Chapter Text
Grian’s hands moved with the jolting of the train, several hours of experience helping him keep from crumpling the bounty paper clutched between them. Unfortunately, that experience rolling with the shifting and shuddering of the locomotive didn’t stop his spine from cracking into a hard metal pipe.
Mumbo, of course, was doing absolutely fine. He’d said something about ‘sea legs’, which made no sense since Grian was sure he’d never been to sea. Pretty sure. He’d never mentioned it to him before!
Still, Mumbo was doing fine, half buried in a crate, muttering happily to himself. That, at least, fit with the Mumbo Grian knew.
Scar was beside him, staring out of a small hole in the train car they’d snuck into. And then, to round out their little ‘expeditionary squad’ or whatever Grian’s boss had called it, was Gem, long rifle slung across her lap, eyes half-lidded as she dozed.
Gem was who Grian knew the least, from their little quartet. He’d worked with Scar a few times, Mumbo a few more than that, but he wouldn’t even say he was especially close to any of them. Not for any particular reason, just… There was always business to be done, goods to be shipped, cops to misdirect.
He did, however, know Gem by reputation. She was a Tineye, reportedly brilliant at finding key details in amongst all the information her tin-enhanced senses gave her, and then there was the rifle, long-range and utterly deadly. Not that you’d tell, from the soft colours and warm smile, but to be fair, you couldn’t tell how lethal Grian was just by looking at him, either. That was somewhat the point.
He’d have to keep a close eye on that one.
Grian shook himself. They had a plan. Or, well, he would have a plan, once they worked out what was going on out in the Roughs town of Firebend. He had a wanted poster, with the likeness of some Enedar guy, a really pathetic excuse for a map, and some collated whispers and rumours.
And, back home in Dryport, he had way too much attention drawn to him, attention that he really would prefer to shake loose (by causing a different ruckus somewhere else).
“Oh! Well aren’t you lovely!” Mumbo chirped, pulling part of the way back out of the storage crate. “Here, Scar, take this-”
In Mumbo’s hand was a somewhat enormous… gun… thing. With weird pipes. And rope.
And, Grian realised, in the same split second that it touched Scar’s hands, way too heavy for a normal person to take one handed.
He called out a warning, burning zinc to send Scar a flood of emotion- alarm and surprise, of course.
Scar fumbled, hands drooping under the weight, and he miraculously managed to drop the gun-thing safely on the train floor with a clang and no other mishaps.
“Woo, buddy.” Scar raised his eyebrows, staring at the rope-gun. “Nearly killed me there. Good thing I’m so lucky.”
Grian buried his face in his hands.
Mumbo started to apologise, finally fully emerging from his tech-freak haze, and next to him, Gem let out a quiet giggle. “A real miracle, huh?”
Scar winked at her. Grian groaned. “Perfect roll of the dice.”
“Scar.”
“Now, now, Grian, I was simply blessed by the heart of the cards-”
“Is that what you call your metalmind? I’d never thought about naming mine.” Mumbo offered, jumping right in.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Scar grinned, sunlight glinting off his many chromium rings, bracelets, necklaces, and who knows how much other random jewellery. Grian was pretty sure he kept that many backups in case he lost some.
And like, okay, he wasn’t a ferring, he didn’t really get it, but he’d worked with a fair few, and losing the object that you stored all your power in seemed… well, very Scar.
Gem cut in, rapidly becoming Grian’s new favourite, despite his misgivings. “We’re nearly there.”
“Right.” Grian tucked his little bundle of papers away, taking care not to crease them too badly. “I’ll slip out, distract people enough to let you lot get out, too.”
“We could’ve just bought tickets.” Gem sighed, no longer Grian’s new favourite.
“Ah, but then our lovely Grian here wouldn’t get to swindle a bunch of people.” Scar spread his hands expansively.
“No, he still would, he’d just have to wait until we left the station.” Mumbo countered. Grian rolled his eyes and busied himself clambering on a stack of boxes to where he thought he’d seen a hole earlier.
He heard more laughter behind him, and pushed forwards, finally spotting the gap he’d been aiming for. It wasn’t large, exactly, but then again, neither was he. He’d just have to wriggle through it as they pulled into the station, find a way off the train, all without being seen, and then draw all the conductors and engineers and whatever other staff a Roughs-bound train had into conversation long enough for Mumbo, Gem, Scar, and all their weapons and packs to get off the train. Also without being seen.
Grian grinned. This was going to be fun.
He eyed the hole, more a missing plank of wood, and the red-orange sandstone flashing past it at a rather rapid speed. Falling would hurt.
Still, no time like the present!
Feet first might be safer, but then he wouldn’t be able to see what he was doing. Grian shrugged, ignored the feeling of cobwebs brushing against him, and started to wriggle through. He was no Mumbo, but he could hold his own bodyweight, so he latched his hands onto an outside rail and held on for dear life.
He’d definitely have a nasty scrape up his spine, to join the bruises from the jolty ride, but he made it onto the side of the car well enough, wind rushing past his ears. Times like these, he almost wished he’d been a Coinshot or a Lurcher, able to catapult himself through the air, to fly.
Grian edged his way along the car, until he was tucked at the back of it, between it and the one behind it, blessedly also just intended for cargo. He’d rather not have to deal with some poor passengers freaking out at the sight of him clambering along a train going at not inconsiderable speed.
Gradually, he began to see signs of civilization. No fences, but a few scattered livestock, some attempts at crops, everything much browner and deader than inside the Elendel Basin. But there were houses, suggestions of roads, and when Grian leaned his head out, he could see the station approaching, shadowed by a massive set of red-brown hills, soft shapes extending out into the distance.
He glanced down at his clothes. A bit rumpled, a bit dusty, but he’d do. Half of how people saw you was how you carried yourself and how you talked, anyway. People thought it was just his allomancy that let him wrap people around his fingers, draw their attention and play them like fools, but Rioting could only get you so far.
You needed them to want to believe the story you were telling, or else they’d realise the emotions you were amping up in them were artificial, and then things would get really hairy.
The train’s brakes started to squeal, and Grian checked his zinc supply. Good, he had plenty, and more in little vials in his pack. He readjusted his grip on the train, braced himself, and got ready to get to work.
Zinc stores somewhat lower than before, Grian offered a little wave to the friendly ticket attendant who’d been utterly smitten with his (totally fake) stories of life in Elendel. Really, he’d barely even needed his allomancy, but it had helped, and it was second nature after all these years.
He wrinkled his nose at the smell of dust and distant livestock as he crossed the dingy excuse for a train platform over to where Mumbo, Scar, and Gem were waiting. The Roughs sure were, well, rough. He was going to miss Dryport’s wide streets and criss-crossing tramlines, its packed crowds great for eavesdropping, pickpocketing, social engineering, and general mischief.
There were a few people around, most helping unload goods from the train, but no more than twenty. And this was supposed to be one of the more populated settlements out here. Ugh.
“Shall we find someplace to call home, then?” Scar asked him, leaning heavily on his cane.
“Right!” Grian snapped his fingers, straightening up. “There must be a pub or something, right? I’ll take the lead-”
“Not necessarily!” Mumbo cut in, raising his eyebrows, that strange gun slung over his shoulders. “Some of us are just as, if not more charming than you, you know.”
“Oh, really?” Grian leaned in, already grinning.
Mumbo nodded, seemingly solemn. “I think you’ll find many people are rather smitten with me, and I don’t need cheaty allomancy to get my way- don’t you dare, by the way.”
“What? I wasn’t going to-” Grian lied, barefaced. It was instinct, okay. Half the time he didn’t even do it consciously, all of his words just automatically coming with a subtle Rioting behind them.
Mumbo jabbed a finger out, catching Grian square in the chest. “You’re a filthy liar, and just for that, you don’t get to talk to the nice people about where we’re going to sleep-”
“Hey, Mumbo? What kind of weaponry do people tend to use out here? Am I going to be having fun with bullets, or knives, or shotgun shells, or those fancy fighting canes you Elendel types like for some reason?” Scar cut in, resting hands on his own cane, which Grian had seen him crack people in the face with no less than three times, so he wasn’t exactly sure what the difference was.
Mumbo flicked Grian once before shifting his weight, expression going distant as his eyes flicked around them. “Definitely a lot of guns. Oh, that’s an interesting holster, hmm…”
Grian rolled his eyes, turning to Gem, hoping she’d provide some kind of sense. Really, just a crumb, that’s all he was after.
Gem was tapping the end of a braid against her mouth, peering down the street that led away from the train station. “I’m going to go get food.”
Grian blinked at her. “We need to find someplace to stay.”
“You can handle that, right?” Gem tilted her head, then glanced around them, stepping back out of the trickle of people flowing through the train station. “By the way…”
Grian followed her, joining her beside a crumbling wall. “What?”
“I heard how you handled that ticket attendant, and the others.” Gem said, looking past him at Mumbo and Scar, who were still chatting amiably. She could hear every word of their conversation, he realised, and every word of every other conversation in the area. Grian… didn’t like that.
“Don’t do that to me, yeah?” Gem met Grian’s eyes now. He liked that even less. “You’ve got a useful… skill, but I just…”
“You don’t trust me.” Grian concluded, nodding. “That’s okay. We can still work together.”
“Yeah, we can.” Gem agreed easily, though her hands kept twisting in front of her chest. “I can try to tune out whatever you’re doing, unless it’s relevant. Turnabout.”
Grian blinked. He hadn’t expected her to even consider that. He didn’t fully believe that she would do it, but the same likely went for her with his allomancy, and he could probably even stretch the comparison to how second-nature his Rioting was sometimes, how he touched people’s emotions without noticing. Having enhanced senses was probably the same, something you could come to rely on without fully realising.
“Okay. Good doing business with you.” Grian nodded decisively. Right. That was done. “I’ll take Scar and go find somewhere to stay. Take Mumbo with you when you get food?”
Gem shot him a thumbs up. “We’ll get a layout of the area, too. Maybe steal some secrets. You know how it is.”
“Fine.” He walked back over to Scar and Mumbo and picked up Scar’s pack off the ground and shouldered it over his own. “Scar, pick a direction, and pick a lucky one, or else we’ll end up sleeping in someone’s outhouse and I’ll have to take drastic measures.”
Scar jolted, flashed him a lopsided grin, and spun around on the spot. “Oh, do you want me to stop filling my metalmind?”
“That’d be nice, yes.” Grian griped, watching Gem link her arm in Mumbo’s and head off confidently down the street.
Scar sighed, closed his eyes, and then waved a hand vaguely in a leftwards direction. “You’d better take me to a fine drinking establishment as payment for my services.”
Grian considered tripping him. He really did. Instead, he elbowed the man in the gut and started walking, shifting his posture with each step, into something stiff and refined, with just the barest touch of drama that only the very rich tended to carry.
“Let’s handle this first, then you can go see how badly you can lose at cards.”
“Oh, I do love losing at cards.”
Grian rolled his eyes, turning left down a shoddy excuse for a side street. (Really, did all the buildings have to be so run down? And so short? And so few?)
And down that side street were people- not too many, nowhere near as many as Grian’d like, but he’d make do, and he could use his disgruntlement, too.
“Oh, excuse me, sir?” Grian smiled at a man in a dramatic leather coat who looked somewhat startled to be called sir. “Would you happen to know where I might find some lodgings? My business associate and I are from out of town,” he made sure to add just the lightest touch of dubiousness on the word ‘town’, not that it was hard. “And I’d rather like somewhere to establish a temporary office.”
Predictably, the first person Grian talked to didn’t know much of anything, just grunted and pushed past him, but it was a decent start, and he turned it on the next person he walked past, adding a little flamboyance to his motions, a little more disdain.
Just a regular foppish businessman, too rich and in no way a threat, likely to get spooked and leave in a matter of days. He touched it up with spots of annoyance, of bemusement, some disdain to match, and shortly was being directed to a Kiana who ‘has that old shed still, right?’.
And it wasn’t like Grian wasn’t paying them for their information and their time!
Well, okay, he technically wasn’t, but when a dark-haired man bumped up against Scar and reached out a hand to ‘steady him’ while another person slipped behind them, Grian didn’t do anything, just looked the other way as Scar’s pockets got lightened. It’d be good for his luck storage, anyway.
Regardless, Grian found Kiana, leaning up against a rickety fence watching a dog herd a small flock of cattle. Were cattle flocks? Or was that goats? Grian was so out of his depth here.
“Hello!” He said, finding his depth quickly. “Me and a few business associates are visiting from out of town and need a place to stay, and a couple of fine fellows directed me to you.”
Kiana turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised. She was darker skinned and dressed almost head to toe in leather, and Grian was pretty sure he could see the shape of a gun underneath her jacket. Gently, ever so gently, he flicked at her emotions, amplifying just the tiniest amount of goodwill and patience.
“Business associates.”
“Just the four of us.” At Kiana’s look, Grian gestured with a charming smile. “Ah, the other two are out finding something to eat. It’s an awful long journey up from Dryport.”
She nodded, but seemed to loosen slightly. Grian wasn’t a betting man, but he’d say it was because they weren’t from Elendel. He wasn’t about to mention that he, personally, originally hailed from the big city, all its money and technology and lights, or that, as he understood it, Mumbo and Gem had grown up as rich nobles. Scar actually was just a local crook. Mostly.
“We’re just looking for a place to lay our heads.” Scar cut in, leaning amiably forwards, hands resting on his cane.
Kiana sighed, turning away from them and whistling. The dog came running over, keen-eyed and panting. “I’ve got the old shed, still.”
“If you’d be willing to let us use it, I’d be delighted to pay you for it.” Grian put in, watching her eyes flick over his clothes, the little details that gave them away as expensive and well-made, like the ceramic buttons on his coat. Just a little touch of allomancy, a trace of greed, of ‘well if it’s not being used’...
Kiana bent, ruffled the dog’s fur, and then nodded. “Place’s been empty for nearly a year now, might as well get some use out of it. Give me 500 Boxings and you can have it for a month, we’ll see after that.”
“Sounds like we have a deal!” Scar grinned.
Grian waved a hand at him, making sure to toss him a fond look. “Let’s at least see the place first, shall we?”
Kiana smirked, a tiny little expression, and Grian knew he’d got her. She’d bought the act, and they’d have the place, likely undisturbed, though undoubtedly for more money than it was actually worth.
“Just around the corner. Mol, stay.” And with that, she was moving, leaving Grian and Scar to scurry on after her while the dog watched her flock.
It was only a short walk, just behind a row of houses and shops, but enough distance that it’d actually work perfectly for the kinds of plans Grian liked to run. Distance and quiet, but not too much of either.
The state of it was… less perfect. Dusty, with one of the windows shattered and replaced by a worn wooden board, squeaky door hinges, and it was mostly just one room, with a small closet off to the side filled with what looked like farm equipment. Grian let a little of his distaste show, but shook Kiana’s hand regardless, setting his and Scar’s packs on the ground to fish out some money.
She left shortly after being paid, leaving Grian with the spiders and the hot dry air and Scar, rummaging through the tools in the closet and likely going to give himself some kind of nasty infection.
“Whoops!”
Scar’s voice contained only delighted surprise as he sent a load of rusted metal clattering to the floor.
“Darn, how unlucky of me!”
Grian considered thunking his head against the wall, but there were old nails hammered into it, and bugs, and who knew what else. He allowed himself only a moment before moving on, deciding that not acknowledging it was the better part of valour.
“Let’s go.” He didn’t wait for Scar to acknowledge him, just turned and walked out of the building, shoes sinking slightly into the sandy dirt. “Gem better have gotten some food. And some news.”
“I do love eating my news while reading the food.” Scar put in, catching up to Grian, somewhat quicker now that he’d dropped off all his stuff. He was quick when he needed to be, terrifyingly so. Enough that when Grian had first seen him fight he’d’ve sworn he was a speed-type of allomancer or feruchemist, rather than what he actually was.
Despite himself, Grian laughed at Scar’s joke. “Sure. Let’s find Gem and Mumbo.”
Not thirty seconds later, just as they were approaching an alleyway that joined Kiana’s shed to the street, there was Gem.
Springing off a roof, landing in a neat roll and a cloud of dust.
Grian blinked as she grinned up at him and Scar. He continued blinking at her as Mumbo’s head appeared over the lip of the roof.
“Gem, you promised you’d give me a hand getting down from here.”
“Right! Grian, give me a boost?” Gem cupped her hands together to demonstrate, waited for Grian to nod, then turned, grabbing onto a drainpipe. Grian put his hands out, bracing himself for her weight. She planted her foot solidly in his grip and proceeded to scramble back up the rickety building, heaving herself up most of the way onto the roof.
What was happening?
“Okay, just swing your legs over here- and then, yeah, you’ve got it! Nice and easy, and get ready to roll-”
Grian understood why the rumours about Gem were the way they were.
There was no reason he could find for her to currently be coaxing Mumbo down the side of a building. She’d gone to get food. Why was this happening to him. Why was this the group of people he’d been sent out to the Roughs with? He had a job to do, a fellow criminal to hunt, a-
Mumbo hit the ground, staggering into Grian’s arms, and Grian absolutely did not squeak.
“Right!” Gem chirped, once more on solid ground, wiping her hands off on her shirt. “I did some listening in, and found a pub where some ‘rough characters’ might hang out.” She made little air quotes with her fingers. “There’s no food stalls out here, but I think the pub does food.”
Grian glanced over at Mumbo, who was smiling at Gem as he wiped dirt off his clothes. She’d done what she’d said she’d do. Okay.
“Right. We’re staying in the barn back there, stash your stuff.” Grian said, watching the other two start moving, and then following them in.
He’d’ve liked to scope the building out, work out all the nooks and crannies, stash some emergency supplies under the floorboards, but he couldn’t do that unless he was alone. The closet door squealed as Gem tugged it open, unshouldering a long pack that had to contain her rifle. He wasn’t alone.
Ugh, he’d have to sleep on the floor in here, wouldn’t he? Mumbo was fine, though he’d snored when they’d shared before, and Scar would be quiet once he got his oxygen sorted, but Gem… Was an unknown.
Grian would just have to cope. Maybe if he thought of it as an ‘enemies close’ type deal? Gem wasn’t an enemy (he didn’t think), but still. Maybe that’d work for him. He already hated the Roughs.
He cracked his knuckles, looking past them. “All sorted? Let’s go find ourselves a bar fight.”
