. Nearby, workers erected a small stage on the steps. Aradel supervised, though judging from his sour expression, he was rather displeased with the governor’s plan.
Wax agreed. Addressing the crowd would be playing right into Bleeder’s hands. He grabbed one of the constables. “I assume there hasn’t been another attempt on the governor’s life?”
“No, sir,” the constable said. “He’s in his study, sir.”
Wax nodded and barged into the mansion, trailing wisps of mist behind him. He stalked toward the back, and in the hallway Marasi intercepted him, taking him by the arm. “Kolossblood,” she said, giving him the password he’d given her, proving she wasn’t a kandra.
“Nighttime Summer,” Wax said back, authenticating himself. “You need to do something about that crowd, Marasi. They’re going to rip this city down.”
“We’re working on it. Have you seen Wayne?”
“No. Why?”