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Marasi sits on the temple steps wrapped in forty blankets, sipping a canteen of warm Malwish chocolate Allik has handed her — sweeter and thicker than the bitter cocoa of her childhood; the most wonderful thing she has ever tasted, and she has just held the powers of creation. Allik settles beside her with his own canteen and they watch Wax stand alone on the rocks and Pull the rogue airship down out of the sky on an invisible tether, slowly and evenly. Marasi reassures Allik that no, Wax is careful; he breaks things with amazing precision. The fans wind down; the soldiers come off with hands up; Wayne and MeLaan sweep them for weapons while Allik's crew check the ship for hidden enemies.

Suit is tied feet-dangling to the top of the Lord Ruler's spear, gagged, metalminds removed, leeched dry — and even this, Marasi notes, may not be cautious enough; the spikes are still in him because they cannot remove them without killing him. Steris is on the plain with Wax, who has put his arm around her shoulders — an image Marasi would never have thought she'd find comforting, and is.

Trouble comes in the form of Captain Jordis and her airmen. *We thank you for your help,* she says under a translation medallion in the same accent Allik has, *but our appreciation does not extend to ignoring theft. We expect our property to be returned.* Wax does not see any of her property here — only a relic salvaged from an empty temple and his airship. She steps forward; her people have been incarcerated, tortured and killed since the skimmer crashed; *you seem to be itching for a war, Allomancer.*

Marasi is about to step between them when Steris interrupts. *I think it prudent to let them take the ship.* They are tired and a long way from home; how else are they to get back? In return she asks the Malwish to open trade with the Basin. As for the Sovereign's weapon — Marasi adds the lever that Allomancers are rare among the southerners; Steris turns the screw with Wax's influence over Basin tariffs — Steris proposes the Bands go to *the immortal kandra*, who serve all peoples impartially, with a promise that the Basin will not use them unless attacked by southerners. Allik removes his medallion and translates this to his crew with broad gestures while MeLaan cocks an eyebrow and makes her skin translucent to display a true skeleton so cracked and mangled Marasi is startled the woman still stands.

Jordis considers it. *An unpleasant accommodation.* She will return to her people half her crew dead and her ship traded for one decades out of date — though she will also return with new trading partners in a land brimming with Allomancers and Feruchemists, and those of her people who treat first will become very rich. She folds her arms, looms despite being a head shorter than Wax, and finally consents — but she will not leave without a draft agreement, a promise of intentions, even if nothing else. They shake on it. Marasi does not miss the stiffness in her shoulders. The Basin has not made a friend today; hopefully it has avoided making an enemy. Wax asks one further thing: *honestly, I'd just like a ride.*

The southerners agree — they have no wish to carry a brigful of Set soldiers all the way home — and Wax is careful to make clear they cannot keep Suit himself. As the crew prepare the ship, Wax stands a moment before the statue with its single spike-eye. *I held your power, if only a tiny bit. I think I understand.* He hands the Bands to MeLaan, who vanishes them into her flesh. Glad to know they are out of his reach. He raises a finger to the Lord Ruler in farewell and jogs off after Marasi, who is heading for the parked skimmer to check for left supplies.

Wax admits to her that Aradel and the Senate will not like the deal, particularly the part about giving the Bands away; she points out he doesn't seem too broken up about losing them. He isn't. The power they offer is — sublime and devastating at once, she finishes for him; dangerous in the wrong hands, somehow more dangerous in his own. Yes.

They turn together toward the skimmer to load it onto the airship; first he wants to look at one more thing. He doesn't blame Wayne for what he did to Telsin — taking her to Elendel for justice would have been better; pulling the trigger himself would also have been better; either way she was dealt with — which means —

Blood on the snow. No skimmer. No body. Marasi freezes; Wax crosses to the empty patch of stone and goes down on a knee beside the body-shaped pattern of frozen drops. He is not surprised; he is impressed. Wayne should have known she might heal. *It's not done, then,* Marasi says. *It's not done,* Wax says — *but in some ways that's better.* *Because your sister isn't dead?* He turns to her, the cold finally reaching inside him. *No. Because now I have someone to hunt.*