He worked his way upward, pushing off the steel beneath the stone in the ledges he landed upon. He soon ran into the same problem as the first time he’d climbed this building. It grew narrower at the top, and he could go only up and out, not in. This time, he didn’t have his shotguns. He’d given those to Tillaume.

He did have that other hazekiller round, the one built to hit a Pewterarm especially hard. He hesitated—should he save it for the man below?

No. If he died now, he’d never have another chance to face the man below. Waxillium reached out, pulling the trigger and thrusting himself backward. It wasn’t as powerful as the shotgun, but as light as he was, it did nudge him back toward the building.