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Breeze said. “You’re not like most crumbs. Of course, I’d like you a great deal more if you’d go fetch me that glass of wine. . . .” Vin ignored him, glancing at Ham. “Crumb?” “That’s what some of the more self-important members of our society call lesser thieves,” Ham said. “They call you crumbs, since you tend to be involved with . . . less inspired projects.” “No offense intended, of course,” Breeze said. “Oh, I wouldn’t ever take offense at—” Vin paused, feeling an irregular desire to please the well-dressed man. She glared at Breeze. “Stop that!” “See, there,” Breeze said, glancing at Ham. “She still retains her ability to choose.” “You’re hopeless.” They assume I’m a twixt, Vin thought. So Kelsier hasn’t told them what I am. Why? Time constraints? Or, was the secret too valuable to share? How trustworthy were these men? And, if they thought her a simple “crumb,” why were they being so nice to her? “Who else are we waiting upon?” Breeze asked, glancing at the doorway. “Besides Kell and Dox, I mean.” “Yeden,” Ham said. Breeze frowned with a sour expression. “Ah, yes.” “I agree,” Ham said. “But, I’d be willing to bet that he feels the same way about us.” “I don’t even see why he was invited,” Breeze said. Ham shrugged. “Something to do with Kell’s plan, obviously.” “Ah, the infamous ‘plan,’ ” Breeze said musingly. “What job could it be, what indeed . . .?” Ham shook his head. “Kell and his cursed sense of drama.” “Indeed.” The door opened a few moments later, and the one they had spoken of, Yeden, entered. He turned out to be an unassuming man, and Vin had trouble understanding why the other two were so displeased about his attendance. Short with curly brown hair, Yeden was dressed in simple gray skaa clothing and a patched, soot-stained brown worker’s coat. He regarded the surroundings with a look of disapproval, but he was nowhere near as openly hostile as Clubs, who still sat on the other side of the room scowling at anyone who looked in his direction. Not a very big crew, Vin thought. With Kelsier and Dockson, that makes six of them. Of course, Ham had said that he led a group of “Thugs.” Were the men at this meeting simply representatives? The leaders of smaller, more specialized groups? Some crews worked that way. Breeze checked his pocket watch three more times before Kelsier finally arrived. The Mistborn crewleader burst through the door with his cheery enthusiasm, Dockson sauntering along behind. Ham stood immediately, smiling broadly and clasping hands with Kelsier. Breeze stood as well, and while his greeting was a bit more reserved, Vin had to admit that she had never seen any crewleader welcomed so happily by his men. “Ah,” Kelsier said, looking toward the other side of the room. “Clubs and Yeden too. So, everyone’s here. Good—I absolutely loathe being made to wait.” Breeze raised an eyebrow as he and Ham settled back into their chairs, Dockson taking a seat at
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the same table. “Are we to receive any explanation for your tardiness?” “Dockson and I were visiting my brother,” Kelsier explained, walking toward the front of the lair. He turned and leaned back against the bar, scanning the room. When Kelsier’s eyes fell on Vin, he winked. “Your brother?” Ham said. “Is Marsh coming to the meeting?” Kelsier and Dockson shared a look. “Not tonight,” Kelsier said. “But he’ll join the crew eventually.” Vin studied the others. They were skeptical. Tension between Kelsier and his brother, perhaps? Breeze raised his dueling cane, pointing the tip at Kelsier. “All right, Kelsier, you’ve kept this ‘job’ secret from us for eight months now. We know it’s big, we know you’re excited, and we’re all properly annoyed at you for being so secretive. So, why don’t you just go ahead and tell us what it is?” Kelsier smiled. Then he stood up straight, waving a hand toward the dirty, plain-looking Yeden. “Gentlemen, meet your new employer.” This was, apparently, quite a shocking statement. “Him?” Ham asked. “Him,” Kelsier said with a nod. “What?” Yeden asked, speaking for the first time. “You have trouble working with someone who actually has morals?” “It’s not that, my dear man,” Breeze said, setting his dueling cane across his lap. “It’s just that, well, I was under the strange impression that you didn’t like our types very much.” “I don’t,” Yeden said flatly. “You’re selfish, undisciplined, and you’ve turned your backs on the rest of the skaa. You dress nicely, but on the inside you’re dirty as ash.” Ham snorted. “I can already see that this job is going to be great for crew morale.” Vin watched quietly, chewing on her lip. Yeden was obviously a skaa worker, probably a member of a forge or textile mill. What connection did he have with the underground? And . . . how would he be able to afford the services of a thieving crew, especially one as apparently specialized as Kelsier’s team? Perhaps Kelsier noticed her confusion, for she found him looking at her as the others continued to speak. “I’m still a little confused,” Ham said. “Yeden, we’re all aware of how you regard thieves. So . . . why hire us?” Yeden squirmed a bit. “Because,” he finally said, “everyone knows how effective you are.” Breeze chuckled. “Disapproving of our morals doesn’t make you unwilling to make use of our skills, I see. So, what is the job, then? What does the skaa rebellion wish of us?” Skaa rebellion? Vin thought, a piece of the conversation falling into place. There were two sides to the underworld. The far larger portion was made up of the thieves, crews, whores, and beggars who tried to survive outside of mainstream skaa culture. And then there were the rebels. The people who worked against the Final Empire. Reen had always called them fools—a sentiment shared by most of the people, both underworlders and regular skaa, that Vin had met. All eyes slowly turned to Kelsier, who leaned back against the bar again. “The skaa
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rebellion, courtesy of its leader, Yeden, has hired us for something very specific.” “What?” Ham asked. “Robbery? Assassination?” “A little of both,” Kelsier said, “and, at the same time, neither one. Gentlemen, this isn’t going to be a regular job. It’s going to be different from anything any crew has ever tried to pull. We’re going to help Yeden overthrow the Final Empire.” Silence. “Excuse me?” Ham asked. “You heard me right, Ham,” Kelsier said. “That’s the job I’ve been planning—the destruction of the Final Empire. Or, at least, its center of government. Yeden has hired us to supply him with an army, then provide him with a favorable opportunity to seize control of this city.” Ham sat back, then shared a glance with Breeze. Both men turned toward Dockson, who nodded solemnly. The room remained quiet for a moment longer; then the silence was broken as Yeden began to laugh ruefully to himself. “I should never have agreed to this,” Yeden said, shaking his head. “Now that you say it, I realize how ridiculous it all sounds.” “Trust me, Yeden,” Kelsier said. “These men have made a habit of pulling off plans that seem ridiculous at first glance.” “That may be true, Kell,” Breeze said. “But, in this case, I find myself agreeing with our disapproving friend. Overthrow the Final Empire . . . that is something that skaa rebels have been working toward for a thousand years! What makes you think that we can achieve anything where those men have failed?” Kelsier smiled. “We’ll succeed because we have vision, Breeze. That’s something the rebellion has always lacked.” “Excuse me?” Yeden said indignantly. “It’s true, unfortunately,” Kelsier said. “The rebellion condemns people like us because of our greed, but for all their high morals—which, by the way, I respect—they never get anything done. Yeden, your men hide in woods and in hills, plotting how they’ll someday rise up and lead a glorious war against the Final Empire. But your kind has no idea how to develop and execute a proper plan.” Yeden’s expression grew dark. “And you have no idea what you are talking about.” “Oh?” Kelsier said lightly. “Tell me, what has your rebellion accomplished during its thousand-year struggle? Where are your successes and your victories? The Massacre of Tougier three centuries ago, where seven thousand skaa rebels were slaughtered? The occasional raid of a traveling canal boat or the kidnapping of a minor noble official?” Yeden flushed. “That’s the best we can manage with the people we have! Don’t blame my men for their failures—blame the rest of the skaa. We can’t ever get them to help. They’ve been beaten down for a millennium; they haven’t got any spirit left. It’s difficult enough to get one in a thousand to listen to us, let alone rebel!” “Peace, Yeden,” Kelsier said, holding up a hand. “I’m not trying to insult your courage. We’re on the same side, remember? You came to me specifically because you were having trouble recruiting people for your army.” “I’m regretting that decision more and more,
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thief,” Yeden said. “Well, you’ve already paid us,” Kelsier said. “So it’s a little late to back out now. But, we’ll get you that army, Yeden. The men in this room are the most capable, most clever, and most skilled Allomancers in the city. You’ll see.” The room grew quiet again. Vin sat at her table, watching the interaction with a frown. What is your game, Kelsier? His words about overthrowing the Final Empire were obviously a front. It seemed most likely to her that he intended to scam the skaa rebellion. But . . . if he’d already been paid, then why continue the charade? Kelsier turned from Yeden to Breeze and Ham. “All right, gentlemen. What do you think?” The two men shared a look. Finally Breeze spoke. “Lord Ruler knows, I’ve never been one to turn down a challenge. But, Kell, I do question your reasoning. Are you sure we can do this?” “I’m positive,” Kelsier said. “Previous attempts to overthrow the Lord Ruler have failed because they lacked proper organization and planning. We’re thieves, gentlemen—and we’re extraordinarily good ones. We can rob the unrobbable and fool the unfoolable. We know how to take an incredibly large task and break it down to manageable pieces, then deal with each of those pieces. We know how to get what we want. These things make us perfect for this particular task.” Breeze frowned. “And . . . how much are we getting paid for achieving the impossible?” “Thirty thousand boxings,” Yeden said. “Half now, half when you deliver the army.” “Thirty thousand?” Ham said. “For an operation this big? That will barely cover expenses. We’ll need a spy among the nobility to watch for rumors, we’ll need a couple of safe houses, not to mention someplace big enough to hide and train an entire army. . . .” “No use haggling now, thief,” Yeden snapped. “Thirty thousand may not sound like much to your type, but it’s the result of decades of saving on our part. We can’t pay you more because we don’t have anything more.” “It’s good work, gentlemen,” Dockson noted, joining the conversation for the first time. “Yes, well, that’s all great,” Breeze said. “I consider myself a nice enough fellow. But . . . this just seems a bit too altruistic. Not to mention stupid.” “Well . . .” Kelsier said, “there might be a little bit more in it for us. . . .” Vin perked up, and Breeze smiled. “The Lord Ruler’s treasury,” Kelsier said. “The plan, as it stands now, is to provide Yeden with an army and an opportunity to seize the city. Once he takes the palace, he’ll capture the treasury and use its funds to secure power. And, central to that treasury . . .” “Is the Lord Ruler’s atium,” Breeze said. Kelsier nodded. “Our agreement with Yeden promises us half of the atium reserves we find in the palace, no matter how vast they may be.” Atium. Vin had heard of the metal, but she had never actually seen any.
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It was incredibly rare, supposedly used only by noblemen. Ham was smiling. “Well, now,” he said slowly, “that’s almost a big enough prize to be tempting.” “That atium stockpile is supposed to be enormous,” Kelsier said. “The Lord Ruler sells the metal only in small bits, charging outrageous sums to the nobility. He has to keep a huge reserve of it to make certain he controls the market, and to make certain he has enough wealth for emergencies.” “True . . .” Breeze said. “But, are you sure you want to try something like this so soon after . . . what happened the last time we tried getting into the palace?” “We’re going to do things differently this time,” Kelsier said. “Gentlemen, I’ll be frank with you. This isn’t going to be an easy job, but it can work. The plan is simple. We’re going to find a way to neutralize the Luthadel Garrison—leaving the area without a policing force. Then, we’re going to throw the city into chaos.” “We’ve got a couple of options on how to do that,” Dockson said. “But we can talk about that later.” Kelsier nodded. “Then, in that chaos, Yeden will march his army into Luthadel and seize the palace, taking the Lord Ruler prisoner. While Yeden secures the city, we’ll pilfer the atium. We’ll give half to him, then disappear with the other half. After that, it’s his job to hang on to what he’s grabbed.” “Sounds a little dangerous for you, Yeden,” Ham noted, glancing at the rebel leader. He shrugged. “Perhaps. But, if we do, by some miracle, end up in control of the palace, then we’ll have at least done something no skaa rebellion has ever achieved before. For my men, this isn’t just about riches—it isn’t even about surviving. It’s about doing something grand, something wonderful, to give the skaa hope. But, I don’t expect you people to understand things like that.” Kelsier shot a quieting glance at Yeden, and the man sniffed and sat back. Did he use Allomancy? Vin wondered. She’d seen employer-crew relationships before, and it seemed that Yeden was much more in Kelsier’s pocket than the other way around. Kelsier turned back to Ham and Breeze. “There’s more to all this than simply a show of daring. If we do manage to steal that atium, it will be a sound blow to the Lord Ruler’s financial foundation. He depends on the money that atium provides—without it, he could very well be left without the means to pay his armies. “Even if he escapes our trap—or, if we decide to take the city when he’s gone to minimize having to deal with him—he’ll be financially ruined. He won’t be able to march soldiers in to take the city away from Yeden. If this works right, we’ll have the city in chaos anyway, and the nobility will be too weak to react against the rebel forces. The Lord Ruler will be left confused, and unable to mount a sizable army.” “And the koloss?” Ham asked quietly. Kelsier paused.
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“If he marches those creatures on his own capital city, the destruction it would cause could be even more dangerous than financial instability. In the chaos, the provincial noblemen will rebel and set themselves up as kings, and the Lord Ruler won’t have the troops to bring them into line. Yeden’s rebels will be able to hold Luthadel, and we, my friends, will be very, very rich. Everyone gets what they want.” “You’re forgetting the Steel Ministry,” Clubs snapped, sitting almost forgotten at the side of the room. “Those Inquisitors won’t just let us throw their pretty theocracy into chaos.” Kelsier paused, turning toward the gnarled man. “We will have to find a way to deal with the Ministry—I’ve got a few plans for that. Either way, problems like that are the things that we—as a crew—will have to work out. We have to get rid of the Luthadel Garrison—there’s no way we’ll be able to get anything done with them policing the streets. We’ll have to come up with an appropriate way to throw the city into chaos, and we’ll have to find a way to keep the obligators off our trail. “But, if we play this right, we might be able to force the Lord Ruler to send the palace guard—maybe even the Inquisitors—into the city to restore order. That will leave the palace itself exposed, giving Yeden a perfect opportunity to strike. After that, it won’t matter what happens with the Ministry or the Garrison—the Lord Ruler won’t have the money to maintain control of his empire.” “I don’t know, Kell,” Breeze said, shaking his head. His flippancy was subdued; he seemed to be honestly considering the plan. “The Lord Ruler got that atium somewhere. What if he just goes and mines some more?” Ham nodded. “No one even knows where the atium mine is.” “I wouldn’t say no one,” Kelsier said with a smile. Breeze and Ham shared a look. “You know?” Ham asked. “Of course,” Kelsier said. “I spent a year of my life working there.” “The Pits?” Ham asked with surprise. Kelsier nodded. “That’s why the Lord Ruler makes certain nobody survives working there—he can’t afford to let his secret out. It’s not just a penal colony, not just a hellhole where skaa are sent to die. It’s a mine.” “Of course . . .” Breeze said. Kelsier stood up straight, stepping away from the bar and walking toward Ham and Breeze’s table. “We have a chance here, gentlemen. A chance to do something great—something no other thieving crew has ever done. We’ll rob from the Lord Ruler himself! “But, there’s more. The Pits nearly killed me, and I’ve seen things . . . differently since I escaped. I see the skaa, working without hope. I see the thieving crews, trying to survive on aristocratic leavings, often getting themselves—and other skaa—killed in the process. I see the skaa rebellion trying so hard to resist the Lord Ruler, and never making any progress. “The rebellion fails because it’s too unwieldy and spread out. Anytime one of its
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many pieces gains momentum, the Steel Ministry crushes it. That’s not the way to defeat the Final Empire, gentlemen. But, a small team—specialized and highly skilled—has a hope. We can work without great risk of exposure. We know how to avoid the Steel Ministry’s tendrils. We understand how the high nobility thinks, and how to exploit its members. We can do this!” He paused beside Breeze and Ham’s table. “I don’t know, Kell,” Ham said. “It’s not that I’m disagreeing with your motives. It’s just that . . . well, this seems a bit foolhardy.” Kelsier smiled. “I know it does. But you’re going to go along with it anyway, aren’t you?” Ham paused, then nodded. “You know I’ll join your crew no matter what the job. This sounds crazy, but so do most of your plans. Just . . . just tell me. Are you serious about overthrowing the Lord Ruler?” Kelsier nodded. For some reason, Vin was almost tempted to believe him. Ham nodded firmly. “All right, then. I’m in.” “Breeze?” Kelsier asked. The well-dressed man shook his head. “I’m not sure, Kell. This is a bit extreme, even for you.” “We need you, Breeze,” Kell said. “No one can Soothe a crowd like you can. If we’re going to raise an army, we’ll need your Allomancers—and your powers.” “Well, that much is true,” Breeze said. “But, even still . . .” Kelsier smiled, then he set something on the table—the cup of wine Vin had poured for Breeze. She hadn’t even noticed that Kelsier had grabbed it off of the bar. “Think of the challenge, Breeze,” Kelsier said. Breeze glanced at the cup, then looked up at Kelsier. Finally, he laughed, reaching for the wine. “Fine. I’m in.” “It’s impossible,” a gruff voice said from the back of the room. Clubs sat with folded arms, regarding Kelsier with a scowl. “What are you really planning, Kelsier?” “I’m being honest,” Kelsier replied. “I plan to take the Lord Ruler’s atium and overthrow his empire.” “You can’t,” the man said. “It’s idiocy. The Inquisitors will hang us all by hooks through our throats.” “Perhaps,” Kelsier said. “But think of the reward if we succeed. Wealth, power, and a land where the skaa can live like men, rather than slaves.” Clubs snorted loudly. Then he stood, his chair toppling backward onto the floor behind him. “No reward would be enough. The Lord Ruler tried to have you killed once—I see that you won’t be satisfied until he gets it right.” With that, the older man turned and stalked in a limping gait from the room, slamming the door behind him. The lair grew quiet. “Well, guess we’ll need a different Smoker,” Dockson said. “You’re just going to let him go?” Yeden demanded. “He knows everything!” Breeze chuckled. “Aren’t you supposed to be the moral one in this little group?” “Morals doesn’t have anything to do with it,” Yeden said. “Letting someone go like that is foolish! He could bring the obligators down on us in minutes.” Vin nodded in agreement, but Kelsier
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just shook his head. “I don’t work that way, Yeden. I invited Clubs to a meeting where I outlined a dangerous plan—one some people might even call stupid. I’m not going to have him assassinated because he decided it was too dangerous. If you do things like that, pretty soon nobody will come listen to your plans in the first place.” “Besides,” Dockson said. “We wouldn’t invite someone to one of these meetings unless we trusted him not to betray us.” Impossible, Vin thought, frowning. He had to be bluffing to keep up crew morale; nobody was that trusting. After all, hadn’t the others said that Kelsier’s failure a few years before—the event that had sent him to the Pits of Hathsin—had come because of a betrayal? He probably had assassins following Clubs at that very moment, watching to make certain he didn’t go to the authorities. “All right, Yeden,” Kelsier said, getting back to business. “They accepted. The plan is on. Are you still in?” “Will you give the rebellion’s money back if I say no?” Yeden asked. The only response to that was a quiet chuckle from Ham. Yeden’s expression darkened, but he just shook his head. “If I had any other option . . .” “Oh, stop complaining,” Kelsier said. “You’re officially part of a thieving crew now, so you might as well come over here and sit with us.” Yeden paused for a moment, then sighed and walked over to sit at Breeze, Ham, and Dockson’s table, beside which Kelsier was still standing. Vin still sat at the next table over. Kelsier turned, looking over toward Vin. “What about you, Vin?” She paused. Why is he asking me? He already knows he has a hold over me. The job doesn’t matter, as long as I learn what he knows. Kelsier waited expectantly. “I’m in,” Vin said, assuming that was what he wanted to hear. She must have guessed correctly, for Kelsier smiled, then nodded to the last chair at the table. Vin sighed, but did as he indicated, standing and walking over to take the last seat. “Who is the child?” Yeden asked. “Twixt,” Breeze said. Kelsier cocked an eyebrow. “Actually, Vin is something of a new recruit. My brother caught her Soothing his emotions a few months back.” “Soother, eh?” Ham asked. “Guess we can always use another of those.” “Actually,” Kelsier noted, “it seems she can Riot people’s emotions as well.” Breeze started. “Really?” Ham asked. Kelsier nodded. “Dox and I tested her just a few hours ago.” Breeze chuckled. “And here I was telling her that she’d probably never meet another Mistborn besides yourself.” “A second Mistborn on the team . . .” Ham said appreciatively. “Well, that increases our chances somewhat.” “What are you saying?” Yeden sputtered. “Skaa can’t be Mistborn. I’m not even sure if Mistborn exist! I’ve certainly never met one.” Breeze raised an eyebrow, then laid a hand on Yeden’s shoulder. “You should try not to talk so much, friend,” he suggested. “You’ll sound far less stupid that way.” Yeden shook
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off Breeze’s hand, and Ham laughed. Vin, however, sat quietly, considering the implications of what Kelsier had said. The part about stealing the atium reserves was tempting, but seizing the city to do it? Were these men really that reckless? Kelsier pulled a chair over to the table for himself and sat down on it the wrong way, resting his arms on the seatback. “All right,” he said. “We have a crew. We’ll plan specifics at the next meeting, but I want you all to be thinking about the job. I have some plans, but I want fresh minds to consider our task. We’ll need to discuss ways to get the Luthadel Garrison out of the city, and ways that we can throw this place into so much chaos that the Great Houses can’t mobilize their forces to stop Yeden’s army when it attacks.” The members of the group, save Yeden, nodded. “Before we end for the evening, however,” Kelsier continued, “there is one more part of the plan I want to warn you about.” “More?” Breeze asked with a chuckle. “Stealing the Lord Ruler’s fortune and overthrowing his empire aren’t enough?” “No,” Kelsier said. “If I can, I’m going to kill him too.” Silence. “Kelsier,” Ham said slowly. “The Lord Ruler is the Sliver of Infinity. He’s a piece of God Himself. You can’t kill him. Even capturing him will probably prove impossible.” Kelsier didn’t reply. His eyes, however, were determined. That’s it, Vin thought. He has to be insane. “The Lord Ruler and I,” Kelsier said quietly, “we have an unsettled debt. He took Mare from me, and he nearly took my own sanity as well. I’ll admit to you all that part of my reason for this plan is to get revenge on him. We’re going to take his government, his home, and his fortune from him. “However, for that to work, we’ll have to get rid of him. Perhaps imprison him in his own dungeons—at the very least, we’ll have to get him out of the city. However, I can think of something far better than either option. Down those pits where he sent me, I Snapped and came to an awakening of my Allomantic powers. Now I intend to use them to kill him.” Kelsier reached into his suit pocket and pulled something out. He set it on the table. “In the north, they have a legend,” Kelsier said. “It teaches that the Lord Ruler isn’t immortal—not completely. They say he can be killed with the right metal. The Eleventh Metal. That metal.” Eyes turned toward the object on the table. It was a thin bar of metal, perhaps as long and wide as Vin’s small finger, with straight sides. It was silvery white in color. “The Eleventh Metal?” Breeze asked uncertainly. “I’ve heard of no such legend.” “The Lord Ruler has suppressed it,” Kelsier said. “But it can still be found, if you know where to look. Allomantic theory teaches of ten metals: the eight basic metals, and the two high metals. There is another one,
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however, unknown to most. One far more powerful, even, than the other ten.” Breeze frowned skeptically. Yeden, however, appeared intrigued. “And, this metal can somehow kill the Lord Ruler?” Kelsier nodded. “It’s his weakness. The Steel Ministry wants you to believe that he’s immortal, but even he can be killed—by an Allomancer burning this.” Ham reached out, picking up the thin bar of metal. “Where did you get it?” “In the north,” Kelsier said. “In a land near the Far Peninsula, a land where people still remember what their old kingdom was called in the days before the Ascension.” “How does it work?” Breeze asked. “I’m not sure,” Kelsier said frankly. “But I intend to find out.” Ham regarded the porcelain-colored metal, turning it over his fingers. Kill the Lord Ruler? Vin thought. The Lord Ruler was a force, like the winds or the mists. One did not kill such things. They didn’t live, really. They simply were. “Regardless,” Kelsier said, accepting the metal back from Ham, “you don’t need to worry about this. Killing the Lord Ruler is my task. If it proves impossible, we’ll settle for tricking him outside of the city, then robbing him silly. I just thought that you should know what I’m planning.” I’ve bound myself to a madman, Vin thought with resignation. But that didn’t really matter—not as long as he taught her Allomancy. 5 “AHA!” KELSIER’S TRIUMPHANT FIGURE POPPED UP from behind Camon’s bar, a look of satisfaction on his face. He brought his arm up and thunked a dusty wine bottle down on the countertop. Dockson looked over with amusement. “Where’d you find it?” “One of the secret drawers,” Kelsier said, dusting off the bottle. “I thought I’d found all of those,” Dockson said. “You did. One of them had a false back.” Dockson chuckled. “Clever.” Kelsier nodded, unstoppering the bottle and pouring out three cups. “The trick is to never stop looking. There’s always another secret.” He gathered up the three cups and walked over to join Vin and Dockson at the table. Vin accepted her cup with a tentative hand. The meeting had ended a short time earlier, Breeze, Ham, and Yeden leaving to ponder the things Kelsier had told them. Vin felt that she should have left as well, but she had nowhere to go. Dockson and Kelsier seemed to take it for granted that she would remain with them. Kelsier took a long sip of the rubicund wine, then smiled. “Ah, that’s much better.” Dockson nodded in agreement, but Vin didn’t taste her own drink. “We’re going to need another Smoker,” Dockson noted. Kelsier nodded. “The others seemed to take it well, though.” “Breeze is still uncertain,” Dockson said. “He won’t back out. Breeze likes a challenge, and he’ll never find a challenge greater than this one.” Kelsier smiled. “Besides, it’d drive him insane to know that we were pulling a job that he wasn’t in on.” “Still, he’s right to be apprehensive,” Dockson said. “I’m a little worried myself.” Kelsier nodded his agreement, and Vin frowned. So, are they
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serious about the plan? Or is this still a show for my sake? The two men seemed so competent. Yet, overthrowing the Final Empire? They’d sooner stop the mists from flowing or the sun from rising. “When do your other friends get here?” Dockson asked. “A couple days,” Kelsier said. “We’ll need to have another Smoker by then. I’m also going to need some more atium.” Dockson frowned. “Already?” Kelsier nodded. “I spent most of it buying OreSeur’s Contract, then used my last bit at Tresting’s plantation.” Tresting. The nobleman who had been killed in his manor the week before. How was Kelsier involved? And, what was it Kelsier said before about atium? He’d claimed that the Lord Ruler kept control of the high nobility by maintaining a monopoly on the metal. Dockson rubbed his bearded chin. “Atium’s not easy to come by, Kell. It took nearly eight months of planning to steal you that last bit.” “That’s because you had to be delicate,” Kelsier said with a devious smile. Dockson eyed Kelsier with a look of slight apprehension. Kelsier just smiled more broadly, and finally Dockson rolled his eyes, sighing. Then he glanced at Vin. “You haven’t touched your drink.” Vin shook her head. Dockson waited for an explanation, and eventually Vin was forced to respond. “I don’t like to drink anything I didn’t prepare myself.” Kelsier chuckled. “She reminds me of Vent.” “Vent?” Dockson said with a snort. “The lass is a bit paranoid, but she’s not that bad. I swear, that man was so jumpy that his own heartbeat could startle him.” The two men shared a laugh. Vin, however, was only made more uncomfortable by the friendly air. What do they expect from me? Am I to be an apprentice of some sort? “Well, then,” Dockson said, “are you going to tell me how you plan on getting yourself some atium?” Kelsier opened his mouth to respond, but the stairs clattered with the sound of someone coming down. Kelsier and Dockson turned; Vin, of course, had seated herself so she could see both entrances to the room without having to move. Vin expected the newcomer to be one of Camon’s crewmembers, sent to see if Kelsier was done with the lair yet. Therefore, she was completely surprised when the door swung open to reveal the surly, gnarled face of the man called Clubs. Kelsier smiled, eyes twinkling. He’s not surprised. Pleased, perhaps, but not surprised. “Clubs,” Kelsier said. Clubs stood in the doorway, giving the three of them an impressively disapproving stare. Finally, he hobbled into the room. A thin, awkward-looking teenage boy followed him. The boy fetched Clubs a chair and put it by Kelsier’s table. Clubs settled down, grumbling slightly to himself. Finally, he eyed Kelsier with a squinting, wrinkle-nosed expression. “The Soother is gone?” “Breeze?” Kelsier asked. “Yes, he left.” Clubs grunted. Then he eyed the bottle of wine. “Help yourself,” Kelsier said. Clubs waved for the boy to go fetch him a cup from the bar, then turned back to Kelsier. “I had to
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be sure,” he said. “Never can trust yourself when a Soother is around—especially one like him.” “You’re a Smoker, Clubs,” Kelsier said. “He couldn’t do much to you, not if you didn’t want him to.” Clubs shrugged. “I don’t like Soothers. It’s not just Allomancy—men like that . . . well, you can’t trust that you aren’t being manipulated when they are around. Copper or no copper.” “I wouldn’t rely on something like that to get your loyalty,” Kelsier said. “So I’ve heard,” Clubs said as the boy poured him a cup of wine. “Had to be sure, though. Had to think about things without that Breeze around.” He scowled, though Vin had trouble determining why, then took the cup and downed half of it in one gulp. “Good wine,” he said with a grunt. Then he looked over at Kelsier. “So, the Pits really did drive you insane, eh?” “Completely,” Kelsier said with a straight face. Clubs smiled, though on his face the expression had a decidedly twisted look. “You mean to go through with this, then? This so-called job of yours?” Kelsier nodded solemnly. Clubs downed the rest of his wine. “You’ve got yourself a Smoker then. Not for the money, though. If you’re really serious about toppling this government, then I’m in.” Kelsier smiled. “And don’t smile at me,” Clubs snapped. “I hate that.” “I wouldn’t dare.” “Well,” Dockson said, pouring himself another drink, “that solves the Smoker problem.” “Won’t matter much,” Clubs said. “You’re going to fail. I’ve spent my life trying to hide Mistings from the Lord Ruler and his obligators. He gets them all eventually anyway.” “Why bother helping us, then?” Dockson asked. “Because,” Clubs said, standing. “The Lord’s going to get me sooner or later. At least this way, I’ll be able to spit in his face as I go. Overthrowing the Final Empire . . .” He smiled. “It’s got style. Let’s go, kid. We’ve got to get the shop ready for visitors.” Vin watched them go, Clubs limping out the door, the boy pulling it closed behind them. Then she glanced at Kelsier. “You knew he’d come back.” He shrugged, standing and stretching. “I hoped. People are attracted to vision. The job I’m proposing . . . well, it just isn’t the sort of thing you walk away from—at least, not if you’re a bored old man who’s generally annoyed at life. Now, Vin, I assume that your crew owns this entire building?” Vin nodded. “The shop upstairs is a front.” “Good,” Kelsier said, checking his pocket watch, then handing it to Dockson. “Tell your friends that they can have their lair back—the mists are probably already coming out.” “And us?” Dockson asked. Kelsier smiled. “We’re going to the roof. Like I told you, I have to fetch some atium.” By day, Luthadel was a blackened city, scorched by soot and red sunlight. It was hard, distinct, and oppressive. At night, however, the mists came to blur and obscure. High noble keeps became ghostly, looming silhouettes. Streets seemed to grow more narrow in
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the fog, every thoroughfare becoming a lonely, dangerous alleyway. Even noblemen and thieves were apprehensive about going out at night—it took a strong heart to brave the foreboding, misty silence. The dark city at night was a place for the desperate and the foolhardy; it was a land of swirling mystery and strange creatures. Strange creatures like me, Kelsier thought. He stood upon the ledge that ran around the lip of the flat-roofed lair. Shadowed buildings loomed in the night around him, and the mists made everything seem to shift and move in the darkness. Weak lights peeked from the occasional window, but the tiny beads of illumination were huddled, frightened things. A cool breeze slipped across the rooftop, shifting the haze, brushing against Kelsier’s mist-wetted cheek like an exhaled breath. In days past—back before everything had gone wrong—he had always sought out a rooftop on the evening before a job, wishing to overlook the city. He didn’t realize he was observing his old custom this night until he glanced to the side, expecting Mare to be there next to him, as she always had been. Instead, he found only the empty air. Lonely. Silent. The mists had replaced her. Poorly. He sighed and turned. Vin and Dockson stood behind him on the rooftop. Both looked apprehensive to be out in the mists, but they dealt with their fear. One did not get far in the underworld without learning to stomach the mists. Kelsier had learned to do far more than “stomach” them. He had gone among them so often during the last few years that he was beginning to feel more comfortable at night, within the mists’ obscuring embrace, than he did at day. “Kell,” Dockson said, “do you have to stand on the ledge like that? Our plans may be a bit crazy, but I’d rather not have them end with you splattered across the cobblestones down there.” Kelsier smiled. He still doesn’t think of me as a Mistborn, he thought. It will take some getting used to for all of them. Years before, he had become the most infamous crewleader in Luthadel, and he had done it without even being an Allomancer. Mare had been a Tineye, but he and Dockson . . . they had just been regular men. One a half-breed with no powers, the other a runaway plantation skaa. Together, they had brought Great Houses to their knees, stealing brashly from the most powerful men in the Final Empire. Now Kelsier was more, so much more. Once he had dreamed of Allomancy, wishing for a power like Mare’s. She had been dead before he’d Snapped, coming to his powers. She would never see what he would do with them. Before, the high nobility had feared him. It had taken a trap set by the Lord Ruler himself to capture Kelsier. Now . . . the Final Empire itself would shake before he was finished with it. He scanned the city once more, breathing in the mists, then hopped down off the ledge and strolled over to
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join Dockson and Vin. They carried no lights; ambient starlight diffused by the mists was enough to see by in most cases. Kelsier took off his jacket and vest, handing them to Dockson, then he untucked his shirt, letting the long garment hang loose. The fabric was dark enough that it wouldn’t give him away in the night. “All right,” Kelsier said. “Who should I try?” Dockson frowned. “You’re sure you want to do this?” Kelsier smiled. Dockson sighed. “Houses Urbain and Teniert have been hit recently, though not for their atium.” “Which house is the strongest right now?” Kelsier asked, squatting down and undoing the ties on his pack, which rested by Dockson’s feet. “Who would no one consider hitting?” Dockson paused. “Venture,” he finally said. “They’ve been on top for the last few years. They keep a standing force of several hundred men, and the local house nobility includes a good two dozen Mistings.” Kelsier nodded. “Well, that’s where I’ll go, then. They’re certain to have some atium.” He pulled open the pack, then whipped out a dark gray cloak. Large and enveloping, the cloak wasn’t constructed from a single piece of cloth—rather, it was made up of hundreds of long, ribbonlike strips. They were sewn together at the shoulders and across the chest, but mostly they hung separate from one another, like overlapping streamers. Kelsier threw on the garment, its strips of cloth twisting and curling, almost like the mists themselves. Dockson exhaled softly. “I’ve never been so close to someone wearing one of those.” “What is it?” Vin asked, her quiet voice almost haunting in the night mists. “A Mistborn cloak,” Dockson said. “They all wear the things—it’s kind of like a . . . sign of membership in their club.” “It’s colored and constructed to hide you in the mist,” Kelsier said. “And it warns city guards and other Mistborn not to bother you.” He spun, letting the cloak flare dramatically. “I think it suits me.” Dockson rolled his eyes. “All right,” Kelsier said, bending down and pulling a cloth belt from his pack. “House Venture. Is there anything I need to know?” “Lord Venture supposedly has a safe in his study,” Dockson said. “That’s where he’d probably keep his atium stash. You’ll find the study on the third floor, three rooms in from the upper southern balcony. Be careful, House Venture keeps about a dozen hazekillers in addition to its regular troops and Mistings.” Kelsier nodded, tying on the belt—it had no buckle, but it did contain two small sheaths. He pulled a pair of glass daggers from the bag, checked them for nicks, and slid them into the sheaths. He kicked off his shoes and stripped off his stockings, leaving himself barefoot on the chill stones. With the shoes also went the last bit of metal on his person save for his coin pouch and the three vials of metals in his belt. He selected the largest one, downed its contents, then handed the empty vial to Dockson. “That it?” Kelsier asked. Dockson nodded. “Good
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luck.” Beside him, the girl Vin was watching Kelsier’s preparations with intense curiosity. She was a quiet, small thing, but she hid an intensity that he found impressive. She was paranoid, true, but not timid. You’ll get your chance, kid, he thought. Just not tonight. “Well,” he said, pulling a coin from his pouch and tossing it off the side of the building. “Guess I’ll be going. I’ll meet you back at Clubs’s shop in a bit.” Dockson nodded. Kelsier turned and walked back up onto the roof’s ledge. Then he jumped off the building. Mist curled in the air around him. He burned steel, second of the basic Allomantic metals. Translucent blue lines sprang into existence around him, visible only to his eyes. Each one led from the center of his chest out to a nearby source of metal. The lines were all relatively faint—a sign that they pointed to metal sources that were small: door hinges, nails, and other bits. The type of source metal didn’t matter. Burning iron or steel would point blue lines at all kinds of metal, assuming they were close enough and large enough to be noticeable. Kelsier chose the line that pointed directly beneath him, toward his coin. Burning steel, he Pushed against the coin. His descent immediately stopped, and he was thrown back up into the air in the opposite direction along the blue line. He reached out to the side, selected a passing window clasp, and Pushed against it, angling himself to the side. The careful nudge sent him up and over the lip of the building directly across the street from Vin’s lair. Kelsier landed with a lithe step, falling into a crouch and running across the building’s peaked roof. He paused in the darkness at the other side, peering through the swirling air. He burned tin, and felt it flare to life in his chest, enhancing his senses. Suddenly the mists seemed less deep. It wasn’t that the night around him grew any lighter; his ability to perceive simply increased. In the distance to the north, he could just barely make out a large structure. Keep Venture. Kelsier left his tin on—it burned slowly, and he probably didn’t need to worry about running out. As he stood, the mists curled slightly around his body. They twisted and spun, running in a slight, barely noticeable current beside him. The mists knew him; they claimed him. They could sense Allomancy. He jumped, Pushing against a metal chimney behind him, sending himself in a wide horizontal leap. He tossed a coin even as he jumped, the tiny bit of metal flickering through the darkness and fog. He Pushed against the coin before it hit the ground, the force of his weight driving it downward in a sharp motion. As soon as it hit the cobblestones, Kelsier’s Pushing forced him upward, turning the second half of his leap into a graceful arc. Kelsier landed on another peaked wooden rooftop. Steel-pushing and Ironpulling were the first things that Gemmel had taught him. When you Push on
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something, it’s like you’re throwing your weight against it, the old lunatic had said. And you can’t change how much you weigh—you’re an Allomancer, not some northern mystic. Don’t Pull on something that weighs less than you unless you want it to come flying at you, and don’t Push on something heavier than you unless you want to get tossed in the other direction. Kelsier scratched his scars, then pulled his mistcloak tight as he crouched on the roof, the wooden grain biting his unshod toes. He often wished that burning tin didn’t enhance all of the senses—or, at least, not all of them at once. He needed the improved eyesight to see in the darkness, and he made good use of the improved hearing as well. However, burning tin made the night seem even more chilly to his overly sensitive skin, and his feet registered every pebble and wooden ripple they touched. Keep Venture rose before him. Compared with the murky city, the keep seemed to blaze with light. High nobles kept different schedules from regular people; the ability to afford, even squander, lamp oil and candles meant that the wealthy didn’t have to bow before the whims of season or sun. The keep was majestic—that much was visible simply from the architecture. While it maintained a defensive wall around the grounds, the keep itself was more an artistic construction than a fortification. Sturdy buttressings arched out from the sides, allowing for intricate windows and delicate spires. Brilliant stained-glass windows stretched high along the sides of the rectangular building, and they shone with light from within, giving the surrounding mists a variegated glow. Kelsier burned iron, flaring it strong and searching the night for large sources of metal. He was too far away from the keep to use small items like coins or hinges. He’d need a larger anchor to cover this distance. Most of the blue lines were faint. Kelsier marked a couple of them moving in a slow pattern up ahead—probably a pair of guards standing on the rooftop. Kelsier would be sensing their breastplates and weapons. Despite Allomantic considerations, most noblemen still armed their soldiers with metal. Mistings who could Push or Pull metals were uncommon, and full Mistborn were even more so. Many lords thought it impractical to leave one’s soldiers and guards relatively defenseless in order to counter such a small segment of the population. No, most high noblemen relied on other means to deal with Allomancers. Kelsier smiled. Dockson had said that Lord Venture kept a squad of hazekillers; if that was true, Kelsier would probably meet them before the night was through. He ignored the soldiers for the moment, instead focusing on a solid line of blue pointing toward the keep’s lofty top. It likely had bronze or copper sheeting on the roof. Kelsier flared his iron, took a deep breath, and Pulled on the line. With a sudden jerk, he was yanked into the air. Kelsier continued to burn iron, pulling himself toward the keep at a tremendous speed. Some rumors claimed that
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Mistborn could fly, but that was a wistful exaggeration. Pulling and Pushing against metals usually felt less like flying than it did like falling—only in the wrong direction. An Allomancer had to Pull hard in order to get the proper momentum, and this sent him hurtling toward his anchor at daunting speeds. Kelsier shot toward the keep, mists curling around him. He easily cleared the protective wall surrounding the keep’s grounds, but his body dropped slightly toward the ground as he moved. It was his pesky weight again; it tugged him down. Even the swiftest of arrows angled slightly toward the ground as it flew. The drag of his weight meant that instead of shooting right up to the roof, he swung in an arc. He approached the keep wall several dozen feet below the rooftop, still traveling at a terrible speed. Taking a deep breath, Kelsier burned pewter, using it to enhance his physical strength much in the same way that tin enhanced his senses. He turned himself in the air, hitting the stone wall feet-first. Even his strengthened muscles protested at the treatment, but he stopped without breaking any bones. He immediately released his hold on the roof, dropping a coin and Pushing against it even as he began to fall. He reached out, selecting a source of metal above him—one of the wire housings of a stained-glass window—and Pulled on it. The coin hit the ground below and was suddenly able to support his weight. Kelsier launched himself upward, Pushing on the coin and Pulling on the window at the same time. Then, extinguishing both metals, he let momentum carry him the last few feet up through the dark mists. Cloak flapping quietly, he crested the lip of the keep’s upper service walkway, flipped himself up over the stone railing, and landed quietly on the ledge. A startled guard stood not three paces away. Kelsier was upon the man in a second, jumping into the air, Pulling slightly on the guard’s steel breastplate and throwing the man off balance. Kelsier whipped out one of his glass daggers, allowing the strength of his Ironpull to bring him toward the guard. He landed with both feet against the man’s chest, then crouched and sliced with a pewter-enhanced swing. The guard collapsed with a slit throat. Kelsier landed lithely beside him, ears straining in the night, listening for sounds of alarm. There were none. Kelsier left the guard to his gurgling demise. The man was likely a lesser nobleman. The enemy. If he were, instead, a skaa soldier—enticed into betraying his people in exchange for a few coins . . . Well, then, Kelsier was even happier to send such men into their eternity. He Pushed off the dying man’s breastplate, hopping up off the stone service walkway and onto the rooftop itself. The bronze roof was chill and slick beneath his feet. He scurried along it, heading toward the southern side of the building, looking for the balcony Dockson had mentioned. He wasn’t too worried about being spotted; one purpose of
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this evening was to steal some atium, the tenth and most powerful of the generally known Allomantic metals. His other purpose, however, was to cause a commotion. He found the balcony with ease. Wide and broad, it was probably a sitting balcony, used to entertain small groups. It was quiet at the moment, however—empty save for two guards. Kelsier crouched silently in the night mists above the balcony, furled gray cloak obscuring him, toes curling out over the side of the roof’s metallic lip. The two guards chatted unwittingly below. Time to make a bit of noise. Kelsier dropped to the ledge directly between the guards. Burning pewter to strengthen his body, he reached out and fiercely Steelpushed against both men at the same time. Braced as he was at the center, his Push threw the guards away in opposite directions. The men cried out in surprise as the sudden force threw them backward, hurling them over the balcony railing into the darkness beyond. The guards screamed as they fell. Kelsier threw open the balcony doors, letting a wall of mist fall inward around him, its tendrils creeping forward to claim the darkened room beyond. Third room in, Kelsier thought, moving forward in a crouching run. The second room was a quiet, greenhouse-like conservatory. Low beds containing cultivated bushes and small trees ran through the room, and one wall was made up of enormous floor-to-ceiling windows to provide sunlight for the plants. Though it was dark, Kelsier knew that the plants would all be of slightly different colors than the typical brown—some would be white, others ruddy, and perhaps even a few light yellow. Plants that weren’t brown were a rarity cultivated and kept by the nobility. Kelsier moved quickly through the conservatory. He paused at the next doorway, noting its lighted outline. He extinguished his tin lest his enhanced eyes be blinded when he entered the lit room, and threw open the door. He ducked inside, blinking against the light, a glass dagger in each hand. The room, however, was empty. It was obviously a study; a lantern burned on each wall beside bookcases, and it had a desk in the corner. Kelsier replaced his knives, burning steel and searching for sources of metal. There was a large safe in the corner of the room, but it was too obvious. Sure enough, another strong source of metal shone from inside the eastern wall. Kelsier approached, running his fingers along the plaster. Like many walls in noble keeps, this one was painted with a soft mural. Foreign creatures lounged beneath a red sun. The false section of wall was under two feet square, and it had been placed so that its cracks were obscured by the mural. There’s always another secret, Kelsier thought. He didn’t bother trying to figure out how to open the contraption. He simply burned steel, reaching in and tugging against the weak source of metal that he assumed was the trapdoor’s locking mechanism. It resisted at first, pulling him against the wall, but he burned pewter and yanked
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harder. The lock snapped, and the panel swung open, revealing a small safe embedded in the wall. Kelsier smiled. It looked small enough for a pewter-enhanced man to carry, assuming he could get it out of the wall. He jumped up, Ironpulling against the safe, and landed with his feet against the wall, one foot on either side of the open panel. He continued to Pull, holding himself in place, and flared his pewter. Strength flooded his legs, and he flared his steel as well, Pulling against the safe. He strained, grunting slightly at the exertion. It was a test to see which would give out first—the safe, or his legs. The safe shifted in its mountings. Kelsier Pulled harder, muscles protesting. For an extended moment, nothing happened. Then the safe shook and ripped free of the wall. Kelsier fell backward, burning steel and Pushing against the safe to get out of the way. He landed maladroitly, sweat dripping from his brow as the safe crashed to the wooden floor, throwing up splinters. A pair of startled guards burst into the room. “About time,” Kelsier noted, raising a hand and Pulling on one of the soldier’s swords. It whipped out of the sheath, spinning in the air and streaking toward Kelsier point-first. He extinguished his iron, stepping to the side and catching the sword by its hilt as momentum carried it past. “Mistborn!” the guard screamed. Kelsier smiled and jumped forward. The guard pulled out a dagger. Kelsier Pushed it, tearing the weapon out of the man’s hand, then swung, shearing the guard’s head from his body. The second guard cursed, tugging free the release tie on his breastplate. Kelsier Pushed on his own sword even as he completed his swing. The sword ripped from his fingers and hissed directly toward the second guard. The man’s armor dropped free—preventing Kelsier from Pushing against it—just as the first guard’s corpse fell to the ground. A moment later, Kelsier’s sword planted itself in the second guard’s now unarmored chest. The man stumbled quietly, then collapsed. Kelsier turned from the bodies, cloak rustling. His anger was quiet, not as fierce as it had been the night he’d killed Lord Tresting. But he felt it still, felt it in the itching of his scars and in the remembered screams of the woman he loved. As far as Kelsier was concerned, any man who upheld the Final Empire also forfeited his right to live. He flared his pewter, strengthening his body, then squatted down and lifted the safe. He teetered for a second beneath its weight, then got his balance and began to shuffle back toward the balcony. Perhaps the safe held atium; perhaps it didn’t. However, he didn’t have time to search out other options. He was halfway through the conservatory when he heard footsteps from behind. He turned to see the study flooding with figures. There were eight of them, each one wearing a loose gray robe and carrying a dueling cane and a shield instead of a sword. Hazekillers. Kelsier let the safe drop
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to the ground. Hazekillers weren’t Allomancers, but they were trained to fight Mistings and Mistborn. There wouldn’t be a single bit of metal on their bodies, and they would be ready for his tricks. Kelsier stepped back, stretching and smiling. The eight men fanned into the study, moving with quiet precision. This should be interesting. The hazekillers attacked, dashing by twos into the conservatory. Kelsier pulled out his daggers, ducking beneath the first attack and slicing at a man’s chest. The hazekiller jumped back, however, and forced Kelsier away with a swing of his cane. Kelsier flared his pewter, letting strengthened legs carry him back in a powerful jump. With one hand, he whipped out a handful of coins and Pushed them against his opponents. The metal disks shot forward, zipping through the air, but his enemies were ready for this: They raised their shields, and the coins bounced off the wood, throwing up splinters but leaving the men unharmed. Kelsier eyed the other hazekillers as they filled the room, advancing on him. They couldn’t hope to fight him in an extended battle—their tactic would be to rush him at once, hoping for a quick end to the fight, or to at least stall him until Allomancers could be awakened and brought to fight. He glanced at the safe as he landed. He couldn’t leave without it. He needed to end the fight quickly as well. Flaring pewter, he jumped forward, trying an experimental dagger swipe, but he couldn’t get inside his opponent’s defenses. Kelsier barely ducked away in time to avoid getting cracked on the head by the end of a cane. Three of the hazekillers dashed behind him, cutting off his retreat into the balcony room. Great, Kelsier thought, trying to keep an eye on all eight men at once. They advanced on him with careful precision, working as a team. Gritting his teeth, Kelsier flared his pewter again; it was running low, he noticed. Pewter was the fastest-burning of the basic eight metals. No time to worry about that now. The men behind him attacked, and Kelsier jumped out of the way—Pulling on the safe to tug himself toward the center of the room. He Pushed as soon as he hit the ground near the safe, launching himself into the air at an angle. He tucked, flipping over the heads of two attackers, and landed on the ground beside a well-cultivated tree bed. He spun, flaring his pewter and raising his arm in defense against the swing he knew would come. The dueling cane connected with his arm. A burst of pain ran down his forearm, but his pewter-enhanced bone held. Kelsier kept moving, driving his other hand forward and slamming a dagger into his opponent’s chest. The man stumbled back in surprise, the motion ripping away Kelsier’s dagger. A second hazekiller attacked, but Kelsier ducked, then reached down with his free hand, ripping his coin pouch off of his belt. The hazekiller prepared to block Kelsier’s remaining dagger, but Kelsier raised his other hand instead, slamming the coin
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pouch into the man’s shield. Then he Pushed on the coins inside. The hazekiller cried out, the force of the intense Steelpush throwing him backward. Kelsier flared his steel, Pushing so hard that he tossed himself backward as well—away from the pair of men who tried to attack him. Kelsier and his enemy flew away from each other, hurled in opposite directions. Kelsier collided with the far wall, but kept Pushing, smashing his opponent—pouch, shield, and all—against one of the massive conservatory windows. Glass shattered, sparkles of lanternlight from the study playing across its shards. The hazekiller’s desperate face disappeared into the darkness beyond, and mist—quiet, yet ominous—began to creep in through the shattered window. The other six men advanced relentlessly, and Kelsier was forced to ignore the pain in his arm as he ducked two swings. He spun out of the way, brushing past a small tree, but a third hazekiller attacked, smashing his cane into Kelsier’s side. The attack threw Kelsier into the tree bed. He tripped, then collapsed near the entrance to the lit study, dropping his dagger. He gasped in pain, rolling to his knees and holding his side. The blow would have broken another man’s ribs. Even Kelsier would have a massive bruise. The six men moved forward, spreading to surround him again. Kelsier stumbled to his feet, vision growing dizzy from pain and exertion. He gritted his teeth, reaching down and pulling out one of his remaining vials of metal. He downed its contents in a single gulp, replenishing his pewter, then burned tin. The light nearly blinded him, and the pain in his arm and side suddenly seemed more acute, but the burst of enhanced senses cleared his head. The six hazekillers advanced in a sudden, coordinated attack. Kelsier whipped his hand to the side, burning iron and searching for metal. The closest source was a thick silvery paperweight on a desk just inside the study. Kelsier flipped it into his hand, then turned, arm held toward the advancing men, falling into an offensive stance. “All right,” he growled. Kelsier burned steel with a flash of strength. The rectangular ingot ripped from his hand, streaking through the air. The foremost hazekiller raised his shield, but he moved too slowly. The ingot hit the man’s shoulder with a crunch, and he dropped, crying out. Kelsier spun to the side, ducking a staff swing and putting a hazekiller between himself and the fallen man. He burned iron, Pulling the ingot back toward him. It whipped through the air, cracking the second hazekiller in the side of the head. The man collapsed as the ingot flipped into the air. One of the remaining men cursed, rushing forward to attack. Kelsier Pushed the still airborne ingot, flipping it away from him—and away from the attacking hazekiller, who had his shield raised. Kelsier heard the ingot hit the ground behind him, and he reached up—burning pewter—and caught the hazekiller’s cane mid-swing. The hazekiller grunted, struggling against Kelsier’s enhanced strength. Kelsier didn’t bother trying to pull the weapon free; instead he
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Pulled sharply on the ingot behind him, bringing it toward his own back at a deadly speed. He twisted at the last moment, using his momentum to spin the hazekiller around—right into the ingot’s path. The man dropped. Kelsier flared pewter, steadying himself against attacks. Sure enough, a cane smashed against his shoulders. He stumbled to his knees as the wood cracked, but flared tin kept him conscious. Pain and lucidity flashed through his mind. He Pulled on the ingot—ripping it out of the dying man’s back—and stepped to the side, letting the impromptu weapon shoot past him. The two hazekillers nearest him crouched warily. The ingot snapped into one of the men’s shields, but Kelsier didn’t continue Pushing, lest he throw himself off balance. Instead, he burned iron, wrenching the ingot back toward himself. He ducked, extinguishing iron and feeling the ingot whoosh through the air above him. There was a crack as it collided with the man who had been sneaking up on him. Kelsier spun, burning iron then steel to send the ingot soaring toward the final two men. They stepped out of the way, but Kelsier tugged on the ingot, dropping it to the ground directly in front of them. The men regarded it warily, distracted as Kelsier ran and jumped, Steelpushing himself against the ingot and flipping over the men’s heads. The hazekillers cursed, spinning. As Kelsier landed, he Pulled the ingot again, bringing it up to smash into a man’s skull from behind. The hazekiller fell silently. The ingot flipped a few times in the darkness, and Kelsier snatched it from the air, its cool surface slick with blood. Mist from the shattered window flowed by his feet, curling up around his legs. He brought his hand down, pointing it directly at the last remaining hazekiller. Somewhere in the room, a fallen man groaned. The remaining hazekiller stepped back, then dropped his weapon and dashed away. Kelsier smiled, lowering his hand. Suddenly, the ingot was Pushed from his fingers. It shot across the room, smashing through another window. Kelsier cursed, spinning to see another, larger group of men pouring into the study. They wore the clothing of noblemen. Allomancers. Several of them raised hands, and a flurry of coins shot toward Kelsier. He flared steel, Pushing the coins out of the way. Windows shattered and wood splintered as the room was sprayed with coins. Kelsier felt a tug on his belt as his final vial of metal was ripped away, Pulled toward the other room. Several burly men ran forward in a crouch, staying beneath the shooting coins. Thugs—Mistings who, like Ham, could burn pewter. Time to go, Kelsier thought, deflecting another wave of coins, gritting his teeth against the pain in his side and arm. He glanced behind him; he had a few moments, but he was never going to make it back to the balcony. As more Mistings advanced, Kelsier took a deep breath and dashed toward one of the broken, floor-to-ceiling windows. He leapt out into the mists, turning in the air as
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he fell, and reached out to Pull firmly on the fallen safe. He jerked in midair, swinging down toward the side of the building as if tied to the safe by a tether. He felt the safe slide forward, grinding against the floor of the conservatory as Kelsier’s weight pulled against it. He slammed against the side of the building, but continued to Pull, catching himself on the upper side of a windowsill. He strained, standing upside down in the window well, Pulling on the safe. The safe appeared over the lip of the floor above. It teetered, then fell out the window and began to plummet directly toward Kelsier. He smiled, extinguishing his iron and pushing away from the building with his legs, throwing himself out into the mists like some insane diver. He fell backward through the darkness, barely catching sight of an angry face poking out of the broken window above. Kelsier Pulled carefully against the safe, moving himself in the air. Mists curled around him, obscuring his vision, making him feel as if he weren’t falling at all—but hanging in the middle of nothingness. He reached the safe, then twisted in the air and Pushed against it, throwing himself upward. The safe crashed into the cobblestones just below. Kelsier Pushed against the safe slightly, slowing himself until he eventually jerked to a halt in the air just a few feet above the ground. He hung in the mists for a moment, ribbons from his cloak curling and flapping in the wind, then let himself drop to the ground beside the safe. The strongbox had been shattered by the fall. Kelsier pried open its mangled front, tin-enhanced ears listening to calls of alarm from the building above. Inside the safe, he found a small pouch of gemstones and a couple of ten-thousand boxing letters of credit, all of which he pocketed. He felt around inside, suddenly worried that the night’s work had been for naught. Then his fingers found it—a small pouch at the very back. He pulled it open, revealing a grouping of dark, beadlike bits of metal. Atium. His scars flared, memories of his time in the Pits returning to him. He pulled the pouch tight and stood. With amusement, he noticed a twisted form lying on the cobblestones a short distance away—the mangled remains of the hazekiller he’d thrown out the window. Kelsier walked over, and retrieved his coin pouch with a tug of Ironpulling. No, this night was not a waste. Even if he hadn’t found the atium, any night that ended with a group of dead noblemen was a successful one, in Kelsier’s opinion. He gripped his pouch in one hand and the bag of atium in the other. He kept his pewter burning—without the strength it lent his body, he’d probably collapse from the pain of his wounds—and dashed off into the night, heading toward Clubs’s shop. 6 VIN AWOKE TO A QUIET room, red morning sunlight peeking through cracks in the shutters. She lay in bed for a moment, unsettled. Something felt
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wrong. It wasn’t that she was waking up in an unfamiliar place—traveling with Reen had accustomed her to a nomadic lifestyle. It took her a moment to realize the source of her discomfort. The room was empty. Not only was it empty, it was open. Uncrowded. And it was . . . comfortable. She lay on an actual mattress, raised on posts, with sheets and a plush quilt. The room was decorated with a sturdy wooden armoire, and even had a circular rug. Perhaps another might have found the room cramped and spartan, but to Vin it seemed lavish. She sat up, frowning. It felt wrong to have a room all to herself. She had always been crammed into tight bunkrooms filled with crewmembers. Even while traveling, she had slept in beggars’ alleys or rebel caves, and Reen had been there with her. She had always been forced to fight to find privacy. Being given it so easily seemed to devalue the years she had spent relishing her brief moments of solitude. She slipped out of bed, not bothering to open the shutters. The sunlight was faint, which meant it was still early morning, but she could already hear people moving in the hallway. She crept to the door, creaking it open and peeking out. After leaving Kelsier the night before, Dockson had led Vin to Clubs’s shop. Because of the late hour, Clubs had immediately led them to their separate rooms. Vin, however, had not gone to bed immediately. She had waited until everyone was asleep, then had snuck out to inspect her surroundings. The residence was almost more of an inn than it was a shop. Though it had a showroom below and a large workshop in the back, the building’s second floor was dominated by several long hallways lined with guestrooms. There was a third floor, and the doors were more widely spaced there, implying larger rooms. She hadn’t tapped for trapdoors or false walls—the noise might have awakened someone—but experience told her that it wouldn’t be a proper lair if it didn’t have at least a secret basement and some bolt-holes. Overall, she was impressed. The carpentry equipment and half-finished projects below indicated a reputable, working front. The lair was secure, well stocked, and well maintained. Watching through the crack in her door, Vin made out a group of about six groggy young men coming out of the hallway opposite her own. They wore simple clothing, and made their way down the stairs toward the workroom. Apprentice carpenters, Vin thought. That’s Clubs’s front—he’s a skaa craftsman. Most skaa lived lives of drudgery on the plantations; even those who lived in a city were generally forced to do menial labor. However, some talented few were allowed a trade. They were still skaa; they were paid poorly and were always subject to the whims of the nobility. However, they had a measure of freedom that most skaa would envy. Clubs was probably a master carpenter. What would entice such a man—one who had, by skaa standards, an amazing life—to risk
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joining the underground? He is a Misting, Vin thought. Kelsier and Dockson called him a “Smoker.” She would probably have to figure out what that meant on her own; experience told her that a powerful man like Kelsier would withhold knowledge from her as long as he could, stringing her along with occasional tidbits. His knowledge was what bound her to him—it would be unwise to give away too much too quickly. Footsteps sounded outside, and Vin continued to peek through the crack. “You’ll want to get ready, Vin,” Dockson said as he passed her door. He wore a nobleman’s dress shirt and slacks, and he already looked awake and trim. He paused, continuing. “There’s a fresh bath for you in the room at the end of the hallway, and I had Clubs scrounge you up a few changes of clothing. They should fit well enough until we can get you something more appropriate. Take your time in the bath—Kell’s planned a meeting for this afternoon, but we can’t start until Breeze and Ham arrive.” Dockson smiled, eyeing her through the cracked door, then continued on down the hallway. Vin flushed at being caught. These are observant men. I’m going to have to remember that. The hallway grew quiet. She slipped out her door and crept down to the indicated room, and was half surprised to find that there was indeed a warm bath waiting for her. She frowned, studying the tiled chamber and metal tub. The water smelled scented, after the fashion of noble ladies. These men are more like noblemen than skaa, Vin thought. She wasn’t certain what she thought of that. However, they obviously expected her to do as they did, so she closed and bolted the door, then disrobed and crawled into the tub. She smelled funny. Even though the scent was faint, Vin still caught whiffs of herself occasionally. It was the smell of a passing noblewoman, the scent of a perfumed drawer opened by her brother’s burgling fingers. The smell grew less noticeable as the morning progressed, but it still worried her. It would distinguish her from other skaa. If this crew expected her to take those baths regularly, she would have to request that the perfumes be removed. The morning meal was more up to her expectations. Several skaa women of various ages worked the shop’s kitchen, preparing baywraps—rolls of thin, flat bread stuffed with boiled barley and vegetables. Vin stood by the kitchen doorway, watching the women work. None of them smelled like she did, though they were far more cleanly and well groomed than average skaa. In fact, there was an odd sense of cleanliness to the entire building. She hadn’t noticed it the night before, because of the darkness, but the floor was scrubbed clean. All of the workers—kitchen women or apprentices—had clean faces and hands. It felt odd to Vin. She was accustomed to her own fingers being black with ashstains; with Reen, if she’d ever washed her face, she had quickly rubbed it with ash again. A clean face stood
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out on the streets. No ash in the corners, she thought, eyeing the floor. The room is kept swept. She’d never lived in such a place before. It was almost like living in some nobleman’s house. She glanced back at the kitchen women. They wore simple dresses of white and gray, with scarves around the tops of their heads and long tails of hair hanging out the back. Vin fingered her own hair. She kept it short, like a boy’s—her current, ragged cut had been given by one of the other crewmembers. She wasn’t like these women—she never had been. By Reen’s command, Vin had lived so that other crewmembers would think of her as a thief first and a girl second. But, what am I now? Perfumed by her bath, yet wearing the tan trousers and buttoning shirt of an apprentice craftsman, she felt distinctly out of place. And that was bad—if she felt awkward, then she undoubtedly looked awkward too. Something else to make her stand out. Vin turned, eyeing the workroom. The apprentices were already about their morning labors, working on various bits of furniture. They stayed in the back while Clubs worked in the main showroom, putting detailed finishing touches on the pieces. The back kitchen door suddenly slammed open. Vin slipped reflexively to the side, putting her back to a wall and peeking around into the kitchen. Ham stood in the kitchen doorway, framed by red sunlight. He wore a loose shirt and vest, both sleeveless, and carried several large packs. He wasn’t dirtied by soot—none of the crew had ever been, the few times Vin had seen them. Ham walked through the kitchen and into the workroom. “So,” he said, dropping his packs, “anyone know which room is mine?” “I’ll ask Master Cladent,” one of the apprentices said, moving into the front room. Ham smiled, stretching, then turned toward Vin. “Morning, Vin. You know, you don’t have to hide from me. We’re on the same team.” Vin relaxed but remained where she was, standing beside a line of mostly finished chairs. “You’re going to live here too?” “It always pays to stay near the Smoker,” Ham said, turning and disappearing back into the kitchen. He returned a moment later with a stack of four large baywraps. “Anyone know where Kell is?” “Sleeping,” Vin said. “He came in late last night, and hasn’t gotten up yet.” Ham grunted, taking a bite of a baywrap. “Dox?” “In his room on the third floor,” Vin said. “He got up early, came down to get something to eat, and went back upstairs.” She didn’t add that she knew, from peeking through the keyhole, that he was sitting at his desk scribbling on some papers. Ham raised an eyebrow. “You always keep track of where everyone is like that?” “Yes.” Ham paused, then chuckled. “You’re an odd kid, Vin.” He gathered up his packs as the apprentice returned, and the two moved up the stairs. Vin stood, listening to their footsteps. They stopped about halfway down the first hallway, perhaps a
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few doors from her room. The scent of steamed barley enticed her. Vin eyed the kitchen. Ham had gone in and taken food. Was she allowed to do the same? Trying to look confident, Vin strode into the kitchen. A pile of baywraps sat on a platter, probably to be delivered to the apprentices as they worked. Vin picked up two of them. None of the women objected; in fact, a few of them even nodded respectfully toward her. I’m an important person now, she thought with a measure of discomfort. Did they know that she was . . . Mistborn? Or was she simply treated with respect because she was a guest? Eventually, Vin took a third baywrap and fled to her room. It was more food than she could possibly eat; however, she intended to scrape out the barley and save the flatbread, which would keep well should she need it later. A knock came at her door. Vin answered it, pulling the door open with a careful motion. A young man stood outside—the boy who had been with Clubs back at Camon’s lair the night before. Thin, tall, and awkward-looking, he was dressed in gray clothing. He was perhaps fourteen, though his height might have made him look older than he was. He seemed nervous for some reason. “Yes?” Vin asked. “Um . . .” Vin frowned. “What?” “You’re wanted,” he said in a thick Eastern accent. “Ups in the where above with the doing. With Master Jumps to the third floor. Uh, I’ve gotta go.” The boy blushed, then turned and hurried away, scrambling up the stairs. Vin stood in the doorway of her room, dumbfounded. Was that supposed to make any sense? she wondered. She peeked into the hallway. The boy had seemed like he expected her to follow him. Finally, she decided to do so, carefully making her way up the steps. Voices were coming from an open door at the end of the hallway. Vin approached and peeked around the corner to find a well-decorated room, set with a fine rug and comfortable-looking chairs. A hearth burned at the side of the room, and the chairs were arranged to point toward a large charcoal writing board set atop an easel. Kelsier stood, leaning one elbow resting against the brick hearth, a cup of wine in his hand. Angling herself slightly, Vin could see that he was talking to Breeze. The Soother had arrived well into midday, and had appropriated half of Clubs’s apprentices to unload his possessions. Vin had watched from her window as the apprentices had carried the luggage—disguised as boxes of lumber scraps—up to Breeze’s room. Breeze himself hadn’t bothered to help. Ham was there, as was Dockson, and Clubs was settling himself into the large, overstuffed chair farthest from Breeze. The boy who had fetched Vin sat on a stool beside Clubs, and he was obviously making a point of trying not to look at her. The final occupied chair held the man Yeden, dressed—as before—in common skaa worker’s clothing. He sat
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in his chair without resting against its back, as if he disapproved of its plushness. His face was darkened with soot, as Vin expected of a skaa worker. There were two empty chairs. Kelsier noticed Vin standing by the doorway, and gave her one of his inviting smiles. “Well, there she is. Come in.” Vin scanned the room. There was a window, though its shutters were closed against approaching gloom. The only chairs were the ones in Kelsier’s half circle. Resigned, she moved forward and took the empty chair beside Dockson. It was too big for her, and she settled into it with her knees folded beneath her. “That’s all of us,” Kelsier said. “Who’s the last chair for?” Ham asked. Kelsier smiled, winked, but ignored the question. “All right, let’s talk. We’ve got something of a task ahead of ourselves, and the sooner we begin outlining a plan, the better.” “I thought you had a plan,” Yeden said uncomfortably. “I have a framework,” Kelsier said. “I know what needs to happen, and I have a few ideas on how to do it. But, you don’t gather a group like this and just tell them what to do. We need to work this out together, beginning with a list of problems we need to deal with if we want the plan to work.” “Well,” Ham said, “let me get the framework straight first. The plan is to gather Yeden an army, cause chaos in Luthadel, secure the palace, steal the Lord Ruler’s atium, then leave the government to collapse?” “Essentially,” Kelsier said. “Then,” Ham said, “our main problem is the Garrison. If we want chaos in Luthadel, then we can’t have twenty thousand troops here to keep the peace. Not to mention the fact that Yeden’s troops will never take the city while there is any sort of armed resistance on the walls.” Kelsier nodded. Picking up a piece of chalk, he wrote Luthadel Garrison up on the board. “What else?” “We’ll need a way to make said chaos in Luthadel,” Breeze said, gesturing with a cup of wine. “Your instincts are right, my dear man. This city is where the Ministry makes its headquarters and the Great Houses run their mercantile empires. We’ll need to bring Luthadel down if we want to break the Lord Ruler’s ability to govern.” “Mentioning the nobility brings up another point,” Dockson added. “The Great Houses all have guard forces in the city, not to mention their Allomancers. If we’re going to deliver the city to Yeden, we’ll have to deal with those noblemen.” Kelsier nodded, writing Chaos and Great Houses beside Luthadel Garrison on his board. “The Ministry,” Clubs said, leaning back in his plush chair so much that Vin almost couldn’t see his grumpy face. “There’ll be no change in government as long as the Steel Inquisitors have anything to say about it.” Kelsier added Ministry to the board. “What else?” “Atium,” Ham said. “You might as well write it up there—we’ll need to secure the palace quickly, once general mayhem starts, and make
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certain nobody else takes the opportunity to slip into the treasury.” Kelsier nodded, writing Atium: Secure Treasury on the board. “We will need to find a way to gather Yeden’s troops,” Breeze added. “We’ll have to be quiet, but quick, and train them somewhere that the Lord Ruler won’t find them.” “We also might want to make certain that the skaa rebellion is ready to take control of Luthadel,” Dockson added. “Seizing the palace and digging in will make for a spectacular story, but it would be nice if Yeden and his people were actually ready to govern, once this is all over.” Troops and Skaa Rebellion were added to the board. “And,” Kelsier said, “I’m going to add ‘Lord Ruler.’ We’ll at least want a plan to get him out of the city, should other options fail.” After writing Lord Ruler on the list, he turned back toward the group. “Did I forget anything?” “Well,” Yeden said dryly, “if you’re listing problems we’ll have to overcome, you should write up there that we’re all bloody insane—though I doubt we can fix that fact.” The group chuckled, and Kelsier wrote Yeden’s Bad Attitude on the board. Then he stepped back, looking over the list. “When you break it down like that, it doesn’t sound so bad, does it?” Vin frowned, trying to decide if Kelsier was attempting a joke or not. The list wasn’t just daunting—it was disturbing. Twenty thousand imperial soldiers? The collected forces and power of the high nobility? The Ministry? One Steel Inquisitor was said to be more powerful than a thousand troops. More discomforting, however, was how matter-of-factly they regarded the issues. How could they even think of resisting the Lord Ruler? He was . . . well, he was the Lord. He ruled all of the world. He was the creator, protector, and punisher of mankind. He had saved them from the Deepness, then had brought the ash and the mists as a punishment for the people’s lack of faith. Vin wasn’t particularly religious—intelligent thieves knew to avoid the Steel Ministry—but even she knew the legends. And yet, the group regarded their list of “problems” with determination. There was a grim mirth about them—as if they understood that they had a better chance of making the sun rise at night than they did of overthrowing the Final Empire. Yet, they were still going to try. “By the Lord Ruler,” Vin whispered. “You’re serious. You really mean to do this.” “Don’t use his name as an oath, Vin,” Kelsier said. “Even blasphemy honors him—when you curse by that creature’s name, you acknowledge him as your god.” Vin fell silent, sitting back in her chair, a bit numb. “Anyway,” Kelsier said, smiling lightly. “Anyone have any ideas on how to overcome these problems? Besides Yeden’s attitude, of course—we all know he’s hopeless.” The room was quiet and thoughtful. “Thoughts?” Kelsier asked. “Angles? Impressions?” Breeze shook his head. “Now that it’s all up there, I can’t help wondering if the child has a point. This is a daunting task.” “But
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it can be done,” Kelsier said. “Let’s start by talking about how to break the city. What can we do that would be so threatening that it would throw the nobility into chaos, maybe even get the palace guard out into the city, exposing them to our troops? Something that would distract the Ministry, and the Lord Ruler himself, while we move our troops in to attack?” “Well, a general revolution among the populace comes to mind,” Ham said. “Won’t work,” Yeden said firmly. “Why not?” Ham asked. “You know how the people are treated. They live in slums, work in mills and smithies the entire day, and half of them still starve.” Yeden shook his head. “Don’t you understand? The rebellion has been trying for a thousand years to get the skaa in this city to rise up. It never works. They’re too beaten down—they don’t have the will or the hope to resist. That’s why I had to come to you to get an army.” The room fell still. Vin, however, slowly nodded her head. She’d seen it—she’d felt it. One didn’t fight the Lord Ruler. Even living as a thief, crouching at the edge of society, she knew that. There would be no rebellion. “He’s right, I’m afraid,” Kelsier said. “The skaa won’t rise up, not in their current state. If we’re going to overthrow this government, we’ll need to do it without the help of the masses. We can probably recruit our soldiers from among them, but we can’t count on the general populace.” “Could we cause a disaster of some sort?” Ham asked. “A fire maybe?” Kelsier shook his head. “It might disrupt trade for a while, but I doubt it would have the effect we want. Besides, the cost in skaa lives would be too high. The slums would burn, not stone nobleman keeps.” Breeze sighed. “What, then, would you have us do?” Kelsier smiled, eyes twinkling. “What if we turned the Great Houses against each other?” Breeze paused. “A house war . . .” he said, taking a speculative sip of his wine. “It’s been a while since the city had one of those.” “Which means that tensions have had plenty of time to brew,” Kelsier said. “The high nobility are growing increasingly powerful—the Lord Ruler barely has control over them anymore, which is why we have a chance of shattering his grip. Luthadel’s Great Houses are the key—they control imperial trade, not to mention enslave the greatest majority of the skaa.” Kelsier pointed at the board, moving his finger between the line that said Chaos and the line that said Great Houses. “If we can turn the houses inside Luthadel against each other, we can bring down the city. Mistborn will start assassinating house leaders. Fortunes will collapse. It won’t take long before there is open warfare in the streets. Part of our contract with Yeden states that we’ll give him an opening to seize the city for himself. Can you think of a better one than that?” Breeze nodded with a smile. “It
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has flair—and I do like the idea of having the noblemen kill each other.” “You always like it better when someone else does the work, Breeze,” Ham noted. “My dear friend,” Breeze replied, “the entire point of life is to find ways to get others to do your work for you. Don’t you know anything about basic economics?” Ham raised an eyebrow. “Actually, I—” “It was a rhetorical question, Ham,” Breeze interrupted, rolling his eyes. “Those are the best kind!” Ham replied. “Philosophy later, Ham,” Kelsier said. “Stay on task. What do you think of my suggestion?” “It could work,” Ham said, settling back. “But I can’t see the Lord Ruler letting things go that far.” “It’s our job to see that he doesn’t have a choice,” Kelsier said. “He’s known to let his nobility squabble, probably to keep them off-balance. We fan those tensions, then we somehow force the Garrison to pull out. When the houses start fighting in earnest, the Lord Ruler won’t be able to do anything to stop them—except, perhaps, send his palace guard into the streets, which is exactly what we want him to do.” “He could also send for a koloss army,” Ham noted. “True,” Kelsier said. “But they’re stationed a moderate distance away. That’s a flaw we need to exploit. Koloss troops make wonderful grunts, but they have to be kept away from civilized cities. The very center of the Final Empire is exposed, yet the Lord Ruler is confident in his strength—and why shouldn’t he be? He hasn’t faced a serious threat in centuries. Most cities only need small policing forces.” “Twenty thousand men is hardly a ‘small’ number,” Breeze said. “It is on a national scale,” Kelsier said, holding up a finger. “The Lord Ruler keeps most of his troops on the edges of his empire, where the threat of rebellion is strongest. That’s why we’re going to strike him here, in Luthadel itself—and that’s why we’re going to succeed.” “Assuming we can deal with that Garrison,” Dockson noted. Kelsier nodded, turning to write House War underneath Great Houses and Chaos. “All right, then. Let’s talk about the Garrison. What are we going to do about it?” “Well,” Ham said speculatively, “historically, the best way to deal with a large force of soldiers is to have your own large force of soldiers. We’re going to raise Yeden an army—why not let them attack the Garrison? Isn’t that kind of the point of raising the army in the first place?” “That won’t work, Hammond,” Breeze said. He regarded his empty cup of wine, then held it up toward the boy sitting beside Clubs, who immediately scurried over to refill it. “If we wanted to defeat the Garrison,” Breeze continued, “we’d need our own force of at least its same size. We’d probably want one much larger, since our men will be newly trained. We might be able to raise Yeden an army—we might even be able to get him one large enough to hold the city for a while. But, getting him one large
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enough to take on the Garrison inside its fortifications? We might as well give up now, if that’s our plan.” The group fell silent. Vin squirmed in her chair, looking over each man in turn. Breeze’s words had a profound effect. Ham opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, sitting back to reconsider. “All right,” Kelsier finally said. “We’ll get back to the Garrison in a moment. Let’s look at our own army. How can we raise one of substantial size and hide it from the Lord Ruler?” “Again, that will be difficult,” Breeze said. “There is a very good reason why the Lord Ruler feels safe in the Central Dominance. There are constant patrols on the roadways and canals, and you can hardly spend a day traveling without running into a village or plantation. This isn’t the sort of place where you can raise an army without attracting notice.” “The rebellion has those caves up to the north,” Dockson said. “We might be able to hide some men there.” Yeden paled. “You know about the Arguois caverns?” Kelsier rolled his eyes. “Even the Lord Ruler knows about them, Yeden. The rebels there just aren’t dangerous enough to bother him yet.” “How many people do you have, Yeden?” Ham asked. “In Luthadel and around it, caves included? What do we have to start with?” Yeden shrugged. “Maybe three hundred—including women and children.” “And how many do you think those caves could hide?” Ham asked. Yeden shrugged again. “The caves could support a larger group, for certain,” Kelsier said. “Perhaps ten thousand. I’ve been there—the rebellion has been hiding people in them for years, and the Lord Ruler has never bothered to destroy them.” “I can imagine why,” Ham said. “Cave fighting is nasty business, especially for the aggressor. The Lord Ruler likes to keep defeats to a minimum—he’s nothing if not vain. Anyway, ten thousand. That’s a decent number. It could hold the palace with ease—might even be able to hold the city, if it had the walls.” Dockson turned to Yeden. “When you asked for an army, what size were you thinking?” “Ten thousand sounds like a good number, I suppose,” Yeden said. “Actually . . . it’s a bit larger than I was thinking.” Breeze tipped his cup slightly, swirling the wine. “I hate to sound contrary again—that’s usually Hammond’s job—but I do have to return to our earlier problem. Ten thousand men. That won’t even frighten the Garrison. We’re talking about twenty thousand well-armed, well-trained troops.” “He has a point, Kell,” Dockson said. He had found a small book somewhere, and had begun taking notes on the meeting. Kelsier frowned. Ham nodded. “Any way you look at it, Kell, that Garrison is going to be a tough stone to break. Perhaps we should just focus on the nobility. Maybe we can cause enough chaos that even the Garrison won’t be able to suppress it.” Kelsier shook his head. “Doubtful. The Garrison’s primary duty is to maintain order in the city. If we can’t deal with those troops,
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we’ll never pull this off.” He paused, then eyed Vin. “What do you think, Vin? Any suggestions?” She froze. Camon had never asked her opinion. What did Kelsier want from her? She pulled back into her chair slightly as she realized that the other members of the crew had turned, looking at her. “I . . .” Vin said slowly. “Oh, don’t intimidate the poor thing, Kelsier,” Breeze said with a wave of his hand. Vin nodded, but Kelsier didn’t turn away from her. “No, really. Tell me what you’re thinking, Vin. You’ve got a much larger enemy threatening you. What do you do?” “Well,” she said slowly. “You don’t fight him, that’s for certain. Even if you won somehow, you’d be so hurt and broken that you couldn’t fight off anyone else.” “Makes sense,” Dockson said. “But we might not have a choice. We have to get rid of that army somehow.” “And if it just left the city?” she asked. “That would work too? If I had to deal with someone big, I’d try and distract him first, get him to leave me alone.” Ham chuckled. “Good luck getting the Garrison to leave Luthadel. The Lord Ruler sends squads out on patrol sometimes, but the only time I know of the entire Garrison leaving was when that skaa rebellion broke out down in Courteline a half century ago.” Dockson shook his head. “Vin’s idea is too good to dismiss that easily, I think. Really, we can’t fight the Garrison—at least, not while they’re entrenched. So, we need to get them to leave the city somehow.” “Yes,” Breeze said, “but it would take a particular crisis to require involving the Garrison. If the problem weren’t threatening enough, the Lord Ruler wouldn’t send the entire Garrison. If it were too dangerous, he’d hunker down and send for his koloss.” “A rebellion in one of the nearby cities?” Ham suggested. “That leaves us with the same problem as before,” Kelsier said, shaking his head. “If we can’t get the skaa here to rebel, we’ll never get ones outside the city to do so.” “What about a feint of some sort, then?” Ham asked. “We’re assuming that we’ll be able to raise a sizable group of soldiers. If they pretend to attack someplace nearby, perhaps the Lord Ruler would send the Garrison out to help.” “I doubt he’d send them away to protect another city,” Breeze said. “Not if it left him exposed in Luthadel.” The group fell silent, thinking again. Vin glanced around, then found Kelsier’s eyes on her. “What?” he asked. She squirmed a bit, glancing down. “How far away are the Pits of Hathsin?” she finally asked. The crew paused. Finally, Breeze laughed. “Oh, now that’s devious. The nobility don’t know that the Pits produce atium, so the Lord Ruler couldn’t make much of a fuss—not without revealing that there’s something very special about those Pits. That means no koloss.” “They wouldn’t arrive in time anyway,” Ham said. “The Pits are only a couple of days away. If they were threatened,
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the Lord Ruler would have to respond quickly. The Garrison would be the only force in striking distance.” Kelsier smiled, eyes alight. “And it wouldn’t take much of an army to threaten the Pits, either. A thousand men could do it. We send them to attack, then when the Garrison leaves, we march our second, larger force in and seize Luthadel itself. By the time the Garrison realized that they’d been duped, they wouldn’t be able to get back in time to stop us from taking the city walls.” “Could we keep them, though?” Yeden asked apprehensively. Ham nodded eagerly. “With ten thousand skaa, I could hold this city against the Garrison. The Lord Ruler would have to send for his koloss.” “By then, we’d have the atium,” Kelsier said. “And the Great Houses won’t be in any position to stop us—they’ll be weakened and frail because of their internal fighting.” Dockson was scribbling furiously on his pad. “We’ll need to use Yeden’s caves, then. They’re within striking distance of both our targets, and they’re closer to Luthadel than the Pits are. If our army left from there, it could get here before the Garrison could return from the Pits.” Kelsier nodded. Dockson continued to scribble. “I’ll have to start stockpiling supplies in those caves, maybe make a trip out to check conditions there.” “And, how are we going to get the soldiers there?” Yeden asked. “That’s a week outside the city—and skaa aren’t allowed to travel on their own.” “I’ve already got someone who can help us there,” Kelsier said, writing Attack Pits of Hathsin beneath Luthadel Garrison on his board. “I have a friend that can give us a front to run canal boats to the north.” “Assuming,” Yeden said, “you can even make good on your first and primary promise. I paid you to gather me an army. Ten thousand men is a great number, but I’ve still to see an adequate explanation of how you’re going to raise them. I’ve already told you the kinds of problems we’ve had trying to recruit in Luthadel.” “We won’t need the general population to support us,” Kelsier said. “Just a small percentage of them—there are nearly a million workers in and around Luthadel. This should actually be the easiest part of the plan, since we happen to be in the presence of one of the world’s greatest Soothers. Breeze, I’m counting on you and your Allomancers to force us up a nice selection of recruits.” Breeze sipped his wine. “Kelsier, my good man. I wish you wouldn’t use words like ‘force’ in reference to my talents. I simply encourage people.” “Well, can you encourage us up an army?” Dockson asked. “How much time do I have?” Breeze asked. “A year,” Kelsier said. “We’ll plan this to go off next fall. Assuming the Lord Ruler does gather his forces to attack Yeden once we take the city, we might as well make him do it in the winter.” “Ten thousand men,” Breeze said with a smile, “gathered from a resistant population in
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less than a year. It would certainly be a challenge.” Kelsier chuckled. “From you, that’s as good as a yes. Start in Luthadel, then move to the surrounding cities. We need people who are close enough to gather at the caves.” Breeze nodded. “We’ll also need weapons and supplies,” Ham said. “And we’ll need to train the men.” “I’ve already got a plan to get weapons,” Kelsier said. “Can you find some men to do the training?” Ham paused thoughtfully. “Probably. I know some skaa soldiers who fought in one of the Lord Ruler’s Suppression Campaigns.” Yeden paled. “Traitors!” Ham shrugged. “Most of them aren’t proud of what they did,” he said. “But most of them also like to eat. It’s a hard world, Yeden.” “My people will never work with such men,” Yeden said. “They’ll have to,” Kelsier said sternly. “A large number of skaa rebellions fail because their men are poorly trained. We’re going to give you an army of well-equipped, well-fed men—and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you get them slaughtered because they were never taught which end of the sword to hold.” Kelsier paused, then eyed Ham. “However, I do suggest that you find men who are bitter against the Final Empire for what it forced them to do. I don’t trust men whose loyalty only goes as far as the boxings in their pockets.” Ham nodded, and Yeden quieted. Kelsier turned, writing Ham: Training and Breeze: Recruitment beneath Troops on the board. “I’m interested in your plan to get weapons,” Breeze said. “How, exactly, do you intend to arm ten thousand men without making the Lord Ruler suspicious? He keeps a very careful eye on the armament flows.” “We could make the weapons,” Clubs said. “I have enough extra wood that we could churn out a war staff or two every day. Could probably get you some arrows too.” “I appreciate the offer, Clubs,” Kelsier said. “And I think that’s a good idea. However, we’re going to need more than staves. We’ll need swords, shields, and armor—and we need them quickly enough to begin training.” “How, then, are you going to do it?” Breeze asked. “The Great Houses can get weapons,” Kelsier said. “They don’t have any problems arming their personal retinues.” “You want us to steal from them?” Kelsier shook his head. “No, for once we’re going to do things somewhat legally—we’re going to buy our weapons. Or, rather, we’re going to have a sympathetic nobleman buy them for us.” Clubs laughed bluntly. “A nobleman sympathetic to the skaa? It will never happen.” “Well, ‘never’ happened a short time ago, then,” Kelsier said lightly. “Because I’ve already found someone to help us.” The room fell silent save for the crackling of the fireplace. Vin squirmed slightly in her chair, glancing at the others. They seemed shocked. “Who?” Ham asked. “His name is Lord Renoux,” Kelsier said. “He arrived in the area a few days back. He’s staying in Fellise—he doesn’t quite have enough influence to establish himself in Luthadel. Besides, I think it’s
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prudent to keep Renoux’s activities a bit removed from the Lord Ruler.” Vin cocked her head. Fellise was a small, suburb-style city an hour outside of Luthadel; she and Reen had worked there before moving into the capital city. How had Kelsier recruited this Lord Renoux? Had he bribed the man, or was it some sort of scam? “I know of Renoux,” Breeze said slowly. “He’s a Western lord; he has a great deal of power in the Farmost Dominance.” Kelsier nodded. “Lord Renoux recently decided to try and elevate his family to high noble status. His official story is that he came south in order to expand his mercantile efforts. He hopes that by shipping fine Southern weaponry to the North, he can earn enough money—and make enough connections—to build himself a keep in Luthadel by the end of the decade.” The room was quiet. “But,” Ham said slowly, “those weapons will be coming to us instead.” Kelsier nodded. “We’ll have to fake the shipping records, just in case.” “That’s . . . quite an ambitious front, Kell,” Ham said. “A lord’s family working on our side.” “But,” Breeze said, looking confused. “Kelsier, you hate noblemen.” “This one’s different,” Kelsier said with a sly smile. The crew studied Kelsier. They didn’t like working with a nobleman; Vin could tell that much easily. It probably didn’t help that Renoux was so powerful. Suddenly, Breeze laughed. He leaned back in his chair, downing the last of his wine. “You blessed madman! You killed him, didn’t you? Renoux—you killed him and replaced him with an impostor.” Kelsier’s smile broadened. Yeden cursed, but Ham simply smiled. “Ah. Now that makes sense. Or, at least, it makes sense if you’re Kelsier the Foolhardy.” “Renoux is going to take up permanent residence in Fellise,” Kelsier said. “He’ll be our front if we need to do anything official. I’ll use him to purchase armaments and supplies, for instance.” Breeze nodded thoughtfully. “Efficient.” “Efficient?” Yeden asked. “You’ve killed a nobleman! A very important one.” “You’re planning to overthrow the entire empire, Yeden,” Kelsier noted. “Renoux isn’t going to be the last aristocratic casualty in this little endeavor.” “Yes, but impersonating him?” Yeden asked. “That sounds a little risky to me.” “You hired us because you wanted extraordinary results, my dear man,” Breeze said, sipping his wine. “In our line of work, extraordinary results usually require extraordinary risks.” “We minimize them as best we can, Yeden,” Kelsier said. “My actor is very good. However, these are the sorts of things we’re going to be doing in this job.” “And if I order you to stop a few of them?” Yeden asked. “You can shut down the job at any time,” Dockson said, not looking up from his ledgers. “But as long as it is in motion, Kelsier has final say on plans, objectives, and procedures. That is how we work; you knew that when you hired us.” Yeden shook his head ruefully. “Well?” Kelsier asked. “Do we continue or not? The call is yours, Yeden.” “Feel free to call an
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end to it, friend,” Breeze said with a helpful voice. “Don’t be afraid of offending us. I, for one, look favorably upon free money.” Vin saw Yeden pale slightly. In Vin’s estimation, he was fortunate that Kelsier hadn’t simply taken his money and stabbed him in the chest. But, she was becoming increasingly convinced that wasn’t the way things worked around here. “This is insane,” Yeden said. “Trying to overthrow the Lord Ruler?” Breeze asked. “Why, yes, as a matter of fact, it is.” “All right,” Yeden said, sighing. “We continue.” “Good,” Kelsier said, writing Kelsier: Equipment under Troops. “The Renoux front will also give us an ‘in’ with Luthadel high society. This will be a very important advantage—we’ll need to keep careful track of Great House politics if we’re going to start a war.” “This house war might not be as easy to pull off as you think, Kelsier,” Breeze warned. “The current lot of high noblemen is a careful, discriminating group.” Kelsier smiled. “Then it’s good that you’re here to help, Breeze. You’re an expert at making people do what you want—together, you and I will plan how to make the high nobility turn on each other. Major house wars seem to happen every couple of centuries or so. The current group’s competence will only make them more dangerous, so getting them riled up shouldn’t be that hard. In fact, I’ve already started the process. . . .” Breeze raised an eyebrow, then glanced at Ham. The Thug grumbled a bit, pulling out a golden ten-boxing coin and flipping it across the room to the self-satisfied Breeze. “What was that about?” Dockson asked. “We had a bet,” Breeze said, “regarding whether or not Kelsier was involved in last night’s disturbance.” “Disturbance?” Yeden asked. “What disturbance?” “Someone attacked House Venture,” Ham said. “The rumors claim that three full Mistborn were sent to assassinate Straff Venture himself.” Kelsier snorted. “Three? Straff certainly has an elevated opinion of himself. I didn’t go anywhere near His Lordship. I was there for the atium—and to make certain that I was seen.” “Venture isn’t sure who to blame,” Breeze said. “But because Mistborn were involved, everyone assumes that it was one of the Great Houses.” “That was the idea,” Kelsier said happily. “The high nobility take Mistborn attacks very seriously—they have an unspoken agreement that they won’t use Mistborn to assassinate each other. A few more strikes like this, and I’ll have them snapping at each other like frightened animals.” He turned, adding Breeze: Planning and Kelsier: General Mayhem beneath Great Houses on the board. “Anyway,” Kelsier continued, “we’ll need to keep an eye on local politics to find out which Houses are making alliances. That means sending a spy to some of their functions.” “Is that really necessary?” Yeden asked uncomfortably. Ham nodded. “It’s standard procedure for any Luthadel job, actually. If there is information to be had, it will pass through the lips of the court’s powerful. It always pays to keep an open set of ears moving through their circles.” “Well, that should
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be easy,” Breeze said. “We just bring up your impostor and send him into the parties.” Kelsier shook his head. “Unfortunately, Lord Renoux himself won’t be able to come to Luthadel.” Yeden frowned. “Why not? Won’t your impostor hold up to close scrutiny?” “Oh, he looks just like Lord Renoux,” Kelsier said. “Exactly like Lord Renoux, actually. We just can’t let him get near an Inquisitor. . . .” “Ah,” Breeze said, exchanging a glance with Ham. “One of those. Well, then.” “What?” Yeden asked. “What does he mean?” “You don’t want to know,” Breeze said. “I don’t?” Breeze shook his head. “You know how unsettled you just were when Kelsier said he’d replaced Lord Renoux with an impostor? Well, this is about a dozen times worse. Trust me—the less you know, the more comfortable you’ll be.” Yeden looked toward Kelsier, who was smiling broadly. Yeden paled, then leaned back in his chair. “I think you’re probably right.” Vin frowned, eying the others in the room. They seemed to know what Kelsier was talking about. She’d have to study this Lord Renoux sometime. “Anyway,” Kelsier said, “we have to send someone to the social functions. Dox, therefore, will be playing Renoux’s nephew and heir, a scion of the family who has recently gained favor with Lord Renoux.” “Wait a moment, Kell,” Dockson said. “You didn’t tell me about this.” Kelsier shrugged. “We’re going to need someone to be our dupe with the nobility. I assumed that you’d fit the role.” “Can’t be me,” Dockson said. “I got marked during the Eiser job just a couple months back.” Kelsier frowned. “What?” Yeden asked. “Do I want to know what they’re talking about this time?” “He means that the Ministry is watching for him,” Breeze said. “He pretended to be a nobleman, and they found out.” Dockson nodded. “The Lord Ruler himself saw me on one occasion, and he’s got a flawless memory. Even if I managed to avoid him, someone’s bound to recognize me eventually.” “So . . .” Yeden said. “So,” Kelsier said, “we’ll need someone else to play Lord Renoux’s heir.” “Don’t look at me,” Yeden said apprehensively. “Trust me,” Kelsier said flatly, “nobody was. Clubs is out too—he’s far too prominent a local skaa craftsman.” “I’m out as well,” Breeze said. “I already have several aliases among the nobility. I suppose I could use one of them, but I couldn’t go to any major balls or parties—it would be rather embarrassing if I met someone who knew me by a different alias.” Kelsier frowned thoughtfully. “I could do it,” Ham said. “But you know I’m no good at acting.” “What about my nephew?” Clubs said, nodding to the young man at his side. Kelsier studied the boy. “What’s your name, son?” “Lestibournes.” Kelsier raised an eyebrow. “That’s a mouthful. You don’t have a nickname?” “Not of the yetting yet.” “We’ll have to work on that,” Kelsier said. “Do you always speak in that Eastern street slang?” The boy shrugged, obviously nervous at being such a center of attention. “Wasing the
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place when I was young.” Kelsier glanced at Dockson, who shook his head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Kell.” “Agreed.” Kelsier turned to Vin, then smiled. “I guess that leaves you. How good are you at imitating a noblewoman?” Vin paled slightly. “My brother gave me a few lessons. But, I’ve never actually tried to. . . .” “You’ll do fine,” Kelsier said, writing Vin: Infiltration underneath Great Houses. “All right. Yeden, you should probably begin planning how you’re to keep control of the empire once this is all through.” Yeden nodded. Vin felt a little sorry for the man, seeing how much the planning—the sheer outrageousness of it all—seemed to be overwhelming him. Still, it was hard to feel sympathy for him, considering what Kelsier had just said regarding her part in all this. Playing a noblewoman? she thought. Surely there’s someone else who could do a better job. . . . Breeze’s attention was still on Yeden and his obvious discomfort. “Don’t look so solemn, my dear fellow,” Breeze said. “Why, you’ll probably never actually have to rule the city. Chances are, we’ll all get caught and executed long before that happens.” Yeden smiled wanly. “And if we don’t? What’s to keep you all from just knifing me and taking the empire for yourselves?” Breeze rolled his eyes. “We’re thieves, my dear man, not politicians. A nation is far too unwieldy a commodity to be worth our time. Once we have our atium, we’ll be happy.” “Not to mention rich,” Ham added. “The two words are synonyms, Hammond,” Breeze said. “Besides,” Kelsier said to Yeden. “We won’t be giving you the entire empire—hopefully, it will shatter once Luthadel destabilizes. You’ll have this city, and probably a good piece of the Central Dominance—assuming you can bribe the local armies into supporting you.” “And . . . the Lord Ruler?” Yeden asked. Kelsier smiled. “I’m still planning to deal with him personally—I just have to figure out how to make the Eleventh Metal work.” “And if you don’t?” “Well,” Kelsier said, writing Yeden: Preparation and Rule beneath Skaa Rebellion on the board, “we’ll try and find a way to trick him out of the city. Perhaps we can get him to go with his army to the Pits and secure things there.” “Then what?” Yeden asked. “You find some way to deal with him,” Kelsier said. “You didn’t hire us to kill the Lord Ruler, Yeden—that’s just a possible perk I intend to throw in if I can.” “I wouldn’t worry too much, Yeden,” Ham added. “He won’t be able to do much without funds or armies. He’s a powerful Allomancer, but by no means omnipotent.” Breeze smiled. “Though, if you think about it, hostile, dethroned pseudodeities probably make disagreeable neighbors. You’ll have to figure out something to do with him.” Yeden didn’t appear to like that idea much, but he didn’t continue the argument. Kelsier turned. “That should be it, then.” “Uh,” Ham said, “what about the Ministry? Shouldn’t we at least find a way to keep an eye
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on those Inquisitors?” Kelsier smiled. “We’ll let my brother deal with them.” “Like hell you will,” a new voice said from the back of the room. Vin jumped to her feet, spinning and glancing toward the room’s shadowed doorway. A man stood there. Tall and broad-shouldered, he had a statuesque rigidity. He wore modest clothing—a simple shirt and trousers with a loose skaa jacket. His arms were folded in dissatisfaction, and he had a hard, square face that looked a bit familiar. Vin glanced back at Kelsier. The similarity was obvious. “Marsh?” Yeden said, standing. “Marsh, it is you! He promised you’d be joining the job, but I . . . well . . . welcome back!” Marsh’s face remained impassive. “I’m not certain if I’m ‘back’ or not, Yeden. If you all don’t mind, I’d like to speak privately with my little brother.” Kelsier didn’t seem intimidated by Marsh’s harsh tone. He nodded to the group. “We’re done for the evening, folks.” The others rose slowly, giving Marsh a wide berth as they left. Vin followed them, pulling the door shut and walking down the stairs to give the appearance of retiring to her room. Less than three minutes later she was back at the door, listening carefully to the conversation going on inside. 7 THREE YEARS HADN’T CHANGED MARSH’S appearance much. He was still the stern, commanding person Kelsier had known since childhood. There was still that glint of disappointment in his eyes, and he spoke with the same air of disapproval. Yet, if Dockson were to be believed, Marsh’s attitudes had changed much since that day three years before. Kelsier still found it hard to believe that his brother had given up leadership of the skaa rebellion. He had always been so passionate about his work. Apparently, that passion had dimmed. Marsh walked forward, regarding the charcoal writing board with a critical eye. His clothing was stained slightly by dark ash, though his face was relatively clean, for a skaa. He stood for a moment, looking over Kelsier’s notes. Finally, Marsh turned and tossed a sheet of paper onto the chair beside Kelsier. “What is this?” Kelsier asked, picking it up. “The names of the eleven men you slaughtered last night,” Marsh said. “I thought you might at least want to know.” Kelsier tossed the paper into the crackling hearth. “They served the Final Empire.” “They were men, Kelsier,” Marsh snapped. “They had lives, families. Several of them were skaa.” “Traitors.” “People,” Marsh said. “People who were just trying to do the best with what life gave them.” “Well, I’m just doing the same thing,” Kelsier said. “And, fortunately, life gave me the ability to push men like them off the tops of buildings. If they want to stand against me like noblemen, then they can die like noblemen.” Marsh’s expression darkened. “How can you be so flippant about something like this?” “Because, Marsh,” Kelsier said, “humor is the only thing I’ve got left. Humor and determination.” Marsh snorted quietly. “You should be happy,” Kelsier said. “After decades of
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listening to your lectures, I’ve finally decided to do something worthwhile with my talents. Now that you’re here to help, I’m sure—” “I’m not here to help,” Marsh interrupted. “Then why did you come?” “To ask you a question.” Marsh stepped forward, stopping right in front of Kelsier. They were about the same height, but Marsh’s stern personality always made him seem to loom taller. “How dare you do this?” Marsh asked quietly. “I dedicated my life to overthrowing the Final Empire. While you and your thieving friends partied, I hid runaways. While you planned petty burglaries, I organized raids. While you lived in luxury, I watched brave people die of starvation.” Marsh reached up, stabbing a finger at Kelsier’s chest. “How dare you? How dare you try and hijack the rebellion for one of your little ‘jobs’? How dare you use this dream as a way of enriching yourself?” Kelsier pushed Marsh’s finger away. “That’s not what this is about.” “Oh?” Marsh asked, tapping the word atium on the board. “Why the games, Kelsier? Why lead Yeden along, pretending to accept him as your ‘employer’? Why act like you care about the skaa? We both know what you’re really after.” Kelsier clenched his jaw, a bit of his humor melting away. He always could do that to me. “You don’t know me anymore, Marsh,” Kelsier said quietly. “This isn’t about money—I once had more wealth than any man could spend. This job is about something different.” Marsh stood close, studying Kelsier’s eyes, as if searching for truth in them. “You always were a good liar,” he finally said. Kelsier rolled his eyes. “Fine, think what you want. But don’t preach to me. Overthrowing the empire might have been your dream once—but now you’ve become a good little skaa, staying in your shop and fawning over noblemen when they visit.” “I’ve faced reality,” Marsh said. “Something you’ve never been good at. Even if you’re serious about this plan, you’ll fail. Everything the rebellion has done—the raids, the thefts, the deaths—has accomplished nothing. Our best efforts were never even a mild annoyance for the Lord Ruler.” “Ah,” Kelsier said, “but being an annoyance is something that I am very good at. In fact, I’m far more than just a ‘mild’ annoyance—people tell me I can be downright frustrating. Might as well use this talent for the cause of good, eh?” Marsh sighed, turning away. “This isn’t about a ‘cause,’ Kelsier. It’s about revenge. It’s about you, just like everything always is. I’ll believe that you aren’t after the money—I’ll even believe that you intend to deliver Yeden this army he’s apparently paying you for. But I won’t believe that you care.” “That’s where you are wrong, Marsh,” Kelsier said quietly. “That’s where you’ve always been wrong about me.” Marsh frowned. “Perhaps. How did this start, anyway? Did Yeden come to you, or did you go to him?” “Does it matter?” Kelsier asked. “Look, Marsh. I need someone to infiltrate the Ministry. This plan won’t go anywhere if we don’t discover a way to
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keep an eye on those Inquisitors.” Marsh turned. “You actually expect me to help you?” Kelsier nodded. “That’s why you came here, no matter what you say. You once told me that you thought I could do great things if I ever applied myself to a worthy goal. Well, that’s what I’m doing now—and you’re going to help.” “It’s not that easy anymore, Kell,” Marsh said with a shake of his head. “Some people are different now. Others are . . . gone.” Kelsier let the room grow quiet. Even the hearth’s fire was starting to die out. “I miss her too.” “I’m sure that you do—but I have to be honest with you, Kell. Despite what she did . . . sometimes I wish that you hadn’t been the one to survive the Pits.” “I wish the same thing every day.” Marsh turned, studying Kelsier with his cold, discerning eyes. The eyes of a Seeker. Whatever he saw reflected inside of Kelsier must have finally met with his approval. “I’m leaving,” Marsh said. “But, for some reason you actually seem sincere this time. I’ll come back and listen to whatever insane plan you’ve concocted. Then . . . well, we’ll see.” Kelsier smiled. Beneath it all, Marsh was a good man—a better one than Kelsier had ever been. As Marsh turned toward the door, Kelsier caught a flicker of shadowed movement from beneath the doorway. He immediately burned iron, and the translucent blue lines shot out from his body, connecting him to nearby sources of metal. Marsh, of course, had none on his person—not even any coins. Traveling through skaa sectors of town could be very dangerous for a man who looked even marginally prosperous. Someone else, however, hadn’t yet learned not to carry metal on her person. The blue lines were thin and weak—they didn’t do well penetrating wood—but they were just strong enough to let Kelsier locate the belt latch of a person out in the hallway, moving quickly away from the door on silent feet. Kelsier smiled to himself. The girl was remarkably skilled. Her time on the streets, however, had also left her with remarkable scars. Hopefully, he would be able to encourage the skills while helping heal the scars. “I’ll return tomorrow,” Marsh said as he reached the door. “Just don’t come by too early,” Kelsier said with a wink. “I’ve got some things to do tonight.” Vin waited quietly in her darkened room, listening to footsteps clomp down the stairs to the ground floor. She crouched beside her door, trying to determine if both sets had continued down the steps or not. The hallway fell silent, and eventually she breathed a quiet sigh of relief. A knock sounded on the door just inches from her head. Her start of surprise nearly knocked her to the ground. He’s good! she thought. She quickly ruffled her hair and rubbed her eyes, trying to make it appear as if she had been sleeping. She untucked her shirt, and waited until the knock came again before pulling open the
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door. Kelsier lounged against the doorframe, backlit by the hallway’s single lantern. The tall man raised an eyebrow at her disheveled state. “Yes?” Vin asked, trying to sound drowsy. “So, what do you think of Marsh?” “I don’t know,” Vin said, “I didn’t see much of him before he kicked us out.” Kelsier smiled. “You’re not going to admit that I caught you, are you?” Vin almost smiled back. Reen’s training came to her rescue. The man who wants you to trust him is the one you must fear the most. Her brother’s voice almost seemed to whisper in her head. It had grown stronger since she’d met Kelsier, as if her instincts were on edge. Kelsier studied her for a moment, then stepped back from the doorframe. “Tuck in that shirt and follow me.” Vin frowned. “Where are we going?” “To begin your training.” “Now?” Vin asked, glancing at the dark shutters to her room. “Of course,” Kelsier said. “It’s a perfect night for a stroll.” Vin straightened her clothing, joining him in the hallway. If he actually planned to begin teaching her, then she wasn’t going to complain, no matter what the hour. They walked down the steps to the first floor. The workroom was dark, furniture projects lying half finished in the shadows. The kitchen, however, was bright with light. “Just a minute,” Kelsier said, walking toward the kitchen. Vin paused just inside the shadows of the workroom, letting Kelsier enter the kitchen without her. She could just barely see inside. Dockson, Breeze, and Ham sat with Clubs and his apprentices around a wide table. Wine and ale were present, though in small amounts, and the men were munching on a simple evening snack of puffed barley cakes and battered vegetables. Laughter trickled out into the workroom. Not raucous laughter, such as had often sounded from Camon’s table. This was something softer—something indicative of genuine mirth, of good-natured enjoyment. Vin wasn’t certain what kept her out of the room. She hesitated—as if the light and the humor were a barrier—and she instead remained in the quiet, solemn workroom. She watched from the darkness, however, and wasn’t completely able to suppress her longing. Kelsier returned a moment later, carrying his pack and a small cloth bundle. Vin regarded the bundle with curiosity, and he handed it to her with a smile. “A present.” The cloth was slick and soft in Vin’s fingers, and she quickly realized what it was. She let the gray material unroll in her fingers, revealing a Mistborn cloak. Like the garment Kelsier had worn the night before, it was tailored completely from separate, ribbonlike strips of cloth. “You look surprised,” Kelsier noted. “I . . . assumed that I’d have to earn this somehow.” “What’s there to earn?” Kelsier said, pulling out his own cloak. “This is who you are, Vin.” She paused, then threw the cloak over her shoulders and tied it on. It felt . . . different. Thick and heavy on her shoulders, but light and unconstraining around her arms and legs. The
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ribbons were sewn together at the top, allowing her to pull it tight by the mantle if she wished. She felt . . . enveloped. Protected. “How does it feel?” Kelsier asked. “Good,” Vin said simply. Kelsier nodded, pulling out several glass vials. He handed two to her. “Drink one; keep the other in case you need it. I’ll show you how to mix new vials later.” Vin nodded, downing the first vial and tucking the second into her belt. “I’m having some new clothing tailored for you,” Kelsier said. “You’ll want to get into the habit of wearing things that don’t have any metal on them: belts with no buckles, shoes that slip on and off, trousers without clasps. Perhaps later, if you’re feeling daring, we’ll get you some women’s clothing.” Vin flushed slightly. Kelsier laughed. “I’m just teasing you. However, you’re entering a new world now—you may find that there are situations where it will be to your advantage to look less like a crew thief and more like a young lady.” Vin nodded, following Kelsier as he walked to the shop’s front door. He pushed the portal open, revealing a wall of darkly shifting mists. He stepped out into them. Taking a deep breath, Vin followed. Kelsier shut the door behind them. The cobbled street felt muffled to Vin, the shifting mists making everything just a bit damp. She couldn’t see far in either direction, and the street ends seemed to fade into nothingness, paths into eternity. Above, there was no sky, just swirling currents of gray upon gray. “All right, let’s begin,” Kelsier said. His voice felt loud in the quiet, empty street. There was a confidence to his tone, something that—confronted with the mists all around—Vin certainly didn’t feel. “Your first lesson,” Kelsier said, strolling down the street, Vin trailing along beside him, “isn’t about Allomancy, but attitude.” He swept his hand forward. “This, Vin. This is ours. The night, the mists—they belong to us. Skaa avoid the mists as if they were death. Thieves and soldiers go out at night, but they fear it nonetheless. Noblemen feign nonchalance, but the mist makes them uncomfortable.” He turned, regarding her. “The mists are your friend, Vin. They hide you, they protect you . . . and they give you power. Ministry doctrine—something rarely shared with skaa—claims that the Mistborn are descendants of the only men who remained true to the Lord Ruler during the days before his Ascension. Other legends whisper that we are something beyond even the Lord Ruler’s power, something that was born on that day when the mists first came upon the land.” Vin nodded slightly. It seemed odd to hear Kelsier speak so openly. Buildings filled with sleeping skaa loomed on either side of the street. And yet, the dark shutters and quiet air made Vin feel as if she and Kelsier were alone. Alone in the most densely populated, overcrowded city in all of the Final Empire. Kelsier continued to walk, the spring in his step incongruent with the dark gloom. “Shouldn’t we
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be worried about soldiers?” Vin asked quietly. Her crews always had to be careful of nighttime Garrison patrols. Kelsier shook his head. “Even if we were careless enough to be spotted, no imperial patrol would dare bother Mistborn. They’d see our cloaks and pretend not to see us. Remember, nearly all Mistborn are members of the Great Houses—and the rest are from lesser Luthadel houses. Either way, they’re very important individuals.” Vin frowned. “So, the guards just ignore the Mistborn?” Kelsier shrugged. “It’s bad etiquette to acknowledge that the skulking rooftop figure you see is actually a very distinguished and proper high lord—or even high lady. Mistborn are so rare that houses can’t afford to apply gender prejudices to them. “Anyway, most Mistborn live two lives—the life of the courtgoing aristocrat, and the life of the sneaking, spying Allomancer. Mistborn identities are closely guarded house secrets—rumors regarding who is Mistborn are always a focus of high noble gossip.” Kelsier turned down another street, Vin following, still a bit nervous. She wasn’t certain where he was taking her; it was easy to get lost in the night. Perhaps he didn’t even have a destination, and was just accustoming her to the mists. “All right,” Kelsier said, “let’s get you used to the basic metals. Can you feel your metal reserves?” Vin paused. If she focused, she could distinguish eight sources of power within her—each one far larger, even, than her two had been on the day when Kelsier had tested her. She had been reticent to use her Luck much since then. She was coming to realize that she had been using a weapon she’d never really understood—a weapon that had accidentally drawn the attention of a Steel Inquisitor. “Begin burning them, one at a time,” Kelsier said. “Burning?” “That’s what we call it when you activate an Allomantic ability,” Kelsier said. “You ‘burn’ the metal associated with that power. You’ll see what I mean. Start with the metals you don’t know about yet—we’ll work on Soothing and Raging emotions some other time.” Vin nodded, pausing in the middle of the street. Tentatively, she reached out to one of the new sources of power. One of them was slightly familiar to her. Had she used it before without realizing it? What would it do? Only one way to find out . . . Uncertain what, exactly, she was supposed to do, Vin gripped the source of power and tried to use it. Immediately, she felt a flare of heat from within her chest. It wasn’t discomforting, but it was obvious and distinct. Along with the warmth came something else—a feeling of rejuvenation, and of power. She felt . . . more solid, somehow. “What happened?” Kelsier asked. “I feel different,” Vin said. She held up her hand, and it seemed as if the limb reacted just a bit too quickly. The muscles were eager. “My body is strange. I don’t feel tired anymore, and I feel alert.” “Ah,” Kelsier said. “That’s pewter. It enhances your physical abilities, making you stronger, more able to
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resist fatigue and pain. You’ll react more quickly when you’re burning it, and your body will be tougher.” Vin flexed experimentally. Her muscles didn’t seem any bigger, yet she could feel their strength. It wasn’t just in her muscles, however—it was everything about her. Her bones, her flesh, her skin. She reached out to her reserve, and could feel it shrinking. “I’m running out,” she said. Kelsier nodded. “Pewter burns relatively quickly. The vial I gave you was measured to contain about ten minutes’ worth of continuous burning—though it will go faster if you flare often and slower if you are careful about when you use it.” “Flare?” “You can burn your metals a little more powerfully if you try,” Kelsier said. “It makes them run out much faster, and it’s difficult to maintain, but it can give you an extra boost.” Vin frowned, trying to do as he said. With a push of effort, she was able to stoke the flames within her chest, flaring the pewter. It was like the inhaled breath before a daring leap. A sudden rush of strength and power. Her body grew tense with anticipation, and for just a moment she felt invincible. Then it passed, her body relaxing slowly. Interesting, she thought, noting how quickly her pewter had burned during that brief moment. “Now, there’s something you need to know about Allomantic metals,” Kelsier said as they strolled forward in the mists. “The more pure they are, the more effective they are. The vials we prepare contain absolutely pure metals, prepared and sold specifically for Allomancers. “Alloys—like pewter—are even trickier, since the metal percentages have to be mixed just right, if you want maximum power. In fact, if you aren’t careful when you buy your metals, you could end up with the wrong alloy entirely.” Vin frowned. “You mean, someone might scam me?” “Not intentionally,” Kelsier said. “The thing is, most of the terms that people use—words like ‘brass,’ ‘pewter,’ and ‘bronze’—are really quite vague, when you get down to it. Pewter, for instance, is generally accepted as an alloy of tin mixed with lead, with perhaps some copper or silver, depending on the use and the circumstances. Allomancer’s pewter, however, is an alloy of ninety-one percent tin, nine percent lead. If you want maximum strength from your metal, you have to use those percentages.” “And . . . if you burn the wrong percentage?” Vin asked. “If the mixture is only off by a bit, you’ll still get some power out of it,” Kelsier said. “However, if it’s too far off, burning it will make you sick.” Vin nodded slowly. “I . . . think I’ve burned this metal before. Once in a while, in very small amounts.” “Trace metals,” Kelsier said. “From drinking water contaminated by metals, or by eating with pewter utensils.” Vin nodded. Some of the mugs in Camon’s lair had been pewter. “All right,” Kelsier said. “Extinguish the pewter and let’s move on to another metal.” Vin did as asked. The withdrawal of power left her feeling weak, tired, and
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exposed. “Now,” Kelsier said, “you should be able to notice a kind of pairing between your reserves of metal.” “Like the two emotion metals,” Vin said. “Exactly. Find the metal linked to pewter.” “I see it,” Vin said. “There are two metals for every power,” Kelsier said. “One Pushes, one Pulls—the second is usually an alloy of the first. For emotions—the external mental powers—you Pull with zinc and Push with brass. You just used pewter to Push your body. That’s one of the internal physical powers.” “Like Ham,” Vin said. “He burns pewter.” Kelsier nodded. “Mistings who can burn pewter are called Thugs. A crude term, I suppose—but they tend to be rather crude people. Our dear Hammond is something of an exception to that rule.” “So, what does the other internal physical metal do?” “Try it and see.” Vin did so eagerly, and the world suddenly became brighter around her. Or . . . well, that wasn’t quite right. She could see better, and she could see farther, but the mists were still there. They were just . . . more translucent. The ambient light around her seemed brighter, somehow. There were other changes. She could feel her clothing. She realized that she had always been able to feel it, but she usually ignored it. Now, however, it felt closer. She could sense the textures, and was acutely aware of the places where the cloth was tight on her. She was hungry. That, too, she had been ignoring—yet now her hunger seemed far more pressing. Her skin felt wetter, and she could smell the crisp air mixed with scents of dirt, soot, and refuse. “Tin enhances your senses,” Kelsier said, his voice suddenly seeming quite loud. “And it’s one of the slowest-burning metals—the tin in that vial is enough to keep you going for hours. Most Mistborn leave their tin on whenever they’re out in the mists—I’ve had mine on since we left the shop.” Vin nodded. The wealth of sensations was nearly overwhelming. She could hear creaks and scuffles in the darkness, and they made her want to jump in alarm, certain that someone was sneaking up behind her. This is going to take some getting used to. “Leave it burning,” Kelsier said, waving for her to walk beside him as he continued down the street. “You’ll want to accustom yourself to the enhanced senses. Just don’t flare it all the time. Not only would you run out of it very quickly, but perpetually flaring metals does . . . strange things to people.” “Strange?” Vin asked. “Metals—especially tin and pewter—stretch your body. Flaring the metals only pushes this stretching further. Stretch it too far for too long, and things start to break.” Vin nodded uncomfortably. Kelsier fell quiet, and they continued to walk, letting Vin explore her new sensations and the detailed world that tin revealed. Before, her vision had been restricted to a tiny pocket within the night. Now, however, she saw an entire city enveloped by a blanket of shifting, swirling mist. She could make out keeps
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like small, dark mountains in the distance, and could see specks of light from windows, like pin-pricked holes in the night. And above . . . she saw lights in the sky. She stopped, gazing up with wonder. They were faint, blurred to even her tin-enhanced eyes, but she could just barely make them out. Hundreds of them. Thousands of them. So small, like the dying embers of candles recently extinguished. “Stars,” Kelsier said, strolling up beside her. “You can’t see them very often, even with tin. It must be a particularly clear night. People used to be able to look up and see them every night—that was before the mists came, before the Ashmounts erupted ash and smoke into the sky.” Vin glanced at him. “How do you know?” Kelsier smiled. “The Lord Ruler has tried very hard to crush memories of those days, but still some remain.” He turned, not really having answered her question, and continued to walk. Vin joined him. Suddenly, with tin, the mists around her didn’t seem so ominous. She was beginning to see how Kelsier could walk about at night with such confidence. “All right,” Kelsier eventually said. “Let’s try another metal.” Vin nodded, leaving her tin on but picking another metal to burn as well. When she did so, a very strange thing happened—a multitude of faint blue lines sprung from her chest, streaking out into the spinning mists. She froze, gasping slightly and looking down at her chest. Most of the lines were thin, like translucent pieces of twine, though a couple were as thick as yarn. Kelsier chuckled. “Leave that metal and its partner alone for the moment. They’re a bit more complicated than the others.” “What . . .?” Vin asked, tracing the lines of blue light with her eyes. They pointed at random objects. Doors, windows—a couple even pointed at Kelsier. “We’ll get to it,” he promised. “Extinguish that one and try one of the last two.” Vin extinguished the strange metal and ignored its companion, picking one of the last metals. Immediately, she felt a strange vibration. Vin paused. The pulses didn’t make a sound that she could hear, yet she could feel them washing across her. They seemed to be coming from Kelsier. She looked at him, frowning. “That’s probably bronze,” Kelsier said. “The internal mental Pulling metal. It lets you sense when someone is using Allomancy nearby. Seekers, like my brother, use it. Generally it’s not that useful—unless you happen to be a Steel Inquisitor searching for skaa Mistings.” Vin paled. “Inquisitors can use Allomancy?” Kelsier nodded. “They’re all Seekers—I’m not sure if that’s because Seekers are chosen to become Inquisitors, or if the process of becoming an Inquisitor grants the power. Either way, since their main duties are to find half-breed children and noblemen who use Allomancy improperly, it’s a useful skill for them to have. Unfortunately, ‘useful’ for them means ‘rather annoying’ for us.” Vin began to nod, then froze. The pulsing had stopped. “What happened?” she asked. “I started burning copper,” Kelsier said, “the
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companion to bronze. When you burn copper, it hides your use of powers from other Allomancers. You can try burning it now, if you want, though you won’t sense much.” Vin did so. The only change was a feeling of slight vibration within her. “Copper is a vital metal to learn,” Kelsier said. “It will hide you from Inquisitors. We probably don’t have anything to worry about tonight—the Inquisitors would assume us to be regular noble Mistborn, out for training. However, if you’re ever in a skaa guise and need to burn metals, make sure you turn on your copper first.” Vin nodded appreciatively. “In fact,” Kelsier said, “many Mistborn keep their copper on all the time. It burns slowly, and it makes you invisible to other Allomancers. It hides you from bronze, and it also prevents others from manipulating your emotions.” Vin perked up. “I thought that might interest you,” Kelsier said. “Anyone burning copper is immune to emotional Allomancy. In addition, copper’s influence occurs in a bubble around you. This cloud—called a coppercloud—hides anyone inside of it from the senses of a Seeker, though it won’t make them immune to emotional Allomancy, like it will you.” “Clubs,” Vin said. “That’s what a Smoker does.” Kelsier nodded. “If one of our people is noticed by a Seeker, they can run back to the lair and disappear. They can also practice their abilities without fear of being discovered. Allomantic pulses coming from a shop in a skaa sector of town would be a quick giveaway to a passing Inquisitor.” “But, you can burn copper,” Vin said. “Why were you so worried about finding a Smoker for the crew?” “I can burn copper, true,” Kelsier said. “And so can you. We can use all of the powers, but we can’t be everywhere. A successful crewleader needs to know how to divide labor, especially on a job as big as this one. Standard practice has a coppercloud going at all times in the lair. Clubs doesn’t do it all himself—several of those apprentices are Smokers too. When you hire a man like Clubs, it’s understood that he’ll provide you with a base of operations and a team of Smokers competent enough to keep you hidden at all times.” Vin nodded. However, she was more interested in copper’s ability to protect her emotions. She would need to locate enough of it to keep it burning all the time. They started walking again, and Kelsier gave her more time to get used to burning tin. Vin’s mind, however, began to wander. Something didn’t feel . . . right to her. Why was Kelsier telling her all of these things? It seemed like he was giving away his secrets too easily. Except one, she thought suspiciously. The metal with the blue lines. He hasn’t gone back to it yet. Perhaps that was the thing he was going to keep from her, the power he would hold in reserve to maintain control over her. It must be strong. The most powerful of the eight. As they walked through
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the quiet streets, Vin reached tentatively inside. She eyed Kelsier, then carefully burned that unknown metal. Again, the lines sprang up around her, pointing in seemingly random directions. The lines moved with her. One end of each thread stayed stuck to her chest, while the other end remained attached to a given place along the street. New lines appeared as she walked, and old ones faded, disappearing behind. The lines came in various widths, and some of them were brighter than others. Curious, Vin tested the lines with her mind, trying to discover their secret. She focused on a particularly small and innocent-looking one, and found that she could feel it individually if she concentrated. She almost felt like she could touch it. She reached out with her mind and gave it a slight tug. The line shook, and something immediately flew out of the darkness toward her. Vin yelped, trying to jump away, but the object—a rusty nail—shot directly toward her. Suddenly, something grabbed the nail, ripping it away and throwing it back out into the darkness. Vin came up from her roll in a tense crouch, mistcloak fluttering around her. She scanned the darkness, then glanced at Kelsier, who was chuckling softly. “I should have known you’d try that,” he said. Vin flushed in embarrassment. “Come on,” he said, waving her over. “No harm done.” “The nail attacked me!” Did that metal bring objects to life? That would be an incredible power indeed. “Actually, you kind of attacked yourself,” Kelsier said. Vin stood carefully, then joined him as he began to walk down the street again. “I’ll explain what you did in a moment,” he promised. “First, there’s something you have to understand about Allomancy.” “Another rule?” “More a philosophy,” Kelsier said. “It has to do with consequences.” Vin frowned. “What do you mean?” “Every action we take has consequences, Vin,” Kelsier said. “I’ve found that in both Allomancy and life, the person who can best judge the consequences of their actions will be the most successful. Take burning pewter, for instance. What are its consequences?” Vin shrugged. “You get stronger.” “What happens if you’re carrying something heavy when your pewter runs out?” Vin paused. “I suppose you’d drop it.” “And, if it’s too heavy, you could hurt yourself seriously. Many a Misting Thug has shrugged off a dire wound while fighting, only to die from that same wound once their pewter ran out.” “I see,” Vin said quietly. “Ha!” Vin jumped in shock, throwing her hands up over her enhanced ears. “Ow!” she complained, glaring at Kelsier. He smiled. “Burning tin has consequences too. If someone produces a sudden light or sound, you can be blinded or stunned.” “But, what does that have to do with those last two metals?” “Iron and steel give you the ability to manipulate other metals around you,” Kelsier explained. “With iron, you can Pull a metal source toward yourself. With steel, you can Push one away. Ah, here we are.” Kelsier stopped, looking up ahead. Through the mist, Vin could see the massive
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city wall looming above them. “What are we doing here?” “We’re going to practice Ironpulling and Steelpushing,” Kelsier said. “But first, some basics.” He pulled something out of his belt—a clip, the smallest denomination of coin. He held it up before her, standing to the side. “Burn steel, the opposite of the metal you burned a few moments ago.” Vin nodded. Again, the blue lines sprang up around her. One of them pointed directly at the coin in Kelsier’s hand. “All right,” Kelsier said. “Push on it.” Vin reached toward the proper thread and Pushed slightly. The coin flipped out of Kelsier’s fingers, traveling directly away from Vin. She continued to focus on it, Pushing the coin through the air until it snapped against the wall of a nearby house. Vin was thrown violently backward in a sudden, jerking motion. Kelsier caught her and kept her from falling to the ground. Vin stumbled and righted herself. Across the street, the coin—now released from her control—plinked to the ground. “What happened?” Kelsier asked her. She shook her head. “I don’t know. I Pushed on the coin, and it flew away. But when it hit the wall, I was pushed away.” “Why?” Vin frowned thoughtfully. “I guess . . . I guess the coin couldn’t go anywhere, so I had to be the one that moved.” Kelsier nodded approvingly. “Consequences, Vin. You use your own weight when you Steelpush. If you’re a lot heavier than your anchor, it will fly away from you like that coin did. However, if the object is heavier than you are—or if it runs into something that is—you’ll be Pushed away. Ironpulling is similar—either you’ll be Pulled toward the object or it will be Pulled toward you. If your weights are similar, then you’ll both move. “This is the great art of Allomancy, Vin. Knowing how much, or how little, you will move when you burn steel or iron will give you a major advantage over your opponents. You’ll find that these two are the most versatile and useful of your abilities.” Vin nodded. “Now, remember,” he continued. “In both cases, the force of your Push or Pull is directly away from or toward you. You can’t flip things around with your mind, controlling them to go wherever you want. That’s not the way that Allomancy works, because that’s not the way the physical world works. When you push against something—whether with Allomancy or with your hands—it goes directly in the opposite direction. Force, reactions, consequences. Understand?” Vin nodded again. “Good,” Kelsier said happily. “Now, let’s go jump over that wall.” “What?” He left her standing dumbfounded in the street. She watched him approach the base of the wall, then scurried over to him. “You’re insane!” she said quietly. Kelsier smiled. “I think that’s the second time today you’ve said that to me. You need to pay better attention—if you’d been listening to everyone else, you’d know that my sanity departed long ago.” “Kelsier,” she said, looking up at the wall. “I can’t. . . . I mean, I’ve
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never really even used Allomancy before this evening!” “Yes, but you’re such a quick learner,” Kelsier said, pulling something out from beneath his cloak. It appeared to be a belt. “Here, put this on. It’s got metal weights strapped to it. If something goes wrong, I’ll probably be able to catch you.” “Probably?” Vin asked nervously, strapping on the belt. Kelsier smiled, then dropped a large metal ingot at his feet. “Put the ingot directly below you, and remember to Steel-push, not Ironpull. Don’t stop Pushing until you reach the top of the wall.” Then he bent down and jumped. Kelsier shot into the air, his dark form vanishing into the curling mists. Vin waited for a moment, but he didn’t plummet back down to his doom. All was still, even to her enhanced ears. The mists whirled playfully around her. Taunting her. Daring her. She glanced down at the ingot, burning steel. The blue line glowed with a faint, ghostly light. She stepped over to the ingot, standing with one foot on either side of it. She glanced up at the mists, then down one last time. Finally, she took a deep breath and Pushed against the ingot with all of her strength. 8 VIN SHOT INTO THE AIR. She suppressed a scream, remembering to continue Pushing despite her fear. The stone wall was a blur of motion just a few feet away from her. The ground disappeared below, and the line of blue pointing toward the ingot grew fainter and fainter. What happens if it disappears? She began to slow. The fainter the line grew, the more her speed decreased. After just a few moments of flight, she crept to a halt—and was left hanging in the air above a nearly invisible blue line. “I’ve always liked the view from up here.” Vin glanced to the side. Kelsier stood a short distance away; she had been so focused that she hadn’t noticed that she was hovering just a few feet from the top of the wall. “Help!” she said, continuing to Push desperately, lest she fall. The mists below her shifted and spun, like some dark ocean of damned souls. “You don’t have to worry too much,” Kelsier said. “It’s easier to balance in the air if you have a tripod of anchors, but you can do fine with a single anchor. Your body is used to balancing itself. Part of what you’ve been doing since you learned to walk transfers to Allomancy. As long as you stay still, hanging at the very edge of your Pushing ability, you’ll be pretty stable—your mind and body will correct any slight deviations from the base center of your anchor below, keeping you from falling to the sides. “If you were to Push on something else, or move too much to one side, though . . . well, you’d lose your anchor below, and wouldn’t be pushing directly up anymore. Then you’d have problems—you’d tip over like a lead weight on the top of a very tall pole.” “Kelsier . . .” Vin
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said. “I hope you aren’t afraid of heights, Vin,” Kelsier said. “That’s quite a disadvantage for a Mistborn.” “I’m . . . not . . . afraid . . . of . . . heights,” Vin said through gritted teeth. “But I’m also not accustomed to hanging in the air a hundred feet above the bloody street!” Kelsier chuckled, but Vin felt a force tug against her belt, pulling her through the air toward him. He grabbed her and pulled her up over the stone railing, then set her down beside him. He reached an arm over the side of the wall. A second later, the ingot shot up through the air, scraping along the side of the wall, until it flipped into his waiting hand. “Good job,” he said. “Now we go back down.” He tossed the ingot over his shoulder, casting it into the dark mists on the other side of the wall. “We’re really going outside?” Vin asked. “Outside the city walls? At night?” Kelsier smiled in that infuriating way of his. He walked over and climbed onto the battlements. “Varying the strength with which you Push or Pull is difficult, but possible. It’s better to just fall a bit, then Push to slow yourself. Let go and fall some more, then Push again. If you get the rhythm right, you’ll reach the ground just fine.” “Kelsier,” Vin said, approaching the wall. “I don’t . . .” “You’re at the top of the city wall now, Vin,” he said, stepping out into the air. He hung, hovering, balanced as he’d explained to her before. “There are only two ways down. Either you jump off, or you try and explain to that guard patrol why a Mistborn needs to use their stairwell.” Vin turned with concern, noting an approaching bob of lanternlight in the dark mists. She turned back to Kelsier, but he was gone. She cursed, bending over the side of the wall and looking down into the mists. She could hear the guards behind her, speaking softly to one another as they walked along the wall. Kelsier was right: She didn’t have many options. Angry, she climbed up onto the battlement. She wasn’t afraid of heights in particular, but who wouldn’t be apprehensive, standing atop the wall, looking down at her doom? Vin’s heart fluttered, her stomach twisting. I hope Kelsier’s out of the way, she thought, checking the blue line to make certain she was above the ingot. Then, she stepped off. She immediately began to plummet toward the ground. She Pushed reflexively with her steel, but her trajectory was off; she had fallen to the side of the ingot, not directly toward it. Consequently, her Push nudged her to the side even farther, and she began to tumble through the air. Alarmed, she Pushed again—harder this time, flaring her steel. The sudden effort launched her back upward. She arced sideways through the air, popping up into the air alongside the walltop. The passing guards spun with surprise, but their faces soon became indistinct as Vin fell
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back down toward the ground. Mind muddled by terror, she reflexively reached out and Pulled against the ingot, trying to yank herself toward it. And, of course, it obediently shot up toward her. I’m dead. Then her body lurched, pulled upward by the belt. Her descent slowed until she was drifting quietly through the air. Kelsier appeared in the mists, standing on the ground beneath her; he was—of course—smiling. He let her drop the last few feet, catching her, then setting her upright on the soft earth. She stood quivering for a moment, breathing in terse, anxious breaths. “Well, that was fun,” Kelsier said lightly. Vin didn’t respond. Kelsier sat down on a nearby rock, obviously giving her time to gather her wits. Eventually, she burned pewter, using the sensation of solidness it provided to steady her nerves. “You did well,” Kelsier said. “I nearly died.” “Everybody does, their first time,” Kelsier said. “Ironpulling and Steelpushing are dangerous skills. You can impale yourself with a bit of metal that you Pull into your own body, you can jump and leave your anchor too far behind, or you can make a dozen other mistakes. “My experience—limited though it is—has been that it’s better to get into those extreme circumstances early, when someone can watch over you. Anyway, I assume you can understand why it’s important for an Allomancer to carry as little metal on their body as possible.” Vin nodded, then paused, reaching up to her ear. “My earring,” she said. “I’ll have to stop wearing it.” “Does it have a clip on the back?” Kelsier asked. Vin shook her head. “It’s just a small stud, and the pin on the back bends down.” “Then you’ll be all right,” Kelsier said. “Metal in your body—even if only a bit of it is in your body—can’t be Pushed or Pulled. Otherwise another Allomancer could rip the metals out of your stomach while you were burning them.” Good to know, Vin thought. “It’s also why those Inquisitors can walk around so confidently with a pair of steel spikes sticking out of their heads. The metal pierces their bodies, so it can’t be affected by another Allomancer. Keep the earring—it’s small, so you won’t be able to do much with it, but you could use it as a weapon in an emergency.” “All right.” “Now, you ready to go?” She looked up at the wall, preparing to jump again, then nodded. “We’re not going back up,” Kelsier said. “Come on.” Vin frowned as Kelsier began to walk out into the mists. So, does he have a destination after all—or has he just decided to wander some more? Oddly, his affable nonchalance made him very difficult to read. Vin hurried to keep up, not wanting to be left alone in the mists. The landscape around Luthadel was barren save for scrub and weeds. Prickles and dried leaves—both dusted with ash from an earlier ashfall—rubbed against her legs as they walked. The underbrush crunched as they walked, quiet and a bit sodden with mist dew. Occasionally, they passed
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heaps of ash that had been carted out of the city. Most of the time, however, ash was thrown into the River Channerel, which passed through the city. Water broke it down eventually—or, at least, that was what Vin assumed. Otherwise the entire continent would have been buried long ago. Vin stayed close to Kelsier as they walked. Though she had traveled outside cities before, she had always moved as part of a group of boatmen—the skaa workers who ran narrow-boats and barges up and down the many canal routes in the Final Empire. It had been hard work—most noblemen used skaa instead of horses to pull the boats along the towpath—but there had been a certain freedom to knowing that she was traveling at all, for most skaa, even skaa thieves, never left their plantation or town. The constant movement from city to city had been Reen’s choice; he had been obsessive about never getting locked down. He usually got them places on canal boats run by underground crews, never staying in one place for more than a year. He had kept moving, always going. As if running from something. They continued to walk. At night, even the barren hills and scrub-covered plains took on a forbidding air. Vin didn’t speak, though she tried to make as little noise as possible. She had heard tales of what went abroad in the land at night, and the cover of the mists—even pierced by tin as it now was—made her feel as if she were being watched. The sensation grew more unnerving as they traveled. Soon, she began to hear noises in the darkness. They were muffled and faint—crackles of weeds, shuffles in the echoing mist. You’re just being paranoid! she told herself as she jumped at some half-imagined sound. Eventually, however, she could stand it no more. “Kelsier!” she said with an urgent whisper—one that sounded betrayingly loud to her enhanced ears. “I think there’s something out there.” “Hum?” Kelsier asked. He looked lost in his thoughts. “I think something is following us!” “Oh,” Kelsier said. “Yes, you’re right. It’s a mistwraith.” Vin stopped dead in her tracks. Kelsier, however, kept going. “Kelsier!” she said, causing him to pause. “You mean they’re real?” “Of course they are,” Kelsier said. “Where do you think all the stories came from?” Vin stood in dumbfounded shock. “You want to go look at it?” Kelsier asked. “Look at the mistwraith?” Vin asked. “Are you—” She stopped. Kelsier chuckled, strolling back to her. “Mistwraiths might be a bit disturbing to look at, but they’re relatively harmless. They’re scavengers, mostly. Come on.” He began to retrace their footsteps, waving her to follow. Reluctant—but morbidly curious—Vin followed. Kelsier walked at a brisk pace, leading her to the top of a relatively scrub-free hill. He crouched down, motioning for Vin to do likewise. “Their hearing isn’t very good,” he said as she knelt in the rough, ashen dirt beside him. “But their sense of smell—or, rather, taste—is quite acute. It’s probably following our trail, hoping that we’ll discard something edible.”
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Vin squinted in the darkness. “I can’t see it,” she said, searching the mists for a shadowed figure. “There,” Kelsier said, pointing toward a squat hill. Vin frowned, imagining a creature crouching atop the hill, watching her as she looked for it. Then the hill moved. Vin jumped slightly. The dark mound—perhaps ten feet tall and twice as long—lurched forward in a strange, shuffling gait, and Vin leaned forward, trying to get a better look. “Flare your tin,” Kelsier suggested. Vin nodded, calling upon a burst of extra Allomantic power. Everything immediately became lighter, the mists becoming even less of an obstruction. What she saw caused her to shiver—fascinated, revolted, and more than a little disturbed. The creature had smoky, translucent skin, and Vin could see its bones. It had dozens upon dozens of limbs, and each one looked as if it had come from a different animal. There were human hands, bovine hooves, canine haunches, and others she couldn’t identify. The mismatched limbs let the creature walk—though it was more of a shamble. It crawled along slowly, moving like an awkward centipede. Many of the limbs, in fact, didn’t even look functional—they jutted from the creature’s flesh in a twisted, unnatural fashion. Its body was bulbous and elongated. It wasn’t just a blob, though . . . there was a strange logic to its form. It had a distinct skeletal structure, and—squinting through tin-enhanced eyes—she thought she could make out translucent muscles and sinew wrapping the bones. The creature flexed odd jumbles of muscles as it moved, and appeared to have a dozen different rib cages. Along the main body, arms and legs hung at unnerving angles. And heads—she counted six. Despite the translucent skin, she could make out a horse head sitting beside that of a deer. Another head turned toward her, and she could see its human skull. The head sat atop a long spinal cord attached to some kind of animal torso, which was in turn attached to a jumble of strange bones. Vin nearly retched. “What . . .? How . . .?” “Mistwraiths have malleable bodies,” Kelsier said. “They can shape their skin around any skeletal structure, and can even re-create muscles and organs if they have a model to mimic.” “You mean . . .?” Kelsier nodded. “When they find a corpse, they envelop it and slowly digest the muscles and organs. Then, they use what they’ve eaten as a pattern, creating an exact duplicate of the dead creature. They rearrange the parts a little bit—excreting the bones they don’t want, while adding the ones they do want to their body—forming a jumble like what you see out there.” Vin watched the creature shamble across the field, following her tracks. A flap of slimy skin drooped from its underbelly, trailing along the ground. Tasting for scents, Vin thought. Following the smell of our passing. She let her tin return to normal, and the mistwraith once again became a shadowed mound. The silhouette, however, only seemed to heighten its abnormality. “Are they intelligent, then?” Vin asked.
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“If they can split up a . . . body and put the pieces where they want?” “Intelligent?” Kelsier asked. “No, not one this young. More instinctual than intelligent.” Vin shivered again. “Do people know about these things? I mean, other than the legends?” “What do you mean by ‘people’?” Kelsier asked. “A lot of Allomancers know about them, and I’m sure the Ministry does. Regular people . . . well, they just don’t go out at night. Most skaa fear and curse mistwraiths, but go their entire lives without actually seeing one.” “Lucky for them,” Vin muttered. “Why doesn’t someone do something about these things?” Kelsier shrugged. “They’re not that dangerous.” “That one has a human head!” “It probably found a corpse,” Kelsier said. “I’ve never heard of a mistwraith attacking a full-grown, healthy adult. That’s probably why everyone leaves them alone. And, of course, the high nobility have devised their own uses for the creatures.” Vin looked at him questioningly, but he said no more, rising and walking down the hillside. She shot one more glance at the unnatural creature, then took off, following Kelsier. “Is that what you brought me out here to see?” Vin asked. Kelsier chuckled. “Mistwraiths might look eerie, but they’re hardly worth such a long trip. No, we’re heading over there.” She followed his gesture, and was able to make out a change in the landscape ahead. “The imperial highroad? We’ve circled around to the front of the city.” Kelsier nodded. After a short walk—during which Vin glanced backward no less than three times to make certain the mistwraith hadn’t gained on them—they left the scrub and stepped onto the flat, packed earth of the imperial highroad. Kelsier paused, scanning the road in either direction. Vin frowned, wondering what he was doing. Then she saw the carriage. It was parked by the side of the highroad, and Vin could see that there was a man waiting beside it. “Ho, Sazed,” Kelsier said, walking forward. The man bowed. “Master Kelsier,” he said, his smooth voice carrying well in the night air. It had a higher pitch to it, and he spoke with an almost melodic accent. “I almost thought that you had decided not to come.” “You know me, Saze,” Kelsier said, jovially slapping the man on the shoulder. “I’m the soul of punctuality.” He turned and waved a hand toward Vin. “This apprehensive little creature is Vin.” “Ah, yes,” Sazed said, speaking in a slow, well-enunciated way. There was something strange about his accent. Vin approached cautiously, studying the man. Sazed had a long, flat face and a willowy body. He was even taller than Kelsier—tall enough to be a bit abnormal—and his arms were unusually long. “You’re a Terrisman,” Vin said. His earlobes had been stretched out, and the ears themselves contained studs that ran around their perimeter. He wore the lavish, colorful robes of a Terris steward—the garments were made of embroidered, overlapping V shapes, alternating among the three colors of his master’s house. “Yes, child,” Sazed said, bowing. “Have you known many
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of my people?” “None,” Vin said. “But I know that the high nobility prefer Terrismen stewards and attendants.” “Indeed they do, child,” Sazed said. He turned to Kelsier. “We should go, Master Kelsier. It is late, and we are still an hour away from Fellise.” Fellise, Vin thought. So, we’re going to see the impostor Lord Renoux. Sazed opened the carriage door for them, then closed it after they climbed in. Vin settled on one of the plush seats as she heard Sazed climb atop the vehicle and set the horses in motion. Kelsier sat quietly in the carriage. The window shades were closed against the mist, and a small lantern, half shielded, hung in the corner. Vin rode on the seat directly across from him—her legs tucked up underneath her, her enveloping mistcloak pulled close, hiding her arms and legs. She always does that, Kelsier thought. Wherever she is, she tries to be as small and unnoticeable as possible. So tense. Vin didn’t sit, she crouched. She didn’t walk, she prowled. Even when she was sitting in the open, she seemed to be trying to hide. She’s a brave one, though. During his own training, Kelsier hadn’t been quite so willing to throw himself off of a city wall—old Gemmel had been forced to push him. Vin watched him with those quiet, dark eyes of hers. When she noticed his attention, she glanced away, huddling down a little more within her cloak. Unexpectedly, however, she spoke. “Your brother,” she said in her soft near-whisper of a voice. “You two don’t get along very well.” Kelsier raised an eyebrow. “No. We never have, really. It’s a shame. We should, but we just . . . don’t.” “He’s older than you?” Kelsier nodded. “Did he beat you often?” Vin asked. Kelsier frowned. “Beat me? No, he didn’t beat me at all.” “You stopped him, then?” Vin said. “Maybe that’s why he doesn’t like you. How did you escape? Did you run, or were you just stronger than him?” “Vin, Marsh never tried to beat me. We argued, true—but we never really wanted to hurt one another.” Vin didn’t contradict him, but he could see in her eyes that she didn’t believe him. What a life . . . Kelsier thought, falling silent. There were so many children like Vin in the underground. Of course, most died before reaching her age. Kelsier had been one of the lucky ones: His mother had been a resourceful mistress of a high nobleman, a clever woman who had managed to hide the fact that she was skaa from her lord. Kelsier and Marsh had grown up privileged—considered illegitimate, but still noble—until their father had finally discovered the truth. “Why did you teach me those things?” Vin asked, interrupting his thoughts. “About Allomancy, I mean.” Kelsier frowned. “I promised you that I would.” “Now that I know your secrets, what is to keep me from running away from you?” “Nothing,” Kelsier said. Once again, her distrusting glare told him that she didn’t believe his answer. “There are metals
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you didn’t tell me about. Back in our meeting on the first day, you said there were ten.” Kelsier nodded, leaning forward. “There are. But I didn’t leave the last two out because I wanted to keep things from you. They’re just . . . difficult to get used to. It will be easier if you practice with the basic metals first. However, if you want to know about the last two, I can teach you once we arrive in Fellise.” Vin’s eyes narrowed. Kelsier rolled his eyes. “I’m not trying to trick you, Vin. People serve on my crews because they want to, and I’m effective because they can rely on one another. No distrust, no betrayals.” “Except one,” Vin whispered. “The betrayal that sent you to the Pits.” Kelsier froze. “Where did you hear that?” Vin shrugged. Kelsier sighed, rubbing his forehead with one hand. That wasn’t what he wanted to do—he wanted to scratch his scars, the ones that ran all along his fingers and hands, twisting up his arms toward his shoulders. He resisted. “That isn’t something worth talking about,” he said. “But there was a traitor,” Vin said. “We don’t know for certain.” That sounded weak, even to him. “Regardless, my crews rely on trust. That means no coercions. If you want out, we can go back to Luthadel right now. I’ll show you the last two metals, then you can be on your way.” “I don’t have enough money to survive on my own,” Vin said. Kelsier reached inside of his cloak and pulled out a bag of coins, then tossed it onto the seat beside her. “Three thousand boxings. The money I took from Camon.” Vin glanced at the bag distrustfully. “Take it,” Kelsier said. “You’re the one who earned it—from what I’ve been able to gather, your Allomancy was behind most of Camon’s recent successes, and you were the one who risked Pushing the emotions of an obligator.” Vin didn’t move. Fine, Kelsier thought, reaching up and knocking on the underside of the coachman’s chair. The carriage stopped, and Sazed soon appeared at his window. “Turn the carriage around please, Saze,” Kelsier said. “Take us back to Luthadel.” “Yes, Master Kelsier.” Within moments, the carriage was rolling back in the direction it had come. Vin watched in silence, but she seemed a little less certain of herself. She eyed the bag of coins. “I’m serious, Vin,” Kelsier said. “I can’t have someone on my team who doesn’t want to work with me. Turning you away isn’t a punishment; it’s just the way things must be.” Vin didn’t respond. Letting her go would be a gamble—but forcing her to stay would be a bigger one. Kelsier sat, trying to read her, trying to understand her. Would she betray them to the Final Empire if she left? He thought not. She wasn’t a bad person. She just thought that everybody else was. “I think your plan is crazy,” she said quietly. “So do half the people on the crew.” “You can’t defeat the Final Empire.” “We
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don’t have to,” Kelsier said. “We just have to get Yeden an army, then seize the palace.” “The Lord Ruler will stop you,” Vin said. “You can’t beat him—he’s immortal.” “We have the Eleventh Metal,” Kelsier said. “We’ll find a way to kill him.” “The Ministry is too powerful. They’ll find your army and destroy it.” Kelsier leaned forward, looking Vin in the eye. “You trusted me enough to jump off the top of the wall, and I caught you. You’re going to have to trust me this time too.” She obviously didn’t like the word “trust” very much. She studied him in the weak lanternlight, remaining quiet long enough that the silence grew uncomfortable. Finally, she snatched the bag of coins, quickly hiding it beneath her cloak. “I’ll stay,” she said. “But not because I trust you.” Kelsier raised an eyebrow. “Why, then?” Vin shrugged, and she sounded perfectly honest when she spoke. “Because I want to see what happens.” Having a keep in Luthadel qualified a house for high noble status. However, having a keep didn’t mean that one had to live in it, especially not all of the time. Many families also maintained a residence in one of Luthadel’s outskirt cities. Less crowded, cleaner, and less strict in its observance of imperial laws, Fellise was a rich town. Rather than containing imposing, buttressed keeps, it was filled with lavish manors and villas. Trees even lined some of the streets; most of them were aspens, whose bone-white bark was somehow resistant to the discoloring of the ash. Vin watched the mist-cloaked city through her window, the carriage lantern extinguished at her request. Burning tin, she was able to study the neatly organized and well-groomed streets. This was a section of Fellise she had rarely seen; despite the town’s opulence, its slums were remarkably similar to the ones in every other city. Kelsier watched the city through his own window, frowning. “You disapprove of the waste,” Vin guessed, her voice a whisper. The sound would carry to Kelsier’s enhanced ears. “You see the riches of this city and think of the skaa who worked to create it.” “That’s part of it,” Kelsier said, his own voice barely a whisper. “There’s more, though. Considering the amount of money spent on it, this city should be beautiful.” Vin cocked her head. “It is.” Kelsier shook his head. “The homes are still stained black. The soil is still arid and lifeless. The trees still grow leaves of brown.” “Of course they’re brown. What else would they be?” “Green,” Kelsier said. “Everything should be green.” Green? Vin thought. What a strange thought. She tried to imagine trees with green leaves, but the image seemed silly. Kelsier certainly had his quirks—though, anyone who had spent so long at the Pits of Hathsin was bound to be left a bit strange. He turned back toward her. “Before I forget, there are a couple more things you should know about Allomancy.” Vin nodded. “First,” Kelsier said, “remember to burn away any unused metals you have inside of you
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at the end of the night. Some of the metals we use can be poisonous if digested; it’s best not to sleep with them in your stomach.” “All right,” Vin said. “Also,” Kelsier said, “never try to burn a metal that isn’t one of the ten. I warned you that impure metals and alloys can make you sick. Well, if you try to burn a metal that isn’t Allomantically sound at all, it could be deadly.” Vin nodded solemnly. Good to know, she thought. “Ah,” Kelsier said, turning back toward the window. “Here we are: the newly purchased Manor Renoux. You should probably take off your cloak—the people here are loyal to us, but it always pays to be careful.” Vin agreed completely. She pulled off the cloak, letting Kelsier tuck it in his pack. Then she peeked out the carriage window, peering through the mists at the approaching manor. The grounds had a low stone wall and an iron gate; a pair of guards opened the way as Sazed identified himself. The roadway inside was lined with aspens, and atop the hill ahead Vin could see a large manor house, phantom light spilling from its windows. Sazed pulled the carriage up before the manor, then handed the reins to a servant and climbed down. “Welcome to Manor Renoux, Mistress Vin,” he said, opening the door and gesturing to help her down. Vin eyed his hand, but didn’t take it, instead scrambling down on her own. The Terrisman didn’t seem offended by her refusal. The steps to the manor house were lit by a double line of lantern poles. As Kelsier hopped from the carriage, Vin could see a group of men gathering at the top of the white marble stairs. Kelsier climbed the steps with a springy stride; Vin followed behind, noticing how clean the steps were. They would have to be scrubbed regularly to keep the ash from staining them. Did the skaa who maintained the building know that their master was an imposter? How was Kelsier’s “benevolent” plan to overthrow the Final Empire helping the common people who cleaned these steps? Thin and aging, “Lord Renoux” wore a rich suit and a pair of aristocratic spectacles. A sparse, gray mustache colored his lip, and—despite his age—he didn’t carry a cane for support. He nodded respectfully to Kelsier, but maintained a dignified air. Immediately, Vin was struck by one obvious fact: This man knows what he is doing. Camon had been skilled at impersonating noblemen, but his self-importance had always struck Vin as a bit juvenile. While there were noblemen like Camon, the more impressive ones were like this Lord Renoux: calm, and self-confident. Men whose nobility was in their bearing rather than their ability to speak scornfully to those around them. Vin had to resist cringing when the impostor’s eyes fell on her—he seemed far too much a nobleman, and she had been trained to reflexively avoid their attention. “The manor is looking much better,” Kelsier said, shaking hands with Renoux. “Yes, I’m impressed with its progress,” Renoux said.
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“My cleaning crews are quite proficient—give us a bit more time, and the manor will be so grand that I wouldn’t hesitate to host the Lord Ruler himself.” Kelsier chuckled. “Wouldn’t that be an odd dinner party.” He stepped back, gesturing toward Vin. “This is the young lady I spoke of.” Renoux studied her, and Vin glanced away. She didn’t like it when people looked at her that way—it made her wonder how they were going to try and use her. “We will need to speak further of this, Kelsier,” Renoux said, nodding toward the mansion’s entrance. “The hour is late, but . . .” Kelsier stepped into the building. “Late? Why, it’s barely midnight. Have your people prepare some food—Lady Vin and I missed dinner.” A missed meal was nothing new to Vin. However, Renoux immediately waved to some servants, and they leapt into motion. Renoux walked into the building, and Vin followed. She paused in the entryway, however, Sazed waiting patiently behind her. Kelsier paused, turning when he noticed that she wasn’t following. “Vin?” “It’s so . . . clean,” Vin said, unable to think of any other description. On jobs, she’d occasionally seen the homes of noblemen. However, those times had happened at night, in dark gloom. She was unprepared for the well-lit sight before her. The white marble floors of Manor Renoux seemed to glow, reflecting the light of a dozen lanterns. Everything was . . . pristine. The walls were white except where they had been wash-painted with traditional animal murals. A brilliant chandelier sparkled above a double staircase, and the room’s other decorations—crystal sculptures, vases set with bundles of aspen branches—glistened, unmarred by soot, smudge, or fingerprint. Kelsier chuckled. “Well, her reaction speaks highly of your efforts,” he said to Lord Renoux. Vin allowed herself to be led into the building. The group turned right, entering a room whose whites were muted slightly by the addition of maroon furnishings and drapes. Renoux paused. “Perhaps the lady could enjoy some refreshment here for a moment,” he said to Kelsier. “There are some matters of a . . . delicate nature that I would discuss with you.” Kelsier shrugged. “Fine with me,” he said, following Renoux toward another doorway. “Saze, why don’t you keep Vin company while Lord Renoux and I talk?” “Of course, Master Kelsier.” Kelsier smiled, eyeing Vin, and somehow she knew that he was leaving Sazed behind to keep her from eavesdropping. She shot the departing men an annoyed look. What was that you said about “trust,” Kelsier? However, she was even more annoyed at herself for getting unsettled. Why should she care if Kelsier excluded her? She had spent her entire life being ignored and dismissed. It had never bothered her before when other crewleaders left her out of their planning sessions. Vin took a seat in one of the stiffly upholstered maroon chairs, tucking her feet up beneath her. She knew what the problem was. Kelsier had been showing her too much respect, making her feel too important. She was beginning to think
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that she deserved to be part of his secret confidences. Reen’s laughter in the back of her mind discredited those thoughts, and she sat, annoyed at both herself and Kelsier, feeling ashamed, but not exactly certain why. Renoux’s servants brought her a platter of fruits and breads. They set up a small stand beside her chair, and even gave her a crystalline cup filled with a glistening red liquid. She couldn’t tell if it was wine or juice, and she didn’t intend to find out. She did, however, pick at the food—her instincts wouldn’t let her pass up a free meal, even if it was prepared by unfamiliar hands. Sazed walked over and took a position standing just behind her chair to the right. He waited with a stiff posture, hands clasped in front of him, eyes forward. The stance was obviously intended to be respectful, but his looming posture didn’t help her mood any. Vin tried to focus on her surroundings, but this only reminded her of how rich the furnishings were. She was uncomfortable amid such finery; she felt as if she stood out like a black spot on a clean rug. She didn’t eat the breads for fear that she would drop crumbs on the floor, and she worried at her feet and legs—which had been stained with ash while walking through the countryside—marring the furnishings. All of this cleanliness came at some skaa’s expense, Vin thought. Why should I worry about disturbing it? However, she had trouble feeling outraged, for she knew this was only a front. “Lord Renoux” had to maintain a certain level of finery. It would be suspicious to do otherwise. In addition, something else kept her from resenting the waste. The servants were happy. They went about their duties with a businesslike professionalism, no sense of drudgery about their efforts. She heard laughter in the outer hallway. These were not mistreated skaa; whether they had been included in Kelsier’s plans or not was irrelevant. So, Vin sat and forced herself to eat fruit, yawning occasionally. It was turning out to be a long night indeed. The servants eventually left her alone, though Sazed continued to loom just behind her. I can’t eat like this, she finally thought with frustration. “Could you not stand over my shoulder like that?” Sazed nodded. He took two steps forward so that he stood next to her chair, rather than behind it. He adopted the same stiff posture, looming above her just as he had before. Vin frowned in annoyance, then noticed the smile on Sazed’s lips. He glanced down at her, eyes twinkling at his joke, then walked over and seated himself in the chair beside hers. “I’ve never known a Terrisman with a sense of humor before,” Vin said dryly. Sazed raised an eyebrow. “I was under the impression that you hadn’t known any Terrismen at all, Mistress Vin.” Vin paused. “Well, I’ve never heard of one with a sense of humor. You’re supposed to be completely rigid and formal.” “We’re just subtle, Mistress,” Sazed said. Though
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he sat with a stiff posture, there was still something . . . relaxed about him. It was as if he were as comfortable when sitting properly as other people were when lounging. That’s how they’re supposed to be. The perfect serving men, completely loyal to the Final Empire. “Is something troubling you, Mistress Vin?” Sazed asked as she studied him. How much does he know? Perhaps he doesn’t even realize that Renoux is an imposter. “I was just wondering how you . . . came here,” she finally said. “You mean, how did a Terrisman steward end up as part of a rebellion intending to overthrow the Final Empire?” Sazed asked in his soft voice. Vin flushed. Apparently he was well versed indeed. “That is an intriguing question, Mistress,” Sazed said. “Certainly, my situation is not common. I would say that I arrived at it because of belief.” “Belief?” “Yes,” Sazed said. “Tell me, Mistress. What is it that you believe?” Vin frowned. “What kind of question is that?” “The most important kind, I think.” Vin sat for a moment, but he obviously expected a reply, so she finally shrugged. “I don’t know.” “People often say that,” Sazed said, “but I find that it is rarely true. Do you believe in the Final Empire?” “I believe that it is strong,” Vin said. “Immortal?” Vin shrugged. “It has been so far.” “And the Lord Ruler? Is he the Ascended Avatar of God? Do you believe that he, as the Ministry teaches, is a Sliver of Infinity?” “I . . . I’ve never thought about it before.” “Perhaps you should,” Sazed said. “If, upon examination, you find that the Ministry’s teachings do not suit you, then I would be pleased to offer you an alternative.” “What alternative?” Sazed smiled. “That depends. The right belief is like a good cloak, I think. If it fits you well, it keeps you warm and safe. The wrong fit, however, can suffocate.” Vin paused, frowning slightly, but Sazed just smiled. Eventually, she turned her attention back to her meal. After a short wait, the side door opened, and Kelsier and Renoux returned. “Now,” Renoux said as he and Kelsier seated themselves, a group of servants bringing another plate of food for Kelsier, “let us discuss this child. The man you were going to have play my heir will not do, you say?” “Unfortunately,” Kelsier said, making quick work of his food. “That complicates things greatly,” Renoux said. Kelsier shrugged. “We’ll just have Vin be your heir.” Renoux shook his head. “A girl her age could inherit, but it would be suspicious for me to pick her. There are any number of legitimate male cousins in the Renoux line who would be far more suitable choices. It was going to be difficult enough to get a middle-aged man past courtly scrutiny. A young girl . . . no, too many people would investigate her background. Our forged family lines will survive passing scrutiny, but if someone were to actually send messengers to search out her holdings . .
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.” Kelsier frowned. “Besides,” Renoux added. “There is another issue. If I were to name a young, unmarried girl as my heir, hers would instantly become one of the most sought-after hands in Luthadel. It would be very difficult for her to spy if she were to receive that much attention.” Vin flushed at the thought. Surprisingly, she found her heart sinking as the old imposter spoke. This was the only part Kelsier gave me in the plan. If I can’t do it, what good am I to the crew? “So, what do you suggest?” Kelsier asked. “Well, she doesn’t have to be my heir,” Renoux said. “What if, instead, she were simply a young scion I brought with me to Luthadel? Perhaps I promised her parents—distant but favored cousins—that I would introduce their daughter to the court? Everyone would assume that my ulterior motive is to marry her off to a high noble family, thereby gaining myself another connection to those in power. However, she wouldn’t draw much attention—she would be of low status, not to mention somewhat rural.” “Which would explain why she’s a bit less refined than other court members,” Kelsier said. “No offense, Vin.” Vin looked up from hiding a piece of napkin-wrapped bread in her shirt pocket. “Why would I be offended?” Kelsier smiled. “Never mind.” Renoux nodded to himself. “Yes, this will work much better. Everyone assumes that House Renoux will eventually join the high nobility, so they’ll accept Vin into their ranks out of courtesy. However, she herself will be unimportant enough that most people will ignore her. That is the ideal situation for what we will want her to do.” “I like it,” Kelsier said. “Few people expect a man of your age and mercantile concerns to bother himself with balls and parties, but having a young socialite to send instead of a rejection note will serve as an advantage to your reputation.” “Indeed,” Renoux said. “She’ll need some refinement, however—and not just in appearance.” Vin squirmed a bit beneath their scrutiny. It looked as if her part in the plan would go forward, and she suddenly realized what that meant. Being around Renoux made her uncomfortable—and he was a fake nobleman. How would she react to an entire room full of real ones? “I’m afraid I’ll have to borrow Sazed from you for a while,” Kelsier said. “Quite all right,” Renoux said. “He’s really not my steward, but yours.” “Actually,” Kelsier said, “I don’t think he’s anybody’s steward anymore, eh Saze?” Sazed cocked his head. “A Terrisman without a master is like a soldier with no weapon, Master Kelsier. I have enjoyed my time attending to Lord Renoux, as I am certain that I shall enjoy returning to your service.” “Oh, you won’t be returning to my service,” Kelsier said. Sazed raised an eyebrow. Kelsier nodded toward Vin. “Renoux is right, Saze. Vin needs some coaching, and I know plenty of high noblemen who are less refined than yourself. Do you think you could help the girl prepare?” “I am certain that I
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could offer the young lady some aid,” Sazed said. “Good,” Kelsier said, popping one last cake in his mouth, then rising. “I’m glad that’s settled, because I’m starting to feel tired—and poor Vin looks like she’s about to nod off in the middle of her fruit plate.” “I’m fine,” Vin said immediately, the assertion weakened slightly by a stifled yawn. “Sazed,” Renoux said, “would you show them to the appropriate guest chambers?” “Of course, Master Renoux,” Sazed said, rising from his seat in a smooth motion. Vin and Kelsier trailed the tall Terrisman from the room as a group of servants took away the remnants of the meal. I left food behind, Vin noticed, feeling a bit drowsy. She wasn’t certain what to think of the occurrence. As they crested the stairs and turned into a side hallway, Kelsier fell into place beside Vin. “I’m sorry for excluding you back there, Vin.” She shrugged. “There’s no reason for me to know all of your plans.” “Nonsense,” Kelsier said. “Your decision tonight makes you as much a part of this team as anyone else. Renoux’s words in private, however, were of a personal nature. He is a marvelous actor, but he feels very uncomfortable with people knowing the specifics of how he took Lord Renoux’s place. I promise you, nothing we discussed has any bearing on your part in the plan.” Vin continued walking. “I . . . believe you.” “Good,” Kelsier said with a smile, clapping her on the shoulder. “Saze, I know my way to the men’s guest quarters—I was, after all, the one who bought this place. I can make my way from here.” “Very well, Master Kelsier,” Sazed said with a respectful nod. Kelsier shot Vin a smile, then turned down a hallway, walking with his characteristically lively step. Vin watched him go, then followed Sazed down a different side passage, pondering the Allomancy training, her discussion with Kelsier in the carriage, and finally Kelsier’s promise just a few moments before. The three thousand boxings—a fortune in coins—was a strange weight tied to her belt. Eventually, Sazed opened a particular door for her, walking in to light the lanterns. “The linens are fresh, and I will send maids to prepare you a bath in the morning.” He turned, handing her his candle. “Will you require anything else?” Vin shook her head. Sazed smiled, bid her good evening, then walked back out in the hallway. Vin stood quietly for a short moment, studying the room. Then she turned, glancing once again in the direction Kelsier had gone. “Sazed?” she said, peeking back out into the hallway. The steward paused, turning back. “Yes, Mistress Vin?” “Kelsier,” Vin said quietly. “He’s a good man, isn’t he?” Sazed smiled. “A very good man, Mistress. One of the best I’ve known.” Vin nodded slightly. “A good man . . .” she said softly. “I don’t think I’ve ever known one of those before.” Sazed smiled, then bowed his head respectfully and turned to leave. Vin let the door swing shut. THE END OF PART
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ONE PART TWO REBELS BENEATHA SKY OF ASH 9 VIN PUSHED AGAINST THE COIN and threw herself up into the mist. She flew away from earth and stone, soaring through the dark currents of the sky, wind fluttering her cloak. This is freedom, she thought, breathing deeply of the cool, damp air. She closed her eyes, feeling the passing wind. This was what I was always missing, yet never knew it. She opened her eyes as she began to descend. She waited until the last moment, then flicked a coin. It hit the cobblestones, and she Pushed against it lightly, slowing her descent. She burned pewter with a flash and hit the ground running, dashing along Fellise’s quiet streets. The late-autumn air was cool, but winters were generally mild in the Central Dominance. Some years passed without even a flake of snow. She tossed a coin backward, then used it to Push herself slightly up and to the right. She landed on a low stone wall, barely breaking stride as she ran spryly along the wall’s top. Burning pewter enhanced more than muscles—it increased all the body’s physical abilities. Keeping pewter at a low burn gave her a sense of balance that any night burglar would have envied. The wall turned north, and Vin paused at the corner. She fell into a crouch, bare feet and sensitive fingers gripping the chill stone. Her copper on to hide her Allomancy, she flared tin to strain her senses. Stillness. Aspens made insubstantial ranks in the mist, like emaciated skaa standing in their work lines. Estates rolled in the distance—each one walled, manicured, and well guarded. There were far fewer dots of light in the city than there were in Luthadel. Many of the homes were only part-time residences, their masters away visiting some other sliver of the Final Empire. Blue lines suddenly appeared before her—one end of each pointing at her chest, the other disappearing into the mists. Vin immediately jumped to the side, dodging as a pair of coins shot past in the night air, leaving trails in the mist. She flared pewter, landing on the cobbled street beside the wall. Her tin-enhanced ears picked out a scraping sound; then a dark form shot into the sky, a few blue lines pointing to his coin pouch. Vin dropped a coin and threw herself into the air after her opponent. They soared for a moment, flying over the grounds of some unsuspecting nobleman. Vin’s opponent suddenly changed course in the air, jerking toward the mansion itself. Vin followed, letting go of the coin below her, instead burning iron and Pulling on one of the mansion’s window latches. Her opponent hit first, and she heard a thud as he ran into the side of the building. He was off a second later. A light brightened, and a confused head poked out of a window as Vin spun in the air, landing feet-first against the mansion. She immediately kicked off of the vertical surface, angling herself slightly and Pushing against the same window latch. Glass cracked,
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and she shot away into the night before gravity could reclaim her. Vin flew through the mists, eyes straining to keep track of her quarry. He shot a couple of coins back at her, but she Pushed them away with a dismissive thought. A hazy blue line fell downward—a dropped coin—and her opponent moved to the side again. Vin dropped her own coin and Pushed. However, her coin suddenly jerked backward along the ground—the result of a Push from her opponent. The sudden move changed the trajectory of Vin’s jump, throwing her sideways. She cursed, flicking another coin to the side, using it to Push herself back on track. By then, she’d lost her quarry. All right . . . she thought, hitting the soft ground just inside the wall. She emptied a few coins into her hand, then tossed the mostly full pouch into the air, giving it a strong Push in the direction she had seen her quarry disappear. The pouch disappeared into the mists, trailing a faint blue Allomantic line. A scattering of coins suddenly shot from the bushes ahead, streaking toward her bag. Vin smiled. Her opponent had assumed that the flying pouch was Vin herself. He was too far away to see the coins in her hand, just as he had been too far away for her to see the coins he carried. A dark figure jumped out of the bushes, hopping up onto the stone wall. Vin waited quietly as the figure ran along the wall and slipped down onto the other side. Vin launched herself straight up into the air, then threw her handful of coins at the figure passing below. He immediately Pushed, sending the coins streaking away—but they were only a distraction. Vin landed on the ground before him, twin glass knives whipping from her sheathes. She lunged, slashing, but her opponent jumped backward. Something’s wrong. Vin ducked and threw herself to the side as a handful of glittering coins—her coins, the ones her opponent had Pushed away—shot back down from the sky into her opponent’s hand. He turned and sprayed them in her direction. Vin dropped her daggers with a quiet yelp, thrusting her hands forward and Pushing on the coins. Immediately, she was thrown backward as her Push was matched by her opponent. One of the coins lurched in the air, hanging directly between the two of them. The rest of the coins disappeared into the mists, pushed sideways by conflicting forces. Vin flared her steel as she flew, and heard her opponent grunt as he was Pushed backward as well. Her opponent hit the wall. Vin slammed into a tree, but she flared pewter and ignored the pain. She used the wood to brace herself, continuing to Push. The coin quivered in the air, trapped between the amplified strength of two Allomancers. The pressure increased. Vin gritted her teeth, feeling the small aspen bend behind her. Her opponent’s Pushing was relentless. Will . . . not . . . be beaten! Vin thought, flaring both steel and pewter, grunting slightly
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as she threw the entire force of her strength at the coin. There was a moment of silence. Then Vin lurched backward, the tree cracking with a loud snap in the night air. Vin hit the ground in a tumble, splinters of wood scattering around her. Even tin and pewter weren’t enough to keep her mind clear as she rolled across the cobblestones, eventually coming to a dizzy rest. A dark figure approached, mistcloak ribbons billowing around him. Vin lurched to her feet, grasping for knives she’d forgotten that she’d dropped. Kelsier put down his hood and held her knives toward her. One was broken. “I know it’s instinctual, Vin, but you don’t have to put your hands forward when you Push—nor do you have to drop what you’re holding.” Vin grimaced in the darkness, rubbing her shoulder and nodding as she accepted the daggers. “Nice job with the pouch,” Kelsier said. “You had me for a moment.” “For all the good it did,” Vin grumbled. “You’ve only been doing this for a few months, Vin,” he said lightly. “All things considered, your progress is fantastic. I would, however, recommend that you avoid Push-matches with people who weigh more than you.” He paused, eyeing Vin’s short figure and thin frame. “Which probably means avoiding them with pretty much everybody.” Vin sighed, stretching slightly. She’d have more bruises. At least they won’t be visible. Now that the bruises Camon had given her face were finally gone, Sazed had warned her to be careful. Makeup could only cover so much, and she would have to look like a “proper” young noblewoman if she were going to infiltrate the court. “Here,” Kelsier said, handing her something. “A souvenir.” Vin held up the object—the coin they had Pushed between them. It was bent and flattened from the pressure. “I’ll see you back at the mansion,” Kelsier said. Vin nodded, and Kelsier disappeared into the night. He’s right, she thought. I’m smaller, I weigh less, and I have a shorter reach than anyone I’m likely to fight. If I attack someone head on, I’ll lose. The alternative had always been her method anyway—to struggle quietly, to stay unseen. She had to learn to use Allomancy the same way. Kelsier kept saying that she was developing amazingly fast as an Allomancer. He seemed to think it was his teaching, but Vin felt it was something else. The mists . . . the night prowling . . . it all felt right to her. She was not worried about mastering Allomancy in time to help Kelsier against other Mistborn. It was her other part in the plan that worried her. Sighing, Vin hopped over the wall to search for her coin pouch. Up at the mansion—not Renoux’s home, but one owned by some other nobleman—lights were on and people milled about. None of them ventured deeply into the night. The skaa would fear mistwraiths; the nobility would have guessed that Mistborn had caused the disturbance. Neither one was something a sane person would want to confront. Vin eventually traced
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her pouch by steel-line to the upper branches of a tree. She Pulled it slightly, tugging it down into her hand, then made her way back out to the street. Kelsier probably would have left the pouch behind—the two dozen or so clips it contained wouldn’t have been worth his time. However, for most of her life Vin had scrounged and starved. She just couldn’t force herself to be wasteful. Even tossing coins to jump with made her uncomfortable. So, she used her coins sparingly as she traveled back toward Renoux’s mansion, instead Pushing and Pulling off of buildings and discarded bits of metal. The half-jumping, half-running gait of a Mistborn came naturally to her now, and she didn’t have to think much about her movements. How would she fare, trying to pretend to be a noblewoman? She couldn’t hide her apprehensions, not from herself. Camon had been good at imitating noblemen because of his self-confidence, and that was one attribute Vin knew she didn’t have. Her success with Allomancy only proved that her place was in corners and shadows, not striding around in pretty dresses at courtly balls. Kelsier, however, refused to let her back out. Vin landed in a crouch just outside Mansion Renoux, puffing slightly from exertion. She regarded the lights with a slight feeling of apprehension. You’ve got to learn to do this, Vin, Kelsier kept telling her. You’re a talented Allomancer, but you’ll need more than Steel-pushes to succeed against the nobility. Until you can move in their society as easily as you do in the mists, you’ll be at a disadvantage. Letting out a quiet sigh, Vin rose from her crouch, then took off her mistcloak and stuffed it away for later retrieval. Then she walked up the steps and into the building. When she asked after Sazed, the mansion servants directed her to the kitchens, so she made her way into the closed-off, hidden section of the mansion that was the servants’ quarters. Even these parts of the building were kept immaculately clean. Vin was beginning to understand why Renoux made such a convincing impostor: He didn’t allow for imperfection. If he maintained his impersonation half as well as he maintained order in his mansion, then Vin doubted anyone would ever discover the ruse. But, she thought, he must have some flaw. Back in the meeting two months ago, Kelsier said that Renoux wouldn’t be able to withstand scrutiny by an Inquisitor. Perhaps they’d be able to sense something about his emotions, something that gives him away? It was a small item, but Vin had not forgotten it. Despite Kelsier’s words about honesty and trust, he still had his secrets. Everyone did. Sazed was, indeed, to be found in the kitchens. He stood with a middle-aged servant. She was tall for a skaa woman—though standing next to Sazed made her look diminutive. Vin recognized her as a member of the mansion staff; Cosahn was her name. Vin had made an effort to memorize all of the names of the local staff, if only to keep
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tabs on them. Sazed looked over as Vin entered. “Ah, Mistress Vin. Your return is quite timely.” He gestured to his companion. “This is Cosahn.” Cosahn studied Vin with a businesslike air. Vin longed to return to the mists, where people couldn’t look at her like that. “It is long enough now, I think,” Sazed said. “Probably,” Cosahn said. “But I cannot perform miracles, Master Vaht.” Sazed nodded. “Vaht” was, apparently, the proper title for a Terrisman steward. Not quite skaa, but definitely not noblemen, the Terrismen held a very strange place in imperial society. Vin studied the two of them suspiciously. “Your hair, Mistress,” Sazed said with a calm tone. “Cosahn is going to cut it for you.” “Oh,” Vin said, reaching up. Her hair was getting a bit long for her taste—though somehow she doubted that Sazed was going to let her have it cropped boyishly short. Cosahn waved to a chair, and Vin reluctantly seated herself. She found it unnerving to sit docilely while someone worked with shears so close to her head, but there was no getting around it. After a few moments of running her hands through Vin’s hair, “tisk”ing quietly, Cosahn began to snip. “Such beautiful hair,” she said, almost as if to herself, “thick, with a nice deep black color. It’s a shame to see it cared for so poorly, Master Vaht. Many courtly women would die for hair like this—it has just enough body to lie full, but is straight enough to work with easily.” Sazed smiled. “We’ll have to see that it receives better care in the future,” he said. Cosahn continued her work, nodding to herself. Eventually, Sazed walked over and took a seat just a few feet in front of Vin. “Kelsier hasn’t returned yet, I assume?” Vin asked. Sazed shook his head, and Vin sighed. Kelsier didn’t think she was practiced enough go with him on his nightly raids, many of which he went on directly following his training sessions with Vin. During the last two months, Kelsier had put in appearances on the properties of a dozen different noble houses, both in Luthadel and in Fellise. He varied his disguises and apparent motives, trying to create an air of confusion among the Great Houses. “What?” Vin asked, eyeing Sazed, who was regarding her with a curious look. The Terrisman nodded his head slightly with respect. “I was wondering if you might be willing to listen to another proposal.” Vin sighed, rolling her eyes. “Fine.” It isn’t like I can do anything else but sit here. “I think I have the perfect religion for you,” Sazed said, his normally stoic face revealing a glimmer of eagerness. “It is called ‘Trelagism,’ after the god Trell. Trell was worshipped by a group known as the Nelazan, a people who lived far to the north. In their land, the day and night cycle was very odd. During some months of the year, it was dark for most of the day. During the summer, however, it only grew dark for a few hours at
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a time. “The Nelazan believed that there was beauty in darkness, and that the daylight was more profane. They saw the stars as the Thousand Eyes of Trell watching them. The sun was the single, jealous eye of Trell’s brother, Nalt. Since Nalt only had one eye, he made it blaze brightly to outshine his brother. The Nelazan, however, were not impressed, and preferred to worship the quiet Trell, who watched over them even when Nalt obscured the sky.” Sazed fell silent. Vin wasn’t sure how to respond, so she didn’t say anything. “It really is a good religion, Mistress Vin,” Sazed said. “Very gentle, yet very powerful. The Nelazan were not an advanced people, but they were quite determined. They mapped the entire night sky, counting and placing every major star. Their ways suit you—especially their preference of the night. I can tell you more, if you wish.” Vin shook her head. “That’s all right, Sazed.” “Not a good fit, then?” Sazed said, frowning slightly. “Ah, well. I shall have to consider it some more. Thank you, Mistress—you are very patient with me, I think.” “Consider it some more?” Vin asked. “That’s the fifth religion you’ve tried to convert me to, Saze. How many more can there be?” “Five hundred and sixty two,” Sazed said. “Or, at least, that is the number of belief systems I know. There are, likely and unfortunately, others that have passed from this world without leaving traces for my people to collect.” Vin paused. “And you have all of these religions memorized?” “As much as is possible,” Sazed said. “Their prayers, their beliefs, their mythologies. Many are very similar—breakoffs or sects of one another.” “Even still, how can you remember all of that?” “I have . . . methods,” Sazed said. “But, what’s the point?” Sazed frowned. “The answer should be obvious, I think. People are valuable, Mistress Vin, and so—therefore—are their beliefs. Since the Ascension a thousand years ago, so many beliefs have disappeared. The Steel Ministry forbids the worship of anyone but the Lord Ruler, and the Inquisitors have quite diligently destroyed hundreds of religions. If someone doesn’t remember them, then they will simply disappear.” “You mean,” Vin said incredulously, “you’re trying to get me to believe in religions that have been dead for a thousand years?” Sazed nodded. Is everyone involved with Kelsier insane? “The Final Empire cannot last forever,” Sazed said quietly. “I do not know if Master Kelsier will be the one who finally brings its end, but that end will come. And when it does—when the Steel Ministry no longer holds sway—men will wish to return to the beliefs of their fathers. On that day they will look to the Keepers, and on that day we shall return to mankind his forgotten truths.” “Keepers?” Vin asked as Cosahn moved around to begin snipping at her bangs. “There are more like you?” “Not many,” Sazed said. “But some. Enough to pass the truths on to the next generation.” Vin sat thoughtfully, resisting the urge to squirm beneath Cosahn’s ministrations. The woman
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certainly was taking her time—when Reen had cut Vin’s hair, he had been finished after just a few quick hacks. “Shall we go over your lessons while we wait, Mistress Vin?” Sazed asked. Vin eyed the Terrisman, and he smiled just slightly. He knew that he had her captive; she couldn’t hide, or even sit at the window, staring out into the mists. All she could do was sit and listen. “Fine.” “Can you name all ten Great Houses of Luthadel in order of power?” “Venture, Hasting, Elariel, Tekiel, Lekal, Erikeller, Erikell, Haught, Urbain, and Buvidas.” “Good,” Sazed said. “And you are?” “I am the Lady Valette Renoux, fourth cousin to Lord Teven Renoux, who owns this mansion. My parents—Lord Hadren and Lady Fellette Renoux—live in Chakath, a city in the Western Dominance. Major export, wool. My family works in trading dyes, specifically blushdip red, from the snails that are common there, and callowfield yellow, made from tree bark. As part of a trade agreement with their distant cousin, my parents sent me down here to Luthadel, so I can spend some time at court.” Sazed nodded. “And how do you feel about this opportunity?” “I am amazed and a little overwhelmed,” Vin said. “People will pay attention to me because they wish to curry favor with Lord Renoux. Since I’m not familiar with the ways of court, I will be flattered by their attention. I will ingratiate myself to the court community, but I will stay quiet and out of trouble.” “Your memorization skills are admirable, Mistress,” Sazed said. “This humble attendant wonders how much more successful might you be if you dedicated yourself to learning, rather than dedicating yourself to avoiding our lessons.” Vin eyed him. “Do all Terrisman ‘humble attendants’ give their masters as much lip as you do?” “Only the successful ones.” Vin eyed him for a moment, then sighed. “I’m sorry, Saze. I don’t mean to avoid your lessons. I just . . . the mists . . . I get distracted sometimes.” “Well, fortunately and honestly, you are very quick to learn. However, the people of the court have had their entire lives to study etiquette. Even as a rural noblewoman, there are certain things you would know.” “I know,” Vin said. “I don’t want to stand out.” “Oh, you can’t avoid that, Mistress. A newcomer, from a distant part of the empire? Yes, they will notice you. We just don’t want to make them suspicious. You must be considered, then dismissed. If you act too much like a fool, that will be suspect in and of itself.” Great. Sazed paused, cocking his head slightly. A few seconds later, Vin heard footsteps in the hallway outside. Kelsier sauntered into the room, bearing a self-satisfied smile. He pulled off his mistcloak, then paused as he saw Vin. “What?” she asked, sinking a little further into the chair. “The haircut looks good,” Kelsier said. “Nice job, Cosahn.” “It was nothing, Master Kelsier.” Vin could hear the blush in her voice. “I just work with what I have.” “Mirror,”
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Vin said, holding out her hand. Cosahn handed her one. Vin held it up, and what she saw gave her pause. She looked . . . like a girl. Cosahn had done a remarkable job of evening out the hair, and she had managed to get rid of the snags. Vin had always found that if her hair got too long, it had a tendency to stand up. Cosahn had done something about this too. Vin’s hair still wasn’t very long—it barely hung down over her ears—but at least it lay flat. You don’t want them to think of you as a girl, Reen’s voice warned. Yet, for once, she found herself wanting to ignore that voice. “We might actually turn you into a lady, Vin!” Kelsier said with a laugh, earning him a glare from Vin. “First we’ll have to persuade her not to scowl so often, Master Kelsier,” Sazed noted. “That’s going to be hard,” Kelsier said. “She’s quite fond of making faces. Anyway, well done, Cosahn.” “I’ve still got a little bit of trimming to do, Master Kelsier,” the woman said. “By all means, continue,” Kelsier said. “But I’m going to filch Sazed for a moment.” Kelsier winked at Vin, smiled at Cosahn, then he and Sazed retreated from the room—once again leaving Vin where she couldn’t eavesdrop. Kelsier peeked into the kitchen, watching Vin sit sullenly in her chair. The haircut really was good. However, his compliments had an ulterior motive—he suspected that Vin had spent far too much of her life being told that she was worthless. Perhaps if she had a bit more self-confidence, she wouldn’t try to hide so much. He let the door slide shut, turning to Sazed. The Terrisman waited, as always, with restful patience. “How is the training going?” Kelsier asked. “Very well, Master Kelsier,” Sazed said. “She already knew some things from training she received at her brother’s hands. Above that, however, she is an extremely intelligent girl—perceptive and quick to memorize. I didn’t expect such skill from one who grew up in her circumstances.” “A lot of the street children are clever,” Kelsier said. “The ones who aren’t dead.” Sazed nodded solemnly. “She is extremely reserved, and I sense that she doesn’t see the full value in my lessons. She is very obedient, but is quick to exploit mistakes or misunderstandings. If I don’t tell her exactly when and where to meet, I often have to search the entire mansion for her.” Kelsier nodded. “I think it’s her way of maintaining a bit of control in her life. Anyway, what I really wanted to know is whether she’s ready or not.” “I’m not sure, Master Kelsier,” Sazed replied. “Pure knowledge is not the equivalent of skill. I’m not certain if she has the . . . poise to imitate a noblewoman, even a young and inexperienced one. We’ve done practice dinners, gone over conversational etiquette, and memorized gossip. She seems skilled at it all, in a controlled situation. She’s even done well sitting in on tea meetings when Renoux entertains
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noble guests. However, we won’t really be able to tell if she can do this until we put her alone in a party full of aristocrats.” “I wish she could practice some more,” Kelsier said with a shake of his head. “But every week we spend preparing increases the chances that the Ministry will discover our budding army in the caves.” “It is a test of balance, then,” Sazed said. “We must wait long enough to gather the men we need, yet move soon enough to avoid discovery.” Kelsier nodded. “We can’t pause for one crewmember—we’ll have to find someone else to be our mole if Vin does badly. Poor girl—I wish I had time to train her better in Allomancy. We’ve barely covered the first four metals. I just don’t have enough time!” “If I might make a suggestion . . .” “Of course, Saze.” “Send the child with some of the Misting crewmembers,” Sazed said. “I hear that the man Breeze is a very accomplished Soother, and surely the others are equally skilled. Let them show Mistress Vin how to use her abilities.” Kelsier paused thoughtfully. “That’s a good idea, Saze.” “But?” Kelsier glanced back toward the door, beyond which Vin was still petulantly getting her haircut. “I’m not sure. Today, when we were training, we got into a Steelpush shoving match. The kid has to weigh less than half what I do, but she gave me a decent pummeling anyway.” “Different people have different strengths in Allomancy,” Sazed said. “Yes, but the variance isn’t usually this great,” Kelsier said. “Plus, it took me months and months to learn how to manipulate my Pushes and Pulls. It’s not as easy as it sounds—even something as simple as Pushing yourself up onto a rooftop requires an understanding of weight, balance, and trajectory. “But Vin . . . she seems to know all these things instinctively. True, she can only use the first four metals with any skill, but the progress she’s made is amazing.” “She is a special girl.” Kelsier nodded. “She deserves more time to learn about her powers. I feel a little guilty about pulling her into our plans. She’ll probably end up at a Ministry execution ceremony with the rest of us.” “But that guilt won’t stop you from using her to spy on the aristocracy.” Kelsier shook his head. “No,” he said quietly. “It won’t. We’ll need every advantage we can get. Just . . . watch over her, Saze. From now on, you’ll act as Vin’s steward and guardian at the functions she attends—it won’t be odd for her to bring a Terrisman servant with her.” “Not at all,” Sazed agreed. “In fact, it would be strange to send a girl her age to courtly functions without an escort.” Kelsier nodded. “Protect her, Saze. She might be a powerful Allomancer, but she’s inexperienced. I’ll feel a lot less guilty about sending her into those aristocratic dens if I know you’re with her.” “I will protect her with my life, Master Kelsier. I promise you this.” Kelsier
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smiled, resting a thankful hand on Sazed’s shoulder. “I feel pity for the man who gets in your way.” Sazed bowed his head humbly. He looked innocuous, but Kelsier knew the strength that Sazed hid. Few men, Allomancers or not, would fare well in a fight with a Keeper whose anger had been roused. That was probably why the Ministry had hunted the sect virtually to extinction. “All right,” Kelsier said. “Get back to your teaching. Lord Venture is throwing a ball at the end of the week, and—ready or not—Vin is going to be there.” 10 VIN WALKED ALONG A STREET in the Cracks—one of Luthadel’s many skaa slums—with her hood up. For some reason, she found the muffled heat of a hood preferable to the oppressive red sunlight. She walked with a slouch, eyes down, sticking near to the side of the street. The skaa she passed had similar airs of dejection. No one looked up; no one walked with a straight back or an optimistic smile. In the slums, those things would make one look suspicious. She’d almost forgotten how oppressive Luthadel could be. Her weeks in Fellise had accustomed her to trees and washed stone. Here, there was nothing white—no creeping aspens, no whitewashed granite. All was black. Buildings were stained by countless, repetitive ashfalls. Air curled with smoke from the infamous Luthadel smithies and a thousand separate noble kitchens. Cobblestones, doorways, and corners were clogged with soot—the slums were rarely swept clean. It’s like . . . things are actually brighter at night than they are during the day, Vin thought, pulling her patched skaa cloak close, turning a corner. She passed beggars, huddled on corners, hands outstretched and hoping for an offering, their pleadings falling vainly on the ears of people who were themselves starving. She passed workers, walking with heads and shoulders bowed, caps or hoods pulled down to keep ash out of their eyes. Occasionally, she passed squads of Garrison town guards, walking with full armor—breastplate, cap, and black cloak—trying to look as intimidating as possible. This last group moved through the slums, acting as the Lord Ruler’s hands in an area most obligators found too distasteful to visit. The Garrisoners kicked at beggars to make certain they were truly invalids, stopped wandering workers to harass them about being on the streets instead of working, and made a general nuisance of themselves. Vin ducked down as a group passed, pulling her hood close. She was old enough that she should have been either bearing children or working in a mill, but her size often made her look younger in profile. Either the ruse worked, or this particular squad wasn’t interested in looking for ditchers, for they let her pass with barely a glance. She ducked around a corner, walking down an ash-drifted alley, and approached the soup kitchen at the end of the small street. Like most of its kind, the kitchen was dingy and poorly maintained. In an economy where workers were rarely, if ever, given direct pay, kitchens had to be supported
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by the nobility. Some local lords—probably the owners of the mills and forges in the area—paid the kitchen owner to provide food for the local skaa. The workers would be given meal tokens for their time, and would be allowed a short break at midday to go eat. The central kitchen would allow the smaller businesses to avoid the costs of providing on-site meals. Of course, since the kitchen owner was paid directly, he could pocket whatever he could save on ingredients. In Vin’s experience, kitchen food was about as tasty as ashwater. Fortunately, she hadn’t come to eat. She joined the line at the door, waiting quietly as workers presented their meal chips. When her turn came, she pulled out a small wooden disk and passed it to the skaa man at the door. He accepted the chip with a smooth motion, nodding almost imperceptibly to his right. Vin walked in the indicated direction, passing through a filthy dining room, floor scattered with tracked-in ash. As she approached the far wall, she could see a splintery wooden door set in the room’s corner. A man seated by the door caught her eyes, nodded slightly, and pushed the door open. Vin passed quickly into the small room beyond. “Vin, my dear!” Breeze said, lounging at a table near the center of the room. “Welcome! How was Fellise?” Vin shrugged, taking a seat at the table. “Ah,” Breeze said. “I’d almost forgotten what a fascinating conversationalist you are. Wine?” Vin shook her head. “Well, I would certainly like some.” Breeze wore one of his extravagant suits, dueling cane resting across his lap. The chamber was only lit by a single lantern, but it was far cleaner than the room outside. Of the four other men in the room, Vin recognized only one—an apprentice from Clubs’s shop. The two by the door were obviously guards. The last man appeared to be a regular skaa worker—complete with blackened jacket and ashen face. His self-confident air, however, proved that he was a member of the underground. Probably one of Yeden’s rebels. Breeze held up his cup, tapping its side with his fingernail. The rebel regarded it darkly. “Right now,” Breeze said, “you’re wondering if I’m using Allomancy on you. Perhaps I am, perhaps I am not. Does it matter? I’m here by your leader’s invitation, and he ordered you to see that I was made comfortable. And, I assure you, a cup of wine in my hand is absolutely necessary for my comfort.” The skaa man waited for a moment, then snatched the cup and stalked away, grumbling under his breath about foolish costs and wasted resources. Breeze raised an eyebrow, turning to Vin. He seemed quite pleased with himself. “So, did you Push him?” she asked. Breeze shook his head. “Waste of brass. Did Kelsier tell you why he asked you to come here today?” “He told me to watch you,” Vin said, a bit annoyed at being handed off to Breeze. “He said he didn’t have time to train me in all the metals.”
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“Well,” Breeze said, “let us begin, then. First, you must understand that Soothing is about more than just Allomancy. It’s about the delicate and noble art of manipulation.” “Noble indeed,” Vin said. “Ah, you sound like one of them,” Breeze said. “Them who?” “Them everyone else,” Breeze said. “You saw how that skaa gentleman treated me? People don’t like us, my dear. The idea of someone who can play with their emotions, who can ‘mystically’ get them to do certain things, makes them uncomfortable. What they do not realize—and what you must realize—is that manipulating others is something that all people do. In fact, manipulation is at the core of our social interaction.” He settled back, raising his dueling cane and gesturing with it slightly as he spoke. “Think about it. What is a man doing when he seeks the affection of a young lady? Why, he is trying to manipulate her to regard him favorably. What happens when old two friends sit down for a drink? They tell stories, trying to impress each other. Life as a human being is about posturing and influence. This isn’t a bad thing—in fact, we depend upon it. These interactions teach us how to respond to others.” He paused, pointing at Vin with the cane. “The difference between Soothers and regular people is that we are aware of what we’re doing. We also have a slight . . . advantage. But, is it really that much more ‘powerful’ than having a charismatic personality or a fine set of teeth? I think not.” Vin paused. “Besides,” Breeze added, “as I mentioned, a good Soother must be skilled far beyond his ability to use Allomancy. Allomancy can’t let you read minds or even emotions—in a way, you’re as blind as anyone else. You fire off pulses of emotions, targeted at a single person or in an area, and your subjects will have their emotions altered—hopefully producing the effect that you wished. However, great Soothers are those who can successfully use their eyes and instincts to know how a person is feeling before they get Soothed.” “What does it matter how they’re feeling?” Vin said, trying to cover her annoyance. “You’re just going to Soothe them anyway, right? So, when you’re done, they’ll feel how you want them to.” Breeze sighed, shaking his head. “What would you say if you knew I’d Soothed you on three separate occasions during our conversation?” Vin paused. “When?” she demanded. “Does it matter?” Breeze asked. “This is the lesson you must learn, my dear. If you can’t read how someone is feeling, then you’ll never have a subtle touch with emotional Allomancy. Push someone too hard, and even the most blind of skaa will realize that they’re being manipulated somehow. Touch too softly, and you won’t produce a noticeable effect—other, more powerful emotions will still rule your subject.” Breeze shook his head. “It’s all about understanding people,” he continued. “You have to read how someone is feeling, change that feeling by nudging it in the proper direction, then channel their newfound emotional
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state to your advantage. That, my dear, is the challenge in what we do! It is difficult, but for those who can do it well . . .” The door opened, and the sullen skaa man returned, bearing an entire bottle of wine. He put it and a cup on the table before Breeze, then went over to stand on the other side of the room, beside peepholes looking into the dining room. “There are vast rewards,” Breeze said with a quiet smile. He winked at her, then poured some wine. Vin wasn’t certain what to think. Breeze’s opinion seemed cruel. Yet, Reen had trained her well. If she didn’t have power over this thing, others would gain power over her through it. She started burning copper—as Kelsier had taught her—to shield herself from further manipulations on Breeze’s part. The door opened again, and a familiar vest-wearing form tromped in. “Hey, Vin,” Ham said with a friendly wave. He walked over to the table, eyeing the wine. “Breeze, you know that the rebellion doesn’t have the money for that kind of thing.” “Kelsier will reimburse them,” Breeze said with a dismissive wave. “I simply cannot work with a dry throat. How is the area?” “Secure,” Ham said. “But I’ve got Tineyes on the corners just in case. Your bolt-exit is behind that hatch in the corner.” Breeze nodded, and Ham turned, looking at Clubs’s apprentice. “You Smoking back there, Cobble?” The boy nodded. “Good lad,” Ham said. “That’s everything, then. Now we just have to wait for Kell’s speech.” Breeze checked his pocket watch. “He’s not scheduled for another few minutes. Shall I have someone fetch you a cup?” “I’ll pass,” Ham said. Breeze shrugged, sipping his wine. There was a moment of silence. Finally, Ham spoke. “So . . .” “No,” Breeze interrupted. “But—” “Whatever it is, we don’t want to hear about it.” Ham gave the Soother a flat stare. “You can’t Push me into complacence, Breeze.” Breeze rolled his eyes, taking a drink. “What?” Vin asked. “What were you going to say?” “Don’t encourage him, my dear,” Breeze said. Vin frowned. She glanced at Ham, who smiled. Breeze sighed. “Just leave me out of it. I’m not in the mood for one of Ham’s inane debates.” “Ignore him,” Ham said eagerly, pulling his chair a little bit closer to Vin. “So, I’ve been wondering. By overthrowing the Final Empire are we doing something good, or are we doing something bad?” Vin paused. “Does it matter?” Ham looked taken aback, but Breeze chuckled. “Well answered,” the Soother said. Ham glared at Breeze, then turned back to Vin. “Of course it matters.” “Well,” Vin said, “I guess we’re doing something good. The Final Empire has oppressed the skaa for centuries.” “Right,” Ham said. “But, there’s a problem. The Lord Ruler is God, right?” Vin shrugged. “Does it matter?” Ham glared at her. She rolled her eyes. “All right. The Ministry claims that he is God.” “Actually,” Breeze noted, “the Lord Ruler is only a piece of God. He is the Sliver
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of Infinity—not omniscient or omnipresent, but an independent section of a consciousness that is.” Ham sighed. “I thought you didn’t want to be involved.” “Just making certain everyone has their facts correct,” Breeze said lightly. “Anyway,” Ham said. “God is the creator of all things, right? He is the force that dictates the laws of the universe, and is therefore the ultimate source of ethics. He is absolute morality.” Vin blinked. “You see the dilemma?” Ham asked. “I see an idiot,” Breeze mumbled. “I’m confused,” Vin said. “What’s the problem?” “We claim to be doing good,” Ham said. “But, the Lord Ruler—as God—defines what is good. So, by opposing him we’re actually evil. But, since he’s doing the wrong thing, does evil actually count as good in this case?” Vin frowned. “Well?” Ham asked. “I think you gave me a headache,” Vin said. “I warned you,” Breeze noted. Ham sighed. “But, don’t you think it’s worth thinking about?” “I’m not sure.” “I am,” Breeze said. Ham shook his head. “No one around here likes to have decent, intelligent discussions.” The skaa rebel in the corner suddenly perked up. “Kelsier’s here!” Ham raised an eyebrow, then stood. “I should go watch the perimeter. Think about that question, Vin.” “All right . . .” Vin said as Ham left. “Over here, Vin,” Breeze said, rising. “There are peepholes on the wall for us. Be a dear and bring my chair over, would you?” Breeze didn’t look back to see if she did as requested. She paused, uncertain. With her copper on, he couldn’t Soothe her, but . . . Eventually, she sighed and carried both chairs over to the side of the room. Breeze slid back a long, thin slat in the wall, revealing a view of the dining room. A group of dirtied skaa men sat around tables, wearing brown work coats or ragged cloaks. They were a dark group, with ash-stained skin and slumped postures. However, their presence at the meeting meant that they were willing to listen. Yeden sat at a table near the front of the room, wearing his usual patched worker’s coat, his curly hair cut short during Vin’s absence. Vin had expected some kind of grand entrance from Kelsier. Instead, however, he simply walked quietly out of the kitchen. He paused by Yeden’s table, smiling and speaking quietly with the man for a moment, then he stepped up before the seated workers. Vin had never seen him in such mundane clothing before. He wore a brown skaa coat and tan trousers, like many of the audience. Kelsier’s outfit, however, was clean. No soot stained the cloth, and while it was of the same rough material that skaa commonly used, it bore no patches or tears. The difference was stark enough, Vin decided—if he’d come in a suit, it would have been too much. He put his arms behind his back, and slowly the crowd of workers quieted. Vin frowned, watching through the peep slit, wondering at Kelsier’s ability to quiet a room of hungry men by simply standing
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before them. Was he using Allomancy, perhaps? Yet, even with her copper on, she felt a . . . presence from him. Once the room fell quiet, Kelsier began to speak. “You’ve probably all heard of me, by now,” he said. “And, you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t at least a little bit sympathetic to my cause.” Beside Vin, Breeze sipped his drink. “Soothing and Rioting aren’t like other kinds of Allomancy,” he said quietly. “With most metals, Pushing and Pulling have opposite effects. With emotions, however, you can often produce the same result regardless of whether you Soothe or Riot. “This doesn’t hold for extreme emotional states—complete emotionlessness or utter passion. However, in most cases, it doesn’t matter which power you use. People are not like solid bricks of metal—at any given time, they will have a dozen different emotions churning within them. An experienced Soother can dampen everything but the emotion he wants to remain dominant.” Breeze turned slightly. “Rudd, send in the blue server, please.” One of the guards nodded, cracking the door and whispering something to the man outside. A moment later, Vin saw a serving girl wearing a faded blue dress move through the crowd, filling drinks. “My Soothers are mixed with the crowd,” Breeze said, his voice growing distracted. “The serving girls are a sign, telling my men which emotions to Soothe away. They will work, just as I do. . . .” He trailed off, concentrating as he looked into the crowd. “Fatigue . . .” he whispered. “That’s not a necessary emotion right now. Hunger . . . distracting. Suspicion . . . definitely not helpful. Yes, and as the Soothers work, the Rioters enflame the emotions we want the crowd to be feeling. Curiosity . . . that’s what they need now. Yes, listen to Kelsier. You’ve heard legends and stories. See the man for yourself, and be impressed.” “I know why you came today,” Kelsier said quietly. He spoke without much of the flamboyance Vin associated with the man, his tone quiet, but direct. “Twelve-hour days in a mill, mine, or forge. Beatings, lack of pay, poor food. And, for what? So that you can return to your tenements at the day’s end to find another tragedy? A friend, slain by an uncaring taskmaster. A daughter, taken to be some nobleman’s plaything. A brother, dead at the hand of a passing lord who was having an unpleasant day.” “Yes,” Breeze whispered. “Good. Red, Rudd. Send in the girl in light red.” Another serving girl entered the room. “Passion and anger,” Breeze said, his voice almost a mumble. “But just a bit. Just a nudge—a reminder.” Curious, Vin extinguished her copper for a moment, burning bronze instead, trying to sense Breeze’s use of Allomancy. No pulses came from him. Of course, she thought. I forgot about Clubs’s apprentice—he’d keep me from sensing any Allomantic pulses. She turned her copper back on. Kelsier continued to speak. “My friends, you’re not alone in your tragedy. There are millions, just like you. And they need
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you. I’ve not come to beg—we’ve had enough of that in our lives. I simply ask you to think. Where would you rather your energy be spent? On forging the Lord Ruler’s weapons? Or, on something more valuable?” He’s not mentioning our troops, Vin thought. Or even what those who join with him are going to do. He doesn’t want the workers to know details. Probably a good idea—those he recruits can be sent to the army, and the rest won’t be able to give away specific information. “You know why I am here,” Kelsier said. “You know my friend, Yeden, and what he represents. Every skaa in the city knows about the rebellion. Perhaps you’ve considered joining it. Most of you will not—most of you will go back to your soot-stained mills, to your burning forges, to your dying homes. You’ll go because this terrible life is familiar. But some of you . . . some of you will come with me. And those are the men who will be remembered in the years to come. Remembered for having done something grand.” Many of the workers shared glances, though some just stared at their half-empty soup bowls. Finally, someone near the back of the room spoke. “You’re a fool,” the man said. “The Lord Ruler will kill you. You don’t rebel against God in his own city.” The room fell silent. Tense. Vin sat up as Breeze whispered to himself. In the room, Kelsier stood quietly for a moment. Finally, he reached up and pulled back the sleeves on his jacket, revealing the crisscrossed scars on his arms. “The Lord Ruler is not our god,” he said quietly. “And he cannot kill me. He tried, but he failed. For I am the thing that he can never kill.” With that, Kelsier turned, walking from the room the way he had come. “Hum,” Breeze said, “well, that was a little dramatic. Rudd, bring back the red and send out the brown.” A serving woman in brown walked into the crowd. “Amazement,” Breeze said. “And, yes, pride. Soothe the anger, for now. . . .” The crowd sat quietly for a moment, the dining room eerily motionless. Finally, Yeden stood up to speak and give some further encouragement, as well as an explanation of what the men should do, should they wish to hear more. As he talked, the men returned to their meals. “Green, Rudd,” Breeze said. “Hum, yes. Let’s make you all thoughtful, and give you a nudge of loyalty. We wouldn’t want anyone to run to the obligators, would we? Kell’s covered his tracks quite well, but the less the authorities hear, the better, eh? Oh, and what about you, Yeden? You’re a bit too nervous. Let’s Soothe that, take away your worries. Leave only that passion of yours—hopefully, it will be enough to cover up that stupid tone in your voice.” Vin continued to watch. Now that Kelsier had gone, she found it easier to focus on the crowd’s reactions, and on Breeze’s work. As Yeden spoke, the workers
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outside seemed to react exactly according to Breeze’s mumbled instructions. Yeden, too, showed effects of the Soothing: He grew more comfortable, his voice more confident, as he spoke. Curious, Vin let her copper drop again. She concentrated, seeing if she could sense Breeze’s touch on her emotions; she would be included in his general Allomantic projections. He didn’t have time to pick and choose individuals, except maybe Yeden. It was very, very difficult to sense. Yet, as Breeze sat mumbling to himself, she began to feel the exact emotions he described. Vin couldn’t help but be impressed. The few times that Kelsier had used Allomancy on her emotions, his touch has been like a sudden, blunt punch to the face. He had strength, but very little subtlety. Breeze’s touch was incredibly delicate. He Soothed certain emotions, dampening them while leaving others unaffected. Vin thought she could sense his men Rioting on her emotions, too, but these touches weren’t nearly as subtle as Breeze’s. She left her copper off, watching for touches on her emotions as Yeden continued his speech. He explained that the men who joined with them would have to leave family and friends for a time—as long as a year—but would be fed well during that time. Vin felt her respect for Breeze continue to rise. Suddenly, she didn’t feel so annoyed with Kelsier for handing her off. Breeze could only do one thing, but he obviously had a great deal of practice at it. Kelsier, as a Mistborn, had to learn all of the Allomantic skills; it made sense that he wouldn’t be as focused in any one power. I need to make certain he sends me to learn from the others, Vin thought. They’ll be masters at their own powers. Vin turned her attention back to the dining room as Yeden wrapped up. “You heard Kelsier, the Survivor of Hathsin,” he said. “The rumors about him are true—he’s given up his thieving ways, and turned his considerable attention toward working for the skaa rebellion! Men, we are preparing for something grand. Something that may, indeed, end up being our last struggle against the Final Empire. Join with us. Join with your brothers. Join with the Survivor himself!” The dining room fell silent. “Bright red,” Breeze said. “I want those men to leave feeling passionate about what they’ve heard.” “The emotions will fade, won’t they?” Vin said as a red-clothed serving girl entered the crowd. “Yes,” Breeze said, sitting back and sliding the panel closed. “But memories stay. If people associate strong emotion with an event, they’ll remember it better.” A few moments later, Ham entered through the back door. “That went well. The men are leaving invigorated, and a number of them are staying behind. We’ll have a good set of volunteers to send off to the caves.” Breeze shook his head. “It’s not enough. Dox takes a few days to organize each of these meetings, and we only get about twenty men from each one. At this rate, we’ll never hit ten thousand in time.” “You think
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we need more meetings?” Ham asked. “That’s going to be tough—we have to be very careful with these things, so only those who can be reasonably trusted are invited.” Breeze sat for a moment. Finally, he downed the rest of his wine. “I don’t know—but we’ll have to think of something. For now, let’s return to the shop. I believe Kelsier wishes to hold a progress meeting this evening.” Kelsier looked to the west. The afternoon sun was a poisonous red, shining angrily through a sky of smoke. Just below it, Kelsier could see the silhouetted tip of a dark peak. Tyrian, closest of the Ashmounts. He stood atop Clubs’s flat-roofed shop, listening to workers returning home on the streets below. A flat roof meant having to shovel off ash occasionally, which was why most skaa buildings were peaked, but in Kelsier’s opinion the view was often worth a bit of trouble. Below him, the skaa workers trudged in despondent ranks, their passing kicking up a small cloud of ash. Kelsier turned away from them, looking toward the northern horizon . . . toward the Pits of Hathsin. Where does it go? he thought. The atium reaches the city, but then disappears. It isn’t the Ministry—we’ve watched them—and no skaa hands touch the metal. We assume it goes into the treasury. We hope it does, at least. While burning atium, a Mistborn was virtually unstoppable, which was part of why it was so valuable. But, his plan was about more than just wealth. He knew how much atium was harvested at the pits, and Dockson had researched the amounts that the Lord Ruler doled out—at exorbitant prices—to the nobility. Barely a tenth of what was mined eventually found its way into noble hands. Ninety percent of the atium produced in the world had been stockpiled, year after year, for a thousand years. With that much of the metal, Kelsier’s team could intimidate even the most powerful of the noble houses. Yeden’s plan to hold the palace probably seemed futile to many—indeed, on its own, it was doomed to fail. However, Kelsier’s other plans . . . Kelsier glanced down at the small, whitish bar in his hand. The Eleventh Metal. He knew the rumors about it—he’d started them. Now, he just had to make good on them. He sighed, turning eyes east, toward Kredik Shaw, the Lord Ruler’s palace. The name was Terris; it meant “The Hill of a Thousand Spires.” Appropriate, since the imperial palace resembled a patch of enormous black spears thrust into the ground. Some of the spires twisted, others were straight. Some were thick towers, others were thin and needlelike. They varied in height, but each one was tall. And each one ended in a point. Kredik Shaw. That’s where it had ended three years before. And he needed to go back. The trapdoor opened, and a figure climbed onto the roof. Kelsier turned with a raised eyebrow as Sazed brushed off his robe, then approached in his characteristically respectful posture. Even a rebellious Terrisman maintained the form
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of his training. “Master Kelsier,” Sazed said with a bow. Kelsier nodded, and Sazed stepped up beside him, looking toward the imperial palace. “Ah,” he said to himself, as if understanding Kelsier’s thoughts. Kelsier smiled. Sazed had been a valuable find indeed. Keepers were necessarily secretive, for the Lord Ruler had hunted them practically since the Day of Ascension itself. Some legends claimed that the Ruler’s complete subjugation of the Terris people—including the breeding and stewardship programs—was simply an outgrowth of his hatred for Keepers. “I wonder what he would think if he knew a Keeper was in Luthadel,” Kelsier said, “barely a short walk from the palace itself.” “Let us hope we never find out, Master Kelsier,” Sazed said. “I appreciate your willingness to come here to the city, Saze. I know it’s a risk.” “This is a good work,” Sazed said. “And this plan is dangerous for all involved. Indeed, simply living is dangerous for me, I think. It is not healthy to belong to a sect that the Lord Ruler himself fears.” “Fears?” Kelsier asked, turning to look up at Sazed. Despite Kelsier’s above-average height, the Terrisman was still a good head taller. “I’m not sure if he fears anything, Saze.” “He fears the Keepers,” Sazed said. “Definitely and inexplicably. Perhaps it is because of our powers. We are not Allomancers, but . . . something else. Something unknown to him.” Kelsier nodded, turning back toward the city. He had so many plans, so much work to do—and at the core of it all were the skaa. The poor, humble, defeated skaa. “Tell me about another one, Saze,” Kelsier said. “One with power.” “Power?” Sazed asked. “That is a relative term when applied to religion, I think. Perhaps you would like to hear of Jaism. Its followers were quite faithful and devout.” “Tell me about them.” “Jaism was founded by a single man,” Sazed said. “His true name is lost, though his followers simply called him ‘the Ja.’ He was murdered by a local king for preaching discord—something he was apparently very good at—but that only made his following larger. “The Jaists thought that they earned happiness proportional to their overt devotion, and were known for frequent and fervent professions of faith. Apparently, speaking with a Jaist could be frustrating, since they tended to end nearly every sentence with ‘Praise the Ja.’ ” “That’s nice, Saze,” Kelsier said. “But power is more than just words.” “Oh, quite indeed,” Sazed agreed. “The Jaists were strong in their faith. Legends say that the Ministry had to wipe them out completely, since not one Jaist would accept the Lord Ruler as God. They didn’t last long past the Ascension, but only because they were so blatant that they were easy to hunt down and kill.” Kelsier nodded, then he smiled, eyeing Sazed. “You didn’t ask me if I wanted to convert.” “My apologies, Master Kelsier,” Sazed said, “but the religion does not suit you, I think. It has a level of brashness that you might find appealing, but you would find the
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theology simplistic.” “You’re getting to know me too well,” Kelsier said, still regarding the city. “In the end, after kingdoms and armies had fallen, the religions were still fighting, weren’t they?” “Indeed,” Sazed said. “Some of the more resilient religions lasted all the way until the fifth century.” “What made them so strong?” Kelsier said. “How did they do it, Saze? What gave these theologies such power over people?” “It wasn’t any one thing, I think,” Sazed said. “Some were strong through honest faith, others because of the hope they promised. Others were coercive.” “But they all had passion,” Kelsier said. “Yes, Master Kelsier,” Sazed said with a nod. “That is a quite true statement.” “That’s what we’ve lost,” Kelsier said, looking over the city with its hundreds of thousands, barely a handful of whom would dare fight. “They don’t have faith in the Lord Ruler, they simply fear him. They don’t have anything left to believe in.” “What do you believe in, if I may ask, Master Kelsier?” Kelsier raised an eyebrow. “I’m not exactly sure yet,” he admitted. “But overthrowing the Final Empire seems like a good start. Are there any religions on your list that include the slaughter of noblemen as a holy duty?” Sazed frowned disapprovingly. “I do not believe so, Master Kelsier.” “Maybe I should found one,” Kelsier said with an idle smile. “Anyway, have Breeze and Vin returned yet?” “They arrived just before I came up here.” “Good,” Kelsier said with a nod. “Tell them I’ll be down in a moment.” Vin sat in her overstuffed chair in the conference room, legs tucked beneath her, trying to study Marsh out of the corner of her eye. He looked so much like Kelsier. He was just . . . stern. He wasn’t angry, nor was he grumpy like Clubs. He just wasn’t happy. He sat in his chair, a neutral expression on his face. The others had all arrived except for Kelsier, and they were chatting quietly amongst themselves. Vin caught Lestibournes’s eye and waved him over. The teenage boy approached and crouched beside her chair. “Marsh,” Vin whispered beneath the general hum of the room. “Is that a nickname?” “Notting without the call of his parents.” Vin paused, trying to decipher the boy’s eastern dialect. “Not a nickname, then?” Lestibournes shook his head. “He wasing one though.” “What was it?” “Ironeyes. Others stopped using it. Too calling close to an iron in the real eyes, eh? Inquisitor.” Vin glanced at Marsh again. His expression was hard, his eyes unwavering, almost like they were made of iron. She could see why people would stop using the nickname; even referring to a Steel Inquisitor made her shiver. “Thanks.” Lestibournes smiled. He was an earnest boy. Strange, intense, and jumpy—but earnest. He retreated to his stool as Kelsier finally arrived. “All right, crew,” he said. “What’ve we got?” “Besides the bad news?” Breeze asked. “Let’s hear it.” “It’s been twelve weeks, and we’ve gathered under two thousand men,” Ham said. “Even with the numbers the rebellion already has, we’re
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going to fall short.” “Dox?” Kelsier asked. “Can we get more meetings?” “Probably,” Dockson said from his seat beside a table stacked with ledgers. “Are you sure you want to take that risk, Kelsier?” Yeden asked. His attitude had improved during the last few weeks—especially once Kelsier’s recruits had begun to file in. As Reen had always said, results made quick friends. “We’re already in danger,” Yeden continued. “Rumors are all over the underground. If we make any more of a stir, the Ministry is going to realize that something major is happening.” “He’s probably right, Kell,” Dockson said. “Besides, there are only so many skaa willing to listen. Luthadel is big, true, but our movement here is limited.” “All right,” Kelsier said. “So, we’ll start working the other towns in the area. Breeze, can you split your crew into two effective groups?” “I suppose,” Breeze said hesitantly. “We can have one team work in Luthadel and the other work in surrounding towns. I can probably make it to all of the meetings, assuming we organize them so they don’t happen at the same time.” “That many meetings will expose us even more,” Yeden said. “And that, by the way, brings up another problem,” Ham said. “Weren’t we supposed to be working on infiltrating the Ministry’s ranks?” “Well?” Kelsier asked, turning to Marsh. Marsh shook his head. “The Ministry is tight—I need more time.” “It’s not going to happen,” Clubs grumbled. “Rebellion’s already tried it.” Yeden nodded. “We’ve tried to get spies into the Inner Ministries a dozen times. It’s impossible.” The room fell silent. “I have an idea,” Vin said quietly. Kelsier raised an eyebrow. “Camon,” she said. “He was working on a job before you recruited me. Actually, it was the job that got us spotted by the obligators. The core of that plan was organized by another thief, a crewleader named Theron. He was setting up a fake canal convoy to carry Ministry funds to Luthadel.” “And?” Breeze asked. “Those same canal boats would have brought new Ministry acolytes to Luthadel for the final part of their training. Theron has a contact along the route, a lesser obligator who was open to bribes. Maybe we could get him to add an ‘acolyte’ to the group from his local chapter.” Kelsier nodded thoughtfully. “It’s worth looking into.” Dockson scribbled something on a sheet with his fountain pen. “I’ll contact Theron and see if his informant is still viable.” “How are our resources coming?” Kelsier asked. Dockson shrugged. “Ham found us two ex-soldier instructors. The weapons, however . . . well, Renoux and I are making contacts and initiating deals, but we can’t move very quickly. Fortunately, when the weapons come, they should come in bulk.” Kelsier nodded. “That’s everything, right?” Breeze cleared his throat. “I’ve . . . been hearing a lot of rumors on the streets, Kelsier,” he said. “The people are talking about this Eleventh Metal of yours.” “Good,” Kelsier said. “Aren’t you worried that the Lord Ruler will hear? If he has forewarning of what you’re going
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to do, it will be much more difficult to . . . resist him.” He didn’t say “kill,” Vin thought. They don’t think that Kelsier can do it. Kelsier just smiled. “Don’t worry about the Lord Ruler—I’ve got things under control. In fact, I intend to pay the Lord Ruler a personal visit sometime during the next few days.” “Visit?” Yeden asked uncomfortably. “You’re going to visit the Lord Ruler? Are you insa . . .” Yeden trailed off, then glanced at the rest of the room. “Right. I forgot.” “He’s catching on,” Dockson noted. Heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway, and one of Ham’s guards entered a moment later. He made his way to Ham’s chair and whispered a brief message. Ham frowned. “What?” Kelsier asked. “An incident,” Ham said. “Incident?” Dockson asked. “What kind of incident?” “You know that lair we met in a few weeks back?” Ham said. “The one where Kell first introduced his plan?” Camon’s lair, Vin thought, growing apprehensive. “Well,” Ham said, “apparently the Ministry found it.” 11 KELSIER PAUSED IN THE DOORWAY, blocking Vin’s view. She stooped down, trying to peek past him into the lair, but too many people were in the way. She could only tell that the door hung at an angle, splintered, the upper hinge torn free. Kelsier stood for a long moment. Finally, he turned, looking past Dockson toward her. “Ham is right, Vin. You may not want to see this.” Vin stood where she was, looking at him resolutely. Finally, Kelsier sighed, stepping into the room. Dockson followed, and Vin could finally see what they had been blocking. The floor was scattered with corpses, their twisted limbs shadowed and haunting in the light of Dockson’s solitary lantern. They weren’t rotting yet—the attack had happened only that morning—but there was still a smell of death about the room. The scent of blood drying slowly, the scent of misery and of terror. Vin remained in the doorway. She’d seen death before—seen it often, on the streets. Knifings in alleys. Beatings in lairs. Children dead of starvation. She had once seen an old woman’s neck snapped by the backhand of an annoyed lord. The body had lain in the street for three days before a skaa corpse crew had finally come for it. Yet, none of those incidents had the same air of intentional butchery that she saw in Camon’s lair. These men hadn’t simply been killed, they had been torn apart. Limbs lay separated from torsos. Broken chairs and tables impaled chests. There were only a few patches of floor that were not covered in sticky, dark blood. Kelsier glanced at her, obviously expecting some sort of reaction. She stood, looking over the death, feeling . . . numb. What should her reaction be? These were the men who had mistreated her, stolen from her, beaten her. And yet, these were the men who had sheltered her, included her, and fed her when others might have simply given her to the whoremasters. Reen probably would have berated her for the traitorous
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sadness she felt at the sight. Of course, he had always been angry when—as a child—she’d cried as they left one town for another, not wanting to leave the people she’d grown to know, no matter how cruel or indifferent they were. Apparently, she hadn’t quite gotten over that weakness. She stepped into the room, not shedding any tears for these men, yet at the same time wishing that they had not come to such an end. In addition, the gore itself was disturbing. She tried to force herself to maintain a stiff face in front of the others, but she found herself cringing occasionally, glancing away from mangled corpses. The ones who had performed the attack had been quite . . . thorough. This seems extreme, even for the Ministry, she thought. What kind of person would do something like this? “Inquisitor,” Dockson said quietly, kneeling by a corpse. Kelsier nodded. Behind Vin, Sazed stepped into the room, careful to keep his robes clear of the blood. Vin turned toward the Terrisman, letting his actions distract her from a particularly grisly corpse. Kelsier was a Mistborn, and Dockson was supposedly a capable warrior. Ham and his men were securing the area. However, others—Breeze, Yeden, and Clubs—had stayed behind. The area was too dangerous. Kelsier had even resisted Vin’s desire to come. Yet, he had brought Sazed without apparent hesitation. The move, subtle though it was, made Vin regard the steward with a new curiosity. Why would it be too dangerous for Mistings, yet safe enough for a Terrisman steward? Was Sazed a warrior? How would he have learned to fight? Terrismen were supposedly raised from birth by very careful trainers. Sazed’s smooth step and calm face gave her few clues. He didn’t appear shocked by the carnage, however. Interesting, Vin thought, picking her way through shattered furniture, stepping clear of blood pools, making her way to Kelsier’s side. He crouched beside a pair of corpses. One, Vin noticed in a moment of shock, had been Ulef. The boy’s face was contorted and pained, the front of his chest a mass of broken bones and ripped flesh—as if someone had forcibly torn the rib cage apart with his hands. Vin shivered, looking away. “This isn’t good,” Kelsier said quietly. “Steel Inquisitors don’t generally bother with simple thieving crews. Usually, the obligators would just come down with their troops and take everyone captive, then use them to make a good show on an execution day. An Inquisitor would only get involved if it had a special interest in the crew.” “You think . . .” Vin said. “You think it might be the same one as before?” Kelsier nodded. “There are only about twenty Steel Inquisitors in the whole of the Final Empire, and half of them are out of Luthadel at any given time. I find it too much of a coincidence that you would catch one’s interest, escape, and then have your old lair get hit.” Vin stood quietly, forcing herself to look down at Ulef’s body and confront her sorrow.
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He had betrayed her in the end, but for a time he had almost been a friend. “So,” she said quietly, “the Inquisitor still has my scent?” Kelsier nodded, standing. “Then this is my fault,” Vin said. “Ulef and the others . . .” “It was Camon’s fault,” Kelsier said firmly. “He’s the one who tried to scam an obligator.” He paused, then looked over at her. “You going to be all right?” Vin looked up from Ulef’s mangled corpse, trying to remain strong. She shrugged. “None of them were my friends.” “That’s kind of coldhearted, Vin.” “I know,” she said with a quiet nod. Kelsier regarded her for a moment, then crossed the room to speak with Dockson. Vin looked back at Ulef’s wounds. They looked like the work of some crazed animal, not a single man. The Inquisitor must have had help, Vin told herself. There is no way one person, even an Inquisitor, could have done all this. There was a pileup of bodies near the bolt exit, but a quick count told her that most—if not all—of the crew was accounted for. One man couldn’t have gotten to all of them quickly enough . . . could he have? There are a lot of things we don’t know about the Inquisitors, Kelsier had told her. They don’t quite follow the normal rules. Vin shivered again. Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Vin grew tense, crouching and preparing to run. Ham’s familiar figure appeared in the stairwell. “Area’s secure,” he said, holding up a second lantern. “No sign of obligators or Garrisoners.” “That’s their style,” Kelsier said. “They want the massacre to be discovered—they left the dead as a sign.” The room fell silent save for a low mumbling from Sazed, who stood at the far left side of the room. Vin picked her way over to him, listening to the rhythmic cadence of his voice. Eventually, he stopped speaking, then bowed his head and closed his eyes. “What was that?” Vin asked as he looked up again. “A prayer,” Sazed said. “A death chant of the Cazzi. It is meant to awaken the spirits of the dead and entice them free from their flesh so that they may return to the mountain of souls.” He glanced at her. “I can teach you of the religion, if you wish, Mistress. The Cazzi were an interesting people—very familiar with death.” Vin shook her head. “Not right now. You said their prayer—is this the religion you believe in, then?” “I believe in them all.” Vin frowned. “None of them contradict each other?” Sazed smiled. “Oh, often and frequently they do. But, I respect the truths behind them all—and I believe in the need for each one to be remembered.” “Then, how did you decide which religion’s prayer to use?” Vin asked. “It just seemed . . . appropriate,” Sazed said quietly, regarding the scene of shadowed death. “Kell,” Dockson called from the back of the room. “Come look at this.” Kelsier moved to join him, as did Vin. Dockson stood by
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the long corridor-like chamber that had been her crew’s sleeping quarters. Vin poked her head inside, expecting to find a scene similar to the one in the common room. Instead, there was only a single corpse tied to a chair. In the weak light she could barely make out that his eyes had been gouged out. Kelsier stood quietly for a moment. “That’s the man I put in charge.” “Milev,” Vin said with a nod. “What about him?” “He was killed slowly,” Kelsier said. “Look at the amount of blood on the floor, the way his limbs are twisted. He had time to scream and struggle.” “Torture,” Dockson said, nodding. Vin felt a chill. She glanced up at Kelsier. “Shall we move our base?” Ham asked. Kelsier slowly shook his head. “When Clubs came to this lair, he would have worn a disguise to and from the meeting, hiding his limp. It’s his job as a Smoker to make certain that you can’t find him just by asking around on the street. None of the people in this crew could have betrayed us—we should still be safe.” No one spoke the obvious. The Inquisitor shouldn’t have been able to find this lair either. Kelsier stepped back into the main room, pulling Dockson aside and speaking to him in a quiet voice. Vin edged closer, trying to hear what they were saying, but Sazed placed a restraining hand on her shoulder. “Mistress Vin,” he said disapprovingly, “if Master Kelsier wanted us to hear what he was saying, would he not speak in a louder voice?” Vin shot the Terrisman an angry glance. Then she reached inside and burned tin. The sudden stench of blood almost staggered her. She could hear Sazed’s breathing. The room was no longer dark—in fact, the brilliant light of two lanterns made her eyes water. She became aware of the stuffy, unventilated air. And she could hear, quite distinctly, Dockson’s voice. “ . . . went to check on him a couple times, like you asked. You’ll find him three streets west of the Fourwell Crossroads.” Kelsier nodded. “Ham,” he said in a loud voice, causing Vin to jump. Sazed looked down at her with disapproving eyes. He knows something of Allomancy, Vin thought, reading the man’s expression. He guessed what I was doing. “Yes, Kell?” Ham said, peeking out of the back room. “Take the others back to the shop,” Kelsier said. “And be careful.” “Of course,” Ham promised. Vin eyed Kelsier, then resentfully allowed herself to be ushered from the lair with Sazed and Dockson. I should have taken the carriage, Kelsier thought, frustrated by his slow pace. The others could have walked back from Camon’s lair. He itched to burn steel and begin jumping toward his destination. Unfortunately, it was very difficult to remain inconspicuous when flying through the city during the full light of day. Kelsier adjusted his hat and continued walking. A nobleman pedestrian was not an irregular sight, especially in the commercial district, where more fortunate skaa and less fortunate noblemen mixed on
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the streets—though each group did its best to ignore the other. Patience. Speed doesn’t matter. If they know about him, he’s already dead. Kelsier entered a large crossroad square. Four wells sat in its corners, and a massive copper fountain—its green skin caked and blackened by soot—dominated the square’s center. The statue depicted the Lord Ruler, standing dramatically in cloak and armor, a formless representation of the Deepness dead in the water at his feet. Kelsier passed the fountain, its waters flaked from a recent ashfall. Skaa beggars called out from the streetsides, their pitiful voices walking a fine line between audibility and annoyance. The Lord Ruler barely suffered them; only skaa with severe disfigurements were allowed to beg. Their pitiful life, however, was not something even plantation skaa would envy. Kelsier tossed them a few clips, not caring that doing so made him stand out, and continued to walk. Three streets over, he found a much smaller crossroads. It was also rimmed by beggars, but no fine fountain splashed the center of this intersection, nor did the corners contain wells to draw traffic. The beggars here were even more pathetic—these were the sorry individuals who were too wretched to fight themselves a spot in a major square. Malnourished children and age-withered adults called out with apprehensive voices; men missing two or more limbs huddled in corners, their soot-stained forms almost invisible in the shadows. Kelsier reached reflexively for his coin purse. Stay on track, he told himself. You can’t save them all, not with coins. There will be time for these once the Final Empire is gone. Ignoring the piteous cries—which became louder once the beggars realized he was watching them—Kelsier studied each face in turn. He had only seen Camon briefly, but he thought that he’d recognize the man. However, none of the faces looked right, and none of the beggars had Camon’s girth, which should have still been noticeable despite weeks of starvation. He’s not here, Kelsier thought with dissatisfaction. Kelsier’s order—given to Milev, the new crewleader—that Camon be made a beggar had been carried out. Dockson had checked on Camon to make certain. Camon’s absence in the square could simply mean that he’d gained a better spot. It could also mean that the Ministry had found him. Kelsier stood quietly for a moment, listening to the beggars’ haunted moanings. A few flakes of ash began to float down from the sky. Something was wrong. There weren’t any beggars near the north corner of the intersection. Kelsier burned tin, and smelled blood on the air. He kicked off his shoes, then pulled his belt free. His cloak clasp went next, the fine garment dropping to the cobblestones. That done, the only metal remaining on his body was in his coin pouch. He dumped a few coins into his hand, then carefully made his way forward, leaving his discarded garments for the beggars. The smell of death grew stronger, but he didn’t hear anything except scrambling beggars behind him. He edged onto the northern street, immediately noticing a thin alleyway
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to his left. Taking a breath, he flared pewter and ducked inside. The thin, dark alley was clogged with refuse and ash. No one waited for him—at least, no one living. Camon, crewleader turned beggar, hung quietly from a rope tied far above. His corpse spun leisurely in the breeze, ash falling lightly around it. He hadn’t been hanged in the conventional fashion—the rope had been tied to a hook, then rammed down his throat. The bloodied end of the hook jutted from his skin below the chin, and he swung with head tipped back, rope running out of his mouth. His hands were tied, his still plump body showing signs of torture. This isn’t good. A foot scraped the cobblestones behind, and Kelsier spun, flaring steel and spraying forth a handful of coins. With a girlish yelp, a small figure ducked to the ground, coins deflected as she burned steel. “Vin?” Kelsier said. He cursed, reaching out and yanking her into the alleyway. He glanced around the corner, watching the beggars perk up as they heard coins hit the cobblestones. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, turning back. Vin wore the same brown overalls and gray shirt she had before, though she at least had the sense to wear a nondescript cloak with the hood up. “I wanted to see what you were doing,” she said, cringing slightly before his anger. “This could have been dangerous!” Kelsier said. “What were you thinking?” Vin cowered further. Kelsier calmed himself. You can’t blame her for being curious, he thought as a few brave beggars scuttled in the street after the coins. She’s just— Kelsier froze. It was so subtle he almost missed it. Vin was Soothing his emotions. He glanced down. The girl was obviously trying to make herself invisible against the corner of the wall. She seemed so timid, yet he caught a hidden glimmer of determination in her eyes. This child had made an art of making herself seem harmless. So subtle! Kelsier thought. How did she get so good so quickly? “You don’t have to use Allomancy, Vin,” Kelsier said softly. “I’m not going to hurt you. You know that.” She flushed. “I didn’t mean it . . . it’s just habit. Even still.” “It’s all right,” Kelsier said, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Just remember—no matter what Breeze says, it’s bad manners to touch the emotions of your friends. Plus, the noblemen consider it an insult to use Allomancy in formal settings. Those reflexes will get you into trouble if you don’t learn to control them.” She nodded, rising to study Camon. Kelsier expected her to turn away in disgust, but she just stood quietly, a look of grim satisfaction on her face. No, this one isn’t weak, Kelsier thought. No matter what she’d have you believe. “They tortured him here?” she asked. “Out in the open?” Kelsier nodded, imagining the screams reverberating out to the uncomfortable beggars. The Ministry liked to be very visible with its punishments. “Why the hook?” Vin asked. “It’s a ritual killing
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reserved for the most reprehensible of sinners: people who misuse Allomancy.” Vin frowned. “Camon was an Allomancer?” Kelsier shook his head. “He must have admitted to something heinous during his torture.” Kelsier glanced at Vin. “He must have known what you were, Vin. He used you intentionally.” She paled slightly. “Then . . . the Ministry knows that I’m a Mistborn?” “Perhaps. It depends on whether Camon knew or not. He could have assumed you were just a Misting.” She stood quietly for a moment. “What does this mean for my part in the job, then?” “We’ll continue as planned,” Kelsier said. “Only a couple of obligators saw you at the Canton building, and it takes a very rare man to connect the skaa servant and the well-dressed noblewoman as the same person.” “And the Inquisitor?” Vin asked softly. Kelsier didn’t have an answer to that one. “Come on,” he finally said. “We’ve already attracted too much attention.” 12 VIN RESISTED THE URGE TO pick at her noblewoman’s dress. Even after a half week of being forced to wear one—Sazed’s suggestion—she found the bulky garment uncomfortable. It pulled tightly at her waist and chest, then fell to the floor with several layers of ruffled fabric, making it difficult to walk. She kept feeling as if she were going to trip—and, despite the gown’s bulk, she felt as if she were somehow exposed by how tight it was through the chest, not to mention the neckline’s low curve. Though she had exposed nearly as much skin when wearing normal, buttoning shirts, this seemed different somehow. Still, she had to admit that the gown made quite a difference. The girl who stood in the mirror before her was a strange, foreign creature. The light blue dress, with its white ruffles and lace, matched the sapphire barrettes in her hair. Sazed claimed he wouldn’t be happy until her hair was at least shoulder-length, but he had still suggested that she purchase the broochlike barrettes and put them just above each ear. “Often, aristocrats don’t hide their deficiencies,” he had explained. “Instead, they highlight them. Draw attention to your short hair, and instead of thinking you’re unfashionable, they might be impressed by the statement you are making.” She also wore a sapphire necklace—modest by noble standards, but still worth more than two hundred boxings. It was complemented by a single ruby bracelet for accentuation. Apparently, the current fashion dictated a single splash of a different color to provide contrast. And it was all hers, paid for by crew funds. If she ran, taking the jewelry and her three thousand boxings, she could live for decades. It was more tempting than she wanted to admit. Images of Camon’s men, their corpses twisted and dead in the quiet lair, kept returning to her. That was probably what waited for her if she remained. Why, then, didn’t she go? She turned from the mirror, putting on a light blue silken shawl, the female aristocrat’s version of a cloak. Why didn’t she leave? Perhaps it was her promise to Kelsier.
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He had given her the gift of Allomancy, and he depended on her. Perhaps it was her duty to the others. In order to survive, crews needed each person to do their separate job. Reen’s training told her that these men were fools, but she was tempted, enticed, by the possibility that Kelsier and the others offered. In the end, it wasn’t the wealth or the job’s thrill that made her stay. It was the shadowed prospect—unlikely and unreasonable, but still seductive—of a group whose members actually trusted one another. She had to stay. She had to know if it lasted, or if it was—as Reen’s growing whispers promised—all a lie. She turned and left her room, walking toward the front of Mansion Renoux, where Sazed waited with a carriage. She had decided to stay, and that meant she had to do her part. It was time to make her first appearance as a noblewoman. The carriage shook suddenly, and Vin jumped in surprise. The vehicle continued normally, however, and Sazed didn’t move from his place in the driver’s seat. A sound came from above. Vin flared her metals, tensing, as a figure dropped down off the top of the carriage and landed on the footman’s rest just outside her door. Kelsier smiled as he peeked his head in the window. Vin let out a relieved breath, settling back into her seat. “You could have just asked us to pick you up.” “No need,” Kelsier said, pulling open the carriage door and swinging inside. It was already dark outside, and he wore his mistcloak. “I warned Sazed I’d be dropping by sometime during the trip.” “And you didn’t tell me?” Kelsier winked, pulling the door shut. “I figured I still owed you for surprising me in that alleyway last week.” “How very adult of you,” Vin said flatly. “I’ve always been very confident in my immaturity. So, are you ready for this evening?” Vin shrugged, trying to hide her nervousness. She glanced down. “How . . . uh, do I look?” “Splendid,” Kelsier said. “Just like a noble young lady. Don’t be nervous, Vin—the disguise is perfect.” For some reason, that didn’t feel like the answer she’d wanted to hear. “Kelsier?” “Yes?” “I’ve been meaning to ask this for a while,” she said, glancing out the window, though all she could see is mist. “I understand that you think this is important—having a spy among the nobility. But . . . well, do we really have to do it this way? Couldn’t we get street informants to tell us what we need to know about house politics?” “Perhaps,” Kelsier said. “But those men are called ‘informants’ for a reason, Vin. Every question you ask them gives a clue about your true motives—even meeting with them reveals a bit of information that they could sell to someone else. It’s better to rely on them as little as possible.” Vin sighed. “I don’t send you into danger heedlessly, Vin,” Kelsier said, leaning forward. “We do need a spy among the nobility. Informants generally get
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their information from servants, but most aristocrats are not fools. Important meetings go on where no servant can overhear them.” “And you expect me to be able to get into such meetings?” “Perhaps,” Kelsier said. “Perhaps not. Either way, I’ve learned that it’s always useful to have someone infiltrate the nobility. You and Sazed will overhear vital items that street informants wouldn’t think important. In fact, just by being at these parties—even if you don’t overhear anything—you will get us information.” “How so?” Vin asked, frowning. “Make note of the people who seem interested in you,” Kelsier said. “Those will be of the houses we want to watch. If they pay attention to you, they’re probably paying attention to Lord Renoux—and there’s one good reason why they would be doing that.” “Weapons,” Vin said. Kelsier nodded. “Renoux’s position as a weapons merchant will make him valuable to those who are planning military action. These are the houses on which I’ll need to focus my attention. There should already be a sense of tension among the nobility—hopefully, they’re starting to wonder which houses are turning against the others. There hasn’t been an all-out war among the Great Houses for over a century, but the last one was devastating. We need to replicate it.” “That could mean the deaths of a lot of noblemen,” Vin said. Kelsier smiled. “I can live with that. How about you?” Vin smiled despite her tension. “There’s another reason for you to do this,” Kelsier said. “Sometime during this fiasco of a plan of mine, we might need to face the Lord Ruler. I have a feeling that the fewer people we need to sneak into his presence, the better. Having a skaa Mistborn hiding among the nobility . . . well, it could be a powerful advantage.” Vin felt a slight chill. “The Lord Ruler . . . will he be there tonight?” “No. There will be obligators in attendance, but probably no Inquisitors—and certainly not the Lord Ruler himself. A party like this is far beneath his attention.” Vin nodded. She’d never seen the Lord Ruler before—she’d never wanted to. “Don’t worry so much,” Kelsier said. “Even if you were to meet him, you’d be safe. He can’t read minds.” “Are you sure?” Kelsier paused. “Well, no. But, if he can read minds, he doesn’t do it to everyone he meets. I’ve known several skaa who pretended to be noblemen in his presence—I did it several times myself, before . . .” He trailed off, glancing down toward his scar-covered hands. “He caught you eventually,” Vin said quietly. “And he’ll probably do so again,” Kelsier said with a wink. “But, don’t worry about him for now—our goal this evening is to establish Lady Valette Renoux. You won’t need to do anything dangerous or unusual. Just make an appearance, then leave when Sazed tells you. We’ll worry about building confidences later.” Vin nodded. “Good girl,” Kelsier said, reaching out and pushing open the door. “I’ll be hiding near the keep, watching and listening.” Vin nodded gratefully, and Kelsier
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jumped out of the carriage door, disappearing into the dark mists. Vin was unprepared for how bright Keep Venture would be in the darkness. The massive building was enveloped in an aura of misty light. As the carriage approached, Vin could see that eight enormous lights blazed along the outside of the rectangular building. They were as bright as bonfires, yet far more steady, and they had mirrors arranged behind them to make them shine directly on the keep. Vin had trouble determining their purpose. The ball would happen indoors—why light the outside of the building? “Head inside, please, Mistress Vin,” Sazed said from his position above. “Proper young ladies do not gawk.” Vin shot him a glare he couldn’t see, but ducked her head back inside, waiting with impatient nervousness as the carriage pulled up to the massive keep. It eventually rolled to a stop, and a Venture footman immediately opened her door. A second footman approached and held out a hand to help her down. Vin accepted his hand, trying with as much grace as possible to pull the frilled, bulky bottom of her dress out of the carriage. As she carefully descended—trying not to trip—she was grateful for the footman’s steadying hand, and she finally realized why men were expected to help a lady out of her carriage. It wasn’t a silly custom after all—the clothing was the silly part. Sazed surrendered the carriage and took his place a few steps behind her. He wore robes even more fine than his standard fare; though they still maintained the same V-like pattern, they had a belted waist and wide, enveloping sleeves. “Forward, Mistress,” Sazed coached quietly from behind. “Up the carpet, so that your dress doesn’t rub on the cobbles, and in through the main doors.” Vin nodded, trying to swallow her discomfort. She walked forward, passing noblemen and ladies in various suits and gowns. Though they weren’t looking at her, she felt exposed. Her steps were nowhere near as graceful as those of the other ladies, who looked beautiful and comfortable in their gowns. Her hands began to sweat inside her silky, blue-white gloves. She forced herself to continue. Sazed introduced her at the door, presenting her invitation to the attendants. The two men, dressed in black and red servant’s suits, bowed and waved her in. A crowd of aristocrats was pooling slightly in the foyer, waiting to enter the main hall. What am I doing? she thought frantically. She could challenge mist and Allomancy, thieves and burglaries, mist-wraiths and beatings. Yet, facing these noblemen and their ladies . . . going amongst them in the light, visible, unable to hide . . . this terrified her. “Forward, Mistress,” Sazed said in a soothing voice. “Remember your lessons.” Hide! Find a corner! Shadows, mists, anything! Vin kept her hands clasped rigidly before her, walking forward. Sazed walked beside her. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see concern on his normally calm face. And well he should worry! Everything he had taught her seemed fleeting—vaporous, like the
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mists themselves. She couldn’t remember names, customs, anything. She stopped just inside the foyer, and an imperious-looking nobleman in a black suit turned to regard her. Vin froze. The man looked her over with a dismissive glance, then turned away. She distinctly heard the word “Renoux” whispered, and she glanced apprehensively to the side. Several women were looking at her. And yet, it didn’t feel like they were seeing her at all. They were studying the gown, the hair, and the jewelry. Vin glanced to the other side, where a group of younger men were watching her. They saw the neckline, the pretty dress and the makeup, but they didn’t see her. None of them could see Vin, they could only see the face she had put on—the face she wanted them to see. They saw Lady Valette. It was as if Vin weren’t there. As if . . . she were hiding, hiding right in front of their eyes. And suddenly, her tension began to retreat. She let out a long, calming breath, anxiety flowing away. Sazed’s training returned, and she adopted the look of a girl amazed by her first formal ball. She stepped to the side, handing her shawl to an attendant, and Sazed relaxed beside her. Vin shot him a smile, then swept forward into the main hall. She could do this. She was still nervous, but the moment of panic was over. She didn’t need shadows or corners—she just needed a mask of sapphires, makeup, and blue fabric. The Venture main hall was a grand and imposing sight. Four or five daunting stories high, the hall was several times as long as it was wide. Enormous, rectangular stained-glass windows ran in rows along the hall, and the strange, powerful lights outside shone on them directly, throwing a cascade of colors across the room. Massive, ornate stone pillars were set into the walls, running between the windows. Just before the pillars met the floor, the wall fell away, indenting and creating a single-story gallery beneath the windows themselves. Dozens of white-clothed tables sat in this area, shadowed behind the pillars and beneath the overhang. In the distance, at the far end of the hallway, Vin could make out a low balcony set into the wall, and this held a smaller group of tables. “The dining table of Lord Straff Venture,” Sazed whispered, gesturing toward the far balcony. Vin nodded. “And those lights outside?” “Limelights, Mistress,” Sazed explained. “I’m not certain the process used—somehow, the quicklime stones can be heated to brilliance without melting them.” A string orchestra played on a platform to her left, providing music for the couples who danced in the very center of the hall. To her right, serving tables held platter upon platter of foods being attended by scurrying serving men in white. Sazed approached an attendant and presented Vin’s invitation. The man nodded, then whispered something in a younger servant’s ear. The young man bowed to Vin, then led the way into the room. “I asked for a small, solitary table,” Sazed said.
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“You won’t need to mingle during this visit, I think. Just be seen.” Vin nodded gratefully. “The solitary table will mark you as single,” Sazed warned. “Eat slowly—once your meal is through, men will come to ask you to dance.” “You didn’t teach me to dance!” Vin said in an urgent whisper. “There wasn’t time, Mistress,” Sazed said. “Worry not—respectfully and rightly, you can refuse these men. They will assume that you are simply flustered by your first ball, and no harm will be done.” Vin nodded, and the serving man led them to a small table near the center of the hallway. Vin seated herself in the only chair while Sazed ordered her meal. He then stepped up to stand behind her chair. Vin sat primly, waiting. Most of the tables lay just beneath the overhang of the gallery—up close to the dancing—and that left a corridorlike walkway behind them, near the wall. Couples and groups passed along this, speaking quietly. Occasionally someone gestured or nodded toward Vin. Well, that part of Kelsier’s plan is working. She was getting noticed. She had to force herself not to cringe or sink down in her chair, however, as a high prelan strolled along the pathway behind her. He wasn’t the one she had met, fortunately, though he had the same gray robes and dark tattoos around his eyes. Actually, there were a fair number of obligators at the party. They strolled about, mingling with the partygoers. And yet, there was an . . . aloofness to them. A division. They hovered about, almost like chaperones. The Garrison watches the skaa, Vin thought. Apparently, the obligators perform a similar function for the nobility. It was an odd sight—she’d always thought of the noblemen as being free. And, truthfully, they were far more confident than the skaa. Many seemed to be enjoying themselves, and the obligators didn’t seem to be acting really as police, or even specifically as spies. And yet, they were there. Hovering about, joining in conversations. A constant reminder of the Lord Ruler and his empire. Vin turned her attention away from the obligators—their presence still made her a bit uncomfortable—and instead focused on something else: the beautiful windows. Sitting where she was, she could see some of the ones directly across and up from where she sat. They were religious, like many scenes preferred by the aristocracy. Perhaps it was to show devotion, or perhaps it was required. Vin didn’t know enough—but, likely, that was something Valette wouldn’t know either, so it was all right. She did, fortunately, recognize some of the scenes—mostly because of Sazed’s teachings. He seemed to know as much about the Lord Ruler’s mythology as he did about other religions, though it seemed odd to her that he would study the very religion he found so oppressive. Central to many of the windows was the Deepness. Dark black—or, in window terms, violet—it was formless, with vengeful, tentaclelike masses creeping across several windows. Vin looked up at it, along with the brilliantly colored depictions of the Lord Ruler,
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and found herself a little bit transfixed by the backlit scenes. What was it? she wondered. The Deepness? Why depict it so formlessly—why not show what it really was? She’d never really wondered about the Deepness before, but Sazed’s lessons left her wondering. Her instincts whispered scam. The Lord Ruler had invented some terrible menace that he’d been able to destroy in the past, therefore “earning” his place as emperor. And yet, staring up at the horrible, twisting thing, Vin could almost believe. What if something like that had existed? And, if it had, how had the Lord Ruler managed to defeat it? She sighed, shaking her head at the thoughts. Already, she was beginning to think too much like a noblewoman. She was admiring the beauty of the decorations—thinking about what they meant—without giving more than a passing thought to the wealth that had created them. It was just that everything here was so wondrous and ornate. The pillars in the hall weren’t just normal columns, they were carved masterpieces. Wide banners hung from the ceiling just above the windows, and the arching, lofty ceiling was crisscrossed by structural buttressings and dotted with capstones. Somehow she knew each of those capstones was intricately carved, despite the fact that they were too far away to be seen from below. And the dancers matched, perhaps even outshone, the exquisite setting. Couples moved gracefully, stepping to the soft music with seemingly effortless motions. Many were even chatting with one another while they danced. The ladies moved freely in their dresses—many of which, Vin noticed, made her own frilly garment look plain by comparison. Sazed was right: Long hair was certainly the fashion, though an equal number kept their hair up as left it down. Surrounded by the majestic hall, the sharp-suited noblemen looked different, somehow. Distinguished. Were these the same creatures that beat her friends and enslaved the skaa? They seemed too . . . perfect, too well-mannered, for such horrible acts. I wonder if they even notice the outside world, she thought, crossing her arms on the table as she watched the dancing. Perhaps they can’t see beyond their keeps and their balls—just like they can’t see past my dress and makeup. Sazed tapped her shoulder, and Vin sighed, adopting a more ladylike posture. The meal arrived a few moments later—a feast of such strange flavors that she would have been daunted, had she not eaten similar fare often during the last few months. Sazed’s lessons might have omitted dancing, but they had been quite extensive regarding dining etiquette, for which Vin was grateful. As Kelsier had said, her main purpose of the evening was to make an appearance—and so it was important that she make a proper one. She ate delicately, as instructed, and that allowed her to be slow and meticulous. She didn’t relish the idea of being asked to dance; she was half afraid she’d panic again if anyone actually spoke to her. However, a meal could only be extended so long—especially one with a lady’s small portions. She soon
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