The Bands of Mourning by Brandon Sanderson Read Free Book Online

the floor.
    Wax sat down next to her. “So, next time a flood is dumped on our heads, I’ll try to remember that jumping upward is a bad idea.” He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and squeezed it out.
    “You tried to get us backward too. It merely wasn’t fast enough, Lord Waxillium.”
    He grunted. “Looks like simple structural failure. If it was instead some kind of assassination attempt … well, it was an incompetent one. There wasn’t enough water in there to be truly dangerous. The worst injury was to Lord Steming, who fell and knocked his head when scrambling off his seat.”
    “No more than an accident then,” Steris said. She flopped backward onto the dais, the carpet letting out a soft squish.
    “I’m sorry.”
    “It’s not your fault.” She sighed. “Do you ever wonder if perhaps the cosmere is out to overwhelm you, Lord Waxillium?”
    “The cosmere? You mean Harmony?”
    “No, not Him,” Steris said. “Just cosmic chance rolling the dice anytime I pass, and always hitting all ones. There seems to be a poetry to it all.” She closed her eyes. “Of course the wedding would fall apart. Several tons of water falling through the roof? Why wouldn’t I have seen that? It’s so utterly outlandish it had to happen. At least the priest didn’t get murdered this time.”
    “Steris,” Wax said, resting a hand on her arm. “We’ll fix this. It will be all right.”
    She opened her eyes, looking toward him. “Thank you, Lord Waxillium.”
    “For what, exactly?” he asked.
    “For being nice. For being willing to subject yourself to, well, me. I understand that it is not a pleasant concept.”
    “Steris…”
    “Do not think me self-deprecating, Lord Waxillium,” she said, sitting up and taking a deep breath, “and please do not assume I’m being morose. I am what I am, and I accept it. But I am under no illusions as to how my company is regarded. Thank you. For not making me feel as others have.”
    He hesitated. How did one respond to something like that ? “It’s not as you say, Steris. I think you’re delightful.”
    “And the fact that you were gritting your teeth as the ceremony started, hands gripping as tightly as a man dangling for his life from the side of a bridge?”
    “I…”
    “Are you saddened at the fact that our wedding is delayed? Can you truly say it, and be honest as a lawman, Lord Waxillium?”
    Damn. He floundered. He knew a few simple words could defuse or sidestep the question, but he couldn’t find them, despite searching for what was an awkwardly long time—until saying anything would have sounded condescending.
    “Perhaps,” he said, smiling, “I’ll just have to try something to relax me next time we attempt this.”
    “I doubt going to the ceremony drunk would be productive.”
    “I didn’t say I’d drink. Perhaps some Terris meditation beforehand.”
    She eyed him. “You’re still willing to move forward?”
    “Of course.” As long as it didn’t have to be today. “I assume you have a backup dress?”
    “Two,” she admitted, letting him help her to her feet. “And I did reserve another date for a wedding two months from now. Different church—in case this one exploded.”
    He grunted. “You sound like Wayne.”
    “Well, things do tend to explode around you, Lord Waxillium.” She looked up at the dome. “Considering that, getting drenched must be rather novel.”
    *   *   *
    Marasi trailed around the outside of the flooded church, hands clasped behind her back, notebook a familiar weight in her jacket pocket. A few constables—all corporals—stood about looking as if they were in charge. That sort of thing was important in a crisis; statistics showed that if a uniformed authority figure was nearby, people were less likely to panic.
    Of course, there was also a smaller percentage who were more likely to panic if an authority figure was nearby. Because people were people, and if there was one thing you could count on,