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finished, and set her fork across the plate, indicating that she was done. The first suitor approached not two minutes later. “Lady Valette Renoux?” the young man asked, bowing just slightly. He wore a green vest beneath his long, dark suit coat. “I am Lord Rian Strobe. Would you care to dance?” “My lord,” Vin said, glancing down demurely. “You are kind, but this is my first ball, and everything here is so grand! I fear that I’ll stumble from nervousness on the dance floor. Perhaps, next time . . .?” “Of course, my lady,” he said with a courteous nod, then withdrew. “Very well done, Mistress,” Sazed said quietly. “Your accent was masterful. You will, of course, have to dance with him at the next ball. We shall surely have you trained by then, I think.” Vin flushed slightly. “Maybe he won’t attend.” “Perhaps,” Sazed said. “But not likely. The young nobility are quite fond of their nightly diversions.” “They do this every night?” “Nearly,” Sazed said. “The balls are, after all, a prime reason people come to Luthadel. If one is in town and there is a ball—and there almost always is—one generally attends, especially if one is young and unmarried. You won’t be expected to attend quite so frequently, but we should probably get you up to attending two or three a week.” “Two or three . . .” Vin said. “I’m going to need more gowns!” Sazed smiled. “Ah, thinking like a noblewoman already. Now, Mistress, if you will excuse me . . .” “Excuse you?” Vin asked, turning. “To the steward’s dinner,” Sazed said. “A servant of my rank is generally dismissed once my master’s meal is finished. I hesitate to go and leave you, but that room will be filled with the self-important servants of the high nobility. There will be conversations there that Master Kelsier wishes me to overhear.” “You’re leaving me by myself?” “You’ve done well so far, Mistress,” Sazed said. “No major mistakes—or, at least, none that wouldn’t be expected of a lady new to court.” “Like what?” Vin asked apprehensively. “We shall discuss them later. Just remain at your table, sipping your wine—try not to get it refilled too often—and wait for my return. If other young men approach, turn them away as delicately as you did the first.” Vin nodded hesitantly. “I shall return in about an hour,” Sazed promised. He remained, however, as if waiting for something. “Um, you are dismissed,” Vin said. “Thank you, Mistress,” he said, bowing and withdrawing. Leaving her alone. Not alone, she thought. Kelsier’s out there somewhere, watching in the night. The thought comforted her, though she wished she didn’t feel the empty space beside her chair quite so keenly. Three more young men approached her for dances, but each one accepted her polite rejection. No others came after them; word had probably gotten around that she wasn’t interested in dancing. She memorized the names of the four men who had approached her—Kelsier would want to know them—and began to wait. Oddly, she soon found
herself growing bored. The room was well ventilated, but she still felt hot beneath the layers of fabric. Her legs were especially bad, since they had to deal with her ankle-long undergarments. The long sleeves didn’t help either, though the silky material was soft against her skin. The dancing continued, and she watched with interest for a time. However, her attention soon turned to the obligators. Interestingly, they did seem to serve some sort of function at the party. Though they often stood apart from the groups of chatting nobility, occasionally they would join in. And, every so often, a group would pause and seek out an obligator, waving one over with a respectful gesture. Vin frowned, trying to decide what she was missing. Eventually, a group at a nearby table waved to a passing obligator. The table was too far away to hear unaided, but with tin . . . She reached inside to burn the metal, but then paused. Copper first, she thought, turning the metal on. She would have to grow accustomed to leaving it on almost all the time, so that she wouldn’t expose herself. Her Allomancy hidden, she burned tin. Immediately, the light in the room became blinding, and she had to close her eyes. The band’s music became louder, and a dozen conversations around her turned from buzzes to audible voices. She had to try hard to focus on the one she was interested in, but the table was the one closest to her, so she eventually singled out the appropriate voices. “ . . . swear that I’ll share news of my engagement with him before anyone else,” one of the people said. Vin opened her eyes a slit—it was one of the noblemen at the table. “Very well,” said the obligator. “I witness and record this.” The nobleman reached out a hand, and coins clinked. Vin extinguished her tin, opening her eyes all the way in time to see the obligator wandering away from the table, slipping something—likely the coins—into a pocket of his robes. Interesting, Vin thought. Unfortunately, the people at that table soon rose and went their separate ways, leaving Vin without anyone close enough to eavesdrop upon. Her boredom returned as she watched the obligator stroll across the room toward one of his companions. She began to tap on the table, idly watching the two obligators until she realized something. She recognized one of them. Not the one who had taken the money earlier, but his companion, an older man. Short and firm-featured, he stood with an imperious air. Even the other obligator seemed deferential to him. At first, Vin thought her familiarity came from her visit to the Canton of Finance with Camon, and she felt a stab of panic. Then, however, she realized that this wasn’t the same man. She’d seen him before, but not there. He was . . . My father, she realized with stupefaction. Reen had pointed him out once, when they had first come to Luthadel, a year ago; he had been inspecting the workers
at a local forge. Reen had taken Vin, sneaking her in, insisting that she at least see her father once—though she still didn’t understand why. She had memorized the face anyway. She resisted the urge to shrink down in her chair. There was no way the man would be able to recognize her—he didn’t even know she existed. She forcibly turned her attention away from him, looking up at the windows instead. She couldn’t get that good a look at them, however, because the pillars and overhang restricted her view. As she sat, she noticed something she hadn’t seen before—a lofty, inset balcony that ran just above the entire far wall. It was like a counterpart to the alcove beneath the windows, except it ran at the top of the wall, between the stained-glass windows and the ceiling. She could see movement upon it, couples and singles strolling along, looking down upon the party below. Her instincts drew her toward the balcony, from where she could watch the party without being seen herself. It would also give her a wonderful view of the banners and the windows directly above her table, not to mention let her study the stonework without seeming to gawk. Sazed had told her to stay, but the more she sat, the more she found her eyes drawn toward the hidden balcony. She itched to stand up and move, to stretch her legs and perhaps air them out a bit. The presence of her father—oblivious of her or not—served only as another motivation for her to leave the main floor. It isn’t like anyone else is asking me to dance, she thought. And I’ve done what Kelsier wanted, I’ve been seen by the nobility. She paused, then waved for a serving boy. He approached with alacrity. “Yes, Lady Renoux?” “How do I get up there?” Vin asked, pointing toward the balcony. “There are stairs just to the side of the orchestra, my lady,” the boy said. “Climb them to the top landing.” Vin nodded her thanks. Then, determined, she stood and made her way to the front of the room. No one gave her passing more than a glance, and she walked with more confidence as she crossed the hallway to the stairwell. The stone corridor twisted upward, curling upon itself, its steps short but steep. Little stained glass windows, no wider than her hand, ran up the outside wall—though they were dark in color, lacking backlight. Vin climbed eagerly, working away her restless energy, but she soon began to puff from the weight of the dress and the difficulty of holding it up so that she didn’t trip. A spark of burned pewter, however, made the climb effortless enough that she didn’t sweat and ruin her makeup. The climb proved to be worth the effort. The upper balcony was dark—lit only by several small blue-glassed lanterns on the walls—and it gave an amazing view of the stained-glass windows. The area was quiet, and Vin felt practically alone as she approached the iron railing between two pillars, looking down.
The stone tiles of the floor below formed a pattern she hadn’t noticed, a kind of freeform curving of gray upon white. Mists? she wondered idly, leaning against the railing. It, like the lantern bracket behind her, was intricate and detailed—both had been wrought in the form of thick, curving vines. To her sides, the tops of the pillars were carved into stone animals that appeared frozen in the motion of jumping off of the balcony. “Now, see, here’s the problem with going to refill your cup of wine.” The sudden voice made Vin jump, and she spun. A young man stood behind her. His suit wasn’t the finest she had seen, nor was his vest as bright as most. Both coat and shirt seemed to fit too loosely, and his hair was just a bit disheveled. He carried a cup of wine, and the outer pocket of his suit coat bulged with the shape of a book that was just a bit too big for its confines. “The problem is,” the young man said, “you return to find that your favorite spot has been stolen by a pretty girl. Now, a gentleman would move on to another place, leaving the lady to her contemplations. However, this is the best spot on the balcony—it’s the only place close enough to a lantern to have good reading light.” Vin flushed. “I’m sorry, my lord.” “Ah, see, now I feel guilty. All for a cup of wine. Look, there’s plenty of room for two people here—just scoot over a bit.” Vin paused. Could she politely refuse? He obviously wanted her to stay near him—did he know who she was? Should she try to find out his name, so she could tell Kelsier? She stepped a bit to the side, and the man took a place next to her. He leaned back against the side pillar, and, surprisingly, took out his book and began to read. He was right: The lantern shined directly on the pages. Vin stood for a moment, watching him, but he seemed completely absorbed. He didn’t even pause to look up at her. Isn’t he going to pay me any attention at all? Vin thought, puzzled at her own annoyance. Maybe I should have worn a fancier dress. The man sipped at his wine, focused on the book. “Do you always read at balls?” she asked. The young man looked up. “Whenever I can get away with it.” “Doesn’t that kind of defeat the purpose of coming?” Vin asked. “Why attend if you’re just going to avoid socializing?” “You’re up here too,” he pointed out. Vin flushed. “I just wanted to get a brief view of the hall.” “Oh? And why did you refuse all three men who asked you to dance?” Vin paused. The man smiled, then turned back to his book. “There were four,” Vin said with a huff. “And I refused them because I don’t know how to dance very well.” The man lowered his book slightly, eyeing her. “You know, you’re a lot less timid than you
look.” “Timid?” Vin asked. “I’m not the one staring at his book when there’s a young lady standing by him, never having properly introduced himself.” The man raised a speculative eyebrow. “Now, see, you sound like my father. Far better looking, but just as grumpy.” Vin glared at him. Finally, he rolled his eyes. “Very well, let me be a gentleman, then.” He bowed to her with a refined, formal step. “I am Lord Elend. Lady Valette Renoux, might I have the pleasure of sharing this balcony with you whilst I read?” Vin folded her arms. Elend? Family name or given name? Should I even care? He just wanted his spot back. But . . . how did he know that I’d refused dancing partners? Somehow, she had a suspicion that Kelsier would want to hear about this particular conversation. Oddly, she didn’t feel a desire to shrug this man away as she had the others. Instead, she felt another stab of annoyance as he again raised his book. “You still haven’t told me why you would rather read than participate,” she said. The man sighed, lowering the book again. “Well, see, I’m not exactly the best dancer either.” “Ah,” Vin said. “But,” he said, raising a finger, “that’s only part of it. You may not realize this yet, but it’s not that hard to get overpartied. Once you attend five or six hundred of these balls, they start to feel a bit repetitive.” Vin shrugged. “You’d probably learn to dance better if you practiced.” Elend raised an eyebrow. “You’re not going to let me get back to my book, are you?” “I wasn’t intending to.” He sighed, tucking the book back into his jacket pocket—which was beginning to show signs of book-shaped wear. “Well, then. Do you want to go dance instead?” Vin froze. Elend smiled nonchalantly. Lord! He’s either incredibly smooth or socially incompetent. It was disturbing that she couldn’t determine which. “That’s a no, I assume?” Elend said. “Good—I thought I should offer, since we’ve established that I’m a gentleman. However, I doubt the couples below would appreciate us trampling their toes.” “Agreed. What were you reading?” “Dilisteni,” Elend said. “Trials of Monument. Heard of it?” Vin shook her head. “Ah, well. Not many have.” He leaned over the railing, looking below. “So, what do you think of your first experience at court?” “It’s very . . . overwhelming.” Elend chuckled. “Say what you will about House Venture—they know how to throw a party.” Vin nodded. “You don’t like House Venture, then?” she said. Perhaps this was one of the rivalries Kelsier was watching for. “Not particularly, no,” Elend said. “They’re an ostentatious lot, even for high nobility. They can’t just have a party, they have to throw the best party. Never mind that they run their servants ragged setting it up, then beat the poor things in retribution when the hall isn’t perfectly clean the very next morning.” Vin cocked her head. Not words I’d expect to hear from a nobleman. Elend paused, looking a little embarrassed. “But,
well, never mind that. I think your Terrisman is looking for you.” Vin started, glancing over the side of the balcony. Sure enough, Sazed’s tall form stood by her now-empty table, speaking to a serving boy. Vin yelped quietly. “I’ve got to go,” she said, turning toward the stairwell. “Ah, well then,” Elend said, “back to reading it is.” He gave her a half wave of farewell, but he had his book open before she passed the first step. Vin reached the bottom out of breath. Sazed saw her immediately. “I’m sorry,” she said, chagrined as she approached. “Do not apologize to me, Mistress,” Sazed said quietly. “It is both unseemly and unnecessary. Moving about a bit was a good idea, I think. I would have suggested it, had you not seemed so nervous.” Vin nodded. “Is it time for us to go, then?” “It is a proper time to withdraw, if you wish,” he said, glancing up at the balcony. “May I ask what you were doing up there, Mistress?” “I wanted to get a better look at the windows,” Vin said. “But I ended up talking to someone. He seemed interested in me at first, but now I don’t think he ever intended to pay me much attention. It doesn’t matter—he didn’t seem important enough to bother Kelsier with his name.” Sazed paused. “Who was it you were speaking to?” “The man in the corner there, on the balcony,” Vin said. “One of Lord Venture’s friends?” Vin froze. “Is one of them named Elend?” Sazed paled visibly. “You were chatting with Lord Elend Venture?” “Um . . . yes?” “Did he ask you to dance?” Vin nodded. “But I don’t think he meant it.” “Oh, dear,” Sazed said. “So much for controlled anonymity.” “Venture?” Vin asked, frowning. “Like, Keep Venture?” “Heir to the house title,” Sazed said. “Hum,” Vin said, realizing that she should probably be a bit more intimidated than she felt. “He was a bit annoying—in a pleasant sort of way.” “We shouldn’t be discussing this here,” Sazed said. “You’re far, far below his station. Come, let us retire. I shouldn’t have gone away to the dinner. . . .” He trailed off, mumbling to himself as he led Vin to the entryway. She got one more glimpse into the main chamber as she retrieved her shawl, and she burned tin, squinting against the light and seeking the balcony above. He held the book, closed, in one hand—and she could have sworn that he was looking down in her direction. She smiled, and let Sazed usher her to their carriage. 13 VIN SAT WITH HER LEGS crossed beneath her on one of Lord Renoux’s fine easy chairs. It felt good to be rid of the bulky dress, instead getting back to a more familiar shirt and trousers. However, Sazed’s calm displeasure made her want to squirm. He stood on the other side of the room, and Vin got the distinct impression that she was in trouble. Sazed had questioned her in depth, seeking out every detail of her
conversation with Lord Elend. Sazed’s inquiries had been respectful, of course, but they had also been forceful. The Terrisman seemed, in Vin’s opinion, unduly worried about her exchange with the young nobleman. They hadn’t really talked about anything important, and Elend himself was decidedly unspectacular for a Great House lord. But, there had been something odd about him—something Vin hadn’t admitted to Sazed. She’d felt . . . comfortable with Elend. Looking back on the experience, she realized that for those few moments, she hadn’t really been Lady Valette. Nor had she been Vin, for that part of her—the timid crewmember—was almost as fake as Valette was. No, she’d simply been . . . whoever she was. It was a strange experience. She had occasionally felt the same way during her time with Kelsier and the others, but in a more limited manner. How had Elend been able to evoke her true self so quickly and so thoroughly? Maybe he used Allomancy on me! she thought with a start. Elend was a high nobleman; perhaps he was a Soother. Maybe there was more to the conversation than she had thought. Vin sat back in her chair, frowning to herself. She’d had copper on, and that meant he couldn’t have used emotional Allomancy on her. Somehow, he had simply gotten her to let her guard down. Vin thought back to the experience, thinking about how oddly comfortable she’d felt. In retrospect, it was clear that she hadn’t been careful enough. I’ll be more cautious next time. She assumed that they would meet again. They’d better. A servant entered and whispered quietly to Sazed. A quick burn of tin let Vin hear the conversation—Kelsier had finally returned. “Please send word to Lord Renoux,” Sazed said. The white-clothed servant nodded, leaving the room with a quick step. “The rest of you may leave,” Sazed said calmly, and the room’s attendants scampered away. Sazed’s quiet vigil had forced them to stand, waiting in the tense room, not speaking or moving. Kelsier and Lord Renoux arrived together, chatting quietly. As always, Renoux wore a rich suit cut in the unfamiliar Western style. The aging man kept his gray mustache trimmed thin and neat, and he walked with a confident air. Even after spending an entire evening among the nobility, Vin was again struck by his aristocratic bearing. Kelsier still wore his mistcloak. “Saze?” he said as he entered. “You have news?” “I am afraid so, Master Kelsier,” Sazed said. “It appears that Mistress Vin caught the attention of Lord Elend Venture at the ball tonight.” “Elend?” Kelsier asked, folding his arms. “Isn’t he the heir?” “He is indeed,” Renoux said. “I met the lad perhaps four years ago, when his father visited the West. He struck me as a bit undignified for one of his station.” Four years? Vin thought. There’s no way he’s been imitating Lord Renoux for that long. Kelsier only escaped the Pits two years ago! She eyed the impostor, but—as always—was unable to detect a flaw in his bearing. “How attentive was the
boy?” Kelsier asked. “He asked her to dance,” Sazed said. “But Mistress Vin was wise enough to decline. Apparently, their meeting was a matter of idle happenstance—but I fear she may have caught his eye.” Kelsier chuckled. “You taught her too well, Saze. In the future, Vin, perhaps you should try to be a little less charming.” “Why?” Vin asked, trying to mask her annoyance. “I thought we wanted me to be well liked.” “Not by a man as important as Elend Venture, child,” Lord Renoux said. “We sent you to court so you could make alliances—not scandals.” Kelsier nodded. “Venture is young, eligible, and heir to a powerful house. Your having a relationship with him could make serious problems for us. The women of the court would be jealous of you, and the older men would disapprove of the rank difference. You’d alienate yourself from large sections of the court. To get the information we need, we need the aristocracy to see you as uncertain, unimportant, and—most importantly—unthreatening.” “Besides, child,” Lord Renoux said. “It is unlikely that Elend Venture has any real interest in you. He is known to be a court eccentric—he is probably just trying to heighten his reputation by doing the unexpected.” Vin felt her face flush. He’s probably right, she told herself sternly. Still, she couldn’t help feeling annoyed at the three of them—especially Kelsier, with his flippant, unconcerned attitude. “Yes,” Kelsier said, “it’s probably best that you avoid Venture completely. Try to offend him or something. Give him a couple of those glares you do.” Vin regarded Kelsier with a flat look. “That’s the one!” Kelsier said with a laugh. Vin clinched her teeth, then forced herself to relax. “I saw my father at the ball tonight,” she said, hoping to distract Kelsier and the others away from Lord Venture. “Really?” Kelsier asked with interest. Vin nodded. “I recognized him from a time my brother pointed him out to me.” “What is this?” Renoux asked. “Vin’s father is an obligator,” Kelsier said. “And, apparently an important one if he has enough pull to go to a ball like this. Do you know what his name is?” Vin shook her head. “Description?” Kelsier asked. “Uh . . . bald, eye tattoos . . .” Kelsier chuckled. “Just point him out to me sometime, all right?” Vin nodded, and Kelsier turned to Sazed. “Now, did you bring me the names of which noblemen asked Vin to dance?” Sazed nodded. “She gave me a list, Master Kelsier. I also have several interesting tidbits to share from the stewards’ meal.” “Good,” Kelsier said, glancing at the grandfather clock in the corner. “You’ll have to save them for tomorrow morning, though. I’ve got to be going.” “Going?” Vin asked, perking up. “But you just got in!” “That’s the funny thing about arriving somewhere, Vin,” he said with a wink. “Once you’re there, the only thing you can really do is leave again. Get some sleep—you’re looking a bit ragged.” Kelsier waved a farewell to the group, then ducked out of the
room, whistling amiably to himself. Too nonchalant, Vin thought. And too secretive. He usually tells us which families he plans to hit. “I think I will retire,” Vin said, yawning. Sazed eyed her suspiciously, but let her go as Renoux began speaking quietly to him. Vin scrambled up the stairs to her room, threw on her mistcloak, and pushed open her balcony doors. Mist poured into the room. She flared iron, and was rewarded with the sight of a fading blue metal line, pointing into the distance. Let’s see where you’re going, Master Kelsier. Vin burned steel, Pushing herself into the cold, humid autumn night. Tin enhanced her eyes, making the wet air tickle her throat as she breathed. She Pushed hard behind her, then Pulled slightly on the gates below. The maneuver swung her in a soaring arc over the steel gates, which she then Pushed against to throw herself farther into the air. She kept an eye on the trail of blue that pointed toward Kelsier, following him at enough of a distance to remain unseen. She wasn’t carrying any metal—not even coins—and she kept her copper burning to hide her use of Allomancy. Theoretically, only sound could alert Kelsier of her presence, and so she moved as quietly as possible. Surprisingly, Kelsier didn’t head into town. After passing the mansion’s gates, he turned north out of the city. Vin followed, landing and running quietly on the rough ground. Where is he going? she thought with confusion. Is he circling Fellise? Heading for one of the peripheral mansions? Kelsier continued northward for a short time, then his metal line suddenly began to grow dim. Vin paused, stopping beside a group of stumpy trees. The line faded at a rapid rate: Kelsier had suddenly sped up. She cursed to herself, breaking into a dash. Ahead, Kelsier’s line vanished into the night. Vin sighed, slowing. She flared her iron, but it was barely enough to catch a glimpse of him disappearing again in the distance. She’d never keep up. Her flared iron, however, showed her something else. She frowned, continuing forward until she reached a stationary source of metal—two small bronze bars stuck into the ground a couple feet from each other. She flipped one up into her hand, then looked into the swirling mists to the north. He’s jumping, she thought. But why? Jumping was faster than walking, but there didn’t seem much point to it in the empty wilderness. Unless . . . She walked forward, and she soon found two more bronze bars embedded in the earth. Vin glanced backward. It was hard to tell in the night, but it seemed that the four bars made a line that pointed directly toward Luthadel. So that’s how he does it, she thought. Kelsier had an uncanny ability to move between Luthadel and Fellise with remarkable speed. She’d assumed that he was using horses, but it appeared that there was a better way. He—or perhaps someone before him—had laid down an Allomantic road between the two cities. She gripped the first
bar in her palm—she’d need it to soften her landing if she was wrong—then stepped up in front of the second pair of bars and launched herself into the air. She Pushed hard, flaring her steel, throwing herself as far up into the sky as she could. As she flew, she flared her iron, searching for other sources of metal. They soon appeared—two directly north, and two more in the distance to either side of her. The ones on the sides are for course corrections, she realized. She’d have to keep moving directly north if she wanted to stay on the bronze highway. She nudged herself slightly to the left—moving so that she passed directly between the two adjacent bars of the main path—then hurled herself forward again in an arcing leap. She got the hang of it quickly, hopping from point to point, never dropping even close to the ground. In just a few minutes, she had the rhythm down so well that she barely had to do any corrections from the sides. Her progress across the scraggly landscape was incredibly swift. The mists blew by, her mistcloak whipping and flapping behind her. Still, she forced herself to speed up. She’d spent too long studying the bronze bars. She had to catch up to Kelsier; otherwise she’d arrive in Luthadel, but not know where to go from there. She began to throw herself from point to point at an almost reckless speed, watching desperately for some sign of Allomantic motion. After about ten minutes of leaping, a line of blue finally appeared ahead of her—one pointing up, rather than down toward bars in the ground. She breathed in relief. Then a second line appeared, and a third. Vin frowned, letting herself drop to the ground with a muted thump. She flared tin, and a massive shadow appeared in the night before her, its top sparkling with balls of light. The city wall, she thought with amazement. So soon? I made the trip twice as fast as a man on horseback! However, that meant she’d lost Kelsier. Frowning to herself, she used the bar she’d been carrying to throw herself up onto the battlements. Once she landed on the damp stone, she reached behind and Pulled the bar up into her hand. Then she approached the other side of the wall, hopping up and crouching on the stone railing as she scanned the city. What now? she thought with annoyance. Head back to Fellise? Stop by Clubs’s shop and see if he went there? She sat uncertainly for a moment, then threw herself off the wall and began making her way across the rooftops. She wandered randomly, pushing off of window clasps and bits of metal, using the bronze bar—then pulling it back into her hand—when long jumps were necessary. It wasn’t until she arrived that she realized she’d unconsciously gone to a specific destination. Keep Venture rose before her in the night. The limelights had been extinguished, and only a few phantom torches burned near guard posts. Vin crouched on the
lip on a rooftop, trying to decide what had led her back to the massive keep. The cool wind ruffled her hair and cloak, and she thought she felt a few tiny raindrops on her cheek. She sat for a long moment, her toes growing cold. Then she noticed motion to her right. She crouched immediately, flaring her tin. Kelsier sat on a rooftop not three houses away, just barely lit by ambient light. He didn’t seem to have noticed her. He was watching the keep, his face too distant for her to read his expression. Vin watched him with suspicious eyes. He’d dismissed her meeting with Elend, but perhaps it worried him more than he’d admitted. A sudden spike of fear made her tense. Could he be here to kill Elend? The assassination of a high noble heir would certainly create tension amongst the nobility. Vin waited apprehensively. Eventually, however, Kelsier stood and walked away, Pushing himself off the rooftop and into the air. Vin dropped her bronze bar—it would give her away—and dashed after him. Her iron showed blue lines moving in the distance, and she hurriedly jumped out over the street and Pushed herself off a sewer grate below, determined not to lose him again. He moved toward the center of the city. Vin frowned, trying to guess his destination. Keep Erikeller was in that direction, and it was a major supplier of armaments. Perhaps Kelsier planned to do something to interrupt its supplies, making House Renoux more vital to the local nobility. Vin landed on a rooftop and paused, watching Kelsier shoot off into the night. He’s moving fast again. I— A hand fell on her shoulder. Vin yelped, jumping back, flaring pewter. Kelsier regarded her with a cocked eyebrow. “You’re supposed to be in bed, young lady.” Vin glanced to the side, toward the line of metal. “But—” “My coin pouch,” Kelsier said, smiling. “A good thief can steal clever tricks as easily as he steals boxings. I’ve started being more careful since you tailed me last week—at first, I assumed you were a Venture Mistborn.” “They have some?” “I’m sure they do,” Kelsier said. “Most of the Great Houses do—but your friend Elend isn’t one of them. He’s not even a Misting.” “How do you know? He could be hiding it.” Kelsier shook his head. “He nearly died in a raid a couple of years ago—if there were ever a time to show your powers, it would have been then.” Vin nodded, still looking down, not meeting Kelsier’s eyes. He sighed, sitting down on the slanted rooftop, one leg hanging over the side. “Have a seat.” Vin settled herself on the tile roof across from him. Above, the cool mists continued to churn, and it had begun to drizzle slightly—but that wasn’t much different from the regular nightly humidity. “I can’t have you tailing me like this, Vin,” Kelsier said. “Do you remember our discussion about trust?” “If you trusted me, you’d tell me where you were going.” “Not necessarily,” Kelsier said. “Maybe I just don’t
want you and the others to worry about me.” “Everything you do is dangerous,” Vin said. “Why would we worry any more if you told us specifics?” “Some tasks are even more dangerous than others,” Kelsier said quietly. Vin paused, then glanced to the side, in the direction Kelsier had been going. Toward the center of the city. Toward Kredik Shaw, the Hill of a Thousand Spires. The Lord Ruler’s palace. “You’re going to confront the Lord Ruler!” Vin said quietly. “You said last week that you were going to pay him a visit.” “ ‘Visit’ is, perhaps, too strong a word,” Kelsier said. “I am going to the palace, but I sincerely hope I don’t run into the Lord Ruler himself. I’m not ready for him yet. Regardless, you are going straight to Clubs’s shop.” Vin nodded. Kelsier frowned. “You’re just going to try and follow me again, aren’t you?” Vin paused, then she nodded again. “Why?” “Because I want to help,” Vin said quietly. “So far, my part in this all has essentially boiled down to going to a party. But, I’m Mistborn—you’ve trained me yourself. I’m not going to sit back and let everyone else do dangerous work while I sit, eat dinner, and watch people dance.” “What you’re doing at those balls is important,” Kelsier said. Vin nodded, glancing down. She’d just let him go, then she’d follow him. Part of her reasoning was what she’d said before: She was beginning to feel a camaraderie for this crew, and it was like nothing she had ever known. She wanted to be part of what it was doing; she wanted to help. However, another part of her whispered that Kelsier wasn’t telling her everything. He might trust her; he might not. However, he certainly had secrets. The Eleventh Metal, and therefore the Lord Ruler, were involved in those secrets. Kelsier caught her eyes, and he must have seen her intention to follow in them. He sighed, leaning back. “I’m serious, Vin! You can’t go with me.” “Why not?” she asked, abandoning pretense. “If what you’re doing is so dangerous, wouldn’t it be safer if you had another Mistborn watching your back?” “You still don’t know all of the metals,” Kelsier said. “Only because you haven’t taught me.” “You need more practice.” “The best practice is doing,” Vin said. “My brother trained me to steal by taking me on burglaries.” Kelsier shook his head. “It’s too dangerous.” “Kelsier,” she said in a serious tone. “We’re planning to overthrow the Final Empire. I don’t really expect to live until the end of the year anyway. “You keep telling the others what an advantage it is to have two Mistborn on the team. Well, it’s not going to be much of an advantage unless you actually let me be a Mistborn. How long are you going to wait? Until I’m ‘ready’? I don’t think that will ever happen.” Kelsier eyed her for a moment, then he smiled. “When we first met, half the time I couldn’t get you to say a word.
Now you’re lecturing me.” Vin blushed. Finally, Kelsier sighed, reaching beneath his cloak to pull something out. “I can’t believe I’m considering this,” he muttered, handing her the bit of metal. Vin studied the tiny, silvery ball of metal. It was so reflective and bright that it almost seemed to be a drop of liquid, yet it was solid to the touch. “Atium,” Kelsier said. “Tenth, and most powerful, of the known Allomantic metals. That bead is worth more than the entire bag of boxings I gave you before.” “This little bit?” she asked with surprise. Kelsier nodded. “Atium only comes from one place—the Pits of Hathsin—where the Lord Ruler controls its production and distribution. The Great Houses get to buy a monthly stipend of atium, which is one of the main ways the Lord Ruler controls them. Go ahead and swallow it.” Vin eyed the bit of metal, uncertain she wanted to waste something so valuable. “You can’t sell it,” Kelsier said. “Thieving crews try, but they get tracked down and executed. The Lord Ruler is very protective of his atium supply.” Vin nodded, then swallowed the metal. Immediately, she felt a new well of power appear within her, waiting to be burned. “All right,” Kelsier said, standing. “Burn it as soon as I start walking.” Vin nodded. As he began to walk forward, she drew upon her new well of strength and burned atium. Kelsier seemed to fuzz slightly to her eyes; then a translucent, wraithlike image shot out into the mists in front of him. The image looked just like Kelsier, and it walked just a few steps in front of him. A very faint, trailing after-image extended from the duplicate back to Kelsier himself. It was like . . . a reverse shadow. The duplicate did everything Kelsier did—except, the image moved first. It turned, and then Kelsier followed its same path. The image’s mouth began moving. A second later, Kelsier spoke. “Atium lets you see just a bit into the future. Or, at least, it lets you see what people are going to do a little bit in the future. In addition, it enhances your mind, allowing you to deal with the new information, allowing you to react more quickly and collectedly.” The shadow stopped, then Kelsier walked up to it, stopping as well. Suddenly, the shadow reached out and slapped her, and Vin moved reflexively, putting her hand up just as Kelsier’s real hand began to move. She caught his arm midswing. “While you’re burning atium,” he said, “nothing can surprise you. You can swing a dagger, knowing confidently that your enemies will run right into it. You can dodge attacks with ease because you’ll be able to see where every blow will fall. Atium makes you quite nearly invincible. It enhances your mind, making you able to make use of all the new information.” Suddenly, dozens of other images shot from Kelsier’s body. Each one sprang in a different direction, some striding across the roof, others jumping into the air. Vin released his arm, rising
and backing away in confusion. “I just burned atium too,” Kelsier said. “I can see what you’re going to do, and that changes what I’m going to do—which in turn changes what you’re going to do. The images reflect each of the possible actions we might take.” “It’s confusing,” Vin said, watching the insane jumble of images, old ones constantly fading, new ones constantly appearing. Kelsier nodded. “The only way to defeat someone who is burning atium is to burn it yourself—that way, neither of you has an advantage.” The images vanished. “What did you do?” Vin asked with a start. “Nothing,” Kelsier said. “Your atium probably ran out.” Vin realized with surprise that he was right—the atium was gone. “It burns so quickly!” Kelsier nodded, sitting down again. “That’s probably the fastest fortune you’ve ever blown, eh?” Vin nodded, stunned. “It seems like such a waste.” Kelsier shrugged. “Atium is only valuable because of Allomancy. So, if we didn’t burn it, it wouldn’t be worth the fortune that it is. Of course, if we do burn it, we make it even more rare. It’s kind of an interesting relationship—ask Ham about it sometimes. He loves talking about atium economics. “Anyway, any Mistborn you face will probably have atium. However, they’ll be reluctant to use it. In addition, they won’t have swallowed it yet—atium is fragile, and your digestive juices will ruin it in a matter of hours. So, you have to walk a line between conservation and effectiveness. If it looks like your opponent is using atium, then you’d better use yours too—however, make sure he doesn’t lure you into using up your reserve before he does.” Vin nodded. “Does this mean you’re taking me tonight?” “I’ll probably regret it,” Kelsier said, sighing. “But I don’t see any way to make you stay behind—short of tying you up, perhaps. But, I warn you Vin. This could be dangerous. Very dangerous. I don’t intend to meet the Lord Ruler, but I do intend to sneak into his stronghold. I think I know where we might find a clue on how to defeat him.” Vin smiled, stepping forward as Kelsier waved her toward him. He reached into his pouch and pulled out a vial, which he handed to her. It was like regular Allomantic vials, except the liquid inside held only a single drop of metal. The atium bead was several times larger than the one he had given her to practice on. “Don’t use it unless you have to,” Kelsier warned. “You need any other metals?” Vin nodded. “I burned up most of my steel getting here.” Kelsier handed her another vial. “First, let’s go retrieve my coin pouch.” 14 IT STARTED RAINING JUST AFTER they located the coin pouch. It wasn’t a hard rain, but it seemed to clear the mist slightly. Vin shivered, pulling up her hood, crouching beside Kelsier on a rooftop. He didn’t pay the weather much heed, so neither did she. A little dampness wouldn’t hurt—in fact, it would probably help, as the rainfall would cover the
sounds of their approach. Kredik Shaw lay before them. The peaked spires and sheer towers rose like dark talons in the night. They varied greatly in thickness—some were wide enough to house stairwells and large rooms, but others were simply thin rods of steel jutting up into the sky. The variety gave the mass a twisted, off-center symmetry—an almost-balance. The spikes and towers had a foreboding cast in the damp, misty night—like the ash-blackened bones of a long-weathered carcass. Looking at them, Vin thought she felt something . . . a depression, as if simply being close to the building was enough to suck away her hope. “Our target is a tunnel complex at the base of one of the far right spires,” Kelsier said, his voice barely carrying over the quiet hush of the falling rain. “We’re heading for a room at the very center of that complex.” “What’s inside?” “I don’t know,” Kelsier said. “That’s what we’re going to find out. Once every three days—and today isn’t one of them—the Lord Ruler visits this chamber. He stays for three hours, then leaves. I tried to get in once before. Three years ago.” “The job,” Vin whispered. “The one that . . .” “Got me captured,” Kelsier said with a nod. “Yes. At the time, we thought that the Lord Ruler stored riches in the room. I don’t think that’s true, now, but I’m still curious. The way he visits is so regular, so . . . odd. Something’s in that room, Vin. Something important. Maybe it holds the secret to his power and immortality.” “Why do we need to worry about that?” Vin asked. “You have the Eleventh Metal to defeat him, right?” Kelsier frowned slightly. Vin waited for an answer, but he didn’t ever give one. “I failed to get in last time, Vin,” he said instead. “We got close, but we got there too easily. When we arrived, there were Inquisitors outside the room. Waiting for us.” “Someone told them you were coming?” Kelsier nodded. “We planned that job for months. We were overconfident, but we had reason to be. Mare and I were the best—the job should have gone flawlessly.” Kelsier paused, then he turned to Vin. “Tonight, I didn’t plan at all. We’re just going in—we’ll quiet anyone who tries to stop us, then break into that room.” Vin sat quietly, feeling the chill rainwater on her wet hands and damp arms. Then she nodded. Kelsier smiled slightly. “No objections?” Vin shook her head. “I made you take me with you. It’s not my place to object now.” Kelsier chuckled. “Guess I’ve been hanging out with Breeze too long. I just don’t feel right unless someone tells me I’m crazy.” Vin shrugged. However, as she moved on the rooftop, she felt it again—the sense of depression coming from Kredik Shaw. “There is something, Kelsier,” she said. “The palace feels . . . wrong, somehow.” “That’s the Lord Ruler,” Kelsier said. “He radiates like an incredibly powerful Soother, smothering the emotions of everyone who gets close to
him. Turn on your copper; that will make you immune.” Vin nodded, burning copper. Immediately, the sensation went away. “Good?” Kelsier asked. She nodded again. “All right, then,” he said, giving her a handful of coins. “Stay close to me, and keep your atium handy—just in case.” With that, he threw himself off the roof. Vin followed, her cloak tassels spraying rainwater. She burned pewter as she fell, and hit the ground with Allomantically strengthened legs. Kelsier took off at a dash, and she followed. Her speed on the wet cobblestones would have been reckless, but her pewter-fueled muscles reacted with precision, strength, and balance. She ran in the wet, misty night, burning tin and copper—one to let her see, the other to let her hide. Kelsier rounded the palace complex. Oddly, the grounds had no outer wall. Of course they don’t. Who would dare attack the Lord Ruler? Flat space, covered in cobblestones, was all that surrounded the Hill of a Thousand Spires. No tree, foliage, or structure stood to distract one’s eye from the disturbing, asymmetric collection of wings, towers, and spires that was Kredik Shaw. “Here we go,” Kelsier whispered, his voice carrying to her tin-enhanced ears. He turned, dashing directly toward a squat, bunkerlike section of the palace. As they approached, Vin saw a pair of guards standing by an ornate, gatelike door. Kelsier was on the men in a flash, cutting one down with slashing knives. The second man tried to cry out, but Kelsier jumped, slamming both feet into the man’s chest. Thrown to the side by the inhumanly strong kick, the guard crashed into the wall, then slumped to the ground. Kelsier was on his feet a second later, slamming his weight against the door and pushing it open. Weak lanternlight spilled out of a stone corridor within. Kelsier ducked through the door. Vin dimmed her tin, then followed in a crouching dash, her heart pounding. Never, in all her time as a thief, had she done something like this. Hers had been a life of sneaky burgling and scamming, not raids or muggings. As she followed Kelsier down the corridor—their feet and cloaks leaving a wet trail on the smooth stonework—she nervously pulled out a glass dagger, gripping the leather-wrapped handle in a sweaty palm. A man stepped into the hallway just ahead, exiting what appeared to be some sort of guard chamber. Kelsier jumped forward and elbowed the soldier in the stomach, then slammed him against the wall. Even as the guard collapsed, Kelsier ducked into the room. Vin followed, stepping into chaos. Kelsier Pulled a metal candelabrum from the corner up into his hands, then began to spin with it, striking down soldier after soldier. Guards cried out, scrambling and grabbing staves from the side of the room. A table covered in half-eaten meals was thrown to the side as men tried to make room. A soldier turned toward Vin, and she reacted without thinking. She burned steel and threw out a handful of coins. She Pushed, and the missiles shot forward,
tearing through the guard’s flesh and dropping him. She burned iron, Pulling the coins back to her hand. She turned with a bloodied fist, spraying the room with metal, dropping three soldiers. Kelsier felled the last with his impromptu staff. I just killed four men, Vin thought, stunned. Before, Reen had always done the killing. There was rustling behind. Vin spun to see another squadron of soldiers enter through a door opposite her. To the side, Kelsier dropped his candelabrum and stepped forward. The room’s four lanterns suddenly ripped from their mountings, slamming directly toward him. He ducked to the side, letting the lanterns crash together. The room fell dark. Vin burned tin, her eyes adapting to light from the corridor outside. The guards, however, stumbled to a halt. Kelsier was amidst them a second later. Daggers flashing in the darkness. Men screaming. Then all was silent. Vin stood surrounded by death, bloodied coins dribbling from her stunned fingers. She kept a tight grip on her dagger, however—if only to steady her quivering arm. Kelsier lay a hand on her shoulder, and she jumped. “These were evil men, Vin,” he said. “Every skaa knows in his heart that it is the greatest of crimes to take up arms in defense of the Final Empire.” Vin nodded numbly. She felt . . . wrong. Maybe it was the death, but now that she was actually within the building, she swore that she could still feel the Lord Ruler’s power. Something seemed to Push her emotions, making her more depressed despite her copper. “Come. Time is short.” Kelsier took off again, hopping lithely over corpses, and Vin felt herself following. I made him bring me, she thought. I wanted to fight, like him. I’m going to have to get used to this. They dashed into a second corridor, and Kelsier jumped into the air. He lurched, then shot forward. Vin did the same, leaping and seeking an anchor far down the corridor, then using it to Pull herself through the air. Side corridors whipped past, the air a rushing howl in her tin-enhanced ears. Ahead, two soldiers stepped into the corridor. Kelsier slammed feet-first into one, then flipped up and rammed a dagger into the other’s neck. Both men fell. No metal, Vin thought, dropping to the ground. None of the guards in this place wear metal. Hazekillers, they were called. Men trained to fight Allomancers. Kelsier ducked down a side corridor, and Vin had to sprint to keep up with him. She flared pewter, willing her legs to move faster. Ahead, Kelsier paused, and Vin lurched to a stop beside him. To their right was an open, arching doorway, and it shone with a light far brighter than that of the small corridor lanterns. Vin extinguished her tin, following Kelsier through the archway and into the room. Six braziers burned with open flames at the corners of the large, dome-roofed chamber. In contrast to the simple corridors, this room was covered with silver-inlayed murals. Each obviously represented the Lord Ruler; they were like
the windows she had seen earlier, except less abstract. She saw a mountain. A large cavern. A pool of light. And something very dark. Kelsier strode forward, and Vin turned. The center of the room was dominated by a small structure—a building within the building. Ornate, with carved stone and flowing patterns, the single-story building stood reverently before them. All in all, the quiet, empty chamber gave Vin a strange feeling of solemnity. Kelsier walked forward, bare feet falling on smooth black marble. Vin followed in a nervous crouch; the room seemed empty, but there had to be other guards. Kelsier walked up to a large oaken door set into the inner building, its surface carved with letterings Vin didn’t recognize. He reached out and pulled open the door. A Steel Inquisitor stood inside. The creature smiled, lips curling in an eerie expression beneath the two massive spikes that had been pounded point-first through its eyes. Kelsier paused for just a moment. Then he yelled, “Vin, run!” as the Inquisitor’s hand snapped forward, grabbing him by the throat. Vin froze. To the sides, she saw two other black-robed Inquisitors stride through open archways. Tall, lean, and bald, they were also marked by their spikes and intricate Ministry eye tattoos. The closest Inquisitor lifted Kelsier up into the air by his neck. “Kelsier, the Survivor of Hathsin,” the creature said in a grinding voice. Then he turned toward Vin. “And . . . you. I’ve been looking for you. I’ll let this one die quickly if you’ll tell me which nobleman spawned you, half-breed.” Kelsier coughed, struggling for breath as he pried at the creature’s grip. The Inquisitor turned, regarding Kelsier with spike-end eyes. Kelsier coughed again, as if trying to say something, and the Inquisitor curiously pulled Kelsier a bit closer. Kelsier’s hand whipped out, ramming a dagger into the creature’s neck. As the Inquisitor stumbled, Kelsier slammed his fist into the creature’s forearm, shattering the bone with a snap. The Inquisitor dropped him, and Kelsier fell to the reflective marble floor, coughing. Gasping for breath, Kelsier looked up at Vin with intense eyes. “I said run!” he croaked, tossing something to her. Vin paused, reaching out to catch the coin pouch. However, it lurched suddenly in the air, shooting forward. Abruptly, she realized Kelsier wasn’t throwing it to her, but at her. The bag hit her in the chest. Pushed by Kelsier’s Allomancy, it hurled her across the room—past the two surprised Inquisitors—until she finally dropped awkwardly to the floor, skidding on the marble. Vin looked up, slightly dazed. In the distance, Kelsier regained his feet. The main Inquisitor, however, didn’t seem very concerned about the dagger in his neck. The other two Inquisitors stood between her and Kelsier. One turned toward her, and Vin felt chilled by its horrifying, unnatural gaze. “RUN!” The word echoed in the domed chamber. And this time, finally, it struck home. Vin scrambled to her feet—fear shocking her, screaming at her, making her move. She dashed toward the nearest archway, uncertain if it was the
one she had come in through. She clutched Kelsier’s coin pouch and burned iron, frantically seeking an anchor down the corridor. Must get away! She grabbed the first bit of metal she saw and yanked, tearing herself off the ground. She shot down the corridor at an uncontrolled speed, terror flaring her iron. She lurched suddenly, and everything spun. She hit the ground at an awkward angle—her head slamming against the rough stone—then lay dizzily, wondering what had happened. The coin pouch . . . someone had Pulled on it, using its metal to yank her backward. Vin rolled over and saw a dark form shooting down the corridor. The Inquisitor’s robes fluttered as he dropped lightly to his feet a short distance from Vin. He strode forward, his face impassive. Vin flared tin and pewter, clearing her mind and pushing away the pain. She whipped out a few coins, Pushing them at the Inquisitor. He raised a hand, and both coins froze in the air. Vin’s own Push suddenly threw her backward, and she tumbled across the stones, skidding and sliding. She heard the coins pling against the floor as she came to a rest. She shook her head, a dozen new bruises flaring angrily across her body. The Inquisitor stepped over the discarded coins, walking toward her with a smooth gait. I have to get away! Even Kelsier had been afraid to face an Inquisitor. If he couldn’t fight one, what chance did she have? None. She dropped the pouch and jumped to her feet, then she ran, ducking through the first doorway she saw. The room beyond was empty of people, but a golden altar stood at its center. Between the altar, the four candelabra at the corners, and the cluttering of other religious paraphernalia, the space was cramped. Vin turned, Pulling a candelabrum into her hands, remembering Kelsier’s trick from before. The Inquisitor stepped into the room, then raised an almost amused hand, ripping the candelabra from her hands in an easy Allomantic Pull. He’s so strong! Vin thought with horror. He was probably steadying himself by Pulling against the lantern brackets behind. However, the force of his Ironpulls was far more powerful than Kelsier’s had ever been. Vin jumped, Pulling herself slightly up and over the altar. At the doorway, the Inquisitor reached over to a bowl that sat atop a short pillar, pulling out what appeared to be a handful of small metal triangles. They were sharp on all sides, and they cut the creature’s hand in a dozen different places. He ignored the wounds, raising a bloody hand toward her. Vin yelped, ducking behind the altar as pieces of metal sprayed against the back wall. “You are trapped,” the Inquisitor said in a scratchy voice. “Come with me.” Vin glanced to the side. There weren’t any other doors in the room. She peeked up, glancing at the Inquisitor, and a piece of metal shot at her face. She Pushed against it, but the Inquisitor was too strong. She had to duck and let the metal
go, lest his power pin her back against the wall. I’ll need something to block with. Something that isn’t made of metal. As she heard the Inquisitor step into the room, she found what she needed—a large, leather-bound book sitting beside the altar. She grabbed it, then paused. There was no use in being rich if she died. She pulled out Kelsier’s vial and downed the atium, then burned it. The Inquisitor’s shadow stepped around the side of the altar, then the actual Inquisitor followed a second later. The atium-shadow opened its hand, and a spray of tiny, translucent daggers shot at her. Vin raised her book as the real daggers followed. She swung the book through the shadow trails just as the real daggers shot toward her. She caught every one, their sharp, jagged edges digging deeply into the book’s leather cover. The Inquisitor paused, and she was rewarded by what seemed to be a look of confusion on its twisted face. Then a hundred shadow images shot from his body. Lord Ruler! Vin thought. He had atium too. Not pausing to worry about what that meant, Vin hopped over the altar, carrying the book with her as protection against further missiles. The Inquisitor spun, spike-eyes following her as she ducked back into the hallway. A squad of soldiers stood waiting for her. However, each one bore a future-shadow. Vin ducked between them, barely watching where their weapons would fall, somehow avoiding the attacks of twelve different men. And, for a moment, she almost forgot the pain and fear—and they were replaced by an incredible sense of power. She dodged effortlessly, staves swinging above and beside her, each one missing by just inches. She was invincible. She spun through the ranks of the men, not bothering to kill or hurt them—she only wanted to escape. As she passed the last one, she turned around a corner. And a second Inquisitor, his body springing with shadow images, stepped up and slammed something sharp into her lower side. Vin gasped in pain. There was a sickening sound as the creature pulled his weapon free of her body; it was a length of wood affixed with sharp obsidian blades. Vin grasped her side, stumbling backward, feeling a terrifying amount of warm blood seeping from the wound. The Inquisitor looked familiar. The first one, from the other room, she thought through the pain. Does . . . that mean that Kelsier is dead? “Who is your father?” the Inquisitor asked. Vin kept her hand at her side, trying to stop the blood. It was a large wound. A bad wound. She had seen such wounds before. They always killed. Yet, she still stood. Pewter, her confused mind thought. Flare pewter! She did so, the metal giving her body strength, letting her stay on her feet. The soldiers stepped back to let the second Inquisitor approach her from the side. Vin looked in horror from one Inquisitor to the other, both descending upon her, blood pouring between her fingers and down her side. The lead Inquisitor
still carried the axelike weapon, its edge coated with blood. Her blood. I’m going to die, she thought with terror. And then she heard it. Rain. It was faint, but her tin-ears picked it out behind her. She spun, lurching through a door, and was rewarded by the sight of a large archway on the other side of the room. Mist pooled at the room’s floor, and rain slapped the stones outside. Must have been where the guards came from, she thought. She kept her pewter flared, amazed at how well her body still worked, and stumbled out into the rain, reflexively clutching the leather book to her chest. “You think to escape?” the lead Inquisitor asked from behind, his voice amused. Numbly, Vin reached into the sky and Pulled against one of the palace’s many spires. She heard the Inquisitor curse as she pitched into the air, hurling up into the dark night. The thousand spires rose around her. She Pulled against one, then switched to another. The rain was strong now, and it made the night black. There was no mist to reflect ambient light, and the stars were hidden by clouds above. Vin couldn’t see where she was going; she had to use Allomancy to sense the metallic tips of the spires, and hope there was nothing in between. She hit a spire, catching hold of it in the night and pulling to a stop. Have to bandage the wound . . . she thought weakly. She was beginning to grow numb, her head cloudy despite her pewter and tin. Something slammed against the spire above her, and she heard a low growl. Vin Pushed off even as she felt the Inquisitor slash the air beside her. She had one chance. Midjump, she Pulled herself sideways, toward a different spire. At the same time, she Pushed against the book in her hands—it still had bits of metal embedded into its cover. The book continued in the direction she had been going, metal lines glowing weakly in the night. It was the only metal she had on her. Vin caught the next spire lightly, trying to make as little sound as possible. She strained in the night, burning tin, the rainfall becoming a thunder in her ears. Over it, she thought she heard the distinct sound of something hitting a spire in the direction she had Pushed the book. The Inquisitor had fallen for her ruse. Vin sighed, hanging from the spire, rain splattering her body. She made sure her copper was still burning, Pulled lightly against the spire to hold herself in place, and ripped off a piece of her shirt to bandage the wound. Despite her numb mind, she couldn’t help noticing how big the gash was. Oh, Lord, she thought. Without pewter, she would have fallen unconscious long ago. She should be dead. Something sounded in the darkness. Vin felt a chill, looking up. All was black around her. It can’t be. He can’t— Something slammed into her spire. Vin cried out, jumping away. She Pulled herself
toward another spire, caught it weakly, then immediately Pushed off again. The Inquisitor followed, thuds sounding as he jumped from spire to spire behind her. He found me. He couldn’t see me, hear me, or sense me. But he found me. Vin hit a spire, holding it by one hand, limply hanging in the night. Her strength was nearly gone. I . . . have to get away . . . hide. . . . Her hands were numb, and her mind felt nearly the same. Her fingers slipped from the cold, wet metal of the spire, and she felt herself drop free into the darkness. She fell with the rain. However, she went only a short distance before thudding against something hard—the roof of a particularly tall bit of the palace. Dazed, she climbed to her knees, crawling away from the spire, seeking a corner. Hide . . . hide . . . hide . . . She crawled weakly to the nook formed by another tower. She huddled against the dark corner, lying in a deep puddle of ashy rainwater, arms wrapped around herself. Her body was wet with rain and blood. She thought, for just a moment, that she might have escaped. A dark form thumped to the rooftop. The rain was letting up, and her tin revealed a head set with two spikes, a body cloaked in a dark robe. She was too weak to move, too weak to do more than shiver in the puddle of water, clothing plastered to her skin. The Inquisitor turned toward her. “Such a small, troubling thing you are,” he said. He stepped forward, but Vin could barely hear his words. It was growing dark again . . . no, it was just her mind. Her vision grew dark, her eyes closing. Her wound didn’t hurt anymore. She couldn’t . . . even . . . think. . . . A sound, like shattering branches. Then arms gripped her. Warm arms, not the arms of death. She forced her eyes open. “Kelsier?” she whispered. But it wasn’t Kelsier’s face that looked back at her, streaked with concern. It was a different, kinder face. She sighed in relief, drifting away as the strong arms pulled her close, making her feel oddly safe in the terrible storms of night. 15 “YOU TOOK HER WITH YOU?” Dockson demanded, bursting into the room. “You took Vin into Kredik Shaw? Are you bloody insane?” “Yes,” Kelsier snapped. “You’ve been right all along. I’m a madman. A lunatic. Perhaps I should have just died in the Pits and never come back to bother any of you!” Dockson paused, taken aback by the force in Kelsier’s words. Kelsier pounded the table in frustration, and the wood splintered from the force of the blow. He still burned pewter, the metal helping him resist his several wounds. His mistcloak lay in tatters, his body sliced by a half-dozen different small cuts. His entire right side burned with pain. He’d have a massive bruise there, and he’d be lucky if none of
his ribs were cracked. Kelsier flared the pewter. The fire within felt good—it gave him a focus for his anger and self-loathing. One of the apprentices worked quickly, tying a bandage around Kelsier’s largest gash. Clubs sat with Ham at the side of the kitchen; Breeze was away visiting a suburb. “By the Lord Ruler, Kelsier,” Dockson said quietly. Even Dockson, Kelsier thought. Even my oldest friend swears by the Lord Ruler’s name. What are we doing? How can we face this? “There were three Inquisitors waiting for us, Dox,” Kelsier said. Dockson paled. “And you left her there?” “She got out before I did. I tried to distract the Inquisitors as long as I could, but . . .” “But?” “One of the three followed her. I couldn’t get to it—maybe the other two Inquisitors were simply trying to keep me busy so that their companion could find her.” “Three Inquisitors,” Dockson said, accepting a small cup of brandy from one of the apprentices. He downed it. “We must have made too much noise going in,” Kelsier said. “Either that, or they were already there for some reason. And we still don’t know what’s in that room!” The kitchen fell silent. The rain outside picked up again, assaulting the building with a reproachful fury. “So . . .” Ham said, “what of Vin?” Kelsier glanced at Dockson, and saw pessimism in his eyes. Kelsier had barely escaped, and he had years of training. If Vin was still in Kredik Shaw . . . Kelsier felt a sharp, twisting pain in his chest. You let her die too. First Mare, then Vin. How many more will you lead to slaughter before this is through? “She might be hiding somewhere in the city,” Kelsier said. “Afraid to come to the shop because the Inquisitors are looking for her. Or . . . perhaps for some reason she went back to Fellise.” Maybe she’s out there somewhere, dying alone in the rain. “Ham,” Kelsier said, “you and I are heading back to the palace. Dox, take Lestibournes and visit other thieving crews. Maybe one of their scouts saw something. Clubs, send an apprentice to Renoux’s mansion to see if she went there.” The solemn group started to move, but Kelsier didn’t need to state the obvious. He and Ham wouldn’t be able to get close to Kredik Shaw without running afoul of guard patrols. Even if Vin was hiding in the city somewhere, the Inquisitors would probably find her first. They would have— Kelsier froze, his sudden jerk causing the others to pause. He’d heard something. Hurried footsteps sounded as Lestibournes rushed down the stairs and into the room, his lanky form wet with rain. “Someone’s coming! Out the night with the calling!” “Vin?” Ham asked hopefully. Lestibournes shook his head. “Big man. Robe.” This is it, then. I’ve brought death to the crew—I’ve led the Inquisitors right to them. Ham stood, picking up a wooden stave. Dockson pulled out a pair of daggers, and Clubs’s six apprentices moved to the back of the
room, eyes wide with fright. Kelsier flared his metals. The back door to the kitchen slammed open. A tall, dark form in wet robes stood in the rain. And he carried a cloth-wrapped figure in his arms. “Sazed!” Kelsier said. “She is badly wounded,” Sazed said, stepping quickly into the room, his fine robes streaming with rainwater. “Master Hammond, I require some pewter. Her supply is exhausted, I think.” Ham rushed forward as Sazed set Vin on the kitchen table. Her skin was clammy and pale, her thin frame soaked and wet. She’s so small, Kelsier thought. Barely more than a child. How could I have thought to take her with me? She bore a massive, bloody wound in her side. Sazed set something aside—a large book he’d been carrying in his arms beneath Vin—and accepted a vial from Hammond, then bent down and poured the liquid down the unconscious girl’s throat. The room fell silent, the sound of pounding rain coming through the still open door. Vin’s face flushed slightly with color, and her breathing seemed to steady. To Kelsier’s Allomantic bronze senses, she began to pulse softly with a rhythm not unlike a second heartbeat. “Ah, good,” Sazed said, undoing Vin’s makeshift bandage. “I feared that her body was too unfamiliar with Allomancy to burn metals unconsciously. There is hope for her, I think. Master Cladent, I shall require a pot of boiled water, some bandages, and the medical bag from my rooms. Quickly, now!” Clubs nodded, waving for his apprentices to do as instructed. Kelsier cringed as he watched Sazed’s work. The wound was bad—worse than any he himself had survived. The cut went deeply into her gut; it was the type of wound that killed slowly, but consistently. Vin, however, was no ordinary person—pewter would keep an Allomancer alive long after their body should have given out. In addition, Sazed was no ordinary healer. Religious rites were not the only things that Keepers stored in their uncanny memories; their metalminds contained vast wealths of information on culture, philosophy, and science. Clubs ushered his apprentices from the room as the surgery began. The procedure took an alarming amount of time, Ham applying pressure to the wound as Sazed slowly stitched Vin’s insides back together. Finally, Sazed closed the outer wound and applied a clean bandage, then asked Ham to carefully carry the girl up to her bed. Kelsier stood, watching Ham carry Vin’s weak, limp form out of the kitchen. Then, he turned to Sazed questioningly. Dockson sat in the corner, the only other one still in the room. Sazed shook his head gravely. “I do not know, Master Kelsier. She could survive. We will need to keep her supplied with pewter—it will help her body make new blood. Even still, I have seen many strong men die from wounds smaller than this one.” Kelsier nodded. “I arrived too late, I think,” Sazed said. “When I found her gone from Renoux’s mansion, I came to Luthadel as quickly as I could. I used up an entire metalmind to make
the trip with haste. I was still too late. . . .” “No, my friend,” Kelsier said. “You’ve done well this night. Far better than I.” Sazed sighed, then reached over and fingered the large book he’d set aside before beginning the surgery. The tome was wet with rainwater and blood. Kelsier regarded it, frowning. “What is that, anyway?” “I don’t know,” Sazed said. “I found it at the palace, while I was searching for the child. It is written in Khlenni.” Khlenni, the language of Khlennium—the ancient, pre-Ascension homeland of the Lord Ruler. Kelsier perked up a bit. “Can you translate it?” “Perhaps,” Sazed said, suddenly sounding very tired. “But . . . not for a time, I think. After this evening, I shall need to rest.” Kelsier nodded, calling for one of the apprentices to prepare Sazed a room. The Terrisman nodded thankfully, then walked wearily up the stairs. “He saved more than Vin’s life tonight,” Dockson said, approaching quietly from behind. “What you did was stupid, even for you.” “I had to know, Dox,” he said. “I had to go back. What if the atium really is in there?” “You said that it isn’t.” “I said that,” Kelsier said with a nod, “and I’m mostly sure. But what if I’m wrong?” “That’s no excuse,” Dockson said angrily. “Now Vin is dying and the Lord Ruler is alerted to us. Wasn’t it enough that you got Mare killed trying to get into that room?” Kelsier paused, but he was too drained to feel any anger. He sighed, sitting down. “There’s more, Dox.” Dockson frowned. “I’ve avoided talking about the Lord Ruler to the others,” Kelsier said, “but . . . I’m worried. The plan is good, but I have this terrible, haunting feeling that we’ll never succeed as long as he’s alive. We can take his money, we can take his armies, we can trick him out of the city . . . but I still worry that we won’t be able to stop him.” Dockson frowned. “You’re serious about this Eleventh Metal business, then?” Kelsier nodded. “I searched for two years to find a way to kill him. Men have tried everything—he ignores normal wounds, and decapitation only annoys him. A group of soldiers burned down his inn during one of the early wars. The Lord Ruler walked out as barely more than a skeleton, then healed in a matter of seconds. “Only the stories of the Eleventh Metal offered any hope. But I can’t make it work! That’s why I had to go back to the palace. The Lord Ruler’s hiding something in that room—I can feel it. I can’t help thinking that if we knew what it was, we’d be able to stop him.” “You didn’t have to take Vin with you.” “She followed me,” Kelsier said. “I worried that she’d try to get in on her own if I left her. The girl has a headstrong streak, Dox—she hides it well, but she’s blasted stubborn when she wants to be.” Dockson sighed, then nodded quietly. “And
we still don’t know what’s in that room.” Kelsier eyed the book Sazed had set on the table. The rainwater had marked it, but the tome was obviously designed to endure. It was strapped tightly to prevent water from seeping in, and the cover was of well-cured leather. “No,” Kelsier finally said. “We don’t.” But we do have that, whatever it is. “Was it worth it, Kell?” Dockson asked. “Was this insane stunt really worth nearly getting yourself—and the child—killed?” “I don’t know,” Kelsier said honestly. He turned to Dockson, meeting his friend’s eyes. “Ask me once we know whether or not Vin will live.” THE END OF PART TWO PART THREE CHILDREN OFA BLEEDING SUN 16 WHEN VIN AWOKE, THE PAIN told her that Reen had beaten her again. What had she done? Had she been too friendly to one of the other crewmembers? Had she made a foolish comment, drawing the crewleader’s ire? She was to remain quiet, always quiet, staying away from the others, never calling attention to herself. Otherwise he would beat her. She had to learn, he said. She had to learn. . . . But, her pain seemed too strong for that. It had been a long time since she could remember hurting this much. She coughed slightly, opening her eyes. She lay in a bed that was far too comfortable, and a lanky teenage boy sat in a chair beside her bed. Lestibournes, she thought. That’s his name. I’m in Clubs’s shop. Lestibournes jumped to his feet. “You’re awaking!” She tried to speak, but just coughed again, and the boy hurriedly gave her a cup of water. Vin sipped it thankfully, grimacing at the pain in her side. In fact, her entire body felt like it had been pummeled soundly. “Lestibournes,” she finally croaked. “Notting as the now,” he said. “Kelsier wasing the hit with my name; changed it to Spook.” “Spook?” Vin asked. “It fits. How long have I been asleep?” “Two weeks,” the boy said. “Wait here.” He scrambled away, and she could hear him calling out in the distance. Two weeks? She sipped at the cup, trying to organize her muddled memories. Reddish afternoon sunlight shone through the window, lighting the room. She set the cup aside, checking her side, where she found a large white bandage. That’s where the Inquisitor hit me, she thought. I should be dead. Her side was bruised and discolored from where she’d hit the roof after falling, and her body bore a dozen other nicks, bruises, and scrapes. All in all, she felt absolutely terrible. “Vin!” Dockson said, stepping into the room. “You’re awake!” “Barely,” Vin said with a groan, lying back against her pillow. Dockson chuckled, walking over and sitting on Lestibournes’s stool. “How much do you remember?” “Most everything, I think,” she said. “We fought our way into the palace, but there were Inquisitors. They chased us, and Kelsier fought—” She stopped, looking at Dockson. “Kelsier? Is he—” “Kell’s fine,” Breeze said. “He came out of the incident in far better shape than you
did. He knows the palace fairly well, from the plans we made three years ago, and he . . .” Vin frowned as Dockson trailed off. “What?” “He said the Inquisitors didn’t seem very focused on killing him. They left one to chase him, and sent two after you.” Why? Vin thought. Did they simply want to concentrate their energy on the weakest enemy first? Or, is there another reason? She sat back thoughtfully, working through the events of that night. “Sazed,” Vin she finally said. “He saved me. The Inquisitor was about to kill me, but . . . Dox, what is he?” “Sazed?” Dockson asked. “That’s probably a question I should let him answer.” “Is he here?” Dockson shook his head. “He had to return to Fellise. Breeze and Kell are out recruiting, and Ham left last week to inspect our army. He won’t be back for another month at least.” Vin nodded, feeling drowsy. “Drink the rest of your water,” Dockson suggested. “There’s something in it to help with the pain.” Vin downed the rest of the drink, then rolled over and let sleep take her again. Kelsier was there when she awoke. He sat on the stool by her bed, hands clasped with his elbows on his knees, watching her by the faint light of a lantern. He smiled when she opened her eyes. “Welcome back.” She immediately reached for the cup of water on the bed-stand. “How’s the job going?” He shrugged. “The army is growing, and Renoux has begun to purchase weapons and supplies. Your suggestion regarding the Ministry turned out to be a good one—we found Theron’s contact, and we’ve nearly negotiated a deal that will let us place someone as a Ministry acolyte.” “Marsh?” Vin asked. “Will he do it himself?” Kelsier nodded. “He’s always had a . . . certain fascination with the Ministry. If any skaa can pull off imitating an obligator, it will be Marsh.” Vin nodded, sipping her drink. There was something different about Kelsier. It was subtle—a slight alteration in his air and attitude. Things had changed during her sickness. “Vin,” Kelsier said hesitantly. “I owe you an apology. I nearly got you killed.” Vin snorted quietly. “It’s not your fault. I made you take me.” “You shouldn’t have been able to make me,” Kelsier said. “My original decision to send you away was the right one. Please accept the apology.” Vin nodded quietly. “What do you need me to do now? The job has to go forward, right?” Kelsier smiled. “Indeed it does. As soon as you’re up to it, I’d like you to move back to Fellise. We created a cover story saying that Lady Valette has taken sick, but rumors are starting to appear. The sooner you can be seen in the flesh by visitors, the better.” “I can go tomorrow,” Vin said. Kelsier chuckled. “I doubt it, but you can go soon. For now, just rest.” He stood, moving to leave. “Kelsier?” Vin asked, causing him to pause. He turned, looking at her. Vin struggled
to formulate what she wanted to say. “The palace . . . the Inquisitors . . . We’re not invincible, are we?” She flushed; it sounded stupid when she said it that way. Kelsier, however, just smiled. He seemed to understand what she meant. “No, Vin,” he said quietly. “We’re far from it.” Vin watched the landscape pass outside her carriage window. The vehicle, sent from Mansion Renoux, had supposedly taken Lady Valette for a ride through Luthadel. In reality, it hadn’t picked up Vin until it had stopped briefly by Clubs’s street. Now, however, her window shades were open, showing her again to the world—assuming anyone cared. The carriage made its way back toward Fellise. Kelsier had been right: She’d had to rest three more days in Clubs’s shop before feeling strong enough to make the trip. In part, she’d waited simply because she had dreaded struggling into a noblewoman’s dresses with her bruised arms and wounded side. Still, it felt good to be up again. There had been something . . . wrong about simply recovering in bed. Such a lengthy period of rest wouldn’t have been given to a regular thief; thieves either got back to work quickly or were abandoned for dead. Those who couldn’t bring in money for food couldn’t be allowed to take up space in the lair. But, that isn’t the only way people live, Vin thought. She was still uncomfortable with that knowledge. It hadn’t mattered to Kelsier and the others that she drained their resources—they hadn’t exploited her weakened state, but had cared for her, each one spending time at her bedside. Most notable among the vigilists had been the young Lestibournes. Vin didn’t even feel that she knew him very well, yet Kelsier said that the boy had spent hours watching over her during her coma. What did one make of a world where a crewleader agonized over his people? In the underground, each person bore responsibility for what happened to them—the weaker segment of a crew had to be allowed to die, lest they keep everyone else from earning enough to survive. If a person got captured by the Ministry, you left them to their fate and hoped that they didn’t betray too much. You didn’t worry about your own guilt at putting them in danger. They’re fools, Reen’s voice whispered. This entire plan will end in disaster—and your death will be your own fault for not leaving when you could. Reen had left when he could. Perhaps he’d known that the Inquisitors would eventually hunt her down for the powers she unwittingly possessed. He always had known when to leave—it was no accident, she thought, that he hadn’t ended up slaughtered with the rest of Camon’s crew. And yet, she ignored Reen’s promptings in her head, instead letting the carriage pull her toward Fellise. It wasn’t that she felt completely secure in her place with Kelsier’s crew—indeed, in a way, her place with these people was making her even more apprehensive. What if they stopped needing her? What if she
became useless to them? She had to prove to them that she could do what they needed her to. There were functions to attend, a society to infiltrate. She had so much work to do; she couldn’t afford to spend any more of it sleeping. In addition, she needed to return to her Allomantic practice sessions. It had only taken a few short months for her to grow dependent upon her powers, and she longed for the freedom of leaping through the mists, of Pulling and Pushing her way through the skies. Kredik Shaw had taught her that she wasn’t invincible—but Kelsier’s survival with barely a scratch proved that it was possible to be much better than she was. Vin needed to practice, to grow in strength, until she too could escape Inquisitors like Kelsier had. The carriage turned a bend and rolled into Fellise. The familiar, pastoral suburb made Vin smile to herself, and she leaned against the open carriage window, feeling the breeze. With luck, some streetgoers would gossip that Lady Valette had been seen riding through the city. She arrived at Mansion Renoux a few short turns later. A footman opened the door, and Vin was surprised to see Lord Renoux himself waiting outside the carriage to help her down. “My lord?” she said, giving him her hand. “Surely you have more important things to attend to.” “Nonsense,” he said. “A lord must be allowed time to dote upon his favored niece. How was your ride?” Does he ever break character? He didn’t ask after the others in Luthadel, or give any indication that he knew of her wound. “It was refreshing, Uncle,” she said as they walked up the steps to the mansion doors. Vin was thankful for the pewter burning lightly in her stomach to give strength to her still weak legs. Kelsier had warned against using it too much, lest she grow dependent upon its power, but she saw little alternative until she was healed. “That is wonderful,” Renoux said. “Perhaps, once you are feeling better, we should take lunch together on the garden balcony. It has been warm lately, despite the coming winter.” “That would be very pleasant,” Vin said. Before, she’d found the impostor’s noble bearing intimidating. Yet, as she slipped into the persona of Lady Valette, she experienced the same calmness as before. Vin the thief was nothing to a man such as Renoux, but Valette the socialite was another matter. “Very good,” Renoux said, pausing inside the entryway. “However, let us attend to that on another day—for now, you would likely prefer to rest from your journey.” “Actually, my lord, I’d like to visit Sazed. I have some matters I must discuss with the steward.” “Ah,” Renoux said. “You will find him in the library, working on one of my projects.” “Thank you,” Vin said. Renoux nodded, then walked away, his dueling cane clicking against the white marble floor. Vin frowned, trying to decide if he was completely sane. Could someone really adopt a persona that wholly? You do it, Vin reminded
herself. When you become Lady Valette, you show a completely different side of yourself. She turned, flaring pewter to help her climb the northern set of stairs. She let her flare lapse as she reached the top, returning to a normal burn. As Kelsier said, it was dangerous to flare metals for too extended a period; an Allomancer could quickly make their body dependent. She took a few breaths—climbing the stairs had been difficult, even with pewter—then walked down the corridor to the library. Sazed sat at a desk beside a small coal stove on the far side of the small room, writing on a pad of paper. He wore his standard steward’s robes, and a pair of thin spectacles sat at the end of his nose. Vin paused in the doorway, regarding the man who had saved her life. Why is he wearing spectacles? I’ve seen him read before without them. He seemed completely absorbed by his work, periodically studying a large tome on the desk, then turning to scribble notes on his pad. “You’re an Allomancer,” Vin said quietly. Sazed paused, then set down his pen and turned. “What makes you say that, Mistress Vin?” “You got to Luthadel too quickly.” “Lord Renoux keeps several swift messenger horses in his stables. I could have taken one of those.” “You found me at the palace,” Vin said. “Kelsier told me of his plans, and I correctly assumed that you had followed him. Locating you was a stroke of luck, one that nearly took me too long to achieve.” Vin frowned. “You killed the Inquisitor.” “Killed?” Sazed asked. “No, Mistress. It takes far more power than I possess to kill one of those monstrosities. I simply . . . distracted him.” Vin stood in the doorway for a moment longer, trying to figure out why Sazed was being so ambiguous. “So, are you an Allomancer or not?” He smiled, then he pulled a stool out from beside the desk. “Please, sit down.” Vin did as requested, crossing the room and sitting on the stool, her back to a massive bookshelf. “What would you think if I told you that I wasn’t an Allomancer?” Sazed asked. “I’d think that you were lying,” Vin said. “Have you known me to lie before?” “The best liars are those who tell the truth most of the time.” Sazed smiled, regarding her through bespectacled eyes. “That is true, I think. Still, what proof have you that I am an Allomancer?” “You did things that couldn’t have been done without Allomancy.” “Oh? A Mistborn for two months, and already you know all that is possible in the world?” Vin paused. Up until just recently, she hadn’t even known much about Allomancy. Perhaps there was more to the world than she had assumed. There’s always another secret. Kelsier’s words. “So,” she said slowly, “what exactly is a ‘Keeper’?” Sazed smiled. “Now, that is a far more clever question, Mistress. Keepers are . . . storehouses. We remember things, so that they can be used in the future.” “Like religions,”
Vin said. Sazed nodded. “Religious truths are my particular specialty.” “But, you remember other things too?” Sazed nodded. “Like what?” “Well,” Sazed said, closing the tome he had been studying. “Languages, for instance.” Vin immediately recognized the glyph-covered cover. “The book I found in the palace! How did you get it?” “I happened across it while searching for you,” the Terrisman said. “It is written in a very old language, one that hasn’t been spoken regularly in nearly a millennium.” “But you speak it?” Vin asked. Sazed nodded. “Enough to translate this, I think.” “And . . . how many languages do you know?” “A hundred and seventy-two,” Sazed said. “Most of them, such as Khlenni, are no longer spoken. The Lord Ruler’s unity movement of the fifth century made certain of that. The language people now speak is actually a distant dialect of Terris, the language of my homeland.” A hundred and seventy-two, Vin thought with amazement. “That . . . sounds impossible. One man couldn’t remember that much.” “Not one man,” Sazed said. “One Keeper. What I do is similar to Allomancy, but not the same. You draw power from metals. I . . . use them to create memories.” “How?” Vin asked. Sazed shook his head. “Perhaps another time, Mistress. My kind . . . we prefer to maintain our secrets. The Lord Ruler hunts us with a remarkable, confusing passion. We are far less threatening than Mistborn—yet, he ignores Allomancers and seeks to destroy us, hating the Terris people because of us.” “Hating?” Vin asked. “You’re treated better than regular skaa. You’re given positions of respect.” “That is true, Mistress,” Sazed said. “But, in a way, the skaa are more free. Most Terrismen are raised from birth to be stewards. There are very few of us left, and the Lord Ruler’s breeders control our reproduction. No Terrisman steward is allowed to have a family, or even to bear children.” Vin snorted. “That seems like it would be hard to enforce.” Sazed paused, hand laying on the cover of the large book. “Why, not at all,” he said with a frown. “All Terrisman stewards are eunuchs, child. I assumed you knew that.” Vin froze, then she blushed furiously. “I . . . I’m . . . sorry. . . .” “Truly and surely, no apology is required. I was castrated soon after my birth, as is standard for those who will be stewards. Often, I think I would have easily traded my life for that of a common skaa. My people are less than slaves . . . they’re fabricated automatons, created by breeding programs, trained from birth to fulfill the Lord Ruler’s wishes.” Vin continued to blush, cursing her lack of tact. Why hadn’t anyone told her? Sazed, however, didn’t seem offended—he never seemed to get angry about anything. Probably a function of his . . . condition, Vin thought. That’s what the breeders must want. Docile, even-tempered stewards. “But,” Vin said, frowning, “you’re a rebel, Sazed. You’re fighting the Lord Ruler.” “I am something of a deviant,”
Sazed said. “And, my people are not as completely subjugated as the Lord Ruler would believe, I think. We hide Keepers beneath his very eyes, and some of us even gather the courage to break our training.” He paused, then shook his head. “It is not an easy thing, however. We are a weak people, Mistress. We are eager to do as we are told, quick to seek subjugation. Even I, whom you dub a rebel, immediately sought out a position of stewardship and subservience. We are not so brave as we would wish, I think.” “You were brave enough to save me,” Vin said. Sazed smiled. “Ah, but there was an element of obedience in that too. I promised Master Kelsier that I would see to your safety.” Ah, she thought. She had wondered if he’d had a reason for his actions. After all, who would risk their life simply to save Vin? She sat for a moment in thought, and Sazed turned back to his book. Finally, she spoke again, drawing the Terrisman’s attention. “Sazed?” “Yes, Mistress?” “Who betrayed Kelsier three years ago?” Sazed paused, then set down his fountain pen. “The facts are unclear, Mistress. Most of the crew assumes it was Mare, I think.” “Mare?” Vin asked. “Kelsier’s wife?” Sazed nodded. “Apparently, she was one of the only people who could have done it. In addition, the Lord Ruler himself implicated her.” “But, wasn’t she sent to the Pits too?” “She died there,” Sazed said. “Master Kelsier is reticent about the Pits, but I sense that the scars he bears from that horrid place go much deeper than the ones you see on his arms. I don’t think he ever knew if she was the traitor or not.” “My brother said that anyone would betray you, if they had the right chance and a good enough motive.” Sazed frowned. “Even if such a thing were true, I would not want to live believing it.” It seems better than what happened to Kelsier: being turned over to the Lord Ruler by one you thought you loved. “Kelsier is different lately,” Vin said. “He seems more reserved. Is that because he feels guilty for what happened to me?” “I suspect that is part of it,” Sazed said. “However, he is also coming to realize that there is a large difference between heading a small crew of thieves and organizing a large rebellion. He can’t take the risks he once did. The process is changing him for the better, I think.” Vin wasn’t so certain. However, she remained silent, realizing with frustration how tired she was. Even sitting on a stool seemed strenuous to her now. “Go and sleep, Mistress,” Sazed said, picking up his pen and relocating his place in the tome with his finger. “You survived something that probably should have killed you. Give your body the thanks it deserves; let it rest.” Vin nodded tiredly, then climbed to her feet and left him scribbling quietly in the afternoon light. 17 BEFORE COMING TO MANSION RENOUX, Vin had never
seen a cultivated garden. On burglaries or scouting missions, she had occasionally seen ornamental plants, but she’d never given them much heed—they, like many noble interests, had seemed frivolous to her. She hadn’t realized how beautiful the plants could be when arranged carefully. Mansion Renoux’s garden balcony was a thin, oval structure that overlooked the grounds below. The gardens weren’t large—they required too much water and attention to form more than a thin perimeter around the back of the building. Still, they were marvelous. Instead of mundane browns and whites, the cultivated plants were of deeper, more vibrant colors—shades of red, orange, and yellow, with the colors concentrated in their leaves. The groundskeepers had planted them to make intricate, beautiful patterns. Closer to the balcony, exotic trees with colorful yellow leaves gave shade and protected from ashfalls. It was a very mild winter, and most of the trees still held their leaves. The air felt cool, and the rustling of branches in the wind was soothing. Almost soothing enough, in fact, to make Vin forget how annoyed she was. “Would you like more tea, child?” Lord Renoux asked. He didn’t wait for an answer; he simply waved for a servant to rush forward and refill her cup. Vin sat on a plush cushion, her wicker chair designed for comfort. During the last four weeks, her every whim and desire had been met. Servants cleaned up after her, primped her, fed her, and even helped bathe her. Renoux saw that anything she asked for was given her, and she certainly wasn’t expected to do anything strenuous, dangerous, or even slightly inconvenient. In other words, her life was maddeningly boring. Before, her time at Mansion Renoux had been monopolized by Sazed’s lessons and Kelsier’s training. She’d slept during the days, having only minimal contact with the mansion staff. Now, however, Allomancy—at least, the nighttime jumping kind—was forbidden her. Her wound was only partially healed, and too much motion reopened it. Sazed still gave her occasional lessons, but his time was dominated by translating the book. He spent long hours in the library, poring over its pages with an uncharacteristically excited air. He’s found a new bit of lore, Vin thought. To a Keeper, that’s probably as intoxicating as streetspice. She sipped at her tea with repressed petulance, eyeing the nearby servants. They seemed like scavenger birds, roosting and waiting for any opportunity to make Vin as comfortable—and as frustrated—as possible. Renoux wasn’t much help either. His idea of “taking lunch” with Vin was to sit and attend to his own duties—making notes on ledgers or dictating letters—while eating. Her attendance seemed important to him, but he rarely paid much attention to her other than to ask how her day had been. Yet, she forced herself to act the part of a prim noblewoman. Lord Renoux had hired some new servants that didn’t know about the job—not house staff, but gardeners and workmen. Kelsier and Renoux had worried that the other houses would grow suspicious if they couldn’t get at least a few servant-spies onto
the Renoux grounds. Kelsier didn’t see it as a danger to the job, but it did mean that Vin had to maintain her persona whenever possible. I can’t believe that people live like this, Vin thought as some servants began clearing away the meal. How can noblewomen fill their days with so much nothing? No wonder everyone’s eager to attend those balls! “Is your respite pleasant, dear?” Renoux asked, pouring over another ledger. “Yes, Uncle,” Vin said through tight lips. “Quite.” “You should be up to a shopping trip soon,” Renoux said, looking up at her. “Perhaps you would like to visit Kenton Street? Get some new earrings to replace that pedestrian stud you wear?” Vin reached a hand to her ear, where her mother’s earring still sat. “No,” she said. “I’ll keep this.” Renoux frowned, but said no more, for a servant approached and drew his attention. “My lord,” the servant said to Renoux. “A carriage just arrived from Luthadel.” Vin perked up. That was the servants’ way of saying that a member of the crew had arrived. “Ah, very good,” Renoux said. “Show them up, Tawnson.” “Yes, my lord.” A few minutes later, Kelsier, Breeze, Yeden, and Dockson walked out onto the balcony. Renoux discreetly waved to the servants, who closed the glass balcony doors and left the crew in privacy. Several men took up position just inside, watching to make certain that the wrong people didn’t have an opportunity to eavesdrop. “Are we interrupting your meal?” Dockson asked. “No!” Vin said quickly, cutting off Lord Renoux’s reply. “Sit, please.” Kelsier strolled over to the balcony’s ledge, looking out over the garden and grounds. “Nice view you have here.” “Kelsier, is that wise?” Renoux asked. “Some of the gardeners are men for whom I cannot vouch.” Kelsier chuckled. “If they can recognize me from this distance, they deserve more than the Great Houses are paying them.” However, he did leave the balcony edge, walking over to the table and spinning a chair, then sitting down on it the wrong way. Over the last few weeks, he had mostly returned to his old, familiar self. Yet, there were still changes. He held meetings more often, discussed more of his plans with the crew. He also still seemed different, more . . . thoughtful. Sazed was right, Vin thought. Our attack on the palace might have been near-deadly for me, but it has changed Kelsier for the better. “We thought we’d have our meeting here this week,” Dockson said, “since you two rarely get to participate.” “That was most thoughtful of you, Master Dockson,” Lord Renoux said. “But your concern is unnecessary. We are doing just fine—” “No,” Vin interrupted. “No, we aren’t. Some of us need information. What’s happening with the crew? How is the recruitment going?” Renoux eyed her with dissatisfaction. Vin, however, ignored him. He’s not really a lord, she told herself. He’s just another crewmember. My opinion counts as much as his! Now that the servants are gone, I can speak how I want. Kelsier chuckled. “Well, captivity’s
made her a bit more outspoken, if nothing else.” “I don’t have anything to do,” Vin said. “It’s driving me insane.” Breeze set his cup of wine on the table. “Some would find your state quite enviable, Vin.” “Then they must already be insane.” “Oh, they’re mostly noblemen,” Kelsier said. “So, yes, they’re quite mad.” “The job,” Vin reminded. “What’s happening?” “Recruitment is still too slow,” Dockson said. “But we’re improving.” “We may have to sacrifice further security for numbers, Kelsier,” Yeden said. That’s a change too, she thought, impressed as she noted Yeden’s civility. He had taken to wearing nicer clothing—not quite a full gentlemen’s suit like Dockson or Breeze, but at least a well-cut jacket and trousers, with a buttoning shirt beneath, all kept clean of soot. “That can’t be helped, Yeden,” Kelsier said. “Fortunately, Ham’s doing well with the troops. I had a message from him just a few days ago. He’s impressed with their progress.” Breeze snorted. “Be warned—Hammond does tend to be a bit optimistic about these kinds of things. If the army were made up of one-legged mutes, he would praise their balance and their listening skills.” “I should like to see the army,” Yeden said eagerly. “Soon,” Kelsier promised. “We should be able to get Marsh into the Ministry within the month,” Dockson said, nodding to Sazed as the Terrisman passed their sentries and entered the balcony. “Hopefully, Marsh will be able to give some insight as to how to deal with the Steel Inquisitors.” Vin shivered. “They are a concern,” Breeze agreed. “Considering what a couple of them did to you two, I don’t envy capturing the palace with them in there. They are as dangerous as Mistborn.” “More,” Vin said quietly. “Can the army really fight them?” Yeden asked uncomfortably. “I mean, they’re supposed to be immortal, aren’t they?” “Marsh will find the answer,” Kelsier promised. Yeden paused, then nodded, accepting Kelsier’s word. Yes, changed indeed, Vin thought. It appeared that not even Yeden could resist Kelsier’s charisma for an extended period of time. “In the meantime,” Kelsier said, “I’m hoping to hear what Sazed has learned about the Lord Ruler.” Sazed sat, laying his tome on the tabletop. “I will tell you what I can, though this is not the book that I first assumed it to be. I thought that Mistress Vin had recovered some ancient religious text—but it is of a far more mundane nature.” “Mundane?” Dockson asked. “How?” “It is a journal, Master Dockson,” Sazed said. “A record that appears to have been penned by the Lord Ruler himself—or, rather, the man who became the Lord Ruler. Even Ministry teachings agree that before the Ascension, he was a mortal man. “This book tells of his life just prior to his final battle at the Well of Ascension a thousand years ago. Mostly, it is a record of his travels—a narration of the people he met, the places he visited, and the trials he faced during his quest.” “Interesting,” Breeze said, “but how does it help us?” “I am not
certain, Master Ladrian,” Sazed said. “However, understanding the real history behind the Ascension will be of use, I think. At the very least, it will give us some insight to the Lord Ruler’s mind.” Kelsier shrugged. “The Ministry thinks it’s important—Vin said she found it in some kind of shrine in the central palace complex.” “Which, of course,” Breeze noted, “doesn’t at all raise any questions regarding its authenticity.” “I do not believe it to be a fabrication, Master Ladrian,” Sazed said. “It contains a remarkable level of detail, especially regarding unimportant issues—like packmen and supplies. In addition, the Lord Ruler it depicts is very conflicted. If the Ministry were going to devise a book for worship, they would present their god with more . . . divinity, I think.” “I’ll want to read it when you are done, Saze,” Dockson said. “And I,” Breeze said. “Some of Clubs’s apprentices occasionally work as scribes,” Kelsier said. “We’ll have them make a copy for each of you.” “Handy lot, those,” Dockson noted. Kelsier nodded. “So, where does that leave us?” The group paused, then Dockson nodded to Vin. “With the nobility.” Kelsier frowned slightly. “I can go back to work,” Vin said quickly. “I’m mostly healed, now.” Kelsier shot a look at Sazed, who raised an eyebrow. He checked on her wound periodically. Apparently, he didn’t like what he saw. “Kell,” Vin said. “I’m going insane. I grew up as a thief, scrambling for food and space—I can’t just sit around and let these servants pamper me.” Besides, I have to prove that I can still be useful to this crew. “Well,” Kelsier said. “You’re one of the reasons we came here today. There’s a ball this weekend that—” “I’ll go,” Vin said. Kelsier held up a finger. “Hear me out, Vin. You’ve been through a lot lately, and this infiltration could get dangerous.” “Kelsier,” Vin said flatly. “My whole life has been dangerous. I’m going.” Kelsier didn’t look convinced. “She has to do it, Kell,” Dockson said. “For one thing, the nobility is going to get suspicious if she doesn’t start going to parties again. For another, we need to know what she sees. Having servant spies on the staff isn’t the same as having a spy listening to local plots. You know that.” “All right, then,” Kelsier finally said. “But you have to promise not to use physical Allomancy until Sazed says otherwise.” Later that evening, Vin still couldn’t believe how eager she was to go the ball. She stood in her room, looking over the different gown ensembles that Dockson had found for her. Since she had been forced to wear noblewoman’s attire for a good month straight, she was beginning to find dresses just a shade more comfortable than she once had. Not that they aren’t frivolous, of course, she thought, inspecting the four gowns. All of that lace, the layers of material . . . a simple shirt and trousers are so much more practical. Yet, there was something special about the gowns—something in their beauty, like the
gardens outside. When regarded as static items, like a solitary plant, the dresses were only mildly impressive. However, when she considered attending the ball, the gowns took on a new meaning. They were beautiful, and they would make her beautiful. They were the face she would show to the court, and she wanted to choose the right one. I wonder if Elend Venture will be there. . . . Didn’t Sazed say that most of the younger aristocrats attended every ball? She lay a hand on one dress, black with silver embroiderings. It would match her hair, but was it too dark? Most of the other women wore colorful dresses; muted colors seemed reserved for men’s suits. She eyed a yellow gown, but it just seemed a little too . . . perky. And the white one was too ornate. That left the red. The neckline was lower—not that she had a lot to show—but it was beautiful. A bit gossamer, with full sleeves that were made of translucent mesh in places, it enticed her. But it seemed so . . . blatant. She picked it up, feeling the soft material in her fingers, imagining herself wearing it. How did I get to this? Vin thought. This thing would be impossible to hide in! These frilly creations, these aren’t me. And yet . . . part of her longed to be back at the ball again. The daily life of a noblewoman frustrated her, but her memories of that one night were alluring. The beautiful couples dancing, the perfect atmosphere and music, the marvelous crystalline windows . . . I don’t even realize when I’m wearing perfume anymore, she realized with shock. She found it preferable to bathe in scented water each day, and the servants even perfumed her clothing. It was all subtle, of course, but it would be enough to give her away while sneaking. Her hair had grown longer, and had been carefully cut by Renoux’s stylist so that it fell around her ears, curling just slightly. She no longer looked quite so scrawny in the mirror, despite her lengthy sickness; regular meals had filled her out. I’m becoming . . . Vin paused. She didn’t know what she was becoming. Certainly not a noblewoman. Noblewomen didn’t get annoyed when they couldn’t to go out stalking at night. Yet, she wasn’t really Vin the urchin anymore. She was . . . Mistborn. Vin carefully laid the beautiful red dress back on her bed, then crossed the room to look out the window. The sun was close to setting; soon, the mists would come—though, as usual, Sazed would have guards posted to make certain that she didn’t go on any unauthorized Allomantic romps. She hadn’t complained at the precautions. He was right. Unwatched, she probably would have broken her promise long ago. She caught a glimpse of motion to her right, and could just barely make out a figure standing out on the garden balcony. Kelsier. Vin stood for a moment, then left her rooms. Kelsier turned as she walked
onto the balcony. She paused, not wanting to interrupt, but he gave her one of his characteristic smiles. She walked forward, joining him at the carved stone balcony railing. He turned and looked westward—not at the grounds, but beyond them. Toward the wilderness, lit by a setting sun, outside of town. “Does it ever look wrong to you, Vin?” “Wrong?” she asked. Kelsier nodded. “The dry plants, the angry sun, the smoky-black sky.” Vin shrugged. “How can those things be right or wrong? That’s just the way things are.” “I suppose,” Kelsier said. “But, I think your mind-set is part of the wrongness. The world shouldn’t look like this.” Vin frowned. “How do you know that?” Kelsier reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. He unfolded it with a gentle touch, then handed it to Vin. She accepted the sheet, holding it carefully; it was so old and worn that it seemed close to breaking at the creases. It didn’t contain any words, just an old, faded picture. It depicted a strange shape—something like a plant, though not one Vin had ever seen. It was too . . . flimsy. It didn’t have a thick stalk, and its leaves were far too delicate. At its top, it had a strange collection of leaves that were a different color from the rest. “It’s called a flower,” Kelsier said. “They used to grow on plants, before the Ascension. Descriptions of them appear in the old poems and stories—things that only Keepers and rebel sages know about anymore. Apparently, these plants were beautiful, and they had a pleasant smell.” “Plants that smell?” Vin asked. “Like fruit?” “Something like that, I think. Some of the reports even claim that these flowers grew into fruit, in the days before the Ascension.” Vin stood quietly, frowning, trying to imagine such a thing. “That picture belonged to my wife, Mare,” Kelsier said quietly. “Dockson found it in her things after we were taken. He kept it, hoping that we would return. He gave it to me after I escaped.” Vin looked down at the picture again. “Mare was fascinated by pre-Ascension times,” Kelsier said, still staring out over the gardens. In the distance, the sun touched the horizon, and grew an even deeper red. “She collected things like that paper: pictures and descriptions of the old times. I think that fascination—along with the fact that she was a Tineye—is part of what led her to the underground, and to me. She’s the one who first introduced me to Sazed, though I didn’t use him in my crew at the time. He wasn’t interested in thieving.” Vin folded up the paper. “And you keep this picture still? After . . . what she did to you?” Kelsier fell silent for a moment. Then he eyed her. “Been listening at doors again, have we? Oh, don’t worry. I suppose it’s common enough knowledge.” In the distance, the setting sun became a blaze, its ruddy light illuminating clouds and smoke alike. “Yes, I keep the flower,” Kelsier
said. “I’m not really sure why. But . . . do you stop loving someone just because they betray you? I don’t think so. That’s what makes the betrayal hurt so much—pain, frustration, anger . . . and I still loved her. I still do.” “How?” Vin asked. “How can you? And, how can you possibly trust people? Didn’t you learn from what she did to you?” Kelsier shrugged. “I think . . . I think given the choice between loving Mare—betrayal included—and never knowing her, I’d choose love. I risked, and I lost, but the risk was still worth it. It’s the same with my friends. Suspicion is healthy in our profession—but only to an extent. I’d rather trust my men than worry about what will happen if they turn on me.” “That sounds foolish,” Vin said. “Is happiness foolish?” Kelsier asked, turning toward her. “Where have you been happier, Vin? On my crew, or back with Camon?” Vin paused. “I don’t know for sure if Mare betrayed me,” Kelsier said, looking back at the sunset. “She always claimed that she didn’t.” “And she was sent to the Pits, right?” Vin said. “That doesn’t make sense, if she sided with the Lord Ruler.” Kelsier shook his head, still staring into the distance. “She showed up at the Pits a few weeks after I was sent there—we were separated, after we were caught. I don’t know what happened during that time, or why she was eventually sent to Hathsin. The fact that she was sent to die hints that maybe she really didn’t betray me, but . . .” He turned toward Vin. “You didn’t hear him when he caught us, Vin. The Lord Ruler . . . he thanked her. Thanked her for betraying me. His words—spoken with such an eerie sense of honesty—mixed with the way that the plan was set up . . . well, it was hard to believe Mare. That didn’t change my love, though—not deep down. I nearly died when she did a year later, beaten before the slavemasters at the Pits. That night, after her corpse was taken away, I Snapped.” “You went mad?” Vin asked. “No,” Kelsier said. “Snapping is an Allomantic term. Our powers are latent at first—they only come out after some traumatic event. Something intense—something almost deadly. The philosophers say that a man can’t command the metals until he has seen death and rejected it.” “So . . . when did it happen to me?” Vin asked. Kelsier shrugged. “It’s hard to tell. Growing up as you did, there were probably ample opportunities for you to Snap.” He nodded as if to himself. “For me,” he said, “it was that night. Alone in the Pits, my arms bleeding from the day’s work. Mare was dead, and I feared that I was responsible—that my lack of faith took away her strength and will. She died knowing that I questioned her loyalty. Maybe, if I’d really loved her, I wouldn’t have ever questioned. I don’t know.” “But, you didn’t die,” Vin said. Kelsier
shook his head. “I decided that I’d see her dream fulfilled. I’d make a world where flowers returned, a world with green plants, a world where no soot fell from the sky. . . .” He trailed off, then sighed. “I know. I’m insane.” “Actually,” Vin said quietly, “it kind of makes sense. Finally.” Kelsier smiled. The sun sank beneath the horizon, and while its light was still a flare in the west, the mists began to appear. They didn’t come from one specific place, they just sort of . . . grew. They extended like translucent, twisting vines in the sky—curling back and forth, lengthening, dancing, melding. “Mare wanted children,” Kelsier said suddenly. “Back when we were first married, a decade and a half ago. I . . . didn’t agree with her. I wanted to become the most famous skaa thief of all time, and didn’t have time for things that would slow me down. “It’s probably a good thing that we didn’t have children. The Lord Ruler might have found and killed them. But, he might not have—Dox and the others survived. Now, sometimes, I wish that I had a piece of her with me. A child. A daughter, perhaps, with Mare’s same dark hair and resilient stubbornness.” He paused, then looked down at Vin. “I don’t want to be responsible for something happening to you, Vin. Not again.” Vin frowned. “I’m not spending any more time locked in this mansion.” “No, I don’t suppose you will. If we try and keep you in much longer, you’ll probably just show up at Clubs’s shop one night having done something very foolish. We’re a bit too much alike that way, you and I. Just . . . be careful.” Vin nodded. “I will.” They stood for a few more minutes, watching the mists gather. Finally, Kelsier stood up straight, stretching. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you decided to join us, Vin.” Vin shrugged. “To tell you the truth, I’d kind of like to see one of those flowers for myself.” 18 SHE DECIDED TO WEAR THE red dress. It was definitely the boldest choice, but that felt right. After all, she hid her true self behind an aristocratic appearance; the more visible that appearance was, the easier it should be for her to hide. A footman opened the carriage door. Vin took a deep breath—chest a little confined by the special corset she was wearing to hide her bandages—then accepted the footman’s hand and climbed down. She straightened her dress, nodded to Sazed, then joined the other aristocrats making their way up the steps to Keep Elariel. It was a bit smaller than the keep of House Venture. However, Keep Elariel apparently had a separate party ballroom, while House Venture had its gatherings in the enormous main hall. Vin eyed the other noblewomen, and felt a bit of her confidence vanish. Her dress was beautiful, but the other women had so much more than just gowns. Their long, flowing hair and self-assured airs matched their bejeweled figures. They
filled out the upper portions of their dresses with voluptuous curves, and moved elegantly in the frilled splendor of the lower folds. Vin occasionally caught glimpses of the women’s feet, and they didn’t wear simple slippers like her own, but rather high-heeled shoes. “Why don’t I have shoes like that?” she asked quietly as they climbed the carpet-covered stairs. “Heels take practice to walk in, Mistress,” Sazed replied. “Since you’ve only just learned to dance, it might be best if you wore regular shoes for a time.” Vin frowned, but accepted the explanation. Sazed’s mention of dancing, however, increased her discomfort. She remembered the flowing poise of the dancers at her last ball. She certainly wouldn’t be able to imitate that—she barely even knew the basic steps. That won’t matter, she thought. They won’t see me—they’ll see Lady Valette. She’s supposed to be new and uncertain, and everyone thinks she’s been ill lately. It will make sense for her to be a poor dancer. That thought in mind, Vin reached the top of the stairs feeling a bit more secure. “I must say, Mistress,” Sazed said. “You seem far less nervous this time—in fact, you even seem excited. This is the proper attitude for Valette to display, I think.” “Thank you,” she said, smiling. He was right: She was excited. Excited to be part of the job again—excited, even, to be back among the nobility, with their splendor and grace. They stepped up to the squat ballroom building—one of several low wings extending from the main keep—and a servant took her shawl. Vin paused a moment just inside the doorway, waiting as Sazed arranged her table and meal. The Elariel ballroom was very different from the majestic Venture grand hall. The dim room was only a single story high, and while it had a lot of stained-glass windows, they were all in the ceiling. Circular rose-window skylights shone from above, lit by small limelights on the roof. Each table was set with candles, and despite the light from above, there was a reserved darkness about the room. It seemed . . . private, despite the numerous people in attendance. This room had obviously been designed to accommodate parties. A sunken dancing floor lay at its center, and this was better lit than the rest of the room. There were two tiers of tables circling the dancing floor: The first tier was only a few feet above, the other was farther back and about twice as high. A servant led her to a table at the rim of the room. She sat, Sazed taking his customary place beside her, and began to wait for her meal to arrive. “How exactly am I supposed to get the information Kelsier wants?” she asked quietly, scanning the dark room. The deep, crystalline colors from above projected patterns across tables and people, creating an impressive atmosphere, yet making it difficult to distinguish faces. Was Elend here somewhere amidst the ball-goers? “Tonight, some men should ask you to dance,” Sazed said. “Accept their invitations—this will give you an
excuse to seek them out later and mingle in their groups. You don’t need to participate in conversations—you just have to listen. At future balls, perhaps some of the young men will begin to ask you to accompany them. Then you’ll be able to sit at their table and listen to all of their discussions.” “You mean, sit with one man the entire time?” Sazed nodded. “It’s not uncommon. You would dance only with him that night as well.” Vin frowned. However, she let the matter drop, turning to inspect the room again. He’s probably not even here—he said he avoided balls when possible. Even if he were here, he’d be off on his own. You won’t even— A muted thump sounded as someone dropped a stack of books onto her table. Vin jumped in startlement, turning as Elend Venture pulled over a chair, then sat down with a relaxed posture. He leaned back in the chair, angling toward a candelabrum beside her table, and opened a book to begin reading. Sazed frowned. Vin hid a smile, eyeing Elend. He still didn’t look as if he had bothered to brush his hair, and again wore his suit without the buttons done up. The garment wasn’t shabby, but nor was it as rich as others at the party. It seemed to have been tailored to be loose and relaxed, defying the traditional sharp, well-cut fashion. Elend flipped through his book. Vin waited patiently for him to acknowledge her, but he just continued to read. Finally, Vin raised an eyebrow. “I don’t remember giving you permission to sit at my table, Lord Venture,” she said. “Don’t mind me,” Elend said, not looking up. “You’ve got a big table—there’s plenty of room for both of us.” “Both of us, perhaps,” Vin said. “But I’m not sure about those books. Where are the servers going to put my meal?” “There’s a bit of space to your left,” Elend said offhandedly. Sazed’s frown deepened. He stepped forward, gathering up the books and setting them on the floor beside Elend’s chair. Elend continued to read. He did, however, raise a hand to gesture. “See, now, that’s why I don’t ever use Terrismen servants. They’re an insufferably efficient lot, I must say.” “Sazed is hardly insufferable,” Vin said coolly. “He is a good friend, and is probably a better man than you will ever be, Lord Venture.” Elend finally looked up. “I’m . . . sorry,” he said in a frank tone. “I apologize.” Vin nodded. Elend, however, opened his book and began reading again. Why sit with me if he’s just going to read? “What did you do at these parties before you had me to pester?” she asked in an annoyed tone. “See, now, how can I be pestering you?” he asked. “I mean, really, Valette. I’m just sitting here, reading quietly to myself.” “At my table. I’m certain you could get your own—you’re the Venture heir. Not that you were forthcoming about that fact during our last meeting.” “True,” Elend said. “I do, however, recall telling
you that the Ventures were an annoying lot. I’m just trying to live up to the description.” “You’re the one that made up the description!” “Convenient, that,” Elend said, smiling slightly as he read. Vin sighed in frustration, scowling. Elend peeked up over his book. “That’s a stunning dress. It’s almost as beautiful as you are.” Vin froze, jaw hanging open slightly. Elend smiled mischievously, then turned back to his book, eyes sparkling as if to indicate that he’d made the comment simply because he knew the reaction he’d get. Sazed loomed over the table, not bothering to mask his disapproval. Yet, he said nothing. Elend was obviously too important to be chastised by a simple steward. Vin finally found her tongue. “How is it, Lord Venture, that an eligible man like yourself comes to these balls alone?” “Oh, I don’t,” Elend said. “My family usually has one girl or another lined up to accompany me. Tonight’s fare is the Lady Stase Blanches—she’s the one in the green dress sitting on the lower tier across from us.” Vin glanced across the room. Lady Blanches was a gorgeous blond woman. She kept glancing up at Vin’s table, covering a scowl. Vin flushed, turning away. “Um, shouldn’t you be down there with her?” “Probably,” Elend said. “But, see, I’ll tell you a secret. The truth is, I’m not really much of a gentleman. Besides, I didn’t invite her—it wasn’t until I got into the carriage that I was informed regarding my accompaniment.” “I see,” Vin said with a frown. “My behavior is, nonetheless, deplorable. Unfortunately, I’m quite prone to such bouts of deplorability—take, for instance, my fondness for reading books at the dinner table. Excuse me for a moment; I’m going to go get something to drink.” He stood, tucking the book into his pocket, and walked toward one of the room’s bar tables. Vin watched him go, both annoyed and bemused. “This is not good, Mistress,” Sazed said in a low tone. “He’s not that bad.” “He’s using you, Mistress,” Sazed said. “Lord Venture is infamous for his unconventional, disobedient attitude. Many people dislike him—precisely because he does things like this.” “Like this?” “He is sitting with you because he knows that it will annoy his family,” Sazed said. “Oh, child—I do not wish to bring you pain, but you must understand the ways of the court. This young man is not romantically interested in you. He is a young, arrogant lord who chafes at his father’s restrictions—so he rebels, acting rude and offensive. He knows that his father will relent if he acts spoiled enough for long enough.” Vin felt her stomach twist. Sazed’s probably right, of course. Why else would Elend seek me out? I’m exactly what he needs—someone lowborn enough to annoy his father, but inexperienced enough not to see the truth. Her meal arrived, but Vin didn’t have much of an appetite anymore. She began to pick at the food as Elend returned, settling down with a large goblet filled with some mixed drink. He sipped as he read.
Let’s see how he reacts if I don’t interrupt his reading, Vin thought in annoyance, remembering her lessons, and eating her food with a lady’s grace. It wasn’t a large meal—mostly some rich, buttered vegetables—and the sooner she finished, the sooner she could get to dancing. At least then she wouldn’t have to sit with Elend Venture. The young lord paused several times as she ate, peeking at her over the top of his book. He obviously expected her to say something, but she never did. As she ate, however, her anger faded. She glanced at Elend, studying his slightly disheveled appearance, watching the earnestness with which he read his book. Could this man really hide the twisted sense of manipulation Sazed implied? Was he really just using her? Anyone will betray you, Reen whispered. Everyone will betray you. Elend just seemed so . . . genuine. He felt like a real person, not a front or a face. And it did seem like he wanted her to talk to him. It felt like a personal victory to Vin when he finally sat the book down and looked at her. “Why are you here, Valette?” he asked. “Here at the party?” “No, here in Luthadel.” “Because it’s the center of everything,” Vin said. Elend frowned. “I suppose it is. But, the empire is a big place to have such a small center. I don’t think we really understand how large it is. How long did it take you to get here?” Vin felt a moment of panic, but Sazed’s lessons snapped quickly into her mind. “Almost two months by canal, with some stops.” “Such a long time,” Elend said. “They say it can take half a year to travel from one end of the empire to the other, yet most of us ignore everything but this little bit at the center.” “I . . .” Vin trailed off. With Reen, she’d been all across the Central Dominance. It was the smallest of the dominances, however, and she’d never visited the more exotic places in the empire. This central area was good for thieves; oddly, the place closest to the Lord Ruler was also the one with the most corruption, not to mention the most riches. “What do you think of the city, then?” Elend asked. Vin paused. “It’s . . . dirty,” she said honestly. In the dim light, a servant arrived to remove her empty plate. “It’s dirty, and it’s full. The skaa are treated terribly, but I guess that’s true everywhere.” Elend cocked his head, giving her a strange look. I shouldn’t have mentioned the skaa. That wasn’t very noble-like. He leaned forward. “You think the skaa here are treated worse than the ones on your plantation? I always thought they would be better off in the city.” “Um . . . I’m not sure. I didn’t go to the fields very often.” “So, you didn’t interact with them very much?” Vin shrugged. “Why does it matter? They’re just skaa.” “See, now, that’s what we always say,” Elend said. “But
I don’t know. Maybe I’m too curious, but they interest me. Did you ever hear them talk to one another? Did they sound like regular people?” “What?” Vin asked. “Of course they did. What else would they sound like?” “Well, you know what the Ministry teaches.” She didn’t. However, if it was regarding the skaa, it probably wasn’t flattering. “I make it a rule to never completely believe anything the Ministry says.” Elend paused again, cocking his head. “You’re . . . not what I expected, Lady Valette.” “People rarely are.” “So, tell me about the plantation skaa. What are they like?” Vin shrugged. “Like skaa everywhere else.” “Are they intelligent?” “Some are.” “But, not like you and me, right?” Elend asked. Vin paused. How would a noblewoman respond? “No, of course not. They’re just skaa. Why are you so interested in them?” Elend seemed . . . disappointed. “No reason,” he said, sitting back in his chair and opening his book. “I think some of those men over there want to ask you to dance.” Vin turned, noticing that there was indeed a group of young men standing a short distance from her table. They looked away as soon as she turned. After a few moments, one of the men pointed at another table; then he walked over and asked a young lady to dance. “Several people have noticed you, my lady,” Sazed said. “However, they never approach. Lord Venture’s presence intimidates them, I think.” Elend snorted. “They should know that I am anything but intimidating.” Vin frowned, but Elend just continued to read. Fine! she thought, turning back toward the young men. She caught one man’s eye, smiling slightly. A few moments later, the young man approached. He spoke to her in a stiff, formal tone. “Lady Renoux, I am Lord Melend Liese. Would you care to dance?” Vin shot a glance at Elend, but he didn’t look up from his book. “I would love to, Lord Liese,” Vin said, taking the young man’s hand and rising. He led her down to the dance floor, and as they approached, Vin’s nervousness returned. Suddenly, one week of practice didn’t seem like enough. The music stopped, allowing for couples to leave or enter the floor, and Lord Liese led her forward. Vin fought down her paranoia, reminding herself that everyone saw the dress and the rank, not Vin herself. She looked up into Lord Liese’s eyes and saw, surprisingly, apprehension. The music began, as did the dancing. Lord Liese’s face took on a look of consternation. She could feel his palm sweating in her hands. Why, he’s just as nervous as I am! Perhaps even more. Liese was younger than Elend, closer to her own age. He probably wasn’t very experienced with balls—he certainly didn’t look like he’d danced much. He focused so much on the steps that his motions felt rigid. It makes sense, Vin realized, relaxing and letting her body move in the motions Sazed had taught. The experienced ones wouldn’t ask me to dance, not when I’m so new.
I’m beneath their notice. But, why is Elend paying attention to me? Is it simply what Sazed said—a ploy to annoy his father? Why, then, does he seem interested in what I have to say? “Lord Liese,” Vin said. “Do you know much of Elend Venture?” Liese looked up. “Um, I . . .” “Don’t focus so much on the dancing,” Vin said. “My instructor says that it will flow more naturally if you don’t try too hard.” He blushed. Lord Ruler! Vin thought. How fresh is this boy? “Um, Lord Venture . . .” Liese said. “I don’t know. He’s a very important person. Far more important than I am.” “Don’t let his lineage intimidate you,” Vin said. “From what I’ve seen, he’s pretty harmless.” “I don’t know, my lady,” Liese said. “Venture is a very influential house.” “Yes, well, Elend doesn’t live up to that reputation. He seems very fond of ignoring those in his company—does he do that to everyone?” Liese shrugged, dancing more naturally now that they were talking. “I don’t know. You . . . seem to know him better than I, my lady.” “I . . .” Vin trailed off. She felt as if she knew him well—far better than she should know a man after two brief encounters. She couldn’t very well explain that to Liese, however. But, maybe . . . Didn’t Renoux say that he’d met Elend once? “Oh, Elend is a friend of the family,” Vin said as they spun beneath a crystalline skylight. “He is?” “Yes,” Vin said. “It was very kind of my uncle to ask Elend to watch over me at these parties, and so far he’s been quite a dear. I do wish that he’d pay less attention to those books of his and more attention to introducing me, though.” Liese perked up, and he seemed to grow a little less insecure. “Oh. Why, that makes sense.” “Yes,” Vin said, “Elend has been like an older brother to me during my time here in Luthadel.” Liese smiled. “I ask you about him because he doesn’t speak much of himself,” Vin said. “The Ventures have all been quiet lately,” Liese said. “Ever since the attack on their keep several months back.” Vin nodded. “You know much about that?” Liese shook his head. “No one tells me anything.” He glanced down, watching their feet. “You’re very good at dancing, Lady Renoux. You must have attended many balls back in your home city.” “You flatter me, my lord,” Vin said. “No, really. You’re so . . . graceful.” Vin smiled, feeling a slight surge of confidence. “Yes,” Liese said, almost to himself. “You’re not at all like Lady Shan said—” He stopped, jerking slightly, as if realizing what he was saying. “What?” Vin said. “Nothing,” Liese said, his blush rising. “I’m sorry. It was nothing.” Lady Shan, Vin thought. Remember that name. She prodded Liese further as the dance progressed, but he was obviously too inexperienced to know much. He did feel that there was a tension rising between the houses;
though the balls continued, there were more and more absences as people didn’t attend parties thrown by their political rivals. When the dance ended, Vin felt good about her efforts. She probably hadn’t discovered much of value to Kelsier—however, Liese was only the beginning. She’d work up to more important people. Which means, Vin thought as Liese led her back to her table, I’m going to have to attend a lot more of these balls. It wasn’t that the balls themselves were unpleasant—especially now that she was more confident in her dancing. However, more balls meant fewer chances to be out in the mists. Not that Sazed would let me go anyway, she thought with an inward sigh, smiling politely as Liese bowed and retreated. Elend had spread his books across the table, and her alcove was lit by several more candelabra—apparently filched from other tables. Well, Vin thought, we’ve at least got thieving in common. Elend hunched over the table, making notations in a small, pocket-sized book. He didn’t look up as she sat. Sazed, she noticed, was nowhere to be seen. “I sent the Terrisman to dinner,” Elend said distractedly as he scribbled. “No need for him to go hungry while you twirled down below.” Vin raised an eyebrow, regarding the books that dominated her tabletop. Even as she watched, Elend pushed one tome aside—leaving it open to a specific page—and pulled over another. “So, how was the aforementioned twirling, anyway?” he said. “It was actually kind of fun.” “I thought you weren’t very good at it.” “I wasn’t,” Vin said. “I practiced. You may find this information surprising, but sitting in the back of a room reading books in the dark doesn’t exactly help one become a better dancer.” “Is that a proposition?” Elend asked, pushing aside his book and selecting another. “It’s unladylike to ask a man to dance, you know.” “Oh, I wouldn’t want to take you away from your reading,” Vin said, turning a book toward her. She grimaced—the text was written in a small, cramped hand. “Besides, dancing with you would undermine all of the work I just did.” Elend paused. Then he finally looked up. “Work?” “Yes,” Vin said. “Sazed was right—Lord Liese finds you intimidating, and he found me intimidating by association. It could be quite disastrous to a young lady’s social life if all of the young men assumed her unavailable simply because an annoying lord decided to study at her table.” “So . . .” Elend said. “So I told him that you were simply showing me the ways of court. Kind of like an . . . older brother.” “Older brother?” Elend asked, frowning. “Much older,” Vin said, smiling. “I mean, you’ve got to be at least twice my age.” “Twice your . . . Valette, I’m twenty-one. Unless you’re a very mature ten-year-old, I’m nowhere near ‘twice your age!’” “I’ve never been good with math,” Vin said offhandedly. Elend sighed, rolling his eyes. Nearby, Lord Liese was speaking quietly with his group of friends, gesturing toward Vin and Elend.
Hopefully, one would come ask her to dance soon. “Do you know a Lady Shan?” Vin asked idly as she waited. Surprisingly, Elend looked up. “Shan Elariel?” “I assume so,” Vin said. “Who is she?” Elend turned back to his book. “Nobody important.” Vin raised an eyebrow. “Elend, I’ve only been doing this for a few months, but even I know not to trust a comment like that.” “Well . . .” Elend said. “I might be engaged to her.” “You have a fiancée?” Vin asked with exasperation. “I’m not exactly sure. We haven’t really done anything about the situation for a year or so. Everyone’s likely forgotten the matter by now.” Great, Vin thought. A moment later, one of Liese’s friends approached. Glad to be rid of the frustrating Venture heir, Vin stood, accepting the young lord’s hand. As she walked to the dance floor, she glanced at Elend, and caught him peeking over the book at her. He immediately turned back to his research with an overtly indifferent air. Vin sat down at her table, feeling a remarkable level of exhaustion. She resisted the urge to pull off her shoes and massage her feet; she suspected that wouldn’t be very ladylike. She quietly turned on her copper, then burned pewter, strengthening her body and washing away a bit of her fatigue. She let her pewter, then her copper, lapse. Kelsier had assured her that with copper on, she couldn’t be spotted as an Allomancer. Vin wasn’t so certain. With pewter burning, her reactions were too fast, her body too strong. It seemed to her that an observant person would be able to notice such inconsistencies, whether or not they themselves were an Allomancer. With the pewter off, her fatigue returned. She’d been trying to wean herself off constant pewter lately. Her wound was to the point that it only hurt badly if she twisted the wrong way, and she wanted to recover her strength on her own, if she could. In a way, her fatigue this evening was a good thing—it was a result of an extended period of dancing. Now that the young men regarded Elend as a guardian, rather than a romantic interest, they had no qualms about asking Vin to dance. And, worried that she would make an unintended political statement by refusing, Vin had agreed to each request. A few months ago, she would have laughed at the idea of exhaustion from dancing. However, her sore feet, aching side, and tired legs were only part of it. The effort of memorizing names and houses—not to mention putting up with her dancing partners’ fluffy conversation—left her mentally drained. It’s a good thing Sazed had me wear slippers instead of heels, Vin thought with a sigh, sipping her chilled juice. The Terrisman hadn’t returned from his dinner yet. Notably, Elend wasn’t at the table either—though his books still lay scattered across its top. Vin eyed the tomes. Perhaps if she appeared to be reading, the young men would leave her alone for a bit. She reached over, riffling
through the books for a likely candidate. The one she was most interested in—Elend’s small, leather-bound notebook—was missing. Instead, she picked a large, blue tome and hefted it over to her side of the table. She had picked it for its large lettering—was paper really so expensive that scribes needed to cram as many lines to a page as possible? Vin sighed, leafing through the volume. I can’t believe people read books this big, she thought. Despite the large lettering, each page was filled with words. It would take days and days to read the entire thing. Reen had taught her reading so that she would be able to decipher contracts, write notes, and perhaps play a noblewoman. However, her training hadn’t extended to texts this massive. Historical Practices in Imperial Political Rule, the first page read. The chapters had titles like “The Fifth Century Governorship Program” and “The Rise of Skaa Plantations.” She flipped through to the end of the book, figuring it would probably be the most interesting. The final chapter was titled “Current Political Structure.” So far, she read, the plantation system has produced a far more stable government than previous methodologies. The structure of Dominances with each provincial lord taking command of—and responsibility for—his skaa has fostered a competitive environment where discipline is harshly enforced. The Lord Ruler apparently finds this system troubling because of the freedom it allows the aristocracy. However, the relative lack of organized rebellion is undoubtedly enticing; during the two hundred years that the system has been in place, there hasn’t been a major uprising in the Five Inner Dominances. Of course, this political system is only an extension of the greater theocratic rulership. The aristocracy’s independence has been tempered by a renewed vigor in obligator enforcement. No lord, no matter how lofty, would be advised to think himself above their law. The call from an Inquisitor can come to anyone. Vin frowned. While the text itself was dry, she was surprised that the Lord Ruler allowed such analytical discussions of his empire. She settled back in her chair, holding up the book, but she didn’t read any more. She was too exhausted from the hours she had spent covertly trying to wiggle information out of her dancing partners. Unfortunately, politics didn’t pay heed to Vin’s state of exhaustion. Though she did her best to appear absorbed in Elend’s book, a figure soon approached her table. Vin sighed, preparing herself for another dance. She soon realized, however, that the newcomer wasn’t a nobleman, but a Terrisman steward. Like Sazed, he wore robes with overlapping V designs, and was very fond of jewelry. “Lady Valette Renoux?” the tall man asked in a faintly accented voice. “Yes,” Vin said hesitantly. “My mistress, Lady Shan Elariel, requires your presence at her table.” Requires? Vin thought. She already didn’t like that tone, and she had little desire to meet with Elend’s former betrothed. Unfortunately, House Elariel was one of the more powerful Great Houses—probably not someone to dismiss offhandedly. The Terrisman waited expectantly. “Very well,” Vin said, rising
with as much grace as she could muster. The Terrisman led Vin toward a table a short distance from her own. The table was well attended, with five women seated around it, and Vin picked out Shan immediately. Lady Elariel was obviously the statuesque woman with long dark hair. She wasn’t participating in the conversation, but seemed to dominate it nonetheless. Her arms sparkled with lavender bracelets that matched her dress, and she turned dismissive eyes toward Vin as she approached. Those dark eyes, however, were keen. Vin felt exposed before them—stripped of her fine dress, reduced to a dirty urchin once again. “Excuse us, ladies,” Shan said. The women immediately did as ordered, departing the table in a stately flurry. Shan picked up a fork and began to meticulously dissect and devour a small piece of dessert cake. Vin stood uncertainly, the Terrisman steward taking up a position behind Shan’s chair. “You may sit,” Shan said. I feel like a skaa again, Vin thought, sitting. Noblemen treat each other this way too? “You are in an enviable position, child,” Shan said. “How is that?” Vin asked. “Address me as ‘Lady Shan,’ ” Shan said, her tone unchanged. “Or, perhaps, ‘Your Ladyship.’ ” Shan waited expectantly, taking petite bites of the cake. Finally, Vin said, “Why is that, Your Ladyship?” “Because young Lord Venture has decided to use you in his games. That means you have the opportunity to be used by me as well.” Vin frowned. Remember to stay in character. You’re the easily intimidated Valette. “Wouldn’t it be better to not be used at all, Your Ladyship?” Vin said carefully. “Nonsense,” Shan replied. “Even an uncultured simpleton like yourself must see the importance of being useful to your betters.” Shan said the words, even the insult, without vehemence; she simply seemed to take it for granted that Vin would agree. Vin sat, dumbfounded. None of the other nobility had treated her in such a manner. Of course, the only member of a Great House she’d met so far was Elend. “I trust from your vapid look that you accept your place,” Shan said. “Do well, child, and perhaps I will let you join my retinue. You could learn much from the ladies here in Luthadel.” “Such as?” Vin asked, trying to keep the snappishness out of her voice. “Look at yourself sometime, child. Hair like you’ve undergone some terrible disease, so scrawny that your dress hangs like a bag. Being a noblewoman in Luthadel requires . . . perfection. Not that.” She said the last word while waving her hand dismissively toward Vin. Vin flushed. There was a strange power to this woman’s demeaning attitude. With a start, Vin realized that Shan reminded her of some crewleaders she had known, Camon the latest of them—men who would hit a person, fully expecting no resistance. Everyone knew that resisting such men only made the beating worse. “What do you want from me?” Vin asked. Shan raised an eyebrow as she set aside her fork, the cake only half-eaten. The Terrisman took
the plate and walked off with it. “You really are a dull-minded thing, aren’t you?” Shan asked. Vin paused. “What does Her Ladyship want from me?” “I’ll tell you eventually—assuming Lord Venture decides to keep playing with you.” Vin caught just the barest flash of hatred in her eyes when she said Elend’s name. “For now,” Shan continued, “tell me of your conversation with him this evening.” Vin opened her mouth to respond. But . . . something felt wrong. She only caught the barest flicker of it—she wouldn’t have even noticed that much without Breeze’s training. A Soother? Interesting. Shan was trying to make Vin complacent. So that she would talk, perhaps? Vin began to relate her conversation with Elend, staying away from anything interesting. However, something still felt odd to her—something about the way that Shan was playing with her emotions. From the corner of her eye, Vin saw Shan’s Terrisman return from the kitchens. However, he didn’t walk back toward Shan’s table—he headed in the other direction. Toward Vin’s own table. He paused beside it, and began to poke through Elend’s books. Whatever he wants, I can’t let him find it. Vin stood suddenly, finally provoking an overt reaction in Shan as the woman looked up with surprise. “I just remembered that I told my Terrisman to find me at my table!” Vin said. “He’ll be worried if I’m not sitting there!” “Oh, for the Lord Ruler’s sake,” Shan muttered under her breath. “Child, there is no need—” “I’m sorry, Your Ladyship,” Vin said. “I’ve got to go.” It was a bit obvious, but it was the best she could manage. Vin curtsied and withdrew from Shan’s table, leaving the displeased woman behind. The Terrisman was good—by the time Vin was a few steps away from Shan’s table, he had noticed Vin and continued on his way, his motions impressively smooth. Vin arrived back at her table, wondering if she’d made a blunder by leaving Shan so rudely. However, she was growing too tired to care. As she noticed another group of young men eyeing her, she hurriedly sat, plopping open one of Elend’s books. Fortunately, the ploy worked better this time. The young men eventually trailed away, leaving Vin in peace, and she sat back, relaxing slightly with the book open before her. The evening was growing late, and the ballroom was slowly beginning to empty. The books, she thought with a frown, picking up her cup of juice to take a sip. What did the Terrisman want with them? She scanned the table, trying to notice if anything had been disturbed, but Elend had left the books in such a state of disarray that it was hard to tell. However, a small book sitting beneath another tome caught her eye. Most of the other texts lay open to a specific page, and she had seen Elend perusing them. This particular book, however, was closed—and she couldn’t remember him ever opening it. It had been there before—she recognized it because it was so much thinner than the others—so
the Terrisman hadn’t left it behind. Curious, Vin reached over and slid the book out from underneath the larger book. It had had a black leather cover, and the spine read Weather Patterns of the Northern Dominance. Vin frowned, turning the book over in her hands. There was no title page, nor was an author listed. It launched directly into text. Vin stared at the page. Some of the words were beyond her skill, but she was able to grasp the author’s meaning. He was saying . . . She snapped the book closed and hurriedly put it back in its place. What would happen if the obligators discovered that Elend owned such a text? She glanced to the sides. They were there, of course, mingling with the crowds like at the other ball, marked by their gray robes and tattooed faces. Many sat at tables with noblemen. Friends? Or spies for the Lord Ruler? Nobody seemed quite as comfortable when an obligator was nearby. What is Elend doing with a book like that? A powerful nobleman like himself? Why would he read texts that malign the Lord Ruler? A hand fell on her shoulder, and Vin spun reflexively, pewter and copper flaring in her stomach. “Whoa,” Elend said, stepping back and raising his hand. “Has anyone ever told you how jumpy you are, Valette?” Vin relaxed, sitting back in her chair and extinguishing her metals. Elend sauntered over to his place and sat down. “Enjoying Heberen?” Vin frowned, and Elend nodded to the larger, thick book that still sat before her. “No,” Vin said. “It’s boring. I was just pretending to read so that the men would leave me alone for a bit.” Elend chuckled. “Now, see, your cleverness is coming back to snap at you.” Vin raised an eyebrow as Elend began to gather up his books, stacking them on the table. He didn’t appear to notice that she’d moved the “weather” book, but he did carefully slide it into the middle of the stack. Vin turned her eyes from the book. I probably shouldn’t tell him about Shan—not until I talk to Sazed. “I think my cleverness did its job well,” she said instead. “After all, I came to the ball to dance.” “I find dancing overrated.” “You can’t remain aloof from the court forever, Lord Venture—you’re the heir of a very important house.” He sighed, stretching and leaning back in his chair. “I suppose you’re right,” he said with surprising frankness. “But the longer I hold out, the more annoyed my father will become. That, in itself, is a worthy goal.” “He’s not the only one you hurt,” Vin said. “What of the girls that never get asked to dance because you’re too busy rummaging through your books?” “As I recall,” Elend said, setting the last book on the top of his pile, “someone was just pretending to read in order to avoid dancing. I don’t think the ladies have any trouble finding more amicable partners than myself.” Vin raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t have trouble because I’m
new and I’m low-ranked. I suspect that the ladies closer to your station have trouble finding partners, amicable or not. As I understand it, noblemen are uncomfortable dancing with women above their station.” Elend paused, obviously searching for a comeback. Vin leaned forward. “What is it, Elend Venture? Why are you so intent on avoiding your duty?” “Duty?” Elend asked, leaning toward her, his posture earnest. “Valette, this isn’t duty. This ball . . . this is fluff and distraction. A waste of time.” “And women?” Vin asked. “Are they a waste too?” “Women?” Elend asked. “Women are like . . . thunderstorms. They’re beautiful to look at, and sometimes they’re nice to listen to—but most of the time they’re just plain inconvenient.” Vin felt her jaw drop slightly. Then she noticed the twinkle in his eye, the smile at the edges of his lips, and she found herself smiling as well. “You say these things just to provoke me!” His smile deepened. “I’m charming that way.” He stood, looking at her fondly. “Ah, Valette. Don’t let them trick you into taking yourself too seriously. It’s not worth the effort. But, I must bid you a good evening. Try not to let months pass between balls you attend in the future.” Vin smiled. “I’ll think about it.” “Please do,” Elend said, bending down and scooting the tall stack of books off the table and into his arms. He teetered for a moment, then steadied himself and peeked to the side. “Who knows—maybe one of these days you’ll actually get me to dance.” Vin smiled, nodding as the nobleman turned and walked off, circling the perimeter of the ballroom’s second tier. He was soon met by two other young men. Vin watched curiously as one of the men clapped Elend on the shoulder in a friendly way, then took half of the books. The three began to walk together, chatting. Vin didn’t recognize the newcomers. She sat thoughtfully as Sazed finally appeared out of a side hallway, and Vin eagerly waved him forward. He approached with a hurried step. “Who are those men with Lord Venture?” Vin asked, pointing toward Elend. Sazed squinted behind his spectacles. “Why . . . one of them is Lord Jastes Lekal. The other is a Hasting, though I don’t know his given name.” “You sound surprised.” “Houses Lekal and Hasting are both political rivals of House Venture, Mistress. Noblemen often visit with each other in smaller, after-ball parties, making alliances. . . .” The Terrisman paused, turning back to her. “Master Kelsier will wish to hear of this, I think. It is time we retire.” “I agree,” Vin said, rising. “And so do my feet. Let’s go.” Sazed nodded, and the two of them made their way to the front doors. “What took you so long?” Vin asked as they waited for an attendant to fetch her shawl. “I came back several times, Mistress,” Sazed said. “But you were always dancing. I decided I would be of far more use speaking with the servants than I would
be standing beside your table.” Vin nodded, accepting her shawl, then walked out the front steps and down the carpeted stairs, Sazed just behind her. Her step was quick—she wanted to get back and tell Kelsier the names she’d memorized before she forgot the whole list. She paused at the landing, waiting for a servant to fetch her carriage. As she did, she noticed something odd. A small disturbance was going on a short distance away in the mists. She stepped forward, but Sazed put a hand on her shoulder, holding her back. A lady wouldn’t wander off into the mists. She reached to burn copper and tin, but waited—the disturbance was getting closer. It resolved as a guard appeared from the mists, pulling a small, struggling form: a skaa boy in dirty clothing, face soot-stained. The soldier gave Vin a wide berth, nodding apologetically to her as he approached one of the guard captains. Vin burned tin to hear what was said. “Kitchen boy,” the soldier said quietly. “Tried to beg from one of the noblemen inside a carriage when they stopped for the gates to open.” The captain simply nodded. The soldier pulled his captive back out into the mists, walking toward the far courtyard. The boy struggled, and the soldier grunted with annoyance, keeping a tight grip. Vin watched him go, Sazed’s hand on her shoulder, as if to hold her back. Of course she couldn’t help the boy. He shouldn’t have— In the mists, beyond the eyesight of regular people, the soldier drew out a dagger and slit the boy’s throat. Vin jumped, shocked, as the sounds of the boy’s struggling tapered off. The guard dropped the body, then grabbed it by a leg and began to drag it away. Vin stood, stunned, as her carriage pulled up. “Mistress,” Sazed prompted, but she simply stood there. They killed him, she thought. Right here, just a few paces away from where noblemen wait for their carriages. As if . . . the death were nothing out of the ordinary. Just another skaa, slaughtered. Like an animal. Or less than an animal. Nobody would slaughter pigs in a keep courtyard. The guard’s posture as he’d performed the murder indicated that he’d simply been too annoyed with the struggling boy to wait for a more appropriate location. If any of the other nobility around Vin had noticed the event, they paid it no heed, continuing their chatting as they waited. Actually, they seemed a little more chatty, now that the screams had stopped. “Mistress,” Sazed said again, pushing her forward. She allowed herself to be led into the carriage, her mind still distracted. It seemed such an impossible contrast to her. The pleasant nobility, dancing, just inside a room sparkling with light and dresses. Death in the courtyard. Didn’t they care? Didn’t they know? This is the Final Empire, Vin, she told herself as the carriage rolled away. Don’t forget the ash because you see a little silk. If those people in there knew you were skaa, they’d have you slaughtered
just as easily as they did that poor boy. It was a sobering thought—one that absorbed her during the entire trip back to Fellise. 19 KELSIER COULD FEEL ANOTHER ALLOMANCER pulsing in the mists. The vibrations washed over him like rhythmic waves brushing up against a tranquil shore. They were faint, but unmistakable. He crouched atop a low garden wall, listening to the vibrations. The curling white mist continued its normal, placid wafting—indifferent, save for the bit closest to his body, which curled in the normal Allomantic current around his limbs. Kelsier squinted in the night, flaring tin and seeking out the other Allomancer. He thought he saw a figure crouching atop a wall in the distance, but he couldn’t be certain. He recognized the Allomantic vibrations, however. Each metal, when burned, gave off a distinct signal, recognizable to one who was well practiced with bronze. The man in the distance burned tin, as did the four others Kelsier had sensed hiding around Keep Tekiel. The five Tineyes formed a perimeter, watching the night, searching for intruders. Kelsier smiled. The Great Houses were growing nervous. Keeping five Tineyes on watch wouldn’t be that hard for a house like Tekiel, but the noblemen Allomancers would resent being forced into simple guard duty. And if there were five Tineyes on watch, chances were good that a number of Thugs, Coinshots, and Lurchers were on call as well. Luthadel was quietly in a state of alert. The Great Houses were growing so wary, in fact, that Kelsier had trouble finding cracks in their defenses. He was only one man, and even Mistborn had limits. His success so far had been achieved through surprise. However, with five Tineyes on watch, Kelsier wouldn’t be able to get very close to the keep without serious risk of being spotted. Fortunately, Kelsier didn’t need to test Tekiel’s defenses this night. Instead, he crept along the wall toward the outer grounds. He paused near the garden well, and—burning bronze to make certain no Allomancers were near—reached into a stand of bushes to retrieve a large sack. It was heavy enough that he had to burn pewter to pull it free and throw it over his shoulder. He paused in the night for a moment, straining for sounds in the mist, then hauled the sack back toward the keep. He stopped near a large, whitewashed garden veranda that sat beside a small reflecting pool. Then, he heaved the sack off his shoulder and dumped its contents—a freshly killed corpse—onto the ground. The body—which had belonged to one Lord Charrs Entrone—rolled to a stop with its face in the dirt, twin dagger wounds glistening in its back. Kelsier had ambushed the half-drunken man on a street just outside of a skaa slum, ridding the world of another nobleman. Lord Entrone, in particular, would not be missed—he was infamous for his twisted sense of pleasure. Skaa bloodfights, for instance, were a particular enjoyment of his. That was where he had spent this evening. Entrone had, not coincidentally, been a major political ally of
House Tekiel. Kelsier left the corpse sitting in its own blood. The gardeners would locate it first—and once the servants knew about the death, no amount of noble obstinacy would keep it quiet. The murder would cause an outcry, and immediate blame would probably be placed upon House Izenry, House Tekiel’s rival. However, Entrone’s suspiciously unexpected death might make House Tekiel wary. If they began poking around, they would find that Entrone’s gambling opponent at the night’s bloodfight had been Crews Geffenry—a man whose house had been petitioning the Tekiels for a stronger alliance. Crews was a known Mistborn, and a very competent knife-fighter. And so, the intrigue would begin. Had House Izenry done the murder? Or, perhaps, had the death been an attempt by House Geffenry to push Tekiel into a higher state of alarm—thereby encouraging them to seek allies among the lesser nobility? Or, was there a third answer—a house that wanted to strengthen the rivalry between Tekiel and Izenry? Kelsier hopped off the garden wall, scratching at the fake beard he wore. It didn’t really matter whom House Tekiel decided to blame; Kelsier’s real purpose was to make them question and worry, to make them mistrust and misunderstand. Chaos was his strongest ally in fostering a house war. When that war finally came, each noblemen killed would be one less person that the skaa would have to face in their rebellion. As soon as Kelsier got a short distance from Keep Tekiel, he flipped a coin and went to the rooftops. Occasionally, he wondered what the people in the houses beneath him thought, hearing footsteps from above. Did they know that Mistborn found their homes a convenient highway, a place where they could move without being bothered by guards or thieves? Or, did the people attribute the knockings to the ever-blamable mistwraiths? They probably don’t even notice. Sane people are asleep when the mists come out. He landed on a peaked roof, retrieved his pocket watch from a nook to check the time, then stowed it—and the dangerous metal from which it was made—away again. Many nobility blatantly wore metal, a foolish form of bravado. The habit had been inherited directly from the Lord Ruler. Kelsier, however, didn’t like carrying any metal—watch, ring, or bracelet—on him that he didn’t have to. He launched himself into the air again, making his way toward the Sootwarrens, a skaa slum on the far northern side of town. Luthadel was an enormous, sprawling city; every few decades or so, new sections were added, the city wall expanded through the sweat and effort of skaa labor. With the advent of the modern canal era, stone was growing relatively cheap and easy to move. I wonder why he even bothers with the wall, Kelsier thought, moving along rooftops parallel to the massive structure. Who would attack? The Lord Ruler controls everything. Not even the western isles resist anymore. There hadn’t been a true war in the Final Empire for centuries. The occasional “rebellion” consisted of nothing more than a few thousand men hiding in hills
or caves, coming out for periodic raids. Even Yeden’s rebellion wouldn’t rely much on force—they were counting on the chaos of a house war, mixed with the strategic misdirection of the Luthadel Garrison, to give them an opening. If it came down to an extended campaign, Kelsier would lose. The Lord Ruler and the Steel Ministry could marshal literally millions of troops if the need arose. Of course, there was his other plan. Kelsier didn’t speak of it, he barely even dared consider it. He probably wouldn’t even have an opportunity to implement it. But, if the opportunity did arrive . . . He dropped to the ground just outside of the Sootwarrens, then pulled his mistcloak tight and walked along the street with a confident step. His contact sat in the doorway of a closed shop, puffing quietly on a pipe. Kelsier raised an eyebrow; tobacco was an expensive luxury. Hoid was either very wasteful, or he was just as successful as Dockson implied. Hoid calmly put away the pipe, then climbed to his feet—though that didn’t make him much taller. The scrawny bald man bowed deeply in the misty night. “Greetings, my lord.” Kelsier paused in front of the man, arms tucked carefully inside his mistcloak. It wouldn’t do for a street informant to realize that the unidentified “nobleman” he was meeting with had the scars of Hathsin on his arms. “You come highly recommended,” Kelsier said, mimicking the haughty accent of a nobleman. “I am one of the best, my lord.” Anyone who can survive as long as you have must be good, Kelsier thought. Lords didn’t like the idea of other men knowing their secrets. Informants generally didn’t live very long. “I need to know something, informant,” Kelsier said. “But first you must vow never to speak of this meeting to anyone.” “Of course, my lord,” Hoid said. He’d likely break the promise before the night was out—another reason informants didn’t tend to live very long. “There is, however, the matter of payment. . . .” “You’ll have your money, skaa,” Kelsier snapped. “Of course, my lord,” Hoid said with a quick bob of the head. “You requested information regarding House Renoux, I believe. . . .” “Yes. What is known about it? Which houses is it aligned with? I must know these things.” “There isn’t really much to know, my lord,” Hoid said. “Lord Renoux is very new to the area, and he is a careful man. He’s making neither allies nor enemies at the moment—he’s buying a large number of weapons and armor, but is probably just purchasing from a wide variety of houses and merchants, thereby ingratiating himself to them all. A wise tactic. He will, perhaps, have an excess of merchandise, but he will also have an excess of friends, yes?” Kelsier snorted. “I don’t see why I should pay you for that.” “He’ll have too much merchandise, my lord,” Hoid said quickly. “You could make a clever profit, knowing that Renoux is shipping at a loss.” “I’m no merchant, skaa,” Kelsier said. “I
don’t care about profits and shipping!” Let him chew on that. Now he thinks I’m of a Great House—of course, if he hadn’t suspected that because of the mistcloak, then he doesn’t deserve his reputation. “Of course, my lord,” Hoid said quickly. “There is more, of course. . . .” Ah, and here we see it. Does the street know that House Renoux is connected to the rumblings of rebellion? If anyone had discovered that secret, then Kelsier’s crew was in serious jeopardy. Hoid coughed quietly, holding out his hand. “Insufferable man!” Kelsier snapped, tossing a pouch at Hoid’s feet. “Yes, my lord,” Hoid said, falling to his knees and searching about with his hand. “I apologize, my lord. My eyesight is weak, you know. I can barely see my own fingers held in front of my face.” Clever, Kelsier thought as Hoid found the pouch and tucked it away. The comment about eyesight was, of course, a lie—no man would get far in the underground with such an impediment. However, a nobleman who thought his informant to be half blind would be far less paranoid about being identified. Not that Kelsier himself was worried—he wore one of Dockson’s best disguises. Beside the beard, he had a fake, but realistic, nose, along with platforms in the shoes and makeup to lighten his skin. “You said there was more?” Kelsier said. “I swear, skaa, if it isn’t good . . .” “It is,” Hoid said quickly. “Lord Renoux is considering a union between his niece, the Lady Valette, and Lord Elend Venture.” Kelsier paused. Wasn’t expecting that . . . “That’s silly. Venture is far above Renoux.” “The two youths were seen speaking—at length—at the Venture ball a month ago.” Kelsier laughed derisively. “Everyone knows about that. It meant nothing.” “Did it?” Hoid asked. “Does everyone know that Lord Elend Venture spoke very highly of the girl to his friends, the group of nobleling philosophers that lounge at the Broken Quill?” “Young men speak of girls,” Kelsier said. “It means nothing. You will be returning those coins.” “Wait!” Hoid said, sounding apprehensive for the first time. “There is more. Lord Renoux and Lord Venture have had secret dealings.” What? “It is true,” Hoid continued. “This is fresh news—I heard it barely an hour ago myself. There is a connection between Renoux and Venture. And, for some reason, Lord Renoux was able to demand that Elend Venture be assigned to watch over Lady Valette at balls.” He lowered his voice. “It is even whispered that Lord Renoux has some kind of . . . leverage over House Venture.” What happened at that ball tonight? Kelsier thought. Out loud, however, he said, “This all sounds very weak, skaa. You have nothing more than idle speculations?” “Not about House Renoux, my lord,” Hoid said. “I tried, but your worry over this house is meaningless! You should pick a house more central to politics. Like, say, House Elariel . . .” Kelsier frowned. By mentioning Elariel, Hoid was implying that he had some important tidbit that would
be worth Kelsier’s payment. It seemed that House Renoux’s secrets were safe. It was time to move the discussion along to other houses, so that Hoid wouldn’t get suspicious of Kelsier’s interest in Renoux. “Very well,” Kelsier said. “But if this isn’t worth my time . . .” “It is, my lord. Lady Shan Elariel is a Soother.” “Proof?” “I felt her touch on my emotions, my lord,” Hoid said. “During a fire at Keep Elariel a week ago, she was there calming the emotions of the servants.” Kelsier had started that fire. Unfortunately, it hadn’t spread beyond the guardhouses. “What else?” “House Elariel has recently given her leave to use her powers more at court functions,” Hoid said. “They fear a house war, and wish her to make whatever allegiances possible. She always carries a thin envelope of shaved brass in her right glove. Get a Seeker close to her at a ball, and you shall see. My lord, I do not lie! My life as an informant depends solely upon my reputation. Shan Elariel is a Soother.” Kelsier paused, as if musing. The information was useless to him, but his true purpose—finding out about House Renoux—had already been fulfilled. Hoid had earned his coins, whether he realized it or not. Kelsier smiled. Now to sow a little more chaos. “What of Shan’s covert relationship with Salmen Tekiel?” Kelsier said, picking the name of a likely young nobleman. “Do you think that she used her powers to gain his favor?” “Oh, most certainly, my lord,” Hoid said quickly. Kelsier could see the glimmer of excitement in his eyes; he assumed that Kelsier had given him a luscious bit of political gossip free of charge. “Perhaps she was the one who secured Elariel the deal with House Hasting last week,” Kelsier said musingly. There had been no such deal. “Most likely, my lord.” “Very well, skaa,” Kelsier said. “You have earned your coins. Perhaps I shall call upon you another time.” “Thank you, my lord,” Hoid said, bowing very low. Kelsier dropped a coin and launched himself into the air. As he landed on a rooftop, he caught a glimpse of Hoid scuttling over to pluck the coin off the ground. Hoid didn’t have any trouble locating it, despite his “weak eyesight.” Kelsier smiled, then kept moving. Hoid hadn’t mentioned Kelsier’s tardiness, but Kelsier’s next appointment would not be so forgiving. He made his way eastward, toward Ahlstrom Square. He pulled off his mistcloak as he moved, then ripped off his vest, revealing the tattered shirt hidden beneath. He dropped to an alleyway, discarding cloak and vest, then grabbed a double handful of ash from the corner. He rubbed the crusty, dark flakes on his arms, masking his scars, then ground them onto his face and false beard. The man who stumbled out of the alleyway seconds later was very different from the nobleman who had met with Hoid. The beard, once neat, now jutted out in an unkempt frazzle. A few, select bits had been removed, making it look patchy and
sickly. Kelsier stumbled, pretending to have a lame leg, and called out to a shadowed figure standing near the square’s quiet fountain. “My lord?” Kelsier asked in a raspy voice. “My lord, is that you?” Lord Straff Venture, leader of House Venture, was a domineering man, even for a nobleman. Kelsier could make out a pair of guards standing at his side; the lord himself didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the mists—it was openly known that he was a Tineye. Venture stepped forward firmly, dueling cane tapping the ground beside him. “You are late, skaa!” he snapped. “My lord, I . . . I . . . I was waiting in the alley, my lord, like we agreed!” “We agreed to no such thing!” “I’m sorry, my lord,” Kelsier said again, bowing—then stumbling because of his “lame” leg. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I was just in the alley. I didn’t mean to make you wait.” “Couldn’t you see us, man?” “I’m sorry, my lord,” Kelsier said. “My eyesight . . . it isn’t very good, you know. I can barely see my own hands in front of my face.” Thanks for the tip, Hoid. Venture snorted, handing his dueling cane to a guard, then slapped Kelsier smartly across the face. Kelsier stumbled to the ground, holding his cheek. “I’m sorry, my lord,” he mumbled again. “Next time you make me wait, it will be the cane,” Venture said curtly. Well, I know where to go next time I need a corpse to dump on someone’s lawn, Kelsier thought, stumbling to his feet. “Now,” Venture said. “Let us get down to business. What is this important news you promised to deliver?” “It’s about House Erikell, my lord,” Kelsier said. “I know Your Lordship has had dealings with them in the past.” “And?” “Well, my lord, they are cheating you dearly. They have been selling their swords and canes to House Tekiel for half the price you’ve been paying!” “Proof?” “You need only look to Tekiel’s new armaments, my lord,” Kelsier said. “My word is true. I have nothing but my reputation! If I have not that, I have not my life.” And he wasn’t lying. Or, at least, not completely. It would be useless of Kelsier to spread information that Venture could corroborate or dismiss with ease. Some of what he said was true—Tekiel was giving a slight advantage to Erikell. Kelsier was overstating it, of course. If he played the game well, he could start a rift between Erikell and Venture, while at the same time making Venture jealous of Tekiel. And, if Venture came to Renoux for weapons instead of Erikell . . . well, that would just be a side benefit. Straff Venture snorted. His house was powerful—incredibly powerful—and relied on no specific industry or enterprise to fuel its wealth. That was a very difficult position to achieve in the Final Empire, considering the Lord Ruler’s taxes and atium costs. It also made Venture a powerful tool to Kelsier. If he could give this man the right mixture
of truth and fiction . . . “This is of little use to me,” Venture said suddenly. “Let’s see how much you really know, informant. Tell me about the Survivor of Hathsin.” Kelsier froze. “Excuse me, my lord?” “You want to get paid?” Venture asked. “Well, tell me about the Survivor. Rumors say he’s returned to Luthadel.” “Rumors only, my lord,” Kelsier said quickly. “I have never met this Survivor, but I doubt he is in Luthadel—if, indeed, he even lives.” “I’ve heard that he’s gathering a skaa rebellion.” “There are always fools whispering rebellion to the skaa, my lord,” Kelsier said. “And there are always those who try to use the name of the Survivor, but I do not believe that any man could have lived through the Pits. I could seek more information on this, if you wish, but I worry you will be disappointed in what I find. The Survivor is dead—the Lord Ruler . . . he does not allow such oversights.” “True,” Venture said contemplatively. “But the skaa seem convinced about this rumor of an ‘Eleventh Metal.’ Have you heard of it, informant?” “Ah, yes,” Kelsier said, covering his shock. “A legend, my lord.” “One I’ve never heard of,” Venture said. “And I pay very close attention to such things. This is no ‘legend.’ Someone very clever is manipulating the skaa.” “An . . . interesting conclusion, my lord,” Kelsier said. “Indeed,” Venture said. “And, assuming the Survivor did die in the Pits, and if someone had gotten ahold of his corpse . . . his bones . . . there are ways to imitate a man’s appearance. You know of what I speak?” “Yes, my lord,” Kelsier said. “Watch for this,” Venture said. “I don’t care about your gossip—bring me something about this man, or whatever he is, that leads the skaa. Then you’ll get some coin of me.” Venture spun in the darkness, waving to his men and leaving a thoughtful Kelsier behind. Kelsier arrived at Mansion Renoux a short time later; the spikeway between Fellise and Luthadel made for quick travel between the cities. He hadn’t placed the spikes himself; he didn’t know who had. He often wondered what he would do if, while traveling the spikeway, he met another Mistborn traveling in the opposite direction. We’d probably just ignore each other, Kelsier thought as he landed in Mansion Renoux’s courtyard. We’re pretty good at doing that. He peered through the mists at the lantern-lit mansion, his recovered mistcloak flapping slightly in the calm wind. The empty carriage indicated that Vin and Sazed had returned from House Elariel. Kelsier found them inside, waiting in the sitting room and speaking quietly with Lord Renoux. “That’s a new look for you,” Vin noted as Kelsier walked into the room. She still wore her dress—a beautiful red gown—though she sat in an unladylike position, legs tucked beneath her. Kelsier smiled to himself. A few weeks ago she would have changed out of that gown as soon as she got back. We’ll turn her into a lady yet.
He found a seat, picking at the fake, soot-stained beard. “You mean this? I hear beards are going to make a return soon. I’m just trying to stay on the edge of fashionability.” Vin snorted. “The edge of beggar fashion, maybe.” “How did the evening go, Kelsier?” Lord Renoux asked. Kelsier shrugged. “Like most others. Fortunately, it appears that House Renoux remains free of suspicion—though I myself am something of a concern to some of the nobility.” “You?” Renoux asked. Kelsier nodded as a servant brought him a warm, damp cloth to clean his face and arms—though Kelsier wasn’t certain if the servants were worried about his comfort or the ash he might get on the furniture. He wiped off his arms, exposing the pale white scratch scars, then began to pick off the beard. “It seems that the general skaa have gotten wind of the Eleventh Metal,” he continued. “Some of the nobility have heard the building rumors, and the more intelligent ones are growing worried.” “How does this affect us?” Renoux asked. Kelsier shrugged. “We’ll spread opposite rumors to make the nobility focus more on each other and less on me. Though, amusingly, Lord Venture encouraged me to search out information about myself. A man could get very confused from this kind of playacting—I don’t know how you do it, Renoux.” “It is who I am,” the kandra said simply. Kelsier shrugged again, turning to Vin and Sazed. “So, how did your evening go?” “Frustratingly,” Vin said with a surly tone. “Mistress Vin is a tad annoyed,” Sazed said. “On the way back from Luthadel, she told me the secrets she’d gathered while dancing.” Kelsier chuckled. “Not much of interest?” “Sazed already knew it all!” Vin snapped. “I spent hours twirling and twittering for those men, and it was all worthless!” “Hardly worthless, Vin,” Kelsier said, pulling off the last bit of false beard. “You made some contacts, you were seen, and you practiced your twittering. As for information—well, nobody’s going to tell you anything important yet. Give it some time.” “How much time?” “Now that you’re feeling better, we can have you start attending the balls regularly. After a few months, you should have gathered enough contacts to begin finding the kind of information we need.” Vin nodded, sighing. She didn’t seem quite as opposed to the idea of regularly attending balls as she once had, however. Sazed cleared his throat. “Master Kelsier, I feel that I must mention something. Our table was attended by Lord Elend Venture for most of the evening, though Mistress Vin did find a way to make his attentions less threatening to the court.” “Yes,” Kelsier said, “so I understand. What did you tell those people, Vin? That Renoux and Venture are friends?” Vin paled slightly. “How do you know?” “I’m mysteriously powerful,” Kelsier said with a wave of his hand. “Anyway, everyone thinks that House Renoux and House Venture have had secret business dealings. They probably assume that Venture has been stockpiling weapons.” Vin frowned. “I didn’t mean it to go that far.
. . .” Kelsier nodded, rubbing the glue from his chin. “That’s the way court is, Vin. Things can get out of hand quickly. However, this isn’t much of a problem—though it does mean that you’re going to have to be very careful when dealing with House Venture, Lord Renoux. We’ll want to see what kind of reaction they have to Vin’s comments.” Lord Renoux nodded. “Agreed.” Kelsier yawned. “Now, if there isn’t anything else, playing both nobleman and beggar in one evening has made me dreadfully tired. . . .” “There is one other thing, Master Kelsier,” Sazed said. “At the end of the evening, Mistress Vin saw Lord Elend Venture leaving the ball with young lords of Houses Lekal and Hasting.” Kelsier paused, frowning. “That’s an odd combination.” “So I thought,” Sazed said. “He’s probably just trying to annoy his father,” Kelsier said musingly. “Fraternizing with the enemy in public . . .” “Perhaps,” Sazed said. “But the three did seem to be good friends.” Kelsier nodded, standing. “Investigate this further, Saze. There’s a chance that Lord Venture and his son are playing us all for fools.” “Yes, Master Kelsier,” Sazed said. Kelsier left the room, stretching and handing his mistcloak to a servant. As he walked up the eastern stairway, he heard quick footsteps. He turned to find Vin scooting up behind him, shimmering red dress held up as she climbed the steps. “Kelsier,” she said quietly. “There was something else. Something I’d like to talk about.” Kelsier raised an eyebrow. Something she doesn’t even want Sazed to hear? “My room,” he said, and she followed him up the stairs and into the chamber. “What is this about?” he asked as she shut the door behind her. “Lord Elend,” Vin said, looking down, seeming a bit embarrassed. “Sazed already doesn’t like him, so I didn’t want to mention this in front of the others. But, I found something strange tonight.” “What?” Kelsier asked curiously, leaning back against his bureau. “Elend had a stack of books with him,” Vin said. First name, Kelsier thought with disapproval. She is falling for the boy. “He’s known to read a lot,” Vin continued, “but some of these books . . . well, when he was gone, I picked through them.” Good girl. The streets gave you at least a few good instincts. “One of them drew my attention,” she said. “The title said something about the weather, but the words inside spoke about the Final Empire and its flaws.” Kelsier raised an eyebrow. “What exactly did it say?” Vin shrugged. “Something about how since the Lord Ruler is immortal, his empire should be more advanced and peaceful.” Kelsier smiled. “Book of the False Dawn—any Keeper can quote the entire thing to you. I didn’t think there were any physical copies left. Its author—Deluse Couvre—went on to write some books that were even more damning. Though he didn’t blaspheme against Allomancy, the obligators made an exception in his case and strung him up on a hook anyway.” “Well,” Vin said, “Elend has a copy.
I think one of the other noblewomen was trying to find the book. I saw one of her servants rifling through them.” “Which noblewoman?” “Shan Elariel.” Kelsier nodded. “Former fiancée. She’s probably searching for something to blackmail the Venture boy with.” “I think she’s an Allomancer, Kelsier.” Kelsier nodded distractedly, thinking about the information. “She’s a Soother. She probably had the right idea with those books—if the Venture heir is reading a book like False Dawn, not to mention foolish enough to carry it around with him . . .” “Is it that dangerous?” Vin asked. Kelsier shrugged. “Moderately. It’s an older book, and it didn’t actually encourage rebellion, so it might slide.” Vin frowned. “The book sounded pretty critical of the Lord Ruler. He allows the nobility to read things like that?” “He doesn’t really ‘allow’ them to do such things,” Kelsier said. “More, he sometimes ignores it when they do. Banning books is tricky business, Vin—the more stink the Ministry makes about a text, the more attention it will draw, and the more people will be tempted to read it. False Dawn is a stuffy volume, and by not forbidding it, the Ministry doomed it to obscurity.” Vin nodded slowly. “Besides,” Kelsier said, “the Lord Ruler is far more lenient with the nobility than he is with skaa. He sees them as the children of his long-dead friends and allies, the men who supposedly helped him defeat the Deepness. He occasionally lets them get away with things like reading edgy texts or assassinating family members.” “So . . . the book is nothing to worry about?” Vin asked. Kelsier shrugged. “I wouldn’t say that either. If young Elend has False Dawn, he might also have other books that are explicitly forbidden. If obligators had proof of that, they’d hand young Elend over to the Inquisitors—nobleman or not. The question is, how do we make certain that happens? If the Venture heir were to be executed, it would certainly add to Luthadel’s political turmoil.” Vin paled visibly. Yes, Kelsier thought with an internal sigh. She’s definitely falling for him. I should have foreseen this. Sending a young, pretty girl into noble society? One vulture or another was bound to latch on to her. “I didn’t tell you this so we could get him killed, Kelsier!” she said. “I thought, maybe . . . well, he’s reading forbidden books, and he seems like a good man. Maybe we can use him as an ally or something.” Oh, child, Kelsier thought. I hope he doesn’t hurt you too much when he discards you. You should know better than this. “Don’t count on it,” he said out loud. “Lord Elend might be reading a forbidden book, but that doesn’t make him our friend. There have always been noblemen like him—young philosophers and dreamers who think that their ideas are new. They like to drink with their friends and grumble about the Lord Ruler; but, in their hearts, they’re still noblemen. They’ll never overthrow the establishment.” “But—” “No, Vin,” Kelsier said. “You have to trust
me. Elend Venture doesn’t care about us or the skaa. He’s a gentleman anarchist because it’s fashionable and exciting.” “He talked to me about the skaa,” Vin said. “He wanted to know if they were intelligent, and if they acted like real people.” “And was his interest compassionate or intellectual?” She paused. “See,” Kelsier said. “Vin, that man is not our ally—in fact, I distinctly recall telling you to stay away from him. When you spend time with Elend Venture, you put the operation—and your fellow crewmembers—in jeopardy. Understand?” Vin looked down, nodding. Kelsier sighed. Why do I suspect that staying away from him is the last thing she intends to do? Bloody hell—I don’t have time to deal with this right now. “Go get some sleep,” Kelsier said. “We can talk more about this later.” 20 VIN WAS GROWING VERY TIRED of the scenery between Luthadel and Fellise. She’d made the same trip at least a dozen times during the last few weeks—watching the same brown hills, scraggly trees, and rug of weedy underbrush. She was beginning to feel as if she could individually identify each and every bump in the road. She attended numerous balls—but they were only the beginning. Luncheons, sitting parties, and other forms of daily entertainment were just as popular. Often, Vin traveled between the cities two or even three times a day. Apparently, young noblewomen didn’t have anything better to do than sit in carriages for six hours a day. Vin sighed. In the near distance, a group of skaa trudged along the towpath beside a canal, pulling a barge toward Luthadel. Her life could be much worse. Still, she felt frustration. It was still midday, but there weren’t any important events happening until the evening, so she had nowhere to go but back to Fellise. She kept thinking about how much faster she could make the trip if she used the spikeway. She longed to leap through the mists again, but Kelsier had been reluctant to continue her training. He allowed her out for a short time each night to maintain her skills, but she wasn’t allowed any extreme, exciting leaps. Just some basic moves—mostly Pushing and Pulling small objects while standing on the ground. She was beginning to grow frustrated with her continued weakness. It had been over three months since her encounter with the Inquisitor; the worst of winter had passed without even a flake of snow. How long was it going to take her to recover? At least I can still go to balls, she thought. Despite her annoyance at the constant traveling, Vin was coming to enjoy her duties. Pretending to be a noblewoman was actually far less tense than regular thieving work. True, her life would be forfeit if her secret were ever discovered, but for now the nobility seemed willing to accept her—to dance with her, dine with her, and chat with her. It was a good life—a bit unexciting, but her eventual return to Allomancy would fix that. That left her with two frustrations. The first was her
inability to gather useful information; she was getting increasingly annoyed at having her questions avoided. She was growing experienced enough to tell that there was a great deal of intrigue going on, yet she was still too new to be allowed a part in it. Still, while her outsider status was annoying, Kelsier was confident that it would eventually change. Vin’s second major annoyance wasn’t so easily dealt with. Lord Elend Venture had been notably absent from several balls during the last few weeks, and he had yet to repeat his act of spending the entire evening with her. While she rarely had to sit alone anymore, she was quickly coming to realize that none of the other noblemen had the same . . . depth as Elend. None of them had his droll wit, or his honest, earnest eyes. The others didn’t feel real. Not like he did. He didn’t seem to be avoiding her. However, he also didn’t seem to be making much of an effort to spend time with her. Did I misread him? she wondered as the carriage reached Fellise. Elend was so hard to understand sometimes. Unfortunately, his apparent indecision hadn’t changed his former fiancée’s temperament. Vin was beginning to realize why Kelsier had warned her to avoid catching the attention of anyone too important. She didn’t run into Shan Elariel often, thankfully—but when they did meet, Shan took every occasion to deride, insult, and demean Vin. She did it with a calm, aristocratic manner, even her bearing reminding Vin just how inferior she was. Perhaps I’m just becoming too attached to my Valette persona, Vin thought. Valette was just a front; she was supposed to be all the things Shan said. However, the insults still stung. Vin shook her head, putting both Shan and Elend out of her mind. Ash had fallen during her trip to the city, and though it was done now, its aftermath was visible in small drifts and flurries of black blowing across the town’s streets. Skaa workers moved about, sweeping the soot into bins and carrying it out of the city. They occasionally had to hurry to get out of the way of a passing noble carriage, none of which bothered to slow for the workers. Poor things, Vin thought, passing a group of ragged children who were shaking aspen trees to get the ash out so that it could be swept up—it wouldn’t do for a passing nobleman to get an unexpected dump of tree-borne ash on his head. The children shook, two to a tree, bringing furious black showers down on their heads. Careful, cane-wielding taskmasters walked up and down the street, making certain the work continued. Elend and the others, she thought. They must not understand how bad life is for the skaa. They live in their pretty keeps, dancing, never really understanding the extent of the Lord Ruler’s oppression. She could see beauty in the nobility—she wasn’t like Kelsier, hating them outright. Some of them seemed quite kind, in their own way, and she was beginning to
think some of the stories skaa told about their cruelty must be exaggerated. And yet, when she saw events like that poor boy’s execution or the skaa children, she had to wonder. How could the nobility not see? How could they not understand? She sighed, looking away from the skaa as the carriage finally rolled up to Mansion Renoux. She immediately noticed a large gathering in the inner courtyard, and she grabbed a fresh vial of metals, worrying that the Lord Ruler had sent soldiers to arrest Lord Renoux. However, she quickly realized that the crowd wasn’t made up of soldiers, but of skaa in simple worker’s clothing. The carriage rolled through the gates, and Vin’s confusion deepened. Boxes and sacks lay in heaps among the skaa—many of them dusted with soot from the recent ashfall. The workers themselves bustled with activity, loading a series of carts. Vin’s carriage pulled to a stop in front of the mansion, and she didn’t wait for Sazed to open the door. She hopped out on her own, holding up her dress and stalking over to Kelsier and Renoux, who stood surveying the operation. “You’re running goods to the caves out of here?” Vin asked under her breath as she reached the two men. “Curtsey to me, child,” Lord Renoux said. “Maintain appearances while we can be seen.” Vin did as ordered, containing her annoyance. “Of course we are, Vin,” Kelsier said. “Renoux has to do something with all of the weapons and supplies he’s been gathering. People would start getting suspicious if they didn’t see him sending them away.” Renoux nodded. “Ostensibly, we’re sending this all via canal barges to my plantation in the west. However, the barges will stop to drop off supplies—and many of the canalmen—at the rebellion caverns. The barges and a few men will continue on to keep up appearances.” “Our soldiers don’t even know that Renoux is in on the plan,” Kelsier said, smiling. “They think he’s a nobleman that I’m scamming. Besides, this will be a great opportunity for us to go and inspect the army. After a week or so at the caves, we can return to Luthadel on one of Renoux’s barges coming east.” Vin paused. “ ‘We’?” she asked, suddenly imagining weeks spent on the barge, watching the same, dull scenery day, after day, after day as they traveled. That would be even worse than traveling back and forth between Luthadel and Fellise. Kelsier raised an eyebrow. “You sound worried. Apparently, someone’s coming to enjoy her balls and parties.” Vin flushed. “I just thought that I should be here. I mean, after all the time I missed by being sick, I—” Kelsier held up his hand, chuckling. “You’re staying; Yeden and I are the ones going. I need to inspect the troops, and Yeden is going to take a turn watching over the army so that Ham can come back to Luthadel. We’ll also take my brother with us, then drop him at his insertion point with the Ministry acolytes up in Vennias. It’s a good
thing you’re back—I want you to spend a little time with him before we leave.” Vin frowned. “With Marsh?” Kelsier nodded. “He’s a Misting Seeker. Bronze is one of the less useful metals, especially for a full Mistborn, but Marsh claims he can show you a few tricks. This will probably be your last chance to train with him.” Vin glanced toward the gathering caravan. “Where is he?” Kelsier frowned. “He’s late.” Runs in the family, I guess. “He should be here soon, child,” Lord Renoux said. “Perhaps you’d like to go take some refreshment inside?” I’ve had plenty of refreshment lately, she thought, controlling her annoyance. Instead of going into the mansion, she wandered across the courtyard, studying the goods and workers, who were packing the supplies onto carts for transport to the local canal docks. The grounds were kept well maintained, and though the ash hadn’t been cleaned up yet, the low-cut grass meant that she didn’t have to hold her dress up much to keep it from dragging. Beyond that, ash was surprisingly easy to get out of clothing. With proper washing, and some expensive soaps, even a white garment could be rendered clean of ash. That was why the nobility could always have new-looking clothing. It was such an easy, simple thing to divide the skaa and the aristocracy. Kelsier’s right, Vin thought. I am coming to enjoy being a noblewoman. And she was concerned about the changes her new lifestyle was encouraging inside of her. Once, her problems had been things like starvation and beatings—now they were things like extended carriage rides and companions who arrived late for appointments. What did a transformation like that do to a person? She sighed to herself, walking amidst the supplies. Some of the boxes would be filled with weapons—swords, war staves, bows—but the bulk of the material was sacked foodstuffs. Kelsier said that forming an army required far more grain than it did steel. She trailed her fingers along one stack of boxes, careful not to brush the ash that was on top of them. She’d known that they’d be sending out a barge this day, but she hadn’t expected Kelsier to go with it. Of course, he probably hadn’t made the decision to go until a short time before—even the new, more responsible Kelsier was an impulsive man. Perhaps that was a good attribute in a leader. He wasn’t afraid to incorporate new ideas, no matter when they occurred to him. Maybe I should ask to go with him, Vin thought idly. I’ve been playing the noblewoman far too much lately. The other day, she’d caught herself sitting straight-backed in her carriage with a prim posture, despite the fact that she was alone. She feared that she was losing her instincts—being Valette was almost more natural to her now than being Vin was. But of course she couldn’t leave. She had a lunch appointment with Lady Flavine to attend, not to mention the Hasting ball—it was going to be the social event of the month. If Valette was absent,
it would take weeks to repair the damage. Besides, there was always Elend. He’d probably forget about her if she disappeared again. He’s already forgotten you, she told herself. He’s barely spoken to you during the last three parties. Keep your head on, Vin. This is all just another scam—a game, like the ones you pulled before. You’re building your reputation to gain information, not so that you can flirt and play. She nodded to herself, resolute. To her side, a few skaa men loaded one of the carts. Vin paused, standing beside a large stack of boxes and watching the men work. According to Dockson, the army’s recruitment was picking up. We’re gaining momentum, Vin thought. I guess word is spreading. That was good—assuming it didn’t spread too far. She watched the packmen for a moment, sensing something . . . odd. They seemed unfocused. After a few moments, she was able to determine the source of their distraction. They kept shooting looks at Kelsier, whispering as they worked. Vin inched closer—keeping to the side of the boxes—and burned tin. “. . . no, that’s him for certain,” one of the men whispered. “I saw the scars.” “He’s tall,” another said. “Of course he is. What did you expect?” “He spoke at the meeting where I was recruited,” another said. “The Survivor of Hathsin.” There was awe in his tone. The men moved on, walking over to gather more boxes. Vin cocked her head, then began to move among the workers, listening. Not all of them were discussing Kelsier, but a surprising number were. She also heard a number of references to the “Eleventh Metal.” So that’s why, Vin thought. The rebellion’s momentum isn’t gathering—Kelsier’s is. The men spoke of him in quiet, almost reverent, tones. For some reason, that made Vin uncomfortable. She would never have been able to stand hearing similar things said about her. Yet, Kelsier took them in stride; his charismatic ego probably just fueled the rumors even more. I wonder if he’ll be able to let it go when this is all through. The other crewmembers obviously had no interest in leadership, but Kelsier seemed to thrive on it. Would he really let the skaa rebellion take over? Would any man be able to relinquish that kind of power? Vin frowned. Kelsier was a good man; he’d probably make a good ruler. However, if he did try to take control, it would smell of betrayal—a reneging on the promises that he had made to Yeden. She didn’t want to see that from Kelsier. “Valette,” Kelsier called. Vin jumped slightly, feeling a bit guilty. Kelsier pointed toward a carriage that was pulling onto the mansion grounds. Marsh had arrived. She walked back as the carriage pulled up, and she reached Kelsier about the same time that Marsh did. Kelsier smiled, nodding toward Vin. “We won’t be ready to leave for a while yet,” he said to Marsh. “If you have time, could you show the kid a few things?” Marsh turned toward her. He shared Kelsier’s lanky
build and blond hair, but he wasn’t as handsome. Maybe it was the lack of a smile. He pointed up, toward the mansion’s fore-balcony. “Wait for me up there.” Vin opened her mouth to reply, but something about Marsh’s expression made her shut it again. He reminded her of the old times, several months ago, when she had not questioned her superiors. She turned, leaving the three, and made her way into the mansion. It was a short trip up the stairs to the fore-balcony. When she arrived, she pulled over a chair and seated herself beside the whitewashed wooden railing. The balcony had, of course, already been scrubbed clean of ash. Below, Marsh was still speaking with Kelsier and Renoux. Beyond them, beyond even the sprawling caravan, Vin could see the barren hills outside of the city, lit by red sunlight. Only a few months playing noblewoman, and I already find anything that isn’t cultivated to be inferior. She’d never thought of the landscape as “barren” during the years she’d traveled with Reen. And Kelsier says the entire land used to be even more fertile than a nobleman’s garden. Did he think to reclaim such things? Keepers could, perhaps, memorize languages and religions, but they couldn’t create seeds for plants that had long been extinct. They couldn’t make the ash stop falling or the mists go away. Would the world really change that much if the Final Empire were gone? Besides, didn’t the Lord Ruler have some right to his place? He’d defeated the Deepness, or so he claimed. He’d saved the world, which—in a twisted sort of way—made it his. What right did they have to try and take it from him? She wondered about such things often, though she didn’t express her worries to the others. They all seemed committed to Kelsier’s plan; some even seemed to share his vision. But Vin was more hesitant. She had learned, as Reen had taught, to be skeptical of optimism. And if there were ever a plan to be hesitant about, this was the one. However, she was getting past the point where she questioned herself. She knew the reason she stayed in the crew. It wasn’t the plan; it was the people. She liked Kelsier. She liked Dockson, Breeze, and Ham. She even liked the strange little Spook and his crotchety uncle. This was a crew unlike any other she’d worked with. Is that a good enough reason to let them get you killed? Reen’s voice asked. Vin paused. She had been hearing his whispers in her mind less frequently lately, but they were still there. Reen’s teachings, drilled into her over sixteen years of life, could not be idly discarded. Marsh arrived on the balcony a few moments later. He glanced at her with those hard eyes of his, then spoke. “Kelsier apparently expects me to spend the evening training you in Allomancy. Let us get started.” Vin nodded. Marsh eyed her, obviously expecting more of a response. Vin sat quietly. You’re not the only one who can be terse,
friend. “Very well,” Marsh said, sitting beside her, resting one arm on the balcony railing. His voice sounded a little less annoyed when he continued.“Kelsier says that you have spent very little time training with the internal mental abilities. Correct?” Vin nodded again. “I suspect that many full Mistborn neglect these powers,” Marsh said. “And that is a mistake. Bronze and copper may not be as flashy as other metals, but they can be very powerful in the hands of someone properly trained. The Inquisitors work through their manipulation of bronze, and the Misting underground survives because of its reliance upon copper. “Of the two powers, bronze is by far the more subtle. I can teach you how to use it properly—if you practice what I show you, then you will have an advantage that many Mistborn dismiss.” “But, don’t other Mistborn know to burn copper?” Vin asked. “What is the use of learning bronze if everyone you fight is immune to its powers?” “I see that you already think like one of them,” Marsh said. “Not everyone is Mistborn, girl—in fact, very, very few people are. And, despite what your kind likes to think, normal Mistings can kill people too. Knowing that the man attacking you is a Thug rather than a Coinshot could very easily save your life.” “All right,” Vin said. “Bronze will also help you identify Mistborn,” Marsh said. “If you see someone using Allomancy when there is no Smoker nearby, and yet don’t sense them giving off Allomantic pulses, then you know that they are Mistborn—either that, or they’re an Inquisitor. In either case, you should run.” Vin nodded silently, the wound in her side throbbing slightly. “There are great advantages to burning bronze, rather than just running around with your copper on. True, you Smoke yourself by using copper—but in a way you also blind yourself. Copper makes you immune to having your emotions Pushed or Pulled.” “But that’s a good thing.” Marsh cocked his head slightly. “Oh? And what would be the greater advantage? Being immune to—but ignorant of—some Soother’s attentions? Or instead knowing—from your bronze—exactly which emotions he is trying to suppress?” Vin paused. “You can see something that specific?” Marsh nodded. “With care and practice, you can recognize very minute changes in your opponents’ Allomantic burnings. You can identify precisely which parts of a person’s emotions a Soother or Rioter intends to influence. You’ll also be able to tell when someone is flaring their metal. If you grow very skilled, you might even be able to tell when they’re running low on metals.” Vin paused in thought. “You begin to see the advantage,” Marsh said. “Good. Now burn bronze.” Vin did so. Immediately, she felt two rhythmic thumpings in the air. The soundless pulses washed over her, like the beating of drums or the washings of ocean waves. They were mixed and muddled. “What do you sense?” Marsh asked. “I . . . think there are two different metals being burned. One’s coming from Kelsier down below; the other is coming from you.”
“Good,” Marsh said appreciatively. “You’ve practiced.” “Not much,” Vin admitted. He cocked an eyebrow. “Not much? You can already determine pulse origins. That takes practice.” Vin shrugged. “It seems natural to me.” Marsh was still for a moment. “Very well,” he eventually said. “Are the two pulses different?” Vin concentrated, frowning. “Close your eyes,” Marsh said. “Remove other distractions. Focus only on the Allomantic pulses.” Vin did so. It wasn’t like hearing—not really. She had to concentrate to distinguish anything specific about the pulses. One felt . . . like it was beating against her. The other, in a strange sensation, felt like it was actually pulling her toward it with each beat. “One’s a Pulling metal, isn’t it?” Vin asked, opening her eyes. “That one’s Kelsier. You’re Pushing.” “Very good,” Marsh said. “He is burning iron, as I asked him to so that you could practice. I—of course—am burning bronze.” “Do they all do that?” Vin asked. “Feel distinct, I mean?” Marsh nodded. “You can tell a Pulling metal from a Pushing metal by the Allomantic signature. Actually, that’s how some of the metals were originally divided into their categories. It isn’t intuitive, for instance, that tin Pulls while pewter Pushes. I didn’t tell you to open your eyes.” Vin shut them. “Focus on the pulses,” Marsh said. “Try and distinguish their lengths. Can you tell the difference between them?” Vin frowned. She focused as hard as she could, but her sense of the metals seemed . . . muddled. Fuzzy. After a few minutes, the lengths of the separate pulses still seemed the same to her. “I can’t sense anything,” she said, dejected. “Good,” Marsh said flatly. “It took me six months of practice to distinguish pulse lengths—if you’d done it on the first try, I’d have felt incompetent.” Vin opened her eyes. “Why ask me to do it, then?” “Because you need to practice. If you can tell Pulling metals from Pushing metals already . . . well, you apparently have talent. Perhaps as much talent as Kelsier has been bragging about.” “What was I supposed to see, then?” Vin asked. “Eventually, you’ll be able to sense two different pulse lengths. Internal metals, like bronze and copper, give off longer pulses than external metals, like iron and steel. Practice will also let you sense the three patterns within the pulses: one for the physical metals, one for the mental metals, and one for the two greater metals. “Pulse length, metal group, and Push-Pull variance—once you know these three things, you will be able to tell exactly which metals your opponent is burning. A long pulse that beats against you and has a quick pattern will be pewter—the internal Pushing physical metal.” “Why the names?” Vin asked. “External and internal?” “Metals come in groups of four—or, at least, the lower eight do. Two external metals, two internal metals—one each that Pushes, one each that Pulls. With iron, you Pull on something outside of yourself, with steel you Push on something outside of yourself. With tin you Pull on something inside
of yourself, with pewter you Push on something inside of yourself.” “But, bronze and copper,” Vin said. “Kelsier called them internal metals, but it seems like they affect external things. Copper keeps people from sensing when you use Allomancy.” Marsh shook his head. “Copper doesn’t change your opponents, it changes something within yourself that has an effect on your opponents. That’s why it is an internal metal. Brass, however, alters another person’s emotions directly—and is an external metal.” Vin nodded thoughtfully. Then she turned, glancing toward Kelsier. “You know a lot about all the metals, but you’re just a Misting, right?” Marsh nodded. He didn’t look like he intended to respond, though. Let’s try something, then, Vin thought, extinguishing her bronze. She lightly began burning copper to mask her Allomancy. Marsh didn’t react, instead continuing to look down at Kelsier and the caravan. I should be invisible to his senses, she thought, carefully burning both zinc and brass. She reached, just as Breeze had been training her to do, and subtly touched Marsh’s emotions. She suppressed his suspicions and inhibitions, while at the same time bringing out his sense of wistfulness. Theoretically, that would make him more likely to talk. “You must have learned somewhere?” Vin asked carefully. He’ll see what I did for sure. He’s going to get angry and— “I Snapped when I was very young,” Marsh said. “I’ve had a long time to practice.” “So have a lot of people,” Vin said. “I . . . had reasons. They’re hard to explain.” “They always are,” Vin said, slightly increasing her Allomantic pressure. “You know how Kelsier feels about the nobility?” Marsh asked, turning toward her, his eyes like ice. Ironeyes, she thought. Like they said. She nodded to his question. “Well, I feel the same way about the obligators,” he said, turning away. “I’ll do anything to hurt them. They took our mother—that’s when I Snapped, and that’s when I vowed to destroy them. So, I joined the rebellion and started learning all I could about Allomancy. Inquisitors use it, so I had to understand it—understand everything I could, be as good as I could, and are you Soothing me?” Vin started, abruptly extinguishing her metals. Marsh turned back toward her again, his expression cold. Run! Vin thought. She almost did. It was nice to know that the old instincts were still there, if buried just a bit. “Yes,” she said meekly. “You are good,” Marsh said. “I’d have never known if I hadn’t started rambling. Stop it.” “I already have.” “Good,” Marsh said. “That’s the second time you’ve altered my emotions. Never do it again.” Vin nodded. “Second time?” “The first was in my shop, eight months ago.” That’s right. Why don’t I remember him? “I’m sorry.” Marsh shook his head, finally turning away. “You’re Mistborn—that’s what you do. He does the same thing.” He was looking down at Kelsier. They sat quietly for a few moments. “Marsh?” Vin asked. “How did you know I was Mistborn? I only knew how to Soothe back then.” Marsh shook his
head. “You knew the other metals instinctively. You were burning pewter and tin that day—just a tiny bit, barely noticeable. You probably got the metals from water and dining utensils. Did you ever wonder why you survived when so many others died?” Vin paused. I did live through a lot of beatings. A lot of days with no food, nights spent in alleys during rain or ashfalls . . . Marsh nodded. “Very few people, even Mistborn, are so attuned to Allomancy that they burn metals instinctively. That’s what interested me in you—that’s why I kept track of you and told Dockson where to find you. And, are you Pushing my emotions again?” Vin shook her head. “I promise.” Marsh frowned, studying her with one of his stony gazes. “So stern,” Vin said quietly. “Like my brother.” “Were you close?” “I hated him,” Vin whispered. Marsh paused, then turned away. “I see.” “Do you hate Kelsier?” Marsh shook his head. “No, I don’t hate him. He’s frivolous and self-important, but he’s my brother.” “And that’s enough?” Vin asked. Marsh nodded. “I . . . have trouble understanding that,” Vin said honestly, looking out over the field of skaa, boxes, and sacks. “Your brother didn’t treat you well, I presume?” Vin shook her head. “What about your parents?” Marsh said. “One was a nobleman. The other?” “Mad,” Vin said. “She heard voices. It got so bad that my brother was afraid to leave us alone with her. But, of course, he didn’t have a choice. . . .” Marsh sat quietly, not speaking. How did this get turned back to me? Vin thought. He’s no Soother, yet he’s getting as much out of me as I’m getting out of him. Still, it was good to speak it finally. She reached up, idly fingering her earring. “I don’t remember it,” she said, “but Reen said that he came home one day and found my mother covered in blood. She’d killed my baby sister. Messily. Me, however, she hadn’t touched—except to give me an earring. Reen said . . . He said she was holding me on her lap, babbling and proclaiming me a queen, my sister’s corpse at our feet. He took me from my mother, and she fled. He saved my life, probably. That’s part of why I stayed with him, I guess. Even when it was bad.” She shook her head, glancing at Marsh. “Still, you don’t know how lucky you are, having Kelsier as a brother.” “I suppose,” Marsh said. “I just . . . wish he wouldn’t treat people like playthings. I’ve been known to kill obligators, but murdering men just because they’re noble . . .” Marsh shook his head. “It’s not just that, either. He likes people to fawn over him.” He had a point. However, Vin also detected something in his voice. Jealousy? You’re the older brother, Marsh. You were the responsible one—you joined the rebellion instead of working with thieves. It must have hurt that Kelsier was the one everybody liked. “Still,” Marsh said, “he’s getting
better. The Pits changed him. Her . . . death changed him.” What’s this? Vin thought, perking up slightly. There was definitely something here, too. Hurt. Deep hurt, more than a man should feel for a sister-in-law. So that’s it. It wasn’t just “everyone” who liked Kelsier more, it was one person in particular. Someone you loved. “Anyway,” Marsh said, his voice growing more firm. “The arrogance of the past is behind him. This plan of his is insane, and I’m sure he’s partially doing it just so he can enrich himself, but . . . well, he didn’t have to go to the rebellion. He’s trying to do something good—though it will probably get him killed.” “Why go along if you’re so sure he’ll fail?” “Because he’s going to get me into the Ministry,” Marsh said. “The information I gather there will help the rebellion for centuries after Kelsier and I are dead.” Vin nodded, glancing down at the courtyard. She spoke hesitantly. “Marsh, I don’t think it’s all behind him. The way he’s setting himself up with the skaa . . . the way they’re starting to look at him . . .” “I know,” Marsh said. “It started with that ‘Eleventh Metal’ scheme of his. I don’t know that we have to worry—this is just Kell playing his usual games.” “It makes me wonder why he’s leaving on this trip,” Vin said. “He’ll be away from the action for a good month.” Marsh shook his head. “He’ll have an entire army full of men to perform for. Besides, he needs to get out of the city. His reputation is growing too unwieldy, and the nobility is becoming too interested in the Survivor. If rumors got out that a man with scars on his arms is staying with Lord Renoux . . .” Vin nodded, understanding. “Right now,” Marsh said, “he’s playing the part of one of Renoux’s distant relatives. That man has to leave before someone connects him to the Survivor. When Kell gets back, he’ll have to keep a low profile—sneaking into the mansion instead of walking up the steps, keeping his hood up when he’s in Luthadel.” Marsh trailed off, then stood. “Anyway, I’ve given you the basics. Now you just need to practice. Whenever you’re with Mistings, have them burn for you and focus on their Allomantic pulses. If we meet again, I’ll show you more, but there’s nothing else I can do until you’ve practiced.” Vin nodded, and Marsh walked out the door without any other farewell. A few moments later, she saw him approach Kelsier and Renoux again. They really don’t hate each other, Vin thought, resting with both arms crossed atop the railing. What would that be like? After some thought, she decided that the concept of loving siblings was a little like the Allomantic pulse lengths she was supposed to be looking for—they were just too unfamiliar for her to understand at the moment. 21 KELSIER SAT QUIETLY, READING AS his boat moved slowly along the canal to the north. Sometimes, I
worry that I’m not the hero everyone thinks I am, the text said. Kelsier lowered the booklet, his cabin shaking slightly from the efforts of the pullers outside. He was glad that Sazed had provided him with a copy of the translated portions of the Lord Ruler’s logbook before the caravan boats’ departure. There was blessed little else to do during the trip. Fortunately, the logbook was fascinating. Fascinating, and eerie. It was disturbing to read words that had originally been written by the Lord Ruler himself. To Kelsier the Lord Ruler was less a man, and more a . . . creature. An evil force that needed to be destroyed. Yet, the person presented in the logbook seemed all too mortal. He questioned and pondered—he seemed a man of depth, and even of character. Though, it would be best not to trust his narrative too closely, Kelsier thought, running his fingers across the page. Men rarely see their own actions as unjustified. Still, the Lord Ruler’s story reminded Kelsier of the legends he had heard—stories whispered by skaa, discussed by noblemen, and memorized by Keepers. They claimed that once, before the Ascension, the Lord Ruler had been the greatest of men. A beloved leader, a man entrusted with the fate of all mankind. Unfortunately, Kelsier knew how the story ended. The Final Empire itself was the logbook’s legacy. The Lord Ruler hadn’t saved mankind; he had enslaved it instead. Reading a firsthand account, seeing the Lord Ruler’s self-doubt and internal struggles, only made the story that much more tragic. Kelsier raised the booklet to continue; however, his boat began to slow. He glanced out the window of his cabin, looking up the canal. Dozens of men trudged along the towpath—a small road alongside the canal—pulling the four barges and two narrowboats that made up their convoy. It was an efficient, if labor-intensive, way to travel; men pulling a barge across a canal could move hundreds more pounds of weight than they could if forced to carry packs. The men had pulled to a stop, however. Ahead, Kelsier could make out a lock mechanism, beyond which the canal split into two sections. A kind of crossroads of waterways. Finally, Kelsier thought. His weeks of travel were over. Kelsier didn’t wait for a messenger. He simply stepped out onto the deck of his narrowboat and slipped a few coins from his pouch into his hand. Time to be a bit ostentatious, he thought, dropping a coin to the wood. He burned steel and Pushed himself into the air. He lurched upward at an angle, quickly gaining a height where he could see the entire line of men—half pulling the boats, half walking and waiting for their shifts. Kelsier flew in an arc, dropping another coin as he passed over one of the supply-laden barges, then Pushing against it when he began to descend. Would-be soldiers looked up, pointing in awe as Kelsier soared above the canal. Kelsier burned pewter, strengthening his body as he thumped to the deck of the narrowboat leading the
caravan. Yeden stepped out of his cabin, surprised. “Lord Kelsier! We’ve, uh, arrived at the crossroads.” “I can see that,” Kelsier said, glancing back along the line of boats. The men on the towpath spoke excitedly, pointing. It felt strange to use Allomancy so obviously in the daylight, and before so many people. There’s no help for it, he thought. This visit is the last chance the men will have to see me for months. I need to make an impression, give them something they can hold on to, if this is all going to work. . . . “Shall we go see if the group from the caves has arrived to meet us?” Kelsier asked, turning back to Yeden. “Of course,” Yeden said, waving for a servant to pull his narrowboat up to the side of the canal and throw out the plank. Yeden looked excited; he really was an earnest man, and that much Kelsier could respect, even if he was a bit lacking in presence. Most of my life, I’ve had the opposite problem, Kelsier thought with amusement, walking with Yeden off of the boat. Too much presence, not enough earnestness. The two of them walked up the line of canal workers. Near the front of the men, one of Ham’s Thugs—playing the part of Kelsier’s guard captain—saluted. “We’ve reached the crossroads, Lord Kelsier.” “I can see that,” Kelsier repeated. A dense stand of birch trees grew ahead, running up a slope into the hills. The canals ran away from the woods—there were better sources of wood in other parts of the Final Empire. The forest stood alone and ignored by most. Kelsier burned tin, wincing slightly at the suddenly blinding sunlight. His eyes adjusted, however, and he was able to pick out detail—and a slight bit of motion—in the forest. “There,” he said, flipping a coin into the air, then Pushing it. The coin zipped forward and thocked against a tree. The prearranged sign given, a small group of camouflaged men left the tree line, crossing the ash-stained earth toward the canal. “Lord Kelsier,” the foremost man said, saluting. “My name is Captain Demoux. Please, gather the recruits and come with me—General Hammond is eager to meet with you.” “Captain” Demoux was a young man to be so disciplined. Barely into his twenties, he led his small squad of men with a level of solemnity that might have seemed self-important had he been any less competent. Younger men than he have led soldiers into battle, Kelsier thought. Just because I was a fop when I was that age doesn’t mean that everyone is. Look at poor Vin—only sixteen, already a match for Marsh in seriousness. They took a roundabout passage through the forest—by Ham’s order, each troop took a different path to avoid wearing a trail. Kelsier glanced back at the two hundred or so men behind, frowning slightly. Their trail would probably still be visible, but there was little he could do about that—the movements of so many men would be nearly impossible to mask. Demoux slowed,
waving, and several members of his squad scrambled forward; they didn’t have half their leader’s sense of military decorum. Still, Kelsier was impressed. The last time he’d visited, the men had been typically ragtag and uncoordinated, like most skaa outcasts. Ham and his officers had done their work well. The soldiers pulled away some false underbrush, revealing a crack in the ground. It was dark within, the sides jutting with crystalline granite. It wasn’t a regular hillside cavern, but instead a simple rend in the ground leading directly down. Kelsier stood quietly, looking down at the black, stone-laced rift. He shivered slightly. “Kelsier?” Yeden asked, frowning. “What is it?” “It reminds me of the Pits. They looked like this—cracks in the ground.” Yeden paled slightly. “Oh. I, uh . . .” Kelsier waved dismissively. “I knew this was coming. I climbed down inside those caves every day for a year, and I always came back out. I beat them. They have no power over me.” To prove his words, he stepped forward and climbed down into the thin crack. It was just wide enough for a large man to slip through. As Kelsier descended, he saw the soldiers—both Demoux’s squad and the new recruits—watching quietly. He had intentionally spoken loud enough for them to hear. Let them see my weakness, and let them see me overcome it. They were brave thoughts. However, once he passed beneath the surface, it was as if he were back again. Smashed between two walls of stone, questing downward with shaking fingers. Cold, damp, dark. Slaves had to be the ones who recovered the atium. Allomancers might have been more effective, but using Allomancy near atium crystals shattered them. So, the Lord Ruler used condemned men. Forcing them into the pits. Forcing them to crawl downward, ever downward . . . Kelsier forced himself onward. This wasn’t Hathsin. The crack wouldn’t go down for hours, and there would be no crystal-lined holes to reach through with torn, bleeding arms—stretching, seeking the atium geode hidden within. One geode; that bought one more week of life. Life beneath the taskmasters’ lashes. Life beneath the rule of a sadistic god. Life beneath the sun gone red. I will change things for the others, Kelsier thought. I will make it better! The climb was difficult for him, more difficult than he ever would have admitted. Fortunately, the crack soon opened up to a larger cavern beneath, and Kelsier caught a glimpse of light from below. He let himself drop the rest of the way, landing on the uneven stone floor, and smiled at the man who stood waiting. “Hell of an entryway you’ve got there, Ham,” Kelsier said, dusting off his hands. Ham smiled. “You should see the bathroom.” Kelsier laughed, moving to make way for the others. Several natural tunnels led off of the chamber, and a small rope ladder hung from the bottom of the rift to facilitate going back up. Yeden and Demoux soon climbed down the ladder into the cavern, their clothing scraped and dirtied from the
descent. It wasn’t an easy entrance to get through. That, however, was the idea. “It’s good to see you, Kell,” Ham said. It was odd to see him in clothing that wasn’t missing the sleeves. In fact, his militaristic outfit looked rather formal, with square-cut lines and buttons down the front. “How many have you brought me?” “Just over two hundred and forty.” Ham raised his eyebrows. “Recruitment has picked up, then?” “Finally,” Kelsier said with a nod. Soldiers began to drop into the cavern, and several of Ham’s aides moved forward, helping the newcomers and directing them down a side tunnel. Yeden moved over to join Kelsier and Ham. “This cavern is amazing, Lord Kelsier! I’ve never actually been to the caves myself. No wonder the Lord Ruler hasn’t found the men down here!” “The complex is completely secure,” Ham said proudly. “There are only three entrances, all of them cracks like this one. With proper supplies, we could hold this place indefinitely against an invading force.” “Plus,” Kelsier said,“this isn’t the only cave complex beneath these hills. Even if the Lord Ruler were determined to destroy us, his army could spend weeks searching and still not find us.” “Amazing,” Yeden said. He turned, eyeing Kelsier. “I was wrong about you, Lord Kelsier. This operation . . . this army . . . well, you’ve done something impressive here.” Kelsier smiled. “Actually, you were right about me. You believed in me when this started—we’re only here because of you.” “I . . . guess I did, didn’t I?” Yeden said, smiling. “Either way,” Kelsier said, “I appreciate the vote of confidence. It’s probably going to take some time to get all these men down the crack—would you mind directing things here? I’d like to talk to Hammond for a bit.” “Of course, Lord Kelsier.” There was respect—even a growing bit of adulation—in his voice. Kelsier nodded to the side. Ham frowned slightly, picking up a lantern, then followed Kelsier from the first chamber. They entered a side tunnel, and once they were out of earshot, Ham paused, glancing backward. Kelsier stopped, raising an eyebrow. Ham nodded back toward the entry chamber. “Yeden certainly has changed.” “I have that effect on people.” “Must be your awe-inspiring humility,” Ham said. “I’m serious, Kell. How do you do it? That man practically hated you; now he looks at you like a kid idolizing his big brother.” Kelsier shrugged. “Yeden’s never been part of an effective team before—I think he’s started to realize that we might actually have a chance. In little over half a year, we’ve gathered a rebellion larger than he’s ever seen. Those kind of results can convert even the stubborn.” Ham didn’t look convinced. Finally, he just shrugged, beginning to walk again. “What was it you wanted to talk about?” “Actually, I’d like to visit the other two entrances, if we could,” Kelsier said. Ham nodded, pointing to a side tunnel and leading the way. The tunnel, like most of the others, hadn’t been hollowed by human hands; it was a
natural growth of the cave complex. There were hundreds of similar cave systems in the Central Dominance, though most weren’t as extensive. And only one—the Pits of Hathsin—grew atium geodes. “Anyway, Yeden’s right,” Ham said, twisting his way through a narrow place in the tunnel. “You picked a great place to hide these people.” Kelsier nodded. “Various rebel groups have been using the cavern complexes in these hills for centuries. They’re frighteningly close to Luthadel, but the Lord Ruler has never led a successful raid against anyone here. He just ignores the place now—one too many failures, probably.” “I don’t doubt it,” Ham said. “With all the nooks and bottlenecks down here, this would be a nasty place to have a battle.” He stepped out of the passageway, entering another small cavern. This one also had a rift in the ceiling, and faint sunlight trickled down. A squad of ten soldiers stood guard in the room, and they snapped to attention as soon as Ham entered. Kelsier nodded approvingly. “Ten men at all times?” “At each of the three entrances,” Ham said. “Good,” Kelsier said. He walked forward, inspecting the soldiers. He wore his sleeves up, his scars showing, and he could see the men eyeing them. He didn’t really know what to inspect, but he tried to look discriminating. He examined their weapons—staves for eight of the men, swords for two—and dusted off a few shoulders, though none of the men wore uniforms. Finally, he turned to a soldier who bore an insignia on his shoulder. “Who do you let out of the caverns, soldier?” “Only men bearing a letter sealed by General Hammond himself, sir!” “No exceptions?” Kelsier asked. “No, sir!” “And if I wanted to leave right now?” The man paused. “Uh . . .” “You’d stop me!” Kelsier said. “No one is exempt, soldier. Not me, not your bunkmate, not an officer—no one. If they don’t have that seal, they don’t leave!” “Yes, sir!” the soldier said. “Good man,” Kelsier said. “If all of your soldiers are this fine, General, then the Lord Ruler has good reason to be afraid.” The soldiers puffed up slightly at the words. “Carry on, men,” Kelsier said, waving for Ham to follow as he left the room. “That was kind of you,” Ham said softly. “They’ve been anticipating your visit for weeks.” Kelsier shrugged. “I just wanted to see that they were guarding the crack properly. Now that you have more men, I want you to post guards at any tunnels leading to these exit caverns.” Ham nodded. “Seems a bit extreme, though.” “Humor me,” Kelsier said. “A single runaway or malcontent could betray us all to the Lord Ruler. It’s nice that you feel that you could defend this place, but if there’s an army camped outside trapping you in, this army will effectively become useless to us.” “All right,” Ham said. “You want to see the third entrance?” “Please,” Kelsier said. Ham nodded, leading him down another tunnel. “Oh, one other thing,” Kelsier said after a bit of walking. “Get
together groups of a hundred men—all ones you trust—to go tromp around up in the forest. If someone comes looking for us, we won’t be able to hide the fact that lots of people have passed through the area. However, we might be able to muddle the tracks so much that the trails all lead nowhere.” “Good idea.” “I’m full of ’em,” Kelsier said as they stepped into another cave chamber, this one far larger than the previous two. It wasn’t an entrance rift, but instead a practice room. Groups of men stood with swords or staves, sparring beneath the eye of uniformed instructors. Uniforms for the officers had been Dockson’s idea. They couldn’t afford to outfit all the men—it would be too expensive, and obtaining that many uniforms would look suspicious. However, maybe seeing their leaders in uniform would help give the men a sense of cohesion. Ham paused at the edge of the room rather than continuing onward. He eyed the soldiers, speaking softly. “We need to talk about this sometime, Kell. The men are starting to feel like soldiers, but . . . Well, they’re skaa. They’ve spent their lives working in mills or fields. I don’t know how well they’ll do when we actually get them onto a battlefield.” “If we do everything right, they won’t have to do much fighting,” Kelsier said. “The Pits are only guarded by a couple hundred soldiers—the Lord Ruler can’t have too many men there, lest he hint at the location’s importance. Our thousand men can take the Pits with ease, then retreat as soon as the Garrison arrives. The other nine thousand might have to face a few Great House guard squads and the palace soldiers, but our men should have the upper hand in numbers.” Ham nodded, though his eyes still seemed uncertain. “What?” Kelsier asked, leaning against the smooth, crystalline mouth of the cavern juncture. “And when we’re done with them, Kell?” Ham asked. “Once we have our atium, we give the city—and the army—over to Yeden. Then what?” “That’s up to Yeden,” Kelsier said. “They’ll be slaughtered,” Ham said very softly. “Ten thousand men can’t hold Luthadel against the entire Final Empire.” “I intend to give them a better chance than you think, Ham,” Kelsier said. “If we can turn the nobility against each other and destabilize the government . . .” “Maybe,” Ham said, still not convinced. “You agreed to the plan, Ham,” Kelsier said. “This was what we were intending all along. Raise an army, deliver it to Yeden.” “I know,” Ham said, sighing and leaning back against the cavern wall. “I guess . . . Well, it’s different, now that I’ve been leading them. Maybe I’m just not meant to be in charge like this. I’m a bodyguard, not a general.” I know how you feel, my friend, Kelsier thought. I’m a thief, not a prophet. Sometimes, we just have to be what the job requires. Kelsier laid a hand on Ham’s shoulder. “You did a fine job here.” Ham paused. “ ‘Did’ fine?” “I
brought Yeden to replace you. Dox and I decided it would be better to rotate him in as the army’s commander—that way, the troops get used to him as their leader. Besides, we need you back in Luthadel. Someone has to visit the Garrison and gather intelligence, and you’re the only one with any military contacts.” “So, I’m going back with you?” Ham asked. Kelsier nodded. Ham looked crestfallen for just a moment, then he relaxed, smiling. “I’ll finally be able get out of this uniform! But, do you think Yeden can handle it?” “You said yourself, he’s changed a lot during the last few months. And, he really is an excellent administrator—he’s done a fine job with the rebellion since my brother left.” “I suppose. . . .” Kelsier shook his head ruefully. “We’re spread thin, Ham. You and Breeze are two of the only men I know I can trust, and I need you back in Luthadel. Yeden’s not perfect for the job here, but the army is going to be his, eventually. Might as well let him lead it for a time. Besides, it will give him something to do; he’s growing a bit touchy about his place in the crew.” Kelsier paused, then smiled in amusement. “I think he’s jealous of the attention I pay the others.” Ham smiled. “That is a change.” They began to walk again, leaving the practice chamber behind. They entered another twisting stone tunnel, this one leading slightly downward, Ham’s lantern providing their only light. “You know,” Ham said after a few minutes of walking, “there’s something else nice about this place. You’ve probably noticed this before, but it certainly is beautiful down here sometimes.” Kelsier hadn’t noticed. He glanced to the side as they walked. One edge of the chamber had been formed of dripping minerals from the ceiling, thin stalactites and stalagmites—like dirty icicles—melding together to form a kind of banister. Minerals twinkled in Ham’s light, and the path in front of them seemed to be frozen in the form of a tumbling molten river. No, Kelsier thought. No, I don’t see its beauty, Ham. Other men might see art in the layers of color and melted rock. Kelsier only saw the Pits. Endless caves, most of them going straight down. He’d been forced to wiggle through cracks, plunging downward in the darkness, not even given a light to brighten his way. Often, he’d considered not climbing back up. But, then he would find a corpse in the caves—the body of another prisoner, a man who had gotten lost, or who had perhaps just given up. Kelsier would feel their bones and promise himself more. Each week, he’d found an atium geode. Each week he’d avoided execution by brutal beating. Except that last time. He didn’t deserve to be alive—he should have been killed. But, Mare had given him an atium geode, promising him that she’d found two that week. It wasn’t until after he’d turned it in that he’d discovered her lie. She’d been beaten to death the next day.
Beaten to death right in front of him. That night, Kelsier had Snapped, coming into his powers as a Mistborn. The next night, men had died. Many men. Survivor of Hathsin. A man who shouldn’t live. Even after watching her die, I couldn’t decide if she’d betrayed me or not. Did she give me that geode out of love? Or did she do it out of guilt? No, he couldn’t see beauty in the caverns. Other men had been driven mad by the Pits, becoming terrified of small, enclosed spaces. That hadn’t happened to Kelsier. However, he knew that no matter what wonders the labyrinths held—no matter how amazing the views or delicate the beauties—he would never acknowledge them. Not with Mare dead. I can’t think about this anymore, Kelsier decided, the cavern seeming to grow darker around him. He glanced to the side. “All right, Ham. Go ahead. Tell me what you’re thinking about.” “Really?” Ham said eagerly. “Yes,” Kelsier said with a sense of resignation. “All right,” Ham said. “So, here’s what I’ve been worried about lately: Are skaa different from noblemen?” “Of course they are,” Kelsier said. “The aristocracy has the money and the land; the skaa don’t have anything.” “I don’t mean economics—I’m talking about physical differences. You know what the obligators say, right?” Kelsier nodded. “Well, is it true? I mean, skaa really do have a lot of children, and I’ve heard that aristocrats have trouble reproducing.” The Balance, it was called. It was supposedly the way that the Lord Ruler ensured that there weren’t too many noblemen for the skaa to support, and the way he made certain that—despite beatings and random killings—there were always enough skaa to grow food and work in mills. “I’ve always just assumed it to be Ministry rhetoric,” Kelsier said honestly. “I’ve known skaa women to have as many as a dozen children,” Ham said. “But I can’t name a single major noble family with more than three.” “It’s just cultural.” “And the height difference? They say you used to be able to tell skaa and noblemen apart by sight alone. That’s changed, probably through interbreeding, but most skaa are still kind of short.” “That’s nutritional. Skaa don’t get enough to eat.” “What about Allomancy?” Kelsier frowned. “You have to admit that there’s a physical difference there,” Ham said. “Skaa never become Mistings unless they have aristocratic blood somewhere in their last five generations.” That much, at least, was true. “Skaa think differently from noblemen, Kell,” Ham said. “Even these soldiers are kind of timid, and they’re the brave ones! Yeden’s right about the general skaa population—it will never rebel. What if . . . what if there really is something physically different about us? What if the noblemen are right to rule over us?” Kelsier froze in the hallway. “You don’t really mean that.” Ham stopped as well. “I guess . . . no, I don’t. But I do wonder sometimes. The noblemen have Allomancy, right? Maybe they’re meant to be in charge.” “Meant by who? The Lord Ruler?” Ham
shrugged. “No, Ham,” Kelsier said. “It isn’t right. This isn’t right. I know it’s hard to see—things have been this way for so long—but something very serious is wrong with the way skaa live. You have to believe that.” Ham paused, then nodded. “Let’s go,” Kelsier said. “I want to visit that other entrance.” The week passed slowly. Kelsier inspected the troops, the training, the food, the weapons, the supplies, the scouts, the guards, and just about everything else he could think of. More important, he visited the men. He complimented and encouraged them—and he made certain to use Allomancy frequently in front of them. While many skaa had heard of “Allomancy,” very few knew specifically what it could do. Nobleman Mistings rarely used their powers in front of other people, and half-breeds had to be even more careful. Ordinary skaa, even city skaa, didn’t know of things like Steelpushing or Pewter-burning. When they saw Kelsier flying through the air or sparring with supernatural strength, they would just attribute it to formless “Allomancy Magics.” Kelsier didn’t mind the misunderstanding at all. Despite all of the week’s activities, however, he never forgot his conversation with Ham. How could he even wonder if skaa are inferior? Kelsier thought, poking at his meal as he sat at the high table in the central meeting cavern. The massive “room” was large enough to hold the entire army of seven thousand men, though many sat in side chambers or halfway out into tunnels. The high table sat on a raised rock formation at the far end of the chamber. I’m probably worrying too much. Ham was prone to think about things that no sane man would consider; this was just another of his philosophical dilemmas. In fact, he already seemed to have forgotten his earlier concerns. He laughed with Yeden, enjoying his meal. As for Yeden, the gangly rebel leader looked quite satisfied with his general’s uniform, and had spent the week taking very serious notes from Ham regarding the army’s operation. He seemed to be falling quite naturally into his duties. In fact, Kelsier seemed to be the only one who wasn’t enjoying the feast. The evening’s foods—brought on the barges especially for the occasion—were humble by aristocratic standards, but were much finer than what the soldiers were used to. The men relished the meal with a joyful boisterousness, drinking their small allotment of ale and celebrating the moment. And still, Kelsier worried. What did these men think they were fighting for? They seemed enthusiastic about their training, but that might have just been due to the regular meals. Did they actually believe that they deserved to overthrow the Final Empire? Did they think that skaa were inferior to noblemen? Kelsier could sense their reservations. Many of the men realized the impending danger, and only the strict exit rules kept them from fleeing. While they were eager to speak of their training, they avoided talking about their final task—that of seizing the palace and city walls, then holding off the Luthadel Garrison. They don’t think they
can succeed, Kelsier guessed. They need confidence. The rumors about me are a start, but . . . He nudged Ham, getting the man’s attention. “Are there any men who have given you discipline problems?” Kelsier asked quietly. Ham frowned at the odd question. “There are a couple, of course. I’d think there are always dissidents in a group this large.” “Anyone in particular?” Kelsier asked. “Men who have wanted to leave? I need someone outspoken in their opposition to what we’re doing.” “There are a couple in the brig right now,” Ham said. “Anyone here?” Kelsier asked. “Preferably someone sitting at a table we can see?” Ham thought for a moment, scanning the crowd. “The man sitting at the second table with the red cloak. He was caught trying to escape a couple weeks ago.” The man in question was scrawny and twitchy; he sat at his table with a hunched, solitary posture. Kelsier shook his head. “I need someone a bit more charismatic.” Ham rubbed his chin in thought. Then he paused, and nodded toward another table. “Bilg. The big guy sitting at the fourth table over on the right.” “I see him,” Kelsier said. Bilg was a brawny man wearing a vest and a full beard. “He’s too clever to be insubordinate,” Ham said, “but he’s been making trouble quietly. He doesn’t think we have a chance against the Final Empire. I’d lock him up, but I can’t really punish a man for expressing fear—or, at least, if I did, I’d have to do the same for half the army. Besides, he’s too good a warrior to discard idly.” “He’s perfect,” Kelsier said. He burned zinc, then looked toward Bilg. While zinc wouldn’t let him read the man’s emotions, it was possible—when burning the metal—to isolate just a single individual for Soothing or Rioting, much as one was able to isolate a single bit of metal from hundreds to Pull on. Even still, it was difficult to single Bilg out from such a large crowd, so Kelsier just focused on the entire tableful of men, keeping their emotions “in hand” for later use. Then he stood. Slowly, the cavern quieted. “Men, before I leave, I wish to express one last time how much I was impressed by this visit.” His words rang through the room, amplified by the cavern’s natural acoustics. “You are becoming a fine army,” Kelsier said. “I apologize for stealing General Hammond, but I leave a very competent man in his place. Many of you know General Yeden—you know of his many years serving as rebellion leader. I have confidence in his ability to train you even further in the ways of soldiers.” He began to Riot Bilg and his companions, enflaming their emotions, counting on the fact that they’d be feeling disagreeable. “It is a great task I ask of you,” Kelsier said, not looking at Bilg. “Those skaa outside of Luthadel—indeed, most skaa everywhere—have no idea what you are about to do for them. They aren’t aware of the training you endure or the
battles you prepare to fight. However, they will reap the rewards. Someday, they will call you heroes.” He Rioted Bilg’s emotions even harder. “The Garrison of Luthadel is strong,” Kelsier said, “but we can defeat it—especially if we take the city walls quickly. Do not forget why you came here. This isn’t simply about learning to swing a sword or wear a helm. This is about a revolution such as the world has never seen—it is about taking the government for ourselves, about ousting the Lord Ruler. Do not lose sight of your goal.” Kelsier paused. From the corner of his eye, he could see dark expressions from the men at Bilg’s table. Finally, in the silence, Kelsier heard a muttered comment from the table—carried by cavern acoustics to many ears. Kelsier frowned, turning toward Bilg. The entire cavern seemed to grow even more still. “Did you say something?” Kelsier asked. Now, the moment of decision. Will he resist, or will he be cowed? Bilg looked back. Kelsier hit the man with a flared Riot. His reward came as Bilg stood from his table, face red. “Yes, sir,” the brawny man snapped. “I did say something. I said that some of us haven’t lost sight of our ‘goal.’ We think about it every day.” “And why is that?” Kelsier asked. Rumbling whispers began to sound at the back of the cavern as soldiers passed the news to those too far away to hear. Bilg took a deep breath. “Because, sir, we think that this is suicide you’re sending us to. The Final Empire’s armies are bigger than just one garrison. It won’t matter if we take the walls—we’ll get slaughtered eventually anyway. You don’t overthrow an empire with a couple thousand soldiers.” Perfect, Kelsier thought. I’m sorry, Bilg. But someone needed to say it, and it certainly couldn’t be me. “I see we have a disagreement,” Kelsier said loudly. “I believe in these men, and in their purpose.” “I believe that you are a deluded fool,” Bilg bellowed. “And I was a bigger fool for coming to these bloody caves. If you’re so certain about our chances, then why can’t anyone leave? We’re trapped here until you send us to die!” “You insult me,” Kelsier snapped. “You know very well why men aren’t allowed to leave. Why do you want to go, soldier? Are you that eager to sell out your companions to the Lord Ruler? A few quick boxings in exchange for four thousand lives?” Bilg’s face grew redder. “I would never do such a thing, but I’m certainly not going to let you send me to my death, either! This army is a waste.” “You speak treason,” Kelsier said. He turned, scanning the crowd. “It is not fitting for a general to fight a man beneath his command. Is there a soldier here who is willing to defend the honor of this rebellion?” Immediately, a couple dozen men stood up. Kelsier noticed one in particular. He was smaller than the rest, but he had the simple earnestness that Kelsier had
noticed earlier. “Captain Demoux.” Immediately, the young captain jumped forward. Kelsier reached over, grabbing his own sword and tossing it down to the man. “You can use a sword, lad?” “Yes, sir!” “Someone fetch a weapon for Bilg and a pair of studded vests.” Kelsier turned toward Bilg. “Noblemen have a tradition. When two men have a dispute, they settle it with a duel. Defeat my champion, and you are free to leave.” “And if he defeats me?” Bilg asked. “Then you’ll be dead,” Kelsier said. “I’m dead if I stay,” Bilg said, accepting a sword from a nearby soldier. “I accept the terms.” Kelsier nodded, waving for some men to pull aside tables and make an open space before the high table. Men began to stand, crowding around to watch the contest. “Kell, what are you doing!” Ham hissed at his side. “Something that needs to be done.” “Needs to be . . . Kelsier, that boy is no match for Bilg! I trust Demoux—that’s why I promoted him—but he’s not that great a warrior. Bilg’s one of the finest swordsmen in the army!” “The men know this?” Kelsier asked. “Of course,” Ham said. “Call this off. Demoux is nearly half Bilg’s size—he’s at a disadvantage in reach, strength, and skill. He’ll get slaughtered!” Kelsier ignored the request. He sat quietly as Bilg and Demoux hefted their weapons, a pair of soldiers tying on their leather cuirasses. When they were done, Kelsier waved a hand, motioning for the battle to begin. Ham groaned. It would be a short fight. Both men had longswords and little armor. Bilg stepped forward with confidence, making a few testing swings toward Demoux. The boy was at least competent—he blocked the blows, but he revealed a great deal about his abilities as he did so. Taking a deep breath, Kelsier burned steel and iron. Bilg swung, and Kelsier nudged the blade to the side, giving Demoux room to escape. The boy tried a thrust, but Bilg easily knocked it away. The larger warrior then attacked with a barrage, sending Demoux stumbling backward. Demoux tried to jump out of the way of the last swing, but he was too slow. The blade fell with awful inevitability. Kelsier flared iron—stabilizing himself by Pulling against a lantern bracket behind—then grabbed the iron studs on Demoux’s vest. Kelsier Pulled as Demoux jumped, yanking the boy backward in a small arc away from Bilg. Demoux landed with a maladroit stumble as Bilg’s sword smashed into the stone ground. Bilg looked up with surprise, and a low rumble of amazement moved through the crowd. Bilg growled, running forward with weapon held high. Demoux blocked the powerful swing, but Bilg knocked the boy’s weapon aside with a careless sweep. Bilg struck again, and Demoux raised a hand in reflexive defense. Kelsier Pushed, freezing Bilg’s sword in midswing. Demoux stood, hand forward, as if he had stopped the attacking weapon with a thought. The two stood like that for a moment, Bilg trying to force the sword forward, Demoux staring in awe at his
hand. Standing up a bit straighter, Demoux tentatively forced his hand forward. Kelsier Pushed, throwing Bilg backward. The large warrior tumbled to the ground with a cry of surprise. When he rose a moment later, Kelsier didn’t have to Riot his emotions to make him angry. He bellowed in rage, grabbing his sword in two hands and rushing toward Demoux. Some men don’t know when to quit, Kelsier thought as Bilg swung. Demoux began to dodge. Kelsier shoved the boy to the side, getting him out of the way. Then Demoux turned, gripping his own weapon in two hands and swinging at Bilg. Kelsier grabbed Demoux’s weapon in mid-arc and Pulled against it forcefully, ripping the steel forward with a mighty flare of iron. The swords smashed together, and Demoux’s Kelsier enhanced blow knocked Bilg’s weapon out of his hands. There was a loud snap, and the large miscreant fell to the floor—thrown completely off balance by the force of Demoux’s blow. Bilg’s weapon bounced to the stone floor a distance away. Demoux stepped forward, raising his weapon over the stunned Bilg. And then, he stopped. Kelsier burned iron, reaching out to grab the weapon and Pull it down, to force the killing blow, but Demoux resisted. Kelsier paused. This man should die, he thought angrily. On the ground, Bilg groaned quietly. Kelsier could just barely see his twisted arm, its bone shattered by the powerful strike. It was bleeding. No, Kelsier thought. This is enough. He released Demoux’s weapon. Demoux lowered his sword, staring down at Bilg. Then, Demoux raised his hands, regarding them with wonder, his arms quivering slightly. Kelsier stood, and the crowd fell to a hush once again. “Do you think I would send you against the Lord Ruler unprepared?” Kelsier demanded in a loud voice. “Do you think I would just send you off to die? You fight for what is just, men! You fight for me. I will not leave you unaided when you go against the soldiers of the Final Empire.” Kelsier thrust his hand into the air, holding aloft a tiny bar of metal. “You’ve heard of this, haven’t you? You know the rumors of the Eleventh Metal? Well, I have it—and I will use it. The Lord Ruler will die!” The men began to cheer. “This is not our only tool!” Kelsier bellowed. “You soldiers have power untold inside of you! You have heard of the arcane magics that the Lord Ruler uses? Well, we have some of our own! Feast, my soldiers, and don’t fear the battle to come. Look forward to it!” The room erupted in a riot of cheers, and Kelsier waved for more ale to be delivered. A couple of servants rushed forward to help Bilg from the room. When Kelsier sat, Ham was frowning deeply. “I don’t like this, Kell,” he said. “I know,” Kelsier said quietly. Ham was about to speak further, but Yeden leaned across him. “That was amazing! I . . . Kelsier, I didn’t know! You should have told me you could pass your
powers to others. Why, with these abilities, how can we possibly lose?” Ham laid a hand on Yeden’s shoulder, pushing the man back into his seat. “Eat,” he ordered. Then, he turned to Kelsier, pulling his chair closer and speaking in a low voice. “You just lied to my entire army, Kell.” “No, Ham,” Kelsier said quietly. “I lied to my army.” Ham paused. Then his face darkened. Kelsier sighed. “It was only a partial lie. They don’t need to be warriors, they just have to look threatening long enough for us to grab the atium. With it, we can bribe the Garrison, and our men won’t even have to fight. That’s virtually the same thing as what I promised them.” Ham didn’t respond. “Before we leave,” Kelsier said, “I want you to select a few dozen of our most trustworthy and devoted soldiers. We’ll send them back to Luthadel—with vows that they can’t reveal where the army is—so that word of this evening can spread amongst the skaa.” “So this is about your ego?” Ham snapped. Kelsier shook his head. “Sometimes we need to do things that we find distasteful, Ham. My ego may be considerable, but this is about something else entirely.” Ham sat for a moment, then turned back to his meal. He didn’t eat, however—he just sat staring at the blood on the ground before the high table. Ah, Ham, Kelsier thought. I wish I could explain everything to you. Plots behind plots, plans beyond plans. There was always another secret. 22 AS SHE READ HER COPY of the logbook, Vin was quickly coming to several decisions. First was the firm belief that she did not like reading. Sazed didn’t listen to her complaints; he just claimed that she hadn’t practiced enough. Couldn’t he see that reading was hardly as practical a skill as being able to handle a dagger or use Allomancy? Still, she continued to read as per his orders—if only to stubbornly prove that she could. Many of the logbook’s words were difficult to her, and she had to read in a secluded part of Renoux’s mansion where she could sound out the words to herself, trying to decipher the Lord Ruler’s odd style of writing. The continued reading led to her second conclusion: The Lord Ruler was far more whiny than any god had a right to be. When pages of the logbook weren’t filled with boring notes about the Lord Ruler’s travels, they were instead packed with internal contemplations and lengthy moralistic ramblings. Vin was beginning to wish that she’d never found the book in the first place. She sighed, settling back into her wicker chair. A cool early-spring breeze blew through the lower gardens, passing over the petite fountain brook to her left. The air was comfortably moist, and the trees overhead shaded her from the afternoon sun. Being nobility—even fake nobility—certainly did have its perks. A quiet footfall sounded behind her. It was distant, but Vin had grown into the habit of burning a little bit of tin at all times.
She turned, shooting a covert glance over her shoulder. “Spook?” she said with surprise as young Lestibournes walked down the garden path. “What are you doing here?” Spook froze, blushing. “Wasing with the Dox to come and be without the stay.” “Dockson?” Vin said. “He’s here too?” Maybe he has news of Kelsier! Spook nodded, approaching. “Weapons for the getting, giving for the time to be.” Vin paused. “You lost me on that one.” “We needed the drop off some more weapons,” Spook said, struggling to speak without his dialect. “Storing them here for a while.” “Ah,” Vin said, rising and brushing off her dress. “I should go see him.” Spook looked suddenly apprehensive, flushing again, and Vin cocked her head. “Was there something else?” With a sudden movement, Spook reached into his vest and pulled something out. Vin flared pewter in response, but the item was simply a pink-and-white handkerchief. Spook thrust it toward her. Vin took it hesitantly. “What’s this for?” Spook flushed again, then turned and dashed away. Vin watched him go, dumbfounded. She looked down at the handkerchief. It was made of soft lace, but there didn’t seem to be anything unusual about it. That is one strange boy, she thought, tucking the handkerchief inside her sleeve. She picked up her copy of the logbook, then began to work her way up the garden path. She was growing so accustomed to wearing a dress that she barely had to pay attention to keep the gown’s lower layers from brushing against underbrush or stones. I guess that in itself is a valuable skill, Vin thought as she reached the mansion’s garden entrance without having snagged her dress on a single branch. She pushed open the many-paned glass door and stopped the first servant she saw. “Master Delton has arrived?” she asked, using Dockson’s fake name. He played the part of one of Renoux’s merchant contacts inside Luthadel. “Yes, my lady,” the servant said. “He’s in conference with Lord Renoux.” Vin let the servant go. She could probably force her way into the conference, but it would look bad. Lady Valette had no reason to attend a mercantile meeting between Renoux and Delton. Vin chewed her lower lip in thought. Sazed was always telling her she had to keep up appearances. Fine, she thought. I’ll wait. Maybe Sazed can tell me what that crazy boy expects me to do with this handkerchief. She sought out the upper library, maintaining a pleasant ladylike smile, inwardly trying to guess what Renoux and Dockson were talking about. Dropping off the weapons was an excuse; Dockson wouldn’t have come personally to do something so mundane. Perhaps Kelsier had been delayed. Or, maybe Dockson had finally gotten a communication from Marsh—Kelsier’s brother, along with the other new obligator initiates, should be arriving back in Luthadel soon. Dockson and Renoux could have sent for me, she thought with annoyance. Valette often entertained guests with her uncle. She shook her head. Even though Kelsier had named her a full member of the crew, the others obviously still
regarded her as something of a child. They were friendly and accepting, but they didn’t think to include her. It was probably unintentional, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. Light shone from the library ahead. Sure enough, Sazed sat inside, translating the last group of pages from the logbook. He looked up as Vin entered, smiling and nodding respectfully. No spectacles this time either, Vin noted. Why did he wear them for that short time before? “Mistress Vin,” he said, rising and fetching her a chair. “How are your studies of the logbook going?” Vin looked down at the loosely bound pages in her hand. “All right, I suppose. I don’t see why I have to bother reading them—you gave copies to Kell and Breeze too, didn’t you?” “Of course,” Sazed said, setting the chair down beside his desk. “However, Master Kelsier asked every member of the crew to read the pages. He is correct to do so, I think. The more eyes that read those words, the more likely we will be to discover the secrets hidden within them.” Vin sighed slightly, smoothing her dress and seating herself. The white and blue dress was beautiful—though intended for daily use, it was only slightly less luxurious than one of her ball gowns. “You must admit, Mistress,” Sazed said as he sat, “the text is amazing. This work is a Keeper’s dream. Why, I’m discovering things about my culture that even I did not know!” Vin nodded. “I just got to the part where they reach Terris.” Hopefully, the next part will contain fewer supply lists. Honestly, for an evil god of darkness, he certainly can be dull. “Yes, yes,” Sazed said, speaking with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. “Did you see what he said, how he described Terris as a place of ‘green fertility’? Keeper legends speak of this. Terris is now a tundra of frozen dirt—why, almost no plants can survive there. But, once it was green and beautiful, like the text says.” Green and beautiful, Vin thought. Why would green be beautiful? That would be like having blue or purple plants—it would just be weird. However, there was something about the logbook that made her curious—something that both Sazed and Kelsier had been strangely closemouthed about. “I just read the part where the Lord Ruler gets some Terris packmen,” Vin said carefully. “He talked about how they grow stronger during the day because they let themselves be weak at night.” Sazed suddenly grew more subdued. “Yes, indeed.” “You know something about this? Does it have to do with being a Keeper?” “It does,” Sazed said. “But, this should remain a secret, I think. Not that you aren’t worthy of trust, Mistress Vin. However, if fewer people know about Keepers, then fewer rumors will be told of us. It would be best if the Lord Ruler began to believe that he had destroyed us completely, as has been his goal for the last thousand years.” Vin shrugged. “Fine. Hopefully, none of the secrets Kelsier wants us to discover in this text are
related to the Terrisman powers—if they are, I’ll miss them completely.” Sazed paused. “Ah, well,” Vin said nonchalantly, flipping through the pages she hadn’t read. “Looks like he spends a lot of time talking about the Terrismen. Guess I won’t be able to give much input when Kelsier gets back.” “You make a good point,” Sazed said slowly. “Even if you make it a bit melodramatically.” Vin smiled pertly. “Very well,” Sazed said with a sigh. “We should not have let you spend so much time with Master Breeze, I think.” “The men in the logbook,” Vin said. “They’re Keepers?” Sazed nodded. “What we now call Keepers were far more common back then—perhaps even more common than Mistings are among modern nobility. Our art is called ‘Feruchemy,’ and it grants the ability to store certain physical attributes inside bits of metal.” Vin frowned. “You burn metals too?” “No, Mistress,” Sazed said with a shake of his head. “Feruchemists aren’t like Allomancers—we don’t ‘burn’ away our metals. We use them as storage. Each piece of metal, dependent upon size and alloy, can store a certain physical quality. The Feruchemist saves up an attribute, then draws upon that reserve at a later time.” “Attribute?” Vin asked. “Like strength?” Sazed nodded. “In the text, the Terris packmen make themselves weaker during the evening, storing up strength in their bracelets for use on the next day.” Vin studied Sazed’s face. “That’s why you wear so many earrings!” “Yes, Mistress,” he said, reaching over to pull up his sleeves. Underneath his robe, he wore thick iron bracers around his upper arms. “I keep some of my reserves hidden—but wearing many rings, earrings, and other items of jewelry has always been a part of Terris culture. The Lord Ruler once tried to enforce a ban upon Terrismen touching or owning any metal—in fact, he tried to make wearing metal a noble privilege, rather than a skaa one.” Vin frowned. “That’s odd,” she said. “One would think that the nobility wouldn’t want to wear metal, because that would make them vulnerable to Allomancy.” “Indeed,” Sazed said. “However, it has long been imperial fashion to accent one’s wardrobe with metal. It began, I suspect, with the Lord Ruler’s desire to deny the Terrismen the right to touch metal. He himself began wearing metal rings and bracelets, and the nobility always follows him in fashion. Nowadays, the most wealthy often wear metal as a symbol of power and pride.” “Sounds foolish,” Vin said. “Fashion often is, Mistress,” Sazed said. “Regardless, the ploy failed—many of the nobility only wear wood painted to look like metal, and the Terris managed to weather the Lord Ruler’s discontent in this area. It was simply too impractical to never let stewards handle metal. That hasn’t stopped the Lord Ruler from trying to exterminate the Keepers, however.” “He fears you.” “And hates us. Not just Feruchemists, but all Terrismen.” Sazed laid a hand on the still untranslated portion of the text. “I hope to find that secret in here as well. No one remembers why the Lord
Ruler persecutes the Terris people, but I suspect that it has something to do with those packmen—their leader, Rashek, appears to be a very contrary man. The Lord Ruler often speaks of him in the narrative.” “He mentioned religion,” Vin said. “The Terris religion. Something about prophecies?” Sazed shook his head. “I cannot answer that question, Mistress, for I don’t know any more of the Terris religion than you do.” “But, you collect religions,” Vin said. “You don’t know about your own?” “I do not,” Sazed said solemnly. “You see, Mistress, this was why the Keepers were formed. Centuries ago, my people hid away the last few Terris Feruchemists. The Lord Ruler’s purges of the Terris people were growing quite violent—this was before he began the breeding program. Back then, we weren’t stewards or servants—we weren’t even skaa. We were something to be destroyed. “Yet, something kept the Lord Ruler from wiping us out completely. I don’t know why—perhaps he thought genocide too kind a punishment. Anyway, he successfully destroyed our religion during the first two centuries of his rule. The organization of Keepers was formed during the next century, its members intent upon discovering that which had been lost, then remembering for the future.” “With Feruchemy?” Sazed nodded, rubbing his fingers across the bracer on his right arm. “This one is made of copper; it allows for the storage of memories and thoughts. Each Keeper carries several bracers like this, filled with knowledge—songs, stories, prayers, histories, and languages. Many Keepers have a particular area of interest—mine is religion—but we all remember the entire collection. If just one of us survives until the death of the Lord Ruler, then the world’s people will be able to recover all that they have lost.” He paused, then pulled down his sleeve. “Well, not all that was lost. There are still things we are missing.” “Your own religion,” Vin said quietly. “You never found it, did you?” Sazed shook his head. “The Lord Ruler implies in this logbook that it was our prophets that led him to the Well of Ascension, but even this is new information for us. What did we believe? What, or whom, did we worship? Where did these Terris prophets come from, and how did they predict the future?” “I’m . . . sorry.” “We continue to look, Mistress. We will find our answers eventually, I think. Even if we do not, we will still have provided an invaluable service for mankind. Other people call us docile and servile, but we have fought him, in our own way.” Vin nodded. “So, what other things can you store? Strength and memories. Anything else?” Sazed eyed her. “I have said too much already, I think. You understand the mechanics of what we do—if the Lord Ruler mentions these things in his text, you will not be confused.” “Sight,” Vin said, perking up. “That’s why you wore glasses for a few weeks after you rescued me. You needed to be able to see better that night when you saved me, so you used up
your storage. Then you spent a few weeks with weak vision so that you could refill it.” Sazed didn’t respond to the comment. He picked up his pen, obviously intending to turn back to his translation. “Was there anything else, Mistress?” “Yes, as a matter of fact,” Vin said, pulling the handkerchief from her sleeve. “Do you have any idea what this is?” “It appears to be a handkerchief, Mistress.” Vin raised a droll eyebrow. “Very funny. You’ve spent far too long around Kelsier, Sazed.” “I know,” he said with a quiet sigh. “He has corrupted me, I think. Regardless, I do not understand your question. What is distinctive about that particular handkerchief?” “That’s what I want to know,” Vin said. “Spook gave it to me just a little bit ago.” “Ah. That makes sense, then.” “What?” Vin demanded. “In noble society, Mistress, a handkerchief is the traditional gift a young man gives a lady that he wishes to seriously court.” Vin paused, regarding the handkerchief with shock. “What? Is that boy crazy?” “Most young men his age are somewhat crazy, I think,” Sazed said with a smile. “However, this is hardly unexpected. Haven’t you noticed how he stares at you when you enter the room?” “I just thought he was creepy. What is he thinking? He’s so much younger than me.” “The boy is fifteen, Mistress. That only makes him one year your junior.” “Two,” Vin said. “I turned seventeen last week.” “Still, he isn’t really that much younger than you.” Vin rolled her eyes. “I don’t have time for his attentions.” “One would think, Mistress, that you would appreciate the opportunities you have. Not everyone is so fortunate.” Vin paused. He’s a eunuch, you fool. “Sazed, I’m sorry. I . . .” Sazed waved a hand. “It is something I have never known enough of to miss, Mistress. Perhaps I am fortunate—a life in the underground does not make it easy to raise a family. Why, poor Master Hammond has been away from his wife for months.” “Ham’s married?” “Of course,” Sazed said. “So is Master Yeden, I believe. They protect their families by separating them from underground activities, but this necessitates spending large periods of time apart.” “Who else?” Vin asked. “Breeze? Dockson?” “Master Breeze is a bit too . . . self-motivated for a family, I think. Master Dockson hasn’t spoken of his romantic life, but I suspect that there is something painful in his past. That is not uncommon for plantation skaa, as you might expect.” “Dockson is from a plantation?” Vin asked with surprise. “Of course. Don’t you ever spend time talking with your friends, Mistress?” Friends. I have friends. It was an odd realization. “Anyway,” Sazed said, “I should continue my work. I am sorry to be so dismissive, but I am nearly finished with the translation. . . .” “Of course,” Vin said, standing and smoothing her dress. “Thank you.” She found Dockson sitting in the guest study, writing quietly on a piece of paper, a pile of documents organized neatly on the desktop.
He wore a standard nobleman’s suit, and always looked more comfortable in the clothing than the others did. Kelsier was dashing, Breeze immaculate and lavish, but Dockson . . . he simply looked natural in the outfit. He looked up as she entered. “Vin? I’m sorry—I should have sent for you. For some reason I assumed you were out.” “I often am, these days,” she said, closing the door behind her. “I stayed home today; listening to noblewomen prattle over their lunches can get a bit annoying.” “I can imagine,” Dockson said, smiling. “Have a seat.” Vin nodded, strolling into the room. It was a quiet place, decorated in warm colors and deep woods. It was still somewhat light outside, but Dockson already had the evening drapes drawn and was working by candlelight. “Any news from Kelsier?” Vin asked as she sat. “No,” Dockson said, setting aside his document. “But that’s not unexpected. He wasn’t going to stay at the caves for long, so sending a messenger back would have been a bit silly—as an Allomancer, he might even be able to get back before a man on horseback. Either way, I suspect he’ll be a few days late. This is Kell we’re talking about, after all.” Vin nodded, then sat quietly for a moment. She hadn’t spent as much time with Dockson as she had with Kelsier and Sazed—or even Ham and Breeze. He seemed like a kind man, however. Very stable, and very clever. While most of the others contributed some kind of Allomantic power to the crew, Dockson was valuable because of his simple ability to organize. When something needed to be purchased—such as Vin’s dresses—Dockson saw that it got done. When a building needed to be rented, supplies procured, or a permit secured, Dockson made it happen. He wasn’t out front, scamming noblemen, fighting in the mists, or recruiting soldiers. Without him, however, Vin suspected that the entire crew would fall apart. He’s a nice man, she told herself. He won’t mind if I ask him. “Dox, what was it like living on a plantation?” “Hmm? The plantation?” Vin nodded. “You grew up on one, right? You’re a plantation skaa?” “Yes,” Dockson said. “Or, at least, I was. What was it like? I’m not sure how to answer, Vin. It was a hard life, but most skaa live hard lives. I wasn’t allowed to leave the plantation—or even go outside of the hovel community—without permission. We ate more regularly than a lot of the street skaa, but we were worked as hard as any millworker. Perhaps more. “The plantations are different from the cities. Out there, every lord is his own master. Technically, the Lord Ruler owns the skaa, but the noblemen rent them, and are allowed to kill as many as they want. Each lord just has to make certain that his crops come in.” “You seem so . . . unemotional about it,” Vin said. Dockson shrugged. “It’s been a while since I lived there, Vin. I don’t know that the plantation was overly traumatic. It
was just life—we didn’t know anything better. In fact, I now know that amongst plantation lords, mine was actually rather lenient.” “Why did you leave, then?” Dockson paused. “An event,” he said his voice growing almost wistful. “You know that the law says that a lord can bed any skaa woman that he wishes?” Vin nodded. “He just has to kill her when he’s done.” “Or soon thereafter,” Dockson said. “Quickly enough that she can’t birth any half-breed children.” “The lord took a woman you loved, then?” Dockson nodded. “I don’t talk about it much. Not because I can’t, but because I think it would be pointless. I’m not the only skaa to lose a loved one to a lord’s passion, or even to a lord’s indifference. In fact, I’ll bet you’d have trouble finding a skaa who hasn’t had someone they love murdered by the aristocracy. That’s just . . . the way it is.” “Who was she?” Vin asked. “A girl from the plantation. Like I said, my story isn’t that original. I remember . . . sneaking between the hovels at night to spend time with her. The entire community played along, hiding us from the taskmasters—I wasn’t supposed to be out after dark, you see. I braved the mists for the first time for her, and while many thought me foolish to go out at night, others got over their superstition and encouraged me. I think the romance inspired them; Kareien and I reminded everyone that there was something to live for. “When Kareien was taken by Lord Devinshae—her corpse returned the next morning for burial—something just . . . died in the skaa hovels. I left that next evening. I didn’t know there was a better life, but I just couldn’t stay, not with Kareien’s family there, not with Lord Devinshae watching us work. . . .” Dockson sighed, shaking his head. Vin could finally see some emotion in his face. “You know,” he said, “it amazes me sometimes that we even try. With everything they’ve done to us—the deaths, the tortures, the agonies—you’d think that we would just give up on things like hope and love. But we don’t. Skaa still fall in love. They still try to have families, and they still struggle. I mean, here we are . . . fighting Kell’s insane little war, resisting a god we know is just going to slaughter us all.” Vin sat quietly, trying to comprehend the horror of what he described. “I . . . thought you said that your lord was a kind one.” “Oh, he was,” Dockson said. “Lord Devinshae rarely beat his skaa to death, and he only purged the elderly when the population got completely out of control. He has an impeccable reputation among the nobility. You’ve probably seen him at some of the balls—he’s been in Luthadel lately, over the winter, between planting seasons.” Vin felt cold. “Dockson, that’s horrible! How could they let a monster like that among them?” Dockson frowned, then he leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on
the desktop. “Vin, they’re all like that.” “I know that’s what some of the skaa say, Dox,” Vin said. “But, the people at the balls, they aren’t like that. I’ve met them, danced with them. Dox, a lot of them are good people. I don’t think they realize how terrible things are for the skaa.” Dockson looked at her with a strange expression. “Am I really hearing this from you, Vin? Why do you think we’re fighting against them? Don’t you realize the things those people—all of those people—are capable of?” “Cruelty, perhaps,” Vin said. “And indifference. But they aren’t monsters, not all of them—not like your former plantation lord.” Dockson shook his head. “You just aren’t seeing well enough, Vin. A nobleman can rape and murder a skaa woman one night, then be praised for his morality and virtue the next day. Skaa just aren’t people to them. Noblewomen don’t even consider it cheating when their lord sleeps with a skaa woman.” “I . . .” Vin trailed off, growing uncertain. This was the one area of noble culture she hadn’t wanted to confront. Beatings, she could perhaps forgive, but this . . . Dockson shook his head. “You’re letting them dupe you, Vin. Things like this are less visible in the cities because of whorehouses, but the murders still happen. Some brothels use women of very poor—but noble—birth. Most, however, just kill off their skaa whores periodically to keep the Inquisitors placated.” Vin felt a little weak. “I . . . know about the brothels, Dox. My brother always threatened to sell me to one. But, just because brothels exist doesn’t mean that all the men go to them. There are lots of workers who don’t visit the skaa whorehouses.” “Noblemen are different, Vin,” Dockson said sternly. “They’re horrible creatures. Why do you think I don’t complain when Kelsier kills them? Why do you think I’m working with him to overthrow their government? You should ask some of those pretty boys you dance with how often they’ve slept with a skaa woman they knew would be killed a short time later. They’ve all done it, at one point or another.” Vin looked down. “They can’t be redeemed, Vin,” Dockson said. He didn’t seem as passionate about the topic as Kelsier, he just seemed . . . resigned. “I don’t think that Kell will be happy until they’re all dead. I doubt we have to go that far—or even that we can—but I, for one, would be more than happy to see their society collapse.” Vin sat quietly. They can’t all be like that, she thought. They’re so beautiful, so distinguished. Elend has never taken and murdered a skaa woman . . . has he? 23 “THEY SAY THAT THE DEATHS of the Geffenry brothers were a retaliation for the murder of Lord Entrone,” Lady Kliss said quietly. Behind Vin’s group, the musicians played upon their stage, but the evening was growing late, and few people danced. Lady Kliss’s circle of partygoers frowned at the news. There were about six of
them, including Vin and her companion—one Milen Davenpleu, a young heir to a minor house title. “Kliss, really,” Milen said. “Houses Geffenry and Tekiel are allies. Why would Tekiel assassinate two Geffenry noblemen?” “Why indeed?” Kliss said, leaning forward conspiratorially, her massive blond bun wobbling slightly. Kliss had never displayed much fashion sense. She was an excellent source of gossip, however. “You remember when Lord Entrone was found dead in the Tekiel gardens?” Kliss asked. “Well, it seemed obvious that one of House Tekiel’s enemies had killed him. But, House Geffenry has been petitioning Tekiel for an alliance—apparently, a faction within the house thought that if something happened to enflame the Tekiels, they would be more willing to seek allies.” “You’re saying that Geffenry purposely killed a Tekiel ally?” asked Rene, Kliss’s date. He scrunched up his ample brow in thought. Kliss patted Rene’s arm. “Don’t worry about it too much, dear,” she advised, then turned eagerly back to the conversation. “Don’t you see? By secretly killing Lord Entrone, Geffenry hoped to get the allegiance it needs. That would give it access to those Tekiel canal routes through the eastern plains.” “But it backfired,” Milen said thoughtfully. “Tekiel discovered the ruse, and killed Ardous and Callins.” “I danced with Ardous a couple of times at the last ball,” Vin said. Now he’s dead, his corpse left on the streets outside a skaa slum. “Oh?” Milen asked. “Was he any good?” Vin shrugged. “Not very.” That’s all you can ask, Milen? A man is dead, and you just want to know if I liked him more than you? “Well, now he’s dancing with the worms,” said Tyden, the final man in the group. Milen gave the quip a pity laugh, which was more than it deserved. Tyden’s attempts at humor generally left something to be desired. He seemed like the type who would have been more at home with the ruffians of Camon’s crew than the noblemen of the dance hall. Of course, Dox says they’re all like that, underneath. Vin’s conversation with Dockson still dominated her thoughts. When she’d started coming to the noblemen’s balls back on that first night—the night she’d nearly been killed—she’d thought about how fake everything seemed. How had she forgotten that original impression? How had she let herself get taken in, to begin admiring their poise and their splendor? Now, every nobleman’s arm around her waist made her cringe—as if she could feel the rot within their hearts. How many skaa had Milen killed? What about Tyden? He seemed like the type who would enjoy a night with the whores. But, still she played along. She had finally worn her black gown this evening, somehow feeling the need to set herself apart from the other women with their bright colors and often brighter smiles. However, she couldn’t avoid the others’ company; Vin had finally begun to gain the confidences her crew needed. Kelsier would be delighted to know that his plan for House Tekiel was working, and that wasn’t the only thing she had been able to
discover. She had dozens of little tidbits that would be of vital use to the crew’s efforts. One such tidbit was about House Venture. The family was bunkering up for what it expected to be an extended house war; one evidence of this was the fact that Elend attended far fewer balls than he once had. Not that Vin minded. When he did come, he generally avoided her, and she didn’t really want to talk to him anyway. Memories of what Dockson had said made her think that she might have trouble remaining civil toward Elend. “Milen?” Lord Rene asked. “Are you still planning on joining us for a game of shelldry tomorrow?” “Of course, Rene,” Milen said. “Didn’t you promise that last time?” Tyden asked. “I’ll be there,” Milen said. “Something came up last time.” “And it won’t come up again?” Tyden asked. “You know we can’t play unless we have a fourth man. If you’re not going to be there, we could ask someone else. . . .” Milen sighed, then held up a hand, sharply gesturing to the side. The motion caught Vin’s attention—she had only been half listening to the conversation. She looked to the side, and nearly jumped in shock as she saw an obligator approaching the group. So far she’d managed to avoid obligators at the balls. After her first run-in with a high prelan, some months ago—and the subsequent alerting of an Inquisitor—she’d been apprehensive to even go near one. The obligator approached, smiling in a creepy sort of way. Perhaps it was the arms clasped before him, hands hidden inside the gray sleeves. Perhaps it was the tattoos around the eyes, wrinkled with the aging skin. Perhaps it was the way his eyes regarded her; it seemed like they could see through her guise. This wasn’t just a nobleman, this was an obligator—eyes of the Lord Ruler, enforcer of His law. The obligator stopped at the group. His tattoos marked him as a member of the Canton of Orthodoxy, the primary bureaucratic arm of the Ministry. He eyed the group, speaking in a smooth voice. “Yes?” Milen pulled out a few coins. “I promise to meet these two for shelldry tomorrow,” he said, handing the coins to the aging obligator. It seemed like such a silly reason to call over an obligator—or, at least, so Vin thought. The obligator, however, didn’t laugh or point out the frivolity of the demand. He simply smiled, palming the coins as deftly as any thief. “I witness this, Lord Milen,” he said. “Satisfied?” Milen asked of the other two. They nodded. The obligator turned, not giving Vin a second glance, and strolled away. She released a quiet breath, watching his shuffing form. They must know everything that happens in court, she realized. If nobility call them over to witness things this simple . . . The more she knew about the Ministry, the more she realized how clever the Lord Ruler had been in organizing them. They witnessed every mercantile contract; Dockson and Renoux had to deal with
obligators nearly every day. Only they could authorize weddings, divorces, land purchases, or ratify inheritance of titles. If an obligator hadn’t witnessed an event, it hadn’t happened, and if one hadn’t sealed a document, then it might as well not have been written. Vin shook her head as the conversation turned to other topics. It had been a long night, and her mind was full of information to scribble down on her way back to Fellise. “Excuse me, Lord Milen,” she said, laying a hand on his arm—though touching him made her shiver slightly. “I think perhaps it is time for me to retire.” “I’ll walk you to your carriage,” he said. “That won’t be necessary,” she said sweetly. “I want to refresh myself, and then I have to wait for my Terrisman anyway. I’ll just go sit down at our table.” “Very well,” he said, nodding respectfully. “Go if you must, Valette,” Kliss said. “But you’ll never know the news I have about the Ministry. . . .” Vin paused. “What news?” Kliss’s eyes twinkled, and she glanced at the disappearing obligator. “The Inquisitors are buzzing like insects. They’ve hit twice as many skaa thieving bands these last few months as usual. They don’t even take prisoners for executions—they just leave them all dead.” “How do you know this?” Milen asked skeptically. He seemed so straight-backed and noble. You would never know what he really was. “I have my sources,” Kliss said with a smile. “Why, the Inquisitors found another band just this afternoon. One headquartered not far from here.” Vin felt a chill. They weren’t that far from Clubs’s shop. . . . No, it couldn’t be them. Dockson and the rest are too clever. Even without Kelsier in town, they’ll be safe. “Cursed thieves,” Tyden spat. “Damn skaa don’t know their place. Isn’t the food and clothing we give enough of a theft from our pockets?” “It’s amazing the creatures can even survive as thieves,” said Carlee, Tyden’s young wife, in her normal purring voice. “I can’t imagine what kind of incompetent would let himself get robbed by skaa.” Tyden flushed, and Vin eyed him with curiosity. Carlee rarely spoke except to make some jab against her husband. He must have been robbed himself. A scam, perhaps? Filing away the information for later investigation, Vin turned to go—a motion that put her face-to-face with a newcomer to the group: Shan Elariel. Elend’s former betrothed was immaculate, as always. Her long auburn hair had an almost luminous sheen, and her beautiful figure only reminded Vin how scrawny she herself was. Self-important in a way that could make even a confident person uncertain, Shan was—as Vin was beginning to realize—exactly what most of the aristocracy thought was the perfect woman. The men in Vin’s group nodded their heads in respect, and the women curtsied, honored to have their conversation joined by one so important. Vin glanced to the side, trying to escape, but Shan was standing right before her. Shan smiled. “Ah, Lord Milen,” she said to Vin’s companion, “it’s a

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