text
stringlengths 1.73k
3.83k
|
|---|
"No." Straff nodded. "I'm glad we both understand that." "You should just attack," Zane said. "We can find the atium once we control Luthadel." Straff smiled, then sipped the tea. The poisoned tea. Despite himself, Zane started, sitting up straight. "Don't presume to think you know what I'm planning, Zane," Straff said. "You don't understand half as much as you assume." Zane sat quietly, watching his father drink the last of the tea. "What of your spy?" Straff asked. Zane lay the note on the table. "He's worried that they might suspect him. He has found no information about the atium." Straff nodded, setting down the empty cup. "You'll return to the city and continue to befriend the girl." Zane nodded slowly, then turned and left the tent. Straff thought he could feel the birchbane already, seeping through his veins, making him tremble. He forced himself to remain in control. Waiting for a few moments. Once he was sure Zane was distant, he called for a guard. "Bring me Amaranta!" Straff ordered. "Quickly!" The soldier rushed to do his master's bidding. Straff sat quietly, tent rustling in the evening breeze, a puff of mist floating to the floor from the once open flap. He burned tin, enhancing his senses. Yes. . .he could feel the poison within him. Deadening his nerves. He had time, however. As long as an hour, perhaps, and so he relaxed. For a man who claimed he didn't want to kill Straff, Zane certainly spent a lot of effort trying. Fortunately, Straff had a tool even Zane didn't know about—one that came in the form of a woman. Straff smiled as his tin-enhanced ears heard soft footsteps approaching in the night. The soldiers sent Amaranta right in. Straff hadn't brought all of his mistresses with him on the trip—just his ten or fifteen favorites. Mixed in with the ones he was currently bedding, however, were some women that he kept for their effectiveness rather than their beauty. Amaranta was a good example. She had been quite attractive a decade before, but now she was creeping up into her late twenties. Her breasts had begun to sag from childbirth, and every time Straff looked at her, he noticed the wrinkles that were appearing on her forehead and around her eyes. He got rid of most women long before they reached her age. This one, however, had skills that were useful. If Zane heard that Straff had sent for the woman this night, he'd assume that Straff had simply wanted to bed her. He'd be wrong. "My lord," Amaranta said, getting down on her knees. She began to disrobe. Well, at least she's optimistic, Straff thought. He would have thought that after four years without being called to his bed, she would understand. Didn't women realize when they were too old to be attractive? "Keep your clothing on, woman," he snapped. Amaranta's face fell, and she laid her hands in her lap, leaving her dress half undone, one breast exposed—as if she were trying to tempt him with her aging
|
nudity. "I need your antidote," he said. "Quickly." "Which one, my lord?" she asked. She wasn't the only herbalist Straff kept; he learned scents and tastes from four different people. Amaranta, however, was the best of them. "Birchbane," Straff said. "And. . .maybe something else. I'm not sure." "Another general potion, then, my lord?" Amaranta asked. Straff nodded curtly. Amaranta rose, walking to his poison cabinet. She lit the burner at the side, boiling a small pot of water as she quickly mixed powders, herbs, and liquids. The concoction was her particular specialty—a mixture of all of the basic poison antidotes, remedies, and reagents in her repertoire. Straff suspected that Zane had used the birchbane to cover something else. Whatever it was, however, Amaranta's concoction would deal with—or at least identify—it. Straff waited uncomfortably as Amaranta worked, still half naked. The concoction needed to be prepared freshly each time, but it was worth the wait. She eventually brought him a steaming mug. Straff gulped it, forcing down the harsh liquid despite its bitterness. Immediately, he began to feel better. He sighed—another trap avoided—as he drank the rest of the cup to be certain. Amaranta knelt expectantly again. "Go," Straff ordered. Amaranta nodded quietly. She put her arm back through the dress's sleeve, then retreated from the tent. Straff sat stewing, empty cup cooling in his hand. He knew he held the edge. As long as he appeared strong before Zane, the Mistborn would continue to do as commanded. Probably. If only I had passed over Alendi when looking for an assistant, all those years ago. SAZED UNCLASPED HIS FINAL STEELMIND. He held it up, the braceletlike band of metal glistening in the red sunlight. To another man, it might seem valuable. To Sazed, it was now just another empty husk—a simple steel bracelet. He could refill it if he wished, but for the moment he didn't consider the weight worth carrying. With a sigh, he dropped the bracelet. It fell with a clank, tossing up a puff of ash from the ground. Five months of storing, of spending every fifth day drained of speed, my body moving as if impeded by a thick molasses. And now it's all gone. The loss had purchased something valuable, however. In just six days of travel, using steelminds on occasion, he had traveled the equivalent of six weeks' worth of walking. According to his cartography coppermind, Luthadel was now a little over a week away. Sazed felt good about the expenditure. Perhaps he'd overreacted to the deaths he'd found in the little southern village. Perhaps there was no need for him to hurry. But, he'd created the steelmind to be used. He hefted his pack, which was much lighter than it had been. Though many of his metalminds were small, they were heavy in aggregate. He'd decided to discard some of the less valuable or less full ones as he ran. Just like the steel bracelet, which he left sitting in the ash behind him as he went on. He was definitely in the Central Dominance
|
now. He'd passed Faleast and Tyrian, two of the northern Ashmounts. Tyrian was still just barely visible to the south—a tall, solitary peak with a cut-off, blackened top. The landscape had grown flat, the trees changing from patchy brown pines to the willowy white aspens common around Luthadel. The aspens rose like bones growing from the black soil, clumping, their ashen white bark scarred and twisted. They— Sazed paused. He stood near the central canal, one of the main routes to Luthadel. The canal was empty of boats at the moment; travelers were rare these days, even more rare than they had been during the Final Empire, for bandits were far more common. Sazed had outrun several groups of them during his hurried flight to Luthadel. No, solitary travelers were rare. Armies were far more common—and, judging from the several dozen trails of smoke he saw rising ahead of him, he had run afoul of one. It stood directly between him and Luthadel. He thought quietly for a moment, flakes of ash beginning to fall lightly around him. It was midday; if that army had scouts, Sazed would have a very difficult time getting around it. In addition, his steelminds were empty. He wouldn't be able to run from pursuit. And yet, an army within a week of Luthadel. . .. Whose was it, and what threat did it pose? His curiosity, the curiosity of a scholar, prodded him to seek a vantage from which to study the troops. Vin and the others could use any information he gathered. Decision made, Sazed located a hill with a particularly large stand of aspens. He dropped his pack at the base of a tree, then pulled out an ironmind and began to fill it. He felt the familiar sensation of decreased weight, and he easily climbed to the top of the thin tree—his body was now light enough that it didn't take much strength to pull himself upward. Hanging from the very tip of the tree, Sazed tapped his tinmind. The edges of his vision fuzzed, as always, but with the increased vision he could make out details about the large group settled into a hollow before him. He was right about it being an army. He was wrong about it being made up of men. "By the forgotten gods. . ." Sazed whispered, so shocked that he nearly lost his grip. The army was organized in only the most simplistic and primitive way. There were no tents, no vehicles, no horses. Just hundreds of large cooking fires, each ringed with figures. And those figures were of a deep blue. They varied greatly in size; some were just five feet tall, others were lumbering hulks of ten feet or more. They were both the same species, Sazed knew. Koloss. The creatures—though similar to men in base form—never stopped growing. They simply continued to get bigger as they aged, growing until their hearts could no longer support them. Then they died, killed by their body's own growth imperative. Before they died, however, they got very
|
large. And very dangerous. Sazed dropped from the tree, making his body light enough that he hit the ground softly. He hurriedly searched through his copperminds. When he found the one he wanted, he strapped it to his upper left arm, then climbed back up the tree. He searched an index quickly. Somewhere, he'd taken notes on a book about the koloss—he'd studied it trying to decide if the creatures had a religion. He'd had someone repeat the notes back to him, so he could store them in the coppermind. He had the book memorized, too, of course, but placing so much information directly in his mind would ruin the— There, he thought, recovering the notes. He tapped them from the coppermind, filling his mind with knowledge. Most koloss bodies gave out before they reached twenty years of age. The more "ancient" creatures were often a massive twelve feet in height, with stocky, powerful bodies. However, few koloss lived that long—and not just because of heart failure. Their society—if it could be called that—was extremely violent. Excitement suddenly overcoming apprehension, Sazed tapped tin for vision again, searching through the thousands of blue humanoids, trying to get visual proof of what he'd read. It wasn't hard to find fights. Scuffles around the fires seemed common, and, interestingly, they were always between koloss of nearly the same size. Sazed magnified his view even further—gripping the tree tightly to overcome the nausea—and got his first good look at a koloss. It was a creature of smaller size—perhaps six feet tall. It was man-shaped, with two arms and legs, though its neck was hard to distinguish. It was completely bald. The oddest feature, however, was its blue skin, which hung loose and folded. The creature looked like a fat man might, had all his fat been drained away, leaving the stretched skin behind. And. . .the skin didn't seem to be connected very well. Around the creature's red, blood-drop eyes, the skin sagged, revealing the facial muscles. The same was true around the mouth: the skin sagged a few inches below the chin, the lower teeth and jaw completely exposed. It was a stomach-turning sight, especially for a man who was already nauseated. The creature's ears hung low, flopping down beside its jawline. Its nose was formless and loose, with no cartilage supporting it. Skin hung baggily from the creature's arms and legs, and its only clothing was a crude loincloth. Sazed turned, selecting a larger creature—one perhaps eight feet tall—to study. The skin on this beast wasn't as loose, but it still didn't seem to fit quite right. Its nose twisted at a crooked angle, pulled flat against the face by an enlarged head that sat on a stumpy neck. The creature turned to leer at a companion, and again, the skin around its mouth didn't quite fit: the lips didn't close completely, and the holes around the eyes were too big, so they exposed the muscles beneath. Like. . .a person wearing a mask made of skin, Sazed thought, trying to push away his
|
disgust. So. . .their body continues to grow, but their skin doesn't? His thought was confirmed as a massive, ten-foot-tall beast of a koloss wandered into the group. Smaller creatures scattered before this newcomer, who thumped up to the fire, where several horses were roasting. This largest creature's skin was pulled so tight it was beginning to tear. The hairless blue flesh had ripped around the eyes, at the edges of the mouth, and around the massive chest muscles. Sazed could see little trails of red blood dripping from the rips. Even where the skin wasn't torn, it was pulled taut—the nose and ears were so flat they were almost indistinguishable from the flesh around them. Suddenly, Sazed's study didn't seem so academic. Koloss had come to the Central Dominance. Creatures so violent and uncontrollable that the Lord Ruler had been forced to keep them away from civilization. Sazed extinguished his tinmind, welcoming the return to normal vision. He had to get to Luthadel and warn the others. If they— Sazed froze. One problem with enhancing his vision was that he temporarily lost the ability to see close up—so it wasn't odd that he hadn't noticed the koloss patrol surrounding his aspens. By the forgotten gods! He held firm to the tip of the tree, thinking quickly. Several koloss were already pushing their way into the stand. If he dropped to the ground, he'd be too slow to escape. As always, he wore a pewtermind; he could easily become as strong as ten men, and maintain it for a good amount of time. He could fight, perhaps. . .. Yet, the koloss carried crude-looking, but massive, swords. Sazed's notes, his memory, and his lore all agreed: Koloss were very dangerous warriors. Strong as ten men or not, Sazed wouldn't have the skill to defeat them. "Come down," called a deep, slurred voice from below. "Come down now." Sazed looked down. A large koloss, skin just beginning to stretch, stood at the tree's base. It gave the aspen a shake. "Come down now," the creature repeated. The lips don't work very well, Sazed thought. He sounds like a man trying to talk without moving his lips. He wasn't surprised that the creature could talk; his notes mentioned that. He was, however, surprised at how calm it sounded. I could run, he thought. He could keep to the tops of trees, perhaps cross the distance between patches of aspens by dropping his metalminds and trying to ride gusts of wind. But it would be very difficult—and very unpredictable. And he would have to leave his copperminds—a thousand years of history—behind. So, pewtermind ready in case he needed strength, Sazed let go of the tree. The koloss leader—Sazed could only assume that was what he was—watched Sazed fall to the ground with a red-eyed stare. The creature did not blink. Sazed wondered if it even could blink, its skin stretched as it was. Sazed plunked to the ground beside the tree, then reached for his pack. "No," the koloss snapped, grabbing the pack with an
|
inhumanly quick swipe of the arm. It tossed the pack to another koloss. "I need that," Sazed said. "I will be much more cooperative if—" "Quiet!" the koloss yelled with a rage so sudden that Sazed took a step backward. Terrismen were tall—especially Terrismen eunuchs—and it was very disconcerting to be dwarfed by this beastly creature, well over nine feet in height, its skin a blackish blue, its eyes the color of the sun at dusk. It loomed over Sazed, and he cringed in spite of himself. Apparently, that was the proper reaction, for the lead koloss nodded and turned away. "Come," it slurred, lumbering through the small aspen forest. The other koloss—about seven of them—followed. Sazed didn't want to find out what would happen if he disobeyed. He chose a god—Duis, a god once said to watch over wearied travelers—and said a quick, silent prayer. Then he hurried forward, staying with the pack of koloss as they walked toward the camp. At least they didn't kill me out of hand, Sazed thought. He'd half expected that, considering what he'd read. Of course, even the books didn't know much. The koloss had been kept separate from mankind for centuries; the Lord Ruler only called upon them in times of great martial need, to quell revolts, or to conquer new societies discovered on the inner islands. At those times, the koloss had caused absolute destruction and slaughter—or so the histories claimed. Could all that have been propaganda? Sazed wondered. Maybe the koloss aren't as violent as we assumed. One of the koloss beside Sazed howled in sudden anger. Sazed spun as the koloss jumped at one of its companions. The creature ignored the sword on its back, instead punching his enemy's head with a blocky fist. The others paused, turning to watch the fight, but none of them seemed alarmed. Sazed watched with growing horror as the aggressor proceeded to repeatedly pummel his enemy. The defender tried to protect himself, getting out a dagger and managing to score a cut on the aggressor's arm. The blue skin tore, seeping bright red blood, as the aggressor got his hands around his opponent's thick head and twisted. There was a snap. The defender stopped moving. The aggressor removed the sword from his victim's back and strapped it on beside his own weapon, then removed a small pouch that was tied beside the sword. After that, he stood, ignoring the wound on his arm, and the group began to walk again. "Why?" Sazed asked, shocked. "What was that for?" The wounded koloss turned around. "I hated him," he said. "Move!" the lead koloss snapped at Sazed. Sazed forced himself to start walking. They left the corpse lying in the road. The pouches, he thought, trying to find something to focus on besides the brutality. They all carry those pouches. The koloss kept them tied to their swords. They didn't carry the weapons in sheaths; they were simply bound on their backs with leather straps. And tied to those straps were pouches. Sometimes there was just one,
|
though the two largest creatures in the group each had several. They look like coin pouches, Sazed thought. But, the koloss don't have an economy. Perhaps they keep personal possessions in them? But what would beasts like these value? They entered the camp. There didn't appear to be sentries at the borders—but, then, why would guards be necessary? It would be very difficult for a human to sneak into this camp. A group of smaller koloss—the five-foot-tall ones—rushed forward as soon as the group arrived. The murderer threw his extra sword to one of them, then pointed into the distance. He kept the pouch for himself, and the small ones rushed off, following the road in the direction of the body. Burial detail? Sazed wondered. He walked uncomfortably behind his captors as they penetrated into the camp. Beasts of all sorts were being roasted over the firepits, though Sazed didn't think any of them had once been human. In addition, the ground around the camp had been completely stripped of plant life, as if it had been grazed by a group of particularly aggressive goats. And, according to his coppermind, that wasn't far off the truth. Koloss could, apparently, subsist on practically anything. They preferred meat, but would eat any kind of plant—even grass, going so far as to pull it up by the roots to eat. Some reports even spoke of them eating dirt and ash, though Sazed found that a little difficult to believe. He continued to walk. The camp smelled of smoke, grime, and a strange musk that he assumed was koloss body odor. Some of the creatures turned as he passed, watching him with steady red eyes. It's like they only have two emotions, he thought, jumping as a fireside koloss suddenly screamed and attacked a companion. They're either indifferent or they're enraged. What would it take to set them all off at once? And. . .what kind of a disaster would they cause if that happened? He nervously revised his earlier thoughts. No, the koloss had not been maligned. The stories he had heard—stories of koloss running wild in the Farmost Dominance, causing widespread destruction and death—were obviously true. But something kept this group marginally reined in. The Lord Ruler had been able to control the koloss, though no book explained how. Most writers simply accepted this ability as part of what had made the Lord Ruler God. The man had been immortal—compared with that, other powers seemed mundane. His immortality, however, was a trick, Sazed thought. Simply a clever combination of Feruchemical and Allomantic powers. The Lord Ruler had been just a normal man—albeit one with an unusual combination of abilities and opportunities. That being the case, how had he controlled the koloss? There was something different about the Lord Ruler. Something more than his powers. He did something at the Well of Ascension, something that forever changed the world. Perhaps his ability to control the koloss came from that. Sazed's captors ignored the occasional fights around firepits. There didn't appear to be any female koloss
|
in the camp—or, if there were, they were indistinguishable from the males. Sazed did, however, notice a koloss corpse lying forgotten near one of the fires. It had been flayed, the blue skin ripped free. How could any society exist like this? he thought with horror. His books said the koloss bred and aged quickly—a fortunate situation for them, considering the number of deaths he had already seen. Even so, it seemed to him that this species killed too many of its members to continue. Yet they did continue. Unfortunately. The Keeper in him believed strongly that nothing should be lost, that every society was worth remembering. However, the brutality of the koloss camp—the wounded creatures who sat, ignoring the gashes in their skin, the flayed corpses along the path, the sudden bellows of anger and subsequent murders—tested this belief. His captors led him around a small hillock in the land, and Sazed paused as he saw something very unexpected. A tent. "Go," the lead koloss said, pointing. Sazed frowned. There were several dozen humans outside the tent, carrying spears and dressed like imperial guards. The tent was large, and behind it stood a line of boxy carts. "Go!" the koloss yelled. Sazed did as he was told. Behind him, one of the koloss indifferently tossed Sazed's pack toward the human guards. The metalminds inside clinked together as they hit the ashy ground, causing Sazed to cringe. The soldiers watched the koloss retreat with a wary eye; then one picked up the pack. Another leveled his spear at Sazed. Sazed held up his hands. "I am Sazed, a Keeper of Terris, once steward, now teacher. I am not your enemy." "Yes, well," the guard said, still watching the retreating koloss. "You're still going to have to come with me." "May I have my possessions back?" Sazed asked. This hollow appeared free of koloss; apparently, the human soldiers wanted to keep their distance. The first guard turned to his companion, who was perusing Sazed's pack. The second guard looked up and shrugged. "No weapons. Some bracelets and rings, maybe worth something." "None of them are of precious metals," Sazed said. "They are the tools of a Keeper, and are of little value to anyone but myself." The second guard shrugged, handing the bag to the first man. Both were of standard Central Dominance coloring—dark hair, light skin, the build and height of those who'd had proper nutrition as children. The first guard was the older of the two, and was obviously in charge. He took the bag from his companion. "We'll see what His Majesty says." Ah, Sazed thought. "Let us speak with him then." The guard turned, pushing aside the tent door and motioning for Sazed to enter. Sazed stepped from red sunlight into a functional—if sparsely furnished—tent room. This main chamber was large, and contained several more guards. Sazed had seen perhaps two dozen so far. The lead guard walked forward and poked his head into a room at the back. A few moments later, he waved Sazed forward and pulled
|
back the tent door. Sazed entered the second chamber. The man inside wore the pants and suit jacket of a Luthadel nobleman. He was balding—his hair reduced to a few struggling wisps—despite his youth. He stood, tapping the side of his leg with a nervous hand, and jumped slightly when Sazed entered. Sazed recognized the man. "Jastes Lekal." "King Lekal," Jastes snapped. "Do I know you, Terrisman?" "We have not met, Your Majesty," Sazed said, "but I have had some dealings with a friend of yours, I think. King Elend Venture of Luthadel?" Jastes nodded absently. "My men say the koloss brought you. They found you poking around the camp?" "Yes, Your Majesty," Sazed said carefully, watching as Jastes began to pace. This man isn't much more stable than the army he apparently leads, he thought with dissatisfaction. "How is it that you have persuaded the creatures to serve you?" "You are a prisoner, Terrisman," Jastes snapped. "No questions. Did Elend send you to spy on me?" "I was sent by no man," Sazed said. "You happened to be in my path, Your Majesty. I meant no harm by my observations." Jastes paused, eyeing Sazed, before beginning to pace again. "Well, never mind. I've been without a proper steward for some time now. You will serve me now." "I apologize, Your Majesty," Sazed said, bowing slightly. "But that will not be possible." Jastes frowned. "You're a steward—I can tell that from the robes. Is Elend so great a master that you would deny me?" "Elend Venture is not my master, Your Majesty," Sazed said, meeting the young king's eyes. "Now that we are free, the Terrismen no longer call any man master. I cannot be your servant, for I can be no man's servant. Keep me as prisoner, if you must. But I will not serve you. I apologize." Jastes paused again. Instead of being angry, however, he simply seemed. . .embarrassed. "I see." "Your Majesty," Sazed said calmly, "I realize that you commanded me to ask no questions, so I will instead make observations. You appear to have placed yourself in a very poor position. I know not how you control these koloss, but I cannot help but think that your grip is tenuous. You are in danger, and you appear intent on sharing that danger with others." Jastes flushed. "Your 'observations' are flawed, Terrisman. I am in control of this army. They obey me completely. How many other noblemen have you seen gather koloss armies? None—only I have been successful." "They do not seem very much under control, Your Majesty." "Oh?" Jastes asked. "And did they tear you apart when they found you? Pummel you to death for sport? Ram a stick through you and roast you over one of their fires? No. They don't do these things because I commanded them otherwise. It may not seem like much, Terrisman, but trust me—this is a sign of great restraint and obedience for koloss." "Civilization is no great achievement, Your Majesty." "Do not try me, Terrisman!" Jastes snapped, running a hand
|
through the remnants of his hair. "These are koloss we speak of—we can't expect much from them." "And you bring them to Luthadel?" Sazed asked. "Even the Lord Ruler feared these creatures, Your Majesty. He kept them away from cities. You bring them to the most populated area in all of the Final Empire!" "You don't understand," Jastes said. "I tried overtures of peace, but nobody listens unless you have money or an army. Well, I have one, and I'll soon have the other. I know Elend's sitting on that stash of atium—and I'm just come to. . .to make an alliance with him." "An alliance where you take over control of the city?" "Bah!" Jastes said with a wave of his hand. "Elend doesn't control Luthadel—he's just a placeholder waiting for someone more powerful to come along. He's a good man, but he's an innocent idealist. He's going to lose his throne to one army or another, and I'll give him a better deal than Cett or Straff will, that's certain." Cett? Straff? What kind of trouble has young Venture gotten himself into? Sazed shook his head. "Somehow I doubt that a 'better deal' involves the use of koloss, Your Majesty." Jastes frowned. "You certainly are smart-mouthed, Terrisman. You're a sign—your entire people are a sign—of what has gone wrong with the world. I used to respect the Terris people. There's no shame in being a good servant." "There's often little pride in it either," Sazed said. "But, I apologize for my attitude, Your Majesty. It is not a manifestation of Terris independence. I have always been too free with my comments, I think. I never made the best of stewards." Or the best of Keepers, he added to himself. "Bah," Jastes said again, resuming his pacing. "Your Majesty," Sazed said. "I must continue to Luthadel. There are. . .events I need to deal with. Think what you will of my people, but you must know that we are honest. The work I do is beyond politics and wars, thrones and armies. It is important for all men." "Scholars always say things like that," Jastes said. He paused. "Elend always said things like that." "Regardless," Sazed continued, "I must be allowed to leave. In exchange for my freedom, I will deliver a message from you to His Majesty King Elend, if you wish." "I could send a messenger of my own at any time!" "And leave yourself with one less man to protect you from the koloss?" Sazed said. Jastes paused just briefly. Ah, so he does fear them. Good. At least he's not insane. "I will be leaving, Your Majesty," Sazed said. "I do not mean to be arrogant, but I can see that you don't have the resources to keep prisoners. You can let me go, or you can give me to the koloss. I would be wary, however, of letting them get into a habit of killing humans." Jastes eyed him. "Fine," he said. "Deliver this message, then. Tell Elend that I don't care if he knows I'm
|
coming—I don't even care if you give our numbers. Be sure you're accurate, though! I have over twenty thousand koloss in this army. He can't fight me. He can't fight the others, either. But, if I had those city walls. . .well, I could hold off both other armies for him. Tell him to be logical. If he gives over the atium, I'll even let him keep Luthadel. We can be neighbors. Allies." One bankrupt of coin, the other bankrupt of common sense, Sazed thought. "Very well, Your Majesty. I will speak with Elend. I will need the return of my possessions, however." The king waved a hand in annoyance, and Sazed withdrew, waiting quietly as the lead guard entered the king's chambers again and received his orders. As he waited for the soldiers to prepare—his pack thankfully returned to him—Sazed thought about what Jastes had said. Cett or Straff. Just how many forces were working on Elend to take his city? If Sazed had wanted a quiet place to study, he'd apparently chosen the wrong direction to run. It wasn't until a few years later that I began to notice the signs. I knew the prophecies—I am a Terris Worldbringer, after all. And yet, not all of us are religious men; some, such as myself, are more interested in other topics. However, during my time with Alendi, I could not help but become more interested in the Anticipation. He seemed to fit the signs so well. "THIS IS GOING TO BE dangerous, Your Majesty," Dockson said. "It's our only option," Elend said. He stood behind his table; it was, as usual, stacked with books. He was backlit by the study's window, and its colors fell upon the back of his white uniform, dyeing it a brilliant maroon. He certainly does look more commanding in that outfit, Vin thought, sitting in Elend's plush reading chair, OreSeur resting patiently on the floor beside her. She still wasn't sure what to think of the changes in Elend. She knew the alterations were mostly visual—new clothing, new haircut—but other things about him seemed to be changing as well. He stood up straighter when he spoke, and was more authoritative. He was even training in the sword and the cane. Vin glanced at Tindwyl. The matronly Terriswoman sat in a stiff chair at the back of the room, watching the proceedings. She had perfect posture, and was ladylike in her colorful skirt and blouse. She didn't sit with her legs folded beneath her, as Vin currently did, and she'd never wear trousers. What is it about her? Vin thought. I've spent a year trying to get Elend to practice his swordsmanship. Tindwyl's been here less than a month, and she already has him sparring. Why did Vin feel bitter? Elend wouldn't change that much, would he? She tried to quiet the little piece of her that worried about this new confident, well-dressed warrior of a king—worried that he would turn out to be different from the man she loved. What if he stopped needing her? She
|
pulled down into the chair just a little bit farther as Elend continued to speak with Ham, Dox, Clubs, and Breeze. "El," Ham said, "you realize that if you go into the enemy camp, we won't be able to protect you." "I'm not sure you can protect me here, Ham," Elend said. "Not with two armies camped practically against the walls." "True," Dockson said, "but I'm worried that if you enter that camp, you'll never come out." "Only if I fail," Elend said. "If I follow the plan—convince my father that we're his allies—he'll let me return. I didn't spend a lot of time politicking in the court when I was younger. However, one thing I did learn to do was manipulate my father. I know Straff Venture—and I know that I can beat him. Besides, he doesn't want me dead." "Can we be sure of that?" Ham asked, rubbing his chin. "Yes," Elend said. "After all, Straff hasn't sent assassins after me, while Cett has. It makes sense. What better person for Straff to leave in control of Luthadel than his own son? He thinks he can control me—he'll assume that he can make me give him Luthadel. If I play into that, I should be able to get him to attack Cett." "He does have a point. . ." Ham said. "Yes," Dockson said, "but what is to keep Straff from just taking you hostage and forcing his way into Luthadel?" "He'll still have Cett at his back," Elend said. "If he fights us, he'll lose men—a lot of men—and expose himself to attack from behind." "But he'll have you, my dear man," Breeze said. "He wouldn't have to attack Luthadel—he could force us to give in." "You'll have orders to let me die first" Elend said. "That's why I set up the Assembly. It has the power to choose a new king." "But why?" Ham asked. "Why take this risk, El? Let's wait a bit longer and see if we can get Straff to meet with you in a more neutral location." Elend sighed. "You have to listen to me, Ham. Siege or no siege, we can't just sit here. If we do, either we'll get starved out, or one of those armies will decide to break the siege and attack us, hoping to take our walls, then turn and immediately defend against its enemies. They won't do that easily, but it could happen. It will happen, if we don't begin to play the kings against one another." The room fell silent. The others slowly turned toward Clubs, who nodded. He agreed. Good job, Elend, Vin thought. "Someone has to meet with my father," Elend said. "And, I need to be that person. Straff thinks I am a fool, so I can convince him that I'm no threat. Then, I'll go and persuade Cett that I'm on his side. When they finally attack each other—each one thinking we're on their side—we'll withdraw instead and force them to fight it out. The winner won't have enough strength left to take
|
the city from us!" Ham and Breeze nodded their heads. Dockson, however, shook his. "The plan is good in theory, but going into the enemy camp unguarded? That seems foolish." "Now, see," Elend said. "I think this is to our advantage. My father believes strongly in control and domination. If I walk into his camp, I'll essentially be telling him that I agree he has authority over me. I'll seem weak, and he'll assume that he can take me whenever he wants. It's a risk, but if I don't do this, we die." The men eyed each other. Elend stood up a little straighter and pulled his hands into fists at his sides. He always did that when he was nervous. "I'm afraid that this isn't a discussion," Elend said. "I've made my decision." They're not going to accept a declaration like that, Vin thought. The crew were an independent lot. Yet, surprisingly, none of them objected. Dockson finally nodded his head. "All right, Your Majesty," he said. "You're going to need to walk a dangerous line—make Straff believe that he can count on our support, but also convince him that he can betray us at his leisure. You have to make him want our strength of arms while at the same time dismissing our strength of will." "And," Breeze added, "you need to do so without him figuring out that you're playing both sides." "Can you do it?" Ham asked. "Honestly, Elend?" Elend nodded. "I can do it, Ham. I've gotten much better at politics this last year." He said the words with confidence, though Vin noticed that he still had his fists clenched. He'll have to learn not to do that. "You may, perhaps, understand politics," Breeze said, "but this is scamming. Face it, my friend, you're dreadfully honest—always talking about how to defend the rights of skaa and the like." "Now, see, you're being unfair," Elend said. "Honesty and good intentions are completely different. Why, I can be just as dishonest as—" He paused. "Why am I arguing this point? We admit what has to be done, and we know that I'm the one who has to do it. Dox, would you draft a letter to my father? Suggest that I would be happy to visit him. In fact. . ." Elend paused, glancing at Vin. Then, he continued. "In fact, tell him that I want to discuss the future of Luthadel, and because I want to introduce him to someone special." Ham chuckled. "Ah, nothing like bringing a girl home to meet the father." "Especially when that girl happens to be the most dangerous Allomancer in the Central Dominance," Breeze added. "You think he'll agree to letting her come?" Dockson said. "If he doesn't, there's no deal," Elend said. "Make sure he knows that. Either way, I do think he'll agree. Straff has a habit of underestimating me—probably with good reason. However, I'll bet that sentiment extends to Vin as well. He'll assume she isn't as good as everyone says." "Straff has his own Mistborn," Vin added. "To
|
protect him. It will only be fair for Elend to be able to bring me. And, if I'm there, I can get him out should something go wrong." Ham chuckled again. "That probably wouldn't make for a very dignified retreat—getting slung over Vin's shoulder and carried to safety." "Better than dying," Elend said, obviously trying to act good-natured, but flushing slightly at the same time. He loves me, but he's still a man, Vin thought. How many times have I hurt his pride by being Mistborn while he is simply a normal person? A lesser man would never have fallen in love with me. But, doesn't he deserve a woman that he feels he can protect? A woman who's more like. . .a woman? Vin pulled down in her chair again, seeking warmth within its plushness. However, it was Elend's study chair, where he read. Didn't he also deserve a woman who shared his interests, one who didn't find reading a chore? A woman with whom he could talk about his brilliant political theories? Why am I thinking about our relationship so much lately? Vin thought. We don't belong in their world, Zane had said. We belong here, in the mists. You don't belong with them. . .. "There is something else I wanted to mention, Your Majesty," Dockson said. "You should meet with the Assembly. They've been growing impatient to get your ear—something about counterfeit coins being passed in Luthadel." "I don't really have time for city business right now," Elend said. "The prime reason I set up the Assembly was so that they could deal with these kinds of issues. Go ahead and send them a message, telling them that I trust their judgment. Apologize for me, and explain that I'm seeing to the city's defense. I'll try and make the Assembly meeting next week." Dockson nodded, scribbling a note to himself. "Though," he noted, "that is something else to consider. By meeting with Straff, you'll give up your hold on the Assembly." "This isn't an official parlay," Elend said. "Just an informal meeting. My resolution from before will still stand." "In all honesty, Your Majesty," Dockson said, "I highly doubt that they will see it that way. You know how angry they are to be left without recourse until you decide to hold the parlay." "I know," Elend said. "But the risk is worthwhile. We need to meet with Straff. Once that is done, I can return with—hopefully—good news for the Assembly. At that point, I can argue that the resolution hasn't been fulfilled. For now, the meeting goes forward." More decisive indeed, Vin thought. He's changing. . .. She had to stop thinking about things like that. Instead, she focused on something else. The conversation turned to specific ways that Elend could manipulate Straff, each of the crewmembers giving him tips on how to scam effectively. Vin, however, found herself watching them, looking for discrepancies in their personalities, trying to decide if any of them might be the kandra spy. Was Clubs being even quieter than normal? Was
|
Spook's shift in language patterns due to growing maturity, or because the kandra had difficulty mimicking his slang? Was Ham, perhaps, too jovial? He also seemed to focus less on his little philosophical puzzles than he once had. Was that because he was more serious now, or because the kandra didn't know how to imitate him properly? It was no good. If she thought too much, she could spot seeming discrepancies in anyone. Yet, at the same time, they all seemed like themselves. People were just too complex to reduce to simple personality traits. Plus, the kandra would be good—very good. He would have a lifetime of training in the art of imitating others, and he had probably been planning his insertion for a long time. It came down to Allomancy, then. With all of the activities surrounding the siege and her studies about the Deepness, however, she hadn't had a chance to test her friends. As she thought about it, she admitted that the lack of time excuse was a weak one. The truth was that she was probably distracting herself because the thought of one of the crew—one of her first group of friends—being a traitor was just too upsetting. She had to get over that. If there really were a spy in the group, that would be the end of them. If the enemy kings found out about the tricks Elend was planning. . . This in mind, she tentatively burned bronze. Immediately, she sensed an Allomantic pulse from Breeze—dear, incorrigible Breeze. He was so good at Allomancy that even Vin couldn't detect his touch most of the time, but he was also compulsive about using his power. He wasn't currently using it on her, however. She closed her eyes, focusing. Once, long ago, Marsh had tried to train her in the fine art of using bronze to read Allomantic pulses. She hadn't realized at the time just how large a task he'd begun. When an Allomancer burned a metal, they gave off an invisible, drumlike beat that only another Allomancer burning bronze could sense. The rhythm of these pulses—how quickly the beats came, the way they "sounded"—told exactly what metal was being burned. It took practice, and was difficult, but Vin was getting better at reading the pulses. She focused. Breeze was burning brass—the internal, mental Pushing metal. And. . . Vin focused harder. She could feel a pattern washing over her, a double dum-dum beat with each pulse. They felt oriented to her right. The pulses were washing against something else, something that was sucking them in. Elend. Breeze was focused on Elend. Not surprising, considering the current discussion. Breeze was always Pushing on the people he interacted with. Satisfied, Vin sat back. But then she paused. Marsh implied there was much more to bronze than many people thought. I wonder. . .. She squeezed her eyes shut—ignoring the fact that any of the others who saw her would think her actions strange—and focused again on the Allomantic pulses. She flared the bronze, concentrating so hard she
|
felt she'd give herself a headache. There was a. . .vibration to the pulses. But what that could mean, she wasn't certain. Focus! she told herself. However, the pulses stubbornly refused to yield any further information. Fine, she thought. I'll cheat. She turned off her tin—she almost always had it on a little bit—then reached inside and burned the fourteenth metal. Duralumin. The Allomantic pulses became so loud. . .so powerful. . .she swore she could feel their vibrations shaking her apart. They pounded like beats from a massive drum set right beside her. But she got something from them. Anxiety, nervousness, worry, insecurity, anxiety, nervousness, worry— It was gone, her bronze expended in one massive flare of power. Vin opened her eyes; no one in the room was looking at her except OreSeur. She felt drained. The headache she'd predicted before now came in full force, thudding inside her head like the tiny brother of the drum she'd now banished. However, she held to the information she'd gleaned. It hadn't come in words, but feelings—and her first fear was that Breeze was making these emotions appear. Anxiety, nervousness, worry. However, she immediately realized that Breeze was a Soother. If he focused on emotions, it would be the ones he was dampening. The ones he was using his powers to Soothe away. She looked from him to Elend. Why. . .he's making Elend more confident! If Elend stood a little taller, it was because Breeze was quietly helping, Soothing away anxiety and worry. And Breeze did this even as he argued and made his usual mocking comments. Vin studied the plump man, ignoring her headache, feeling a newfound sense of admiration. She'd always wondered just a little at Breeze's placement in the crew. The other men were all, to an extent, idealists. Even Clubs, beneath his crotchety exterior, had always struck her as a solidly good man. Breeze was different. Manipulative, a little selfish—he seemed like he'd joined the crew for the challenge, not because he really wanted to help the skaa. But, Kelsier had always claimed that he'd chosen his crew carefully, picking the men for their integrity, not just their skill. Perhaps Breeze wasn't an exception after all. Vin watched him pointing his cane at Ham as he said something flippant. And yet, on the inside, he was completely different. You're a good man, Breeze, she thought, smiling to herself. You just try your best to hide it. And he also wasn't the impostor. She'd known that before, of course; Breeze hadn't been in the city when the kandra had made the switch. However, having a second confirmation lifted a tiny bit of her burden. Now if she could just eliminate some of the others. Elend bid the crew farewell after the meeting. Dockson went to pen the requested letters, Ham to go over security, Clubs back to training the soldiers, and Breeze to try and placate the Assembly regarding Elend's lack of attention. Vin trailed out of the study, shooting him a glance, then eyeing Tindwyl. Suspicious of her
|
still, eh? Elend thought with amusement. He nodded reassuringly, and Vin frowned, looking just a little annoyed. He would have let her stay, but. . .well, facing Tindwyl was embarrassing enough alone. Vin left the room, wolfhound kandra at her side. Looks like she's growing more attached to the creature, Elend thought with satisfaction. It was good to know that someone watched over her. Vin shut the door behind her, and Elend sighed, rubbing his shoulder. Several weeks of training with the sword and cane were taking a lot out of him, and his body was bruised. He tried to keep the pain from showing—or, rather, from letting Tindwyl see him show the pain. At least I proved that I'm learning, he thought. She had to see how well I did today. "Well?" he asked. "You are an embarrassment," Tindwyl said, standing before her chair. "So you like to say," Elend said, walking forward to begin piling up a stack of books. Tindwyl said that he needed to let servants keep his study clean, something he'd always resisted. The clutter of books and papers felt right to him, and he certainly didn't want someone else moving them around. With her standing there looking at him, however, it was difficult not to feel self-conscious about the mess. He stacked another book on the pile. "Surely you noticed how well I did," Elend said. "I got them to let me go into Straff's camp." "You are king, Elend Venture," Tindwyl said, arms folded. "Nobody 'lets' you do anything. The first change in attitude has to be your own—you have to stop thinking that you need permission or agreement from those who follow you." "A king should lead by consent of his citizens," Elend said. "I will not be another Lord Ruler." "A king should be strong," Tindwyl said firmly. "He accepts counsel, but only when he asks for it. He makes it clear that the final decision is his, not his counselors'. You need better control over your advisors. If they don't respect you, then your enemies won't either—and the masses never will." "Ham and the others respect me." Tindwyl raised an eyebrow. "They do!" "What do they call you?" Elend shrugged. "They're my friends. They use my name." "Or a close approximation of it. Right, 'El'?" Elend flushed, setting one final book on the stack. "You'd have me force my friends to address me by my title?" "Yes," Tindwyl said. "Especially in public. You should be addressed as 'Your Majesty,' or at least as 'my lord.'" "I doubt Ham would deal well with that," Elend said. "He has some issues with authority." "He will get over them," Tindwyl said, wiping her finger along a bookcase. She didn't need to hold it up for Elend to know there would be dust on its tip. "What about you?" Elend challenged. "Me?" "You call me 'Elend Venture,' not 'Your Majesty.'" "I am different," Tindwyl said. "Well, I don't see why you should be. You can call me 'Your Majesty' from now on." Tindwyl smiled slyly. "Very
|
well, Your Majesty. You can unclench your fists now. You're going to have to work on that—a statesman should not give visual clues of his nervousness." Elend glanced down, relaxing his hands. "All right." "In addition," Tindwyl continued, "you still hedge too much in your language. It makes you seem timid and hesitant." "I'm working on that." "Don't apologize unless you really mean it," Tindwyl said. "And don't make excuses. You don't need them. A leader is often judged by how well he bears responsibility. As king, everything that happens in your kingdom—regardless of who commits the act—is your fault. You are even responsible for unavoidable events such as earthquakes or storms." "Or armies," Elend said. Tindwyl nodded. "Or armies. It is your responsibility to deal with these things, and if something goes wrong, it is your fault. You simply have to accept this." Elend nodded, picking up a book. "Now, let's talk about guilt," Tindwyl said, seating herself. "Stop cleaning. That isn't a job for a king." Elend sighed, setting down the book. "Guilt," Tindwyl said, "does not become a king. You have to stop feeling sorry for yourself." "You just told me everything that happens in the kingdom is my fault!" "It is." "How can I not feel guilty, then?" "You have to feel confident that your actions are the best," Tindwyl explained. "You have to know that no matter how bad things get, they would be worse without you. When disaster occurs, you take responsibility, but you don't wallow or mope. You aren't allowed that luxury; guilt is for lesser men. You simply need to do what is expected." "And that is?" "To make everything better." "Great," Elend said flatly. "And if I fail?" "Then you accept responsibility, and make everything better on the second try." Elend rolled his eyes. "And what if I can't ever make things better? What if I'm really not the best man to be king?" "Then you remove yourself from the position," Tindwyl said. "Suicide is the preferred method—assuming, of course, that you have an heir. A good king knows not to foul up the succession." "Of course," Elend said. "So, you're saying I should just kill myself." "No. I'm telling you to have pride in yourself, Your Majesty." "That's not what it sounds like. Every day you tell me how poor a king I am, and how my people will suffer because of it! Tindwyl, I'm not the best man for this position. He got himself killed by the Lord Ruler." "That is enough!" Tindwyl snapped. "Believe it or not, Your Majesty, you are the best person for this position." Elend snorted. "You are best," Tindwyl said, "because you hold the throne now. If there is anything worse than a mediocre king, it is chaos—which is what this kingdom would have if you hadn't taken the throne. The people on both sides, noblemen and skaa, accept you. They may not believe in you, but they accept you. Step down now—or even die accidentally—and there would be confusion, collapse, and destruction. Poorly trained or
|
not, weak of character or not, mocked or not, you are all this country has. You are king, Elend Venture." Elend paused. "I'm. . .not sure if you're making me feel any better about myself, Tindwyl." "It's—" Elend raised a hand. "Yes, I know. It's not about how I feel." "You have no place for guilt. Accept that you're king, accept that you can do nothing constructive to change that, and accept responsibility. Whatever you do, be confident—for if you weren't here, there would be chaos." Elend nodded. "Arrogance, Your Majesty," Tindwyl said. "Successful leaders all share one common trait—they believe that they can do a better job than the alternatives. Humility is fine when considering your responsibility and duty, but when it comes time to make a decision, you must not question yourself." "I'll try." "Good," Tindwyl said. "Now, perhaps, we can move on to another matter. Tell me, why haven't you married that young girl?" Elend frowned. Wasn't expecting that. . .. "That's a very personal question, Tindwyl." "Good." Elend deepened his frown, but she sat expectantly, watching him with one of her unrelenting stares. "I don't know," Elend finally said, sitting back in his chair, sighing. "Vin isn't. . .like other women." Tindwyl raised an eyebrow, her voice softening slightly. "I think that the more women you come to know, Your Majesty, the more you'll find that statement applies to all of them." Elend nodded ruefully. "Either way," Tindwyl said, "things are not well as they stand. I will not pry further into your relationship, but—as we've discussed—appearances are very important to a king. It isn't appropriate for you to be seen as having a mistress. I realize that sort of thing was common for imperial nobility. The skaa, however, want to see something better in you. Perhaps because many noblemen were so frivolous with their sexual lives, the skaa have always prized monogamy. They wish desperately for you to respect their values." "They'll just have to be patient with us," Elend said. "I actually want to marry Vin, but she won't have it." "Do you know why?" Elend shook his head. "She. . .doesn't seem to make sense a lot of the time." "Perhaps she isn't right for a man in your position." Elend looked up sharply. "What does that mean?" "Perhaps you need someone a little more refined," Tindwyl said. "I'm certain she's a fine bodyguard, but as a lady, she—" "Stop," Elend snapped. "Vin is fine as she is." Tindwyl smiled. "What?" Elend demanded. "I've insulted you all afternoon, Your Majesty, and you barely grew sullen. I mentioned your Mistborn in a mildly disparaging way, and now you're ready to throw me out." "So?" "So, you do love her?" "Of course," Elend said. "I don't understand her, but yes. I love her." Tindwyl nodded. "I apologize, then, Your Majesty. I had to be certain." Elend frowned, relaxing in his chair slightly. "So, this was some kind of test, then? You wanted to see how I would react to your words about Vin?" "You will always be
|
tested by those you meet, Your Majesty. You might as well grow accustomed to it." "But, why do you care about my relationship with Vin?" "Love is not easy for kings, Your Majesty," Tindwyl said in an uncharacteristically kind voice. "You will find that your affection for the girl can cause far more trouble than any of the other things we've discussed." "And that's a reason to give her up?" Elend asked stiffly. "No," Tindwyl said. "No, I don't think so." Elend paused, studying the stately Terriswoman with her square features and her stiff posture. "That. . .seems odd, coming from you. What about kingly duty and appearances?" "We must make allowances for the occasional exception," Tindwyl said. Interesting, Elend thought. He wouldn't have considered her the type to agree to any sort of "exceptions." Perhaps she's a little deeper than I've assumed. "Now," Tindwyl said. "How are your training sessions going?" Elend rubbed his sore arm. "All right, I suppose. But—" He was interrupted by a knock at the door. Captain Demoux entered a moment later. "Your Majesty, a visitor has arrived from Lord Cett's army." "A messenger?" Elend said, standing. Demoux paused, looking a little embarrassed. "Well. . .sort of. She says she's Lord Cett's daughter, and she's come looking for Breeze." He was born of a humble family, yet married the daughter of a king. THE YOUNG WOMAN'S EXPENSIVE DRESS—light red silk with a shawl and lace sleeves—might have lent her an air of dignity, had she not scampered forward as soon as Breeze entered the room. Her light Western hair bouncing, she made a squeal of happiness as she threw her arms around Breeze's neck. She was, perhaps, eighteen years old. Elend glanced at Ham, who stood dumbfounded. "Well, looks like you were right about Breeze and Cett's daughter," Elend whispered. Ham shook his head. "I didn't think. . .I mean I joked, because it was Breeze, but I didn't expect to be right!" Breeze, for his part, at least had the decency to look terribly uncomfortable in the young woman's arms. They stood inside the palace atrium, the same place where Elend had met with his father's messenger. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the afternoon light, and a group of servants stood at one side of the room to wait on Elend's orders. Breeze met Elend's eyes, blushing deeply. I don't think I've ever seen him do that before, Elend thought. "My dear," Breeze said, clearing his throat, "perhaps you should introduce yourself to the king?" The girl finally let go of Breeze. She stepped back, curtsying to Elend with a noblewoman's grace. She was a bit plump, her hair long after pre-Collapse fashion, and her cheeks were red with excitement. She was a cute thing, obviously well trained for the court—exactly the sort of girl that Elend had spent his youth trying to avoid. "Elend," Breeze said, "might I introduce Allrianne Cett, daughter to Lord Ashweather Cett, king of the Western Dominance?" "Your Majesty," Allrianne said. Elend nodded. "Lady Cett." He paused, then—with a hopeful voice—continued. "Your
|
father sent you as an ambassador?" Allrianne paused. "Um. . .he didn't exactly send me, Your Majesty." "Oh, dear," Breeze said, pulling out a handkerchief to dab his brow. Elend glanced at Ham, then back at the girl. "Perhaps you should explain," he said, gesturing toward the atrium's seats. Allrianne nodded eagerly, but stayed close to Breeze as they sat. Elend waved for some servants to bring chilled wine. He had a feeling he was going to want something to drink. "I seek asylum, Your Majesty," Allrianne said, speaking with a quick voice. "I had to go. I mean, Breezy must have told you how my father is!" Breeze sat uncomfortably, and Allrianne put an affectionate hand on his knee. "How your father is?" Elend asked. "He is so manipulative," Allrianne said. "So demanding. He drove Breezy away, and I absolutely had to follow. I wouldn't spend another moment in that camp. A war camp! He brought me, a young lady, along with him to war! Why, do you know what it is like to be leered at by every passing soldier? Do you understand what it is like to live in a tent?" "I—" "We rarely had fresh water," Allrianne continued. "And I couldn't take a decent bath without fear of peeping soldiers! During our travels, there was dreadful nothing to do all day but sit in the carriage and bounce, bounce, bounce. Why, until Breezy came, I hadn't had a refined conversation in weeks. And then, Father drove him away. . .." "Because?" Ham asked eagerly. Breeze coughed. "I had to get away, Your Majesty," Allrianne said. "You have to give me asylum! I know things that could help you. Like, I saw my father's camp. I'll bet you don't know that he is getting supplies from the cannery in Haverfrex! What do you think of that?" "Um. . .impressive," Elend said hesitantly. Allrianne nodded curtly. "And, you came to find Breeze?" Elend asked. Allrianne flushed slightly, glancing to the side. However, when she spoke, she displayed little tact. "I had to see him again, Your Majesty. So charming, so. . .wonderful. I wouldn't have expected Father to understand a man such as he." "I see," Elend said. "Please, Your Majesty," Allrianne said. "You have to take me in. Now that I've left Father, I have nowhere else to go!" "You may stay—for a time, at least," Elend said, nodding greetings to Dockson, who had entered through the atrium doors. "But, you've obviously had a difficult trip. Perhaps you would like an opportunity to refresh yourself. . .?" "Oh, I would much appreciate that, Your Majesty!" Elend eyed Cadon, one of the palace stewards, who stood at the back of the room with other servants. He nodded; rooms were prepared. "Then," Elend said, standing, "Cadon will lead you to some rooms. We will take dinner this evening at seven, and can speak again then." "Thank you, Your Majesty!" Allrianne said, jumping up from her chair. She gave Breeze another hug, then stepped forward, as if to do the same for
|
Elend. Fortunately, she thought better of it, instead allowing the servants to lead her away. Elend sat. Breeze sighed deeply, leaning back in a wearied posture as Dockson walked forward, taking the girl's seat. "That was. . .unexpected," Breeze noted. There was an awkward pause, the atrium trees shifting slightly in the breeze from the balcony. Then—with a sharp bark—Ham began to laugh. The noise sparked Elend, and—despite the danger, despite the gravity of the problem—he found himself laughing as well. "Oh, honestly," Breeze huffed, which only prompted them further. Perhaps it was the sheer incongruity of the situation, perhaps it was because he needed to release tension, but Elend found himself laughing so hard he almost fell from the chair. Ham wasn't doing much better, and even Dockson cracked a smile. "I fail to see the levity in this situation," Breeze said. "The daughter of Lord Cett—a man who is currently besieging our home—just demanded asylum in the city. If Cett wasn't determined to kill us before, he certainly will be now!" "I know," Elend said, taking deep breaths. "I know. It's just. . ." "It's the image of you," Ham said, "being hugged by that courtly fluffcake. I can't think of anything more awkward than you being confronted by an irrational young woman!" "This throws another wrinkle into things," Dockson noted. "Although, I'm not accustomed to you being the one to bring us a problem of this nature, Breeze. Honestly, I thought we would be able to avoid unplanned female attachments now that Kell is gone." "This isn't my fault," Breeze said pointedly. "The girl's affection is completely misplaced." "That's for sure," Ham mumbled. "All right," a new voice said. "What was that pink thing I just passed in the hallway?" Elend turned to find Vin standing, arms folded, in the atrium doorway. So quiet. Why does she walk stealthily even in the palace? She never wore shoes that clicked, never wore skirts that could rustle, and never had metal on her clothing that could clink or be Pushed by Allomancers. "That wasn't pink, my dear," Breeze said. "That was red." "Close enough," Vin said, walking forward. "She was bubbling to the servants about how hot her bath needed to be, and making certain they wrote down her favorite foods." Breeze sighed. "That's Allrianne. We'll probably have to get a new pastry chef—either that, or have desserts ordered in. She's rather particular about her pastries." "Allrianne Cett is the daughter of Lord Cett," Elend explained as Vin—ignoring the chairs—sat on the edge of a planter beside his chair, laying a hand on his arm. "Apparently, she and Breeze are something of an item." "Excuse me?" Breeze huffed. Vin, however, wrinkled her nose. "That's disgusting, Breeze. You're old. She's young." "There was no relationship," Breeze snapped. "Besides, I'm not that old—nor is she that young." "She sounded like she was about twelve," Vin said. Breeze rolled his eyes. "Allrianne was a child of the country court—a little innocent, a little spoiled—but she hardly deserves to be spoken of in that manner.
|
She's actually quite witty, in the right circumstances." "So, was there anything between you?" Vin pressed. "Of course not," Breeze said. "Well, not really. Nothing real, though it could have been taken the wrong way. Was taken the wrong way, actually, once her father discovered. . .Anyway, who are you to talk, Vin? I seem to remember a certain young girl pining for an old Kelsier a few years back." Elend perked up at this. Vin flushed. "I never pined over Kelsier." "Not even at the beginning?" Breeze asked. "Come now, a dashing man like him? He saved you from being beaten by your old crewleader, took you in. . ." "You're a sick man," Vin declared, folding her arms. "Kelsier was like a father to me." "Eventually, perhaps," Breeze said, "but—" Elend held up a hand. "Enough," he said. "This line of discussion is useless." Breeze snorted, but fell silent. Tindwyl is right, Elend thought. They will listen to me if I act like I expect them to. "We have to decide what to do," Elend said. "The daughter of the man threatening us could be a very powerful bargaining chip," Dockson said. "You mean take her hostage?" Vin said, eyes narrowing. Dockson shrugged. "Someone has to state the obvious, Vin." "Not really a hostage," Ham said. "She came to us, after all. Simply letting her stay could have the same effect as taking her hostage." "That would risk antagonizing Cett," Elend said. "Our original plan was to make him think we're his ally." "We could give her back, then," Dockson said. "That could get us a long way in the negotiations." "And her request?" Breeze asked. "The girl wasn't happy in her father's camp. Shouldn't we at least consider her wishes?" All eyes turned toward Elend. He paused. Just a few weeks ago, they would have kept on arguing. It seemed strange that they should so quickly begin to look to him for decisions. Who was he? A man who had haphazardly ended up on the throne? A poor replacement for their brilliant leader? An idealist who hadn't considered the dangers his philosophies would bring? A fool? A child? An impostor? The best they had. "She stays," Elend said. "For now. Perhaps we'll be forced to return her eventually, but this will make a useful distraction for Cett's army. Let them sweat for a bit. It will only buy us more time." The crewmembers nodded, and Breeze looked relieved. I'll do what I can, make the decisions as I see they must be made, Elend thought. Then accept the consequences. He could trade words with the finest of philosophers, and had an impressive memory. Nearly as good, even, as my own. Yet, he was not argumentative. CHAOS AND STABILITY, THE MIST was both. Upon the land there was an empire, within that empire were a dozen shattered kingdoms, within those kingdoms were cities, towns, villages, plantations. And above them all, within them all, around them all, was the mist. It was more constant than the sun, for it could not
|
be hidden by clouds. It was more powerful than the storms, for it would outlast any weather's fury. It was always there. Changing, but eternal. Day was an impatient sigh, awaiting the night. When the darkness did come, however, Vin found that the mists did not calm her as they once had. Nothing seemed certain anymore. Once the night had been her refuge; now she found herself glancing behind, watching for ghostly outlines. Once Elend had been her peace, but he was changing. Once she had been able to protect the things she loved—but she was growing more and more afraid that the forces moving against Luthadel were beyond her capacity to stop. Nothing frightened her more than her own impotence. During her childhood she had taken it for granted that she couldn't change things, but Kelsier had given her pride in herself. If she couldn't protect Elend, what good was she? There are still some things I can do, she thought forcefully. She crouched quietly on a ledge, mistcloak tassels hanging down, waving slightly in the wind. Just below her, torches burned fitfully at the front of Keep Venture, illuminating a pair of Ham's guards. They stood alert in the swirling mists, showing impressive diligence. The guards wouldn't be able to see her sitting just above them; they'd barely be able to see twenty feet in the thick mists. They weren't Allomancers. Besides the core crew, Elend had access to barely half a dozen Mistings—which made him Allomantically weak compared with most of the other new kings in the Final Empire. Vin was supposed to make up the difference. The torches flickered as the doors opened, and a figure left the palace. Ham's voice echoed quietly in the mist as he greeted his guards. One reason—perhaps the main reason—that the guards were so diligent was because of Ham. He might have been a bit of an anarchist at heart, but he could be a very good leader if he was given a small team. Though his guards weren't the most disciplined, polished soldiers Vin had seen, they were fiercely loyal. Ham talked with the men for a time, then he waved farewell and walked out into the mists. The small courtyard between the keep and its wall contained a couple of guard posts and patrols, and Ham would visit each one in turn. He walked boldly in the night, trusting to diffused starlight to see, rather than blinding himself with a torch. A thief's habit. Vin smiled, leaping quietly to the ground, then scampering after Ham. He walked on, ignorant of her presence. What would it be like to have only one Allomantic power? Vin thought. To be able to make yourself stronger, but to have ears as weak as those of any normal man? It had been only two years, but already she had come to rely so heavily on her abilities. Ham continued forward, Vin following discreetly, until they reached the ambush. Vin tensed, flaring her bronze. OreSeur howled suddenly, jumping from a pile of boxes. The kandra was
|
a dark silhouette in the night, his inhuman baying disturbing even to Vin. Ham spun, cursing quietly. And he instinctively flared pewter. Focused on her bronze, Vin confirmed that the pulses were definitely coming from him. Ham spun around, searching in the night as OreSeur landed. Vin, however, simply smiled. Ham's Allomancy meant he wasn't the impostor. She could cross another name off her list. "It's okay, Ham," Vin said, walking forward. Ham paused, lowering his dueling cane. "Vin?" he asked, squinting in the mist. "It's me," she said. "I'm sorry, you startled my hound. He can get jumpy at night." Ham relaxed. "We all can, I guess. Anything happening tonight?" "Not that I can tell," she said. "I'd let you know." Ham nodded. "I'd appreciate it—though I doubt you'd need me. I'm captain of the guard, but you're the one who does all the work." "You're more valuable than you think, Ham," Vin said. "Elend confides in you. Since Jastes and the others left him, he's needed a friend." Ham nodded. Vin turned, glancing into the mists, where OreSeur sat waiting on his haunches. He seemed to be getting more and more comfortable with his hound's body. Now that she knew Ham was not an impostor, there was something she needed to discuss with him. "Ham," she said, "your protection of Elend is more valuable than you know." "You're talking about the impostor," Ham said quietly. "El has me searching through the palace staff to see who might have gone missing for a few hours on that day. It's a tough task, though." She nodded. "There's something else, Ham. I'm out of atium." He stood quietly in the mists for a moment, and then she heard him mutter a curse. "I'll die the next time I fight a Mistborn," she said. "Not unless he has atium," Ham said. "What are the chances that someone would send a Mistborn without atium to fight me?" He hesitated. "Ham," she said, "I need to find a way to fight against someone who is burning atium. Tell me that you know a way." Ham shrugged in the darkness. "There are lots of theories, Vin. I once had a long conversation with Breeze about this—though he spent most of it grumbling that I was annoying him." "Well?" Vin asked. "What can I do?" He rubbed his chin. "Most people agree that the best way to kill a Mistborn with atium is to surprise them." "That doesn't help if they attack me first," Vin said. "Well," Ham said. "Barring surprise, there isn't much. Some people think that you might be able to kill an atium-using Mistborn if you catch them in an unavoidable situation. It's like a game of fets—sometimes, the only way to take a piece is to corner it so that no matter which way it moves, it dies. "Doing that to a Mistborn is pretty tough, though. The thing is, atium lets the Mistborn see the future—so he knows when a move will trap him, and so he can avoid the situation. The metal
|
is supposed to enhance his mind somehow, too." "It does. When I'm burning atium, I often dodge before I even register the attacks that are coming." Ham nodded. "So," Vin said, "what else?" "That's it, Vin," Ham said. "Thugs talk about this topic a lot—we're all afraid of going up against a Mistborn. Those are your two options: Surprise him or overwhelm him. I'm sorry." Vin frowned. Neither option would do her much good if she got ambushed. "Anyway, I need to keep moving. I promise to tell you about any corpses I produce." Ham laughed. "How about you just try and avoid getting into situations where you have to produce them, eh? The Lord only knows what this kingdom would do if we lost you. . ." Vin nodded, though she wasn't certain how much Ham could see of her in the darkness. She waved to OreSeur, heading out toward the keep wall, leaving Ham on the cobbled path. "Mistress," OreSeur said as they reached the top of the wall, "might I know the purpose of surprising Master Hammond like that? Are you that fond of startling your friends?" "It was a test," Vin said, pausing beside a merlon gap, looking out over the city proper. "A test, Mistress?" "To see if he would use Allomancy. That way, I could know that he wasn't the impostor." "Ah," the kandra said. "Clever, Mistress." Vin smiled. "Thank you," she said. A guard patrol was moving toward them. Not wanting to have to deal with them, Vin nodded to the wall-top stone guardhouse. She jumped, pushing off a coin, and landed on top of it. OreSeur bounded up beside her, using his strange kandra musculature to leap the ten feet. Vin sat down cross-legged to think, and OreSeur padded over to the roof's side and lay down, paws hanging over the edge. As they sat, Vin considered something. OreSeur told me that a kandra didn't gain Allomantic powers if he ate an Allomancer. . .but, can a kandra be an Allomancer on his own? I never did finish that conversation. "This will tell me if a person isn't a kandra, won't it?" Vin asked, turning to OreSeur. "Your people don't have Allomantic powers, right?" OreSeur didn't answer. "OreSeur?" Vin said. "I'm not required to answer that question, Mistress." Yes, Vin thought with a sigh. The Contract. How am I supposed to catch this other kandra if OreSeur won't answer any of my questions? She leaned back in frustration, staring up into the endless mists, using her mistcloak to cushion her head. "Your plan will work, Mistress," OreSeur said quietly. Vin paused, rolling her head to look at him. He lay with head on forepaws, staring over the city. "If you sense Allomancy from someone, then they aren't a kandra." Vin sensed a hesitant reluctance to his words, and he didn't look at her. It was as if he spoke grudgingly, giving up information that he'd rather have kept to himself. So secretive, Vin thought. "Thank you," she said. OreSeur shrugged a pair of canine
|
shoulders. "I know you'd rather not have to deal with me," she said. "We'd both rather keep our distance from each other. But, we'll just have to make things work this way." OreSeur nodded again, then turned his head slightly and looked at her. "Why is it that you hate me?" "I don't hate you," Vin said. OreSeur raised a canine eyebrow. There was a wisdom in those eyes, an understanding that Vin was surprised to see. She'd never seen such things in him before. "I. . ." Vin trailed off, looking away. "I just haven't ever gotten over the fact that you ate Kelsier's body." "That isn't it," OreSeur said, turning back to look at the city. "You're too smart to be bothered by that." Vin frowned indignantly, but the kandra wasn't looking at her. She turned, staring back up at the mists. Why did he bring this up? she thought. We were just starting to get along. She'd been willing to forget. You really want to know? she thought. Fine. "It's because you knew," she whispered. "Excuse me, Mistress?" "You knew," Vin said, still looking into the mists. "You were the only one on the crew who knew Kelsier was going to die. He told you that he was going to let himself be killed, and that you were to take his bones." "Ah," OreSeur said quietly. Vin turned accusing eyes at the creature. "Why didn't you say something? You knew how we felt about Kelsier. Did you even consider telling us that the idiot planned to kill himself? Did it even cross your mind that we might be able to stop him, that we might be able to find another way?" "You are being quite harsh, Mistress." "Well, you wanted to know," Vin said. "It was worst right after he died. When you came to be my servant, by his order. You never even spoke of what you'd done." "The Contract, Mistress," OreSeur said. "You do not wish to hear this, perhaps, but I was bound. Kelsier did not wish you to know of his plans, so I could not tell you. Hate me if you must, but I do not regret my actions." "I don't hate you." I got over that. "But, honestly, you wouldn't even break the Contract for his own good? You served Kelsier for two years. Didn't it even hurt you to know he was going to die?" "Why should I care if one master or another dies?" OreSeur said. "There is always another to take their place." "Kelsier wasn't that kind of master," Vin said. "Wasn't he?" "No." "I apologize, Mistress," OreSeur said. "I will believe as commanded, then." Vin opened her mouth to reply, then snapped it closed. If he was determined to keep thinking like a fool, then it was his right to do so. He could continue to resent masters, just as. . . Just as she resented him. For keeping his word, for holding to his Contract. Ever since I've known him, I've done nothing but treat him poorly, Vin
|
thought. First, when he was Renoux, I reacted against his haughty bearing—but that bearing wasn't his, it was part of the act he had to play. Then, as OreSeur, I avoided him. Hated him, even, for letting Kelsier die. Now I've forced him into an animal's body. And, in two years of knowing him, the only times I've asked about his past, I did it so that I could glean more information about his people so that I could find the impostor. Vin watched the mists. Of all the people in the crew, only OreSeur had been an outsider. He hadn't been invited to their conferences. He hadn't inherited a position in the government. He'd helped as much as any of them, playing a vital role—that of the "spirit" Kelsier, who had returned from the grave to incite the skaa to their final rebellion. Yet, while the rest of them had titles, friendships, and duties, the only thing OreSeur had gained from overthrowing the Final Empire was another master. One who hated him. No wonder he reacts like he does, Vin thought. Kelsier's last words to her returned to her mind: You have a lot to learn about friendship, Vin. . .. Kell and the others had invited her in, treated her with dignity and friendliness, even when she hadn't deserved it. "OreSeur," she said, "what was your life like before you were recruited by Kelsier?" "I don't see what that has to do with finding the impostor, Mistress," OreSeur said. "It doesn't have anything to do with that," Vin said. "I just thought maybe I should get to know you better." "My apologies, Mistress, but I don't want you to know me." Vin sighed. So much for that. But. . .well, Kelsier and the others hadn't turned away when she'd been blunt with them. There was a familiar tone to OreSeur's words. Something in them that she recognized. "Anonymity," Vin said quietly. "Mistress?" "Anonymity. Hiding, even when you're with others. Being quiet, unobtrusive. Forcing yourself to stay apart—emotionally, at least. It's a way of life. A protection." OreSeur didn't answer. "You serve beneath masters," Vin said. "Harsh men who fear your competence. The only way to keep them from hating you is to make certain they don't pay attention to you. So, you make yourself look small and weak. Not a threat. But sometimes you say the wrong thing, or you let your rebelliousness show." She turned toward him. He was watching her. "Yes," he finally said, turning to look back over the city. "They hate you," Vin said quietly. "They hate you because of your powers, because they can't make you break your word, or because they worry that you are too strong to control." "They become afraid of you," OreSeur said. "They grow paranoid—terrified, even as they use you, that you will take their place. Despite the Contract, despite knowing that no kandra would break his sacred vow, they fear you. And men hate what they fear." "And so," Vin said, "they find excuses to beat you. Sometimes, even
|
your efforts to remain harmless seem to provoke them. They hate your skill, they hate the fact that they don't have more reasons to beat you, so they beat you." OreSeur turned back to her. "How do you know these things?" he demanded. Vin shrugged. "That's not only how they treat kandra, OreSeur. That's the same way crewleaders treat a young girl—an anomaly in a thieving underground filled with men. A child who had a strange ability to make things happen—to influence people, to hear what she shouldn't, to move more quietly and quickly than others. A tool, yet a threat at the same time." "I. . .didn't realize, Mistress. . .." Vin frowned. How could he not have known about my past? He knew I was a street urchin. Except. . .had he? For the first time, Vin realized how OreSeur must have seen her two years before, when she'd first met him. He had arrived in the area after her recruitment; he probably assumed that she'd been part of Kelsier's team for years, like the others. "Kelsier recruited me for the first time just a few days before I met you," Vin said. "Well, actually, he didn't so much recruit me as rescue me. I spent my childhood serving in one thieving crew after another, always working for the least reputable and most dangerous men, for those were the only ones who would take in a couple of transients like my brother and me. The smart crewleaders learned that I was a good tool. I'm not sure if they figured out that I was an Allomancer—some probably did, others just thought I was 'lucky.' Either way, they needed me. And that made them hate me." "So they beat you?" Vin nodded. "The last one especially. That was when I was really beginning to figure out how to use Allomancy, even though I didn't know what it was. Camon knew, though. And he hated me even as he used me. I think he was afraid that I would figure out how to use my powers fully. And on that day, he worried that I would kill him. . ." Vin turned her head, looking at OreSeur. "Kill him and take his place as crewleader." OreSeur sat quietly, up on his haunches now, regarding her. "Kandra aren't the only ones that humans treat poorly," Vin said quietly. "We're pretty good at abusing each other, too." OreSeur snorted. "With you, at least, they had to hold back for fear they'd kill you. Have you ever been beaten by a master who knows that no matter how hard he hits, you won't die? All he has to do is get you a new set of bones, and you'll be ready to serve again the next day. We are the ultimate servant—you can beat us to death in the morning, then have us serve you dinner that night. All the sadism, none of the cost." Vin closed her eyes. "I understand. I wasn't a kandra, but I did have pewter. I think Camon knew he
|
could beat me far harder than he should have been able to." "Why didn't you run?" OreSeur asked. "You didn't have a Contract bonding you to him." "I. . .don't know," Vin said. "People are strange, OreSeur, and loyalty is so often twisted. I stayed with Camon because he was familiar, and I feared leaving more than I did staying. That crew was all I had. My brother was gone, and I was terrified of being alone. It seems kind of strange now, thinking back." "Sometimes a bad situation is still better than the alternative. You did what you needed to do to survive." "Perhaps," Vin said. "But there's a better way, OreSeur. I didn't know it until Kelsier found me, but life doesn't have to be like that. You don't have to spend your years mistrusting, staying in the shadows and keeping yourself apart." "Perhaps if you are human. I am kandra." "You can still trust," Vin said. "You don't have to hate your masters." "I don't hate them all, Mistress." "But you don't trust them." "It is nothing personal, Mistress." "Yes it is," Vin said. "You don't trust us because you're afraid we'll hurt you. I understand that—I spent months with Kelsier wondering when I was going to get hurt again." She paused. "But OreSeur, nobody betrayed us. Kelsier was right. It seems incredible to me even now, but the men in this crew—Ham, Dockson, Breeze—they're good people. And, even if one of them were to betray me, I'd still rather have trusted them. I can sleep at night, OreSeur. I can feel peace, I can laugh. Life is different. Better." "You are human," OreSeur said stubbornly. "You can have friends because they don't worry that you'll eat them, or some other foolishness." "I don't think that about you." "Don't you? Mistress, you just admitted that you resent me because I ate Kelsier. Beyond that, you hate the fact that I followed my Contract. You, at least, have been honest. "Human beings find us disturbing. They hate that we eat their kind, even though we only take bodies that are already dead. Your people find it unsettling that we can take their forms. Don't tell me that you haven't heard the legends of my people. Mistwraiths, they call us—creatures that steal the shapes of men who go into the mists. You think a monster like that, a legend used to frighten children, will ever find acceptance in your society?" Vin frowned. "This is the reason for the Contract, Mistress," OreSeur said, his muffled voice harsh as he spoke through dog's lips. "You wonder why we don't just run away from you? Meld into your society, and become unseen? We tried that. Long ago, when the Final Empire was new. Your people found us, and they started to destroy us. They used Mistborn to hunt us down, for there were many more Allomancers in those days. Your people hated us because they feared we would replace them. We were almost completely destroyed—and then we came up with the Contract." "But, what
|
difference does that make?" Vin asked. "You're still doing the same things, aren't you?" "Yes, but now we do them at your command," OreSeur said. "Men like power, and they love controlling something powerful. Our people offered to serve, and we devised a binding contract—one that every kandra vowed to uphold. We will not kill men. We will take bones only when we are commanded. We will serve our masters with absolute obedience. We began to do these things, and men stopped killing us. They still hated and feared us—but they also knew they could command us. "We became your tools. As long as we remain subservient, Mistress, we survive. And that is why I obey. To break the Contract would be to betray my people. We cannot fight you, not while you have Mistborn, and so we must serve you." Mistborn. Why are Mistborn so important? He implied that they could find kandra. . .. She kept this tidbit to herself; she sensed that if she pointed it out, he'd close up again. So, instead, she sat up and met his eyes in the darkness. "If you wish, I will free you from your Contract." "And what would that change?" OreSeur asked. "I'd just get another Contract. By our laws I must wait another decade before I have time for freedom—and then only two years, during which time I won't be able to leave the kandra Homeland. To do otherwise would risk exposure." "Then, at least accept my apology," she asked. "I was foolish to resent you for following your Contract." OreSeur paused. "That still doesn't fix things, Mistress. I still have to wear this cursed dog's body—I have no personality or bones to imitate!" "I'd think that you would appreciate the opportunity simply to be yourself." "I feel naked," OreSeur said. He sat quietly for a moment; then he bowed his head. "But. . .I have to admit that there are advantages to these bones. I didn't realize how unobtrusive they would make me." Vin nodded. "There were times in my life when I would have given anything to be able to take the form of a dog and just live my life being ignored." "But not anymore?" Vin shook her head. "No. Not most of the time, anyway. I used to think that everyone was like you say—hateful, hurtful. But there are good people in the world, OreSeur. I wish I could prove that to you." "You speak of this king of yours," OreSeur said, glancing toward the keep. "Yes," Vin said. "And others." "You?" Vin shook her head. "No, not me. I'm not a good person or a bad person. I'm just here to kill things." OreSeur watched her for a moment, then settled back down. "Regardless," he said, "you are not my worst master. That is, perhaps, a compliment among our people." Vin smiled, but her own words left her a bit haunted. Just here to kill things. . .. She glanced toward the light of the armies outside the city. A part—the part that had been
|
trained by Reen, the part that still occasionally used his voice in the back of her mind—whispered that there was another way to fight these armies. Rather than rely on politics and parlays, the crew could use Vin. Send her on a quiet visit into the night that left the kings and generals of the armies dead. But, she knew that Elend wouldn't approve of something like that. He'd argue against using fear to motivate, even on one's enemies. He'd point out that if she killed Straff or Cett, they'd just be replaced by other men, men even more hostile toward the city. Even so, it seemed like such a brutal, logical answer. A piece of Vin itched to do it, if only to be doing something other than waiting and talking. She was not a person meant to be besieged. No, she thought. That's not my way. I don't have to be like Kelsier was. Hard. Unyielding. I can be something better. Something that trusts in Elend's way. She shoved aside that part of her that wanted to just go assassinate both Straff and Cett, then turned her attention to other things. She focused on her bronze, watching for signs of Allomancy. Though she liked to jump around and "patrol" the area, the truth was that she was just as effective staying in one place. Assassins would be likely to scout the front gates, for that was where patrols began and the largest concentration of soldiers waited. Still, she felt her mind wandering. There were forces moving in the world, and Vin wasn't certain if she wanted to be part of them. What is my place? she thought. She never felt that she'd discovered it—not back when she'd been playing as Valette Renoux, and not now, when she acted as the bodyguard to the man she loved. Nothing quite fit. She closed her eyes, burning tin and bronze, feeling the touch of wind-borne mist on her skin. And, oddly, she felt something else, something very faint. In the distance she could sense Allomantic pulsings. They were so dull she almost missed them. They were kind of like the pulses given off by the mist spirit. She could hear it, too, much closer. Atop a building out in the city. She was getting used to its presence, not that she had much choice. Still, as long as it only watched. . .. It tried to kill one of the Hero's companions, she thought. It knifed him, somehow. Or so the logbook claimed. But. . .what was that pulsing in the far distance? It was soft. . .yet powerful. Like a faraway drum. She squeezed her eyes shut, focusing. "Mistress?" OreSeur said, suddenly perking up. Vin snapped her eyes open. "What?" "Didn't you hear that?" Vin sat up. "Wha—" Then she picked it out. Footsteps outside the wall a short distance away. She leaned closer, noticing a dark figure walking down the street toward the keep. She'd been so focused on her bronze that she'd completely tuned out real sounds. "Good job," she
|
said, approaching the edge of the guard station's roof. Only then did she realize something important. OreSeur had taken the initiative: he'd alerted her of the danger without specifically being ordered to listen. It was a small thing, but it seemed important. "What do you think?" she asked quietly, watching the figure approach. He carried no torch, and he seemed very comfortable in the mists. "Allomancer?" OreSeur asked, crouching beside her. Vin shook her head. "There's no Allomantic pulse." "So if he is one, he's Mistborn," OreSeur said. He still didn't know she could pierce copperclouds. "He's too tall to be your friend Zane. Be careful, Mistress." Vin nodded, dropped a coin, then threw herself into the mists. Behind her, OreSeur jumped down from the guardhouse, then leapt off the wall and dropped some twenty feet to the ground. He certainly does like to push the limits of those bones, she thought. Of course, if a fall couldn't kill him, then she could perhaps understand his courage. She guided herself by Pulling on the nails in a wooden roof, landing just a short distance from the dark figure. She pulled out her knives and prepared her metals, making certain she had duralumin. Then she moved quietly across the street. Surprise, she thought. Ham's suggestion still left her nervous. She couldn't always depend on surprise. She followed the man, studying him. He was tall—very tall. And in robes. In fact, those robes. . . Vin stopped short. "Sazed?" she asked with shock. The Terrisman turned, face now visible to her tin-enhanced eyes. He smiled. "Ah, Lady Vin," he said with his familiar, wise voice. "I was beginning to wonder how long it would take you to find me. You are—" He was cut off as Vin grabbed him in an excited embrace. "I didn't think you were going to come back so soon!" "I was not planning to return, Lady Vin," Sazed said. "But events are such that I could not avoid this place, I think. Come, we must speak with His Majesty. I have news of a rather disconcerting nature." Vin let go, looking up at his kindly face, noting the tiredness in his eyes. Exhaustion. His robes were dirty and smelled of ash and sweat. Sazed was usually very meticulous, even when he traveled. "What is it?" she asked. "Problems, Lady Vin," he said quietly. "Problems and troubles." The Terris rejected him, but he came to lead them. "KING LEKAL CLAIMED THAT HE had twenty thousand of the creatures in his army," Sazed said quietly. Twenty thousand! Elend thought in shock. That was easily as dangerous as Straff's fifty thousand men. Probably more so. The table fell silent, and Elend glanced at the others. They sat in the palace kitchen, where a couple of cooks hurriedly prepared a late-night dinner for Sazed. The white room had an alcove at the side with a modest table for servant meals. Not surprisingly, Elend had never dined in the room, but Sazed had insisted that they not wake the servants it would require to
|
prepare the main dining hall, though he apparently hadn't eaten all day. So, they sat on the low wooden benches, waiting while the cooks worked—far enough away that they couldn't hear the hushed conversation in the alcove. Vin sat beside Elend, arm around his waist, her wolfhound kandra on the floor beside her. Breeze sat on the other side of him, looking disheveled; he'd been rather annoyed when they'd woken him. Ham had already been up, as had Elend himself. Another proposal had needed work—a letter he would send to the Assembly explaining that he was meeting with Straff informally, rather than in official parlay. Dockson pulled over a stool, choosing a place away from Elend, as usual. Clubs sat slumped on his side of the bench, though Elend couldn't tell if the posture was from weariness or from general Clubs grumpiness. That left only Spook, who sat on one of the serving tables a distance away, legs swinging over the side as he occasionally pilfered a tidbit of food from the annoyed cooks. He was, Elend noticed with amusement, flirting quite unsuccessfully with a drowsy kitchen girl. And then there was Sazed. The Terrisman sat directly across from Elend with the calm sense of collectedness that only Sazed could manage. His robes were dusty, and he looked odd without his earrings—removed to not tempt thieves, Elend would guess—but his face and hands were clean. Even dirtied from travel, Sazed still gave off a sense of tidiness. "I do apologize, Your Majesty," Sazed said. "But I do not think that Lord Lekal is trustworthy. I realize that you were friends with him before the Collapse, but his current state seems somewhat. . .unstable." Elend nodded. "How is he controlling them, you think?" Sazed shook his head. "I cannot guess, Your Majesty." Ham shook his head. "I have men in the guard who came up from the South after the Collapse. They were soldiers, serving in a garrison near a koloss camp. The Lord Ruler hadn't been dead a day before the creatures went crazy. They attacked everything in the area—villages, garrisons, cities." "The same happened in the Northwest," Breeze said. "Lord Cett's lands were being flooded with refugees running from rogue koloss. Cett tried to recruit the koloss garrison near his own lands, and they followed him for a time. But then, something set them off, and they just attacked his army. He had to slaughter the whole lot—and lost nearly two thousand soldiers killing a small garrison of five hundred koloss." The group grew quiet again, the clacking and talking of the cooking staff sounding a short distance away. Five hundred koloss killed two thousand men, Elend thought. And the Jastes force contains twenty thousand of the beasts. Lord Ruler. . . "How long?" said Clubs. "How far away?" "It took me a little over a week to get here," Sazed said. "Though it looked as if King Lekal had been camped there for a time. He is obviously coming this direction, but I don't know how quickly he intends to
|
march." "Probably wasn't expecting to find that two other armies beat him to the city," Ham noted. Elend nodded. "What do we do, then?" "I don't see that we can do anything, Your Majesty," Dockson said, shaking his head. "Sazed's report doesn't give me much hope that we'll be able to reason with Jastes. And, with the siege we're already under, there is little we can do." "He might just turn around and go," Ham said. "With two armies already here. . ." Sazed looked hesitant. "He knew about the armies, Lord Hammond. He seemed to trust in his koloss over the human armies." "With twenty thousand," Clubs said, "he could probably take either of those other armies." "But he'd have trouble with both of them," Ham said. "That would give me pause, if I were him. By showing up with a pile of volatile koloss, he could easily worry Cett and Straff enough that they would join forces against him." "Which would suit us just fine," Clubs said. "The more that other people fight, the better off we are." Elend sat back. He felt a looming anxiety, and it was good to have Vin next to him, arm around him, even if she didn't say much. Sometimes, he felt stronger simply because of her presence. Twenty thousand koloss. This single threat scared him more than either of the other armies. "This could be a good thing," Ham said. "If Jastes were to lose control of those beasts near Luthadel, there's a good chance they'd attack one of those other armies." "Agreed," Breeze said tiredly. "I think we need to keep stalling, draw out this siege until the koloss army arrives. One more army in the mix means only more advantage for us." "I don't like the idea of koloss in the area," Elend said, shivering slightly. "No matter what advantage they offer us. If they attack the city. . ." "I say we worry about that when, and if, they arrive," Dockson said. "For now, we have to continue our plan as we intended. His Majesty meets with Straff, trying to manipulate him into a covert alliance with us. With luck, the imminent koloss presence will make him more willing to deal." Elend nodded. Straff had agreed to meet, and they'd set a date for a few days away. The Assembly was angry that he hadn't consulted with them about the time and place, but there was little they could do about the matter. "Anyway," Elend finally said, sighing. "You said you had other news, Saze? Better, hopefully?" Sazed paused. A cook finally walked over, setting a plate of food before him: steamed barley with strips of steak and some spiced lagets. The scents were enough to make Elend a little hungry. He nodded thankfully to the palace chef, who had insisted on preparing the meal himself despite the late hour, and who waved to his staff and began to withdraw. Sazed sat quietly, waiting to speak until the staff were again out of earshot. "I hesitate to mention this, Your
|
Majesty, for your burdens already seem great." "You might as well just tell me," Elend said. Sazed nodded. "I fear that we may have exposed the world to something when we killed the Lord Ruler, Your Majesty. Something unanticipated." Breeze raised a tired eyebrow. "Unanticipated? You mean other than ravaging koloss, power-hungry despots, and bandits?" Sazed paused. "Um, yes. I speak of items a little more nebulous, I fear. There is something wrong with the mists." Vin perked up slightly beside Elend. "What do you mean?" "I have been following a trail of events," Sazed explained. He looked down as he spoke, as if embarrassed. "I have been performing an investigation, you might say. You see, I have heard numerous reports of the mists coming during the daytime." Ham shrugged. "That happens sometimes. There are foggy days, especially in the fall." "That is not what I mean, Lord Hammond," Sazed said. "There is a difference between the mist and ordinary fog. It is difficult to spot, perhaps, but it is noticeable to a careful eye. The mist is thicker, and. . .well. . ." "It moves in larger patterns," Vin said quietly. "Like rivers in the sky. It never just hangs in one place; it floats in the breeze, almost like it makes the breeze." "And it can't enter buildings," Clubs said. "Or tents. It evaporates soon after it does." "Yes," Sazed said. "When I first heard these reports of day mist, I assumed that the people were just letting their superstitions get out of control. I have known many skaa who refused to go out on a foggy morning. However, I was curious about the reports, so I traced them to a village in the South. I taught there for some time, and never received confirmation of the stories. So, I made my way from that place." He paused, frowning slightly. "Your Majesty, please do not think me mad. During those travels I passed a secluded valley, and saw what I swear was mist, not fog. It was moving across the landscape, creeping toward me. During the full light of day." Elend glanced at Ham. He shrugged. "Don't look at me." Breeze snorted. "He was asking your opinion, my dear man." "Well, I don't have one." "Some philosopher you are." "I'm not a philosopher," Ham said. "I just like to think about things." "Well, think about this, then," Breeze said. Elend glanced at Sazed. "Have those two always been this way?" "Honestly, I am not certain, Your Majesty," Sazed said, smiling slightly. "I have known them for only slightly longer than yourself." "Yes, they've always been like this," Dockson said, sighing quietly. "If anything, they've gotten worse over the years." "Aren't you hungry?" Elend asked, nodding to Sazed's plate. "I can eat once our discussion is finished," Sazed said. "Sazed, you're not a servant anymore," Vin said. "You don't have to worry about things like that." "It is not a matter of serving or not, Lady Vin," Sazed said. "It is a matter of being polite." "Sazed," Elend said. "Yes, Your
|
Majesty?" He pointed at the plate. "Eat. You can be polite another time. Right now, you look famished—and you're among friends." Sazed paused, giving Elend an odd look. "Yes, Your Majesty," he said, picking up a knife and spoon. "Now," Elend began, "why does it matter if you saw mist during the day? We know that the things the skaa say aren't true—there's no reason to fear the mist." "The skaa may be more wise than we credit them, Your Majesty," Sazed said, taking small, careful bites of food. "It appears that the mist has been killing people." "What?" Vin asked, leaning forward. "I have never seen it myself, Lady Vin," Sazed said. "But I have seen its effects, and have collected several separate reports. They all agree that the mist has been killing people." "That's preposterous," Breeze said. "Mist is harmless." "That is what I thought, Lord Ladrian," Sazed said. "However, several of the reports are quite detailed. The incidents always occurred during the day, and each one tells of the mist curling around some unfortunate individual, who then died—usually in a seizure. I gathered interviews with witnesses myself." Elend frowned. From another man, he'd dismiss the news. But Sazed. . .he was not a man that one dismissed. Vin, sitting beside Elend, watched the conversation with interest, chewing slightly on her bottom lip. Oddly, she didn't object to Sazed's words—though the others seemed to be reacting as Breeze had. "It doesn't make sense, Saze," Ham said. "Thieves, nobles, and Allomancers have gone out in the mists for centuries." "Indeed they have, Lord Hammond," Sazed said with a nod. "The only explanation I can think of involves the Lord Ruler. I heard no substantive reports of mist deaths before the Collapse, but I have had little trouble finding them since. The reports are concentrated in the Outer Dominances, but the incidents appear to be moving inward. I found one. . .very disturbing incident several weeks to the south, where an entire village seems to have been trapped in their hovels by the mists." "But, why would the Lord Ruler's death have anything to do with the mists?" Breeze asked. "I am not certain, Lord Ladrian," Sazed said. "But it is the only connection I have been able to hypothesize." Breeze frowned. "I wish you wouldn't call me that." "I apologize, Lord Breeze," Sazed said. "I am still accustomed to calling people by their full names." "Your name is Ladrian?" Vin asked. "Unfortunately," Breeze said. "I've never been fond of it, and with dear Sazed putting 'Lord' before it. . .well, the alliteration makes it even more atrocious." "Is it me," Elend said, "or are we going off on even more tangents than usual tonight?" "We get that way when we're tired," Breeze said with a yawn. "Either way, our good Terrisman must have his facts wrong. Mist doesn't kill." "I can only report what I have discovered," Sazed said. "I will need to do some more research." "So, you'll be staying?" Vin asked, obviously hopeful. Sazed nodded. "What about teaching?" Breeze
|
asked, waving his hand. "When you left, I recall that you said something about spending the rest of your life traveling, or some nonsense like that." Sazed blushed slightly, glancing down again. "That duty will have to wait, I fear." "You're welcome to stay as long as you want, Sazed," Elend said, shooting a glare at Breeze. "If what you say is true, then you'll be doing a greater service through your studies than you would by traveling." "Perhaps," Sazed said. "Though," Ham noted with a chuckle, "you probably could have picked a safer place to set up shop—one that isn't being pushed around by two armies and twenty thousand koloss." Sazed smiled, and Elend gave an obligatory chuckle. He said that the incidents involving the mist were moving inward, toward the center of the empire. Toward us. Something else to worry about. "What's going on?" a voice suddenly asked. Elend turned toward the kitchen doorway, where a disheveled-looking Allrianne stood. "I heard voices. Is there a party?" "We were just discussing matters of state interest, my dear," Breeze said quickly. "The other girl is here," Allrianne said, pointing at Vin. "Why didn't you invite me?" Elend frowned. She heard voices? The guest quarters aren't anywhere near the kitchens. And Allrianne was dressed, wearing a simple noblewoman's gown. She'd taken the time to get out of her sleeping clothing, but she'd left her hair disheveled. Perhaps to make herself look more innocent? I'm starting to think like Vin, Elend told himself with a sigh. As if to corroborate his thoughts, he noticed Vin narrowing her eyes at the new girl. "Go back to your rooms, dear," Breeze said soothingly. "Don't trouble His Majesty." Allrianne sighed dramatically, but turned and did as he asked, trailing off into the hallway. Elend turned back to Sazed, who was watching the girl with a curious expression. Elend gave him an "ask later" look, and the Terrisman turned back to his meal. A few moments later, the group began to break up. Vin hung back with Elend as the others left. "I don't trust that girl," Vin said as a couple of servants took Sazed's pack and guided him away. Elend smiled, turning to look down at Vin. "Do I have to say it?" She rolled her eyes. "I know. 'You don't trust anyone, Vin.' This time I'm right. She was dressed, but her hair was disheveled. She must have done that intentionally." "I noticed." "You did?" She sounded impressed. Elend nodded. "She must have heard the servants waking up Breeze and Clubs, so she got up. That means she spent a good half an hour eavesdropping. She kept her hair mussed so that we'd assume that she'd just come down." Vin opened her mouth slightly, then frowned, studying him. "You're getting better," she eventually said. "Either that, or Miss Allrianne just isn't very good." Vin smiled. "I'm still trying to figure out why you didn't hear her," Elend noted. "The cooks," Vin said. "Too much noise. Besides, I was a little distracted by what Sazed was
|
saying." "And what do you think of it?" Vin paused. "I'll tell you later." "All right," Elend said. To Vin's side, the kandra rose and stretched its wolfhound body. Why did she insist on bringing OreSeur to the meeting? he wondered. Wasn't it just a few weeks ago that she couldn't stand the thing? The wolfhound turned, glancing at the kitchen windows. Vin followed its gaze. "Going back out?" Elend asked. Vin nodded. "I don't trust this night. I'll stay near your balcony, in case there's trouble." She kissed him; then she moved away. He watched her go, wondering why she had been so interested in Sazed's stories, wondering what it was she wasn't telling him. Stop it, he told himself. Perhaps he was learning her lessons a little too well—of all the people in the palace, Vin was the last one he needed to be paranoid about. However, every time he felt like he was beginning to figure Vin out, he realized just how little he understood her. And that made everything else seem a little more depressing. With a sigh, he turned to seek out his rooms, where his half-finished letter to the Assembly waited to be completed. Perhaps I should not have spoken of the mists, Sazed thought, following a servant up the stairs. Now I've troubled the king about something that might just be my delusion. They reached the top of the stairs, and the servant asked if he wished a bath drawn. Sazed shook his head. In most other circumstances he would have welcomed the opportunity to get clean. However, running all the way to the Central Dominance, being captured by the koloss, then marching the rest of the way up to Luthadel had left him wearied to the farthest fringe of exhaustion. He'd barely had the strength to eat. Now he just wanted to sleep. The servant nodded and led Sazed down a side corridor. What if he was imagining connections that didn't exist? Every scholar knew that one of the greatest dangers in research was the desire to find a specific answer. He had not imagined the testimonies he had taken, but had he exaggerated their importance? What did he really have? The words of a frightened man who had seen his friend die of a seizure? The testimony of a lunatic, crazed to the point of cannibalism? The fact remained that Sazed himself had never seen the mists kill. The servant led him to a guest chamber, and Sazed thankfully bid the man good night. He watched the man walk away, holding only a candle, his lamp left for Sazed to use. During most of Sazed's life, he had belonged to a class of servants prized for their refined sense of duty and decorum. He'd been in charge of households and manors, supervising servants just like the one who had led him to his rooms. Another life, he thought. He had always been a little frustrated that his duties as a steward had left him little time for study. How ironic it was that
|
he should help overthrow the Final Empire, then find himself with even less time. He reached to push open the door, and froze almost immediately. There was already a light inside the room. Did they leave a lamp on for me? he wondered. He slowly pushed the door open. Someone was waiting for him. "Tindwyl," Sazed said quietly. She sat beside the room's writing desk, collected and neatly dressed, as always. "Sazed," she replied as he stepped in, shutting the door. Suddenly, he was even more acutely aware of his dirty robes. "You responded to my request," he said. "And you ignored mine." Sazed didn't meet her eyes. He walked over, setting his lamp on top of the room's bureau. "I noticed the king's new clothing, and he appears to have gained a bearing to match them. You have done well, I think." "We are only just started," she said dismissively. "You were right about him." "King Venture is a very good man," Sazed said, walking to the washbasin to wipe down his face. He welcomed the cold water; dealing with Tindwyl was bound to tire him even further. "Good men can make terrible kings," Tindwyl noted. "But bad men cannot make good kings," Sazed said. "It is better to start with a good man and work on the rest, I think." "Perhaps," Tindwyl said. She watched him with her normal hard expression. Others thought her cold—harsh, even. But Sazed had never seen that in her. Considering what she had been through, he found it remarkable—amazing, even—that she was so confident. Where did she get it? "Sazed, Sazed. . ." she said. "Why did you return to the Central Dominance? You know the directions the Synod gave you. You are supposed to be in the Eastern Dominance, teaching the people on the borders of the burnlands." "That is where I was," Sazed said. "And now I am here. The South will get along for a time without me, I think." "Oh?" Tindwyl asked. "And who will teach them irrigation techniques, so they can produce enough food to survive the cold months? Who will explain to them basic lawmaking principles so that they may govern themselves? Who will show them how to reclaim their lost faiths and beliefs? You were always so passionate about that." Sazed set down the washcloth. "I will return to teach them when I am certain there is not a greater work I need to do." "What greater work could there be?" Tindwyl demanded. "This is our life's duty, Sazed. This is the work of our entire people. I know that Luthadel is important to you, but there is nothing for you here. I will care for your king. You must go." "I appreciate your work with King Venture," Sazed said. "My course has little to do with him, however. I have other research to do." Tindwyl frowned, eyeing him with a cool stare. "You're still looking for this phantom connection of yours. This foolishness with the mists." "There is something wrong, Tindwyl," he said. "No," Tindwyl said, sighing.
|
"Can't you see, Sazed? You spent ten years working to overthrow the Final Empire. Now, you can't content yourself with regular work, so you have invented some grand threat to the land. You're afraid of being irrelevant." Sazed looked down. "Perhaps. If you are correct, then I will seek the forgiveness of the Synod. I should probably seek it anyway, I think." "Oh, Sazed," Tindwyl said, shaking her head slightly. "I can't understand you. It makes sense when young fire-heads like Vedzan and Rindel buck the Synod's advice. But you? You are the soul of what it means to be Terris—so calm, so humble, so careful and respectful. So wise. Why are you the one who consistently defies our leaders? It doesn't make sense." "I am not so wise as you think, Tindwyl," Sazed said quietly. "I am simply a man who must do as he believes. Right now, I believe there to be a danger in the mists, and I must investigate my impressions. Perhaps it is simply arrogance and foolishness. But I would rather be known as arrogant and foolish than risk danger to the people of this land." "You will find nothing." "Then I will be proven wrong," Sazed said. He turned, looking into her eyes. "But kindly remember that the last time I disobeyed the Synod, the result was the collapse of the Final Empire and the freedom of our people." Tindwyl made a tight-lipped frown. She didn't like being reminded of that fact—none of the Keepers did. They held that Sazed had been wrong to disobey, but they couldn't very well punish him for his success. "I don't understand you," she repeated quietly. "You should be a leader among our people, Sazed. Not our greatest rebel and dissident. Everyone wants to look up to you—but they can't. Must you defy every order you are given?" He smiled wanly, but did not answer. Tindwyl sighed, rising. She walked toward the door, but paused, taking his hand as she passed. She looked into his eyes for a moment; then he removed the hand. She shook her head and left. He commanded kings, and though he sought no empire, he became greater than all who had come before. SOMETHING IS GOING ON, VIN thought, sitting in the mists atop Keep Venture. Sazed was not prone to exaggeration. He was meticulous—that much showed in his mannerisms, his cleanliness, and even the way he spoke. And, he was even more meticulous when it came to his studies. Vin was inclined to believe his discoveries. And she'd certainly seen things in the mists. Dangerous things. Could the mist spirit explain the deaths Sazed had encountered? But, if that's the case, why didn't Sazed speak of figures in the mist? She sighed, closing her eyes and burning bronze. She could hear the spirit, watching nearby. And, she could hear it again as well, the strange thumping in the distance. She opened her eyes, leaving her bronze on, and quietly unfolded something from her pocket: a sheet from the logbook. By the light from Elend's
|
balcony below, and with tin, she could easily read the words. I sleep but a few hours each night. We must press forward, traveling as much as we can each day—but when I finally lie down, I find sleep elusive. The same thoughts that trouble me during the day are only compounded by the stillness of night. And, above it all, I hear the thumping sounds from above, the pulsings from the mountains. Drawing me closer with each beat. She shivered. She had asked one of Elend's seekers to burn bronze, and he had claimed to hear nothing from the north. Either he was the kandra, lying to her about his ability to burn bronze, or Vin could hear a rhythm that nobody else could. Nobody except a man a thousand years dead. A man everyone had assumed was the Hero of Ages. You're being silly, she told herself, refolding the paper. Jumping to conclusions. To her side, OreSeur rustled, lying quietly and staring out over the city. And yet, she kept thinking of Sazed's words. Something was happening with the mists. Something was wrong. Zane didn't find her atop Keep Hasting. He stopped in the mists, standing quietly. He'd expected to find her waiting, for this was the place of their last fight. Even thinking of the event made him tense with anticipation. During the months of sparring, they had always met again at the place where he'd eventually lost her. Yet, he'd returned to this location on several nights, and had never found her. He frowned, thinking of Straff's orders, and of necessity. Eventually, he would likely be ordered to kill this girl. He wasn't certain what bothered him more—his growing reluctance to consider such an act, or his growing worry that he might not actually be able to beat her. She could be it, he thought. The thing that finally lets me resist. The thing that convinces me to just. . .leave. He couldn't explain why he needed a reason. Part of him simply ascribed it to his insanity, though the rational part of him felt that was a weak excuse. Deep down, he admitted that Straff was all he had ever known. Zane wouldn't be able to leave until he knew he had someone else to rely on. He turned away from Keep Hasting. He'd had enough of waiting; it was time to seek her out. Zane threw a coin, bounding across the city for a time. And, sure enough, there she was: sitting atop Keep Venture, watching over his foolish brother. Zane rounded the keep, keeping far enough away that even tin-enhanced eyes wouldn't see him. He landed on the back of the keep's roof, then walked forward quietly. He approached, watching her sit on the edge of the roof. The air was silent. Finally, she turned around, jumping slightly. He swore that she could sense him when she shouldn't be able to. Either way, he was discovered. "Zane," Vin said flatly, easily identifying the silhouette. He wore his customary black on black, with no mistcloak. "I've
|
been waiting," he said quietly. "Atop Keep Hasting. Hoping you'd come." She sighed, careful to keep an eye on him, but relaxing slightly. "I'm not really in the mood for sparring right now." He watched her. "Pity," he finally said. He walked over, prompting Vin to rise cautiously to her feet. He paused beside the lip of the rooftop, looking down at Elend's lit balcony. Vin glanced at OreSeur. He was tense, alternately watching her and Zane. "You're so worried about him," Zane said quietly. "Elend?" Vin asked. Zane nodded. "Even though he uses you." "We've had this discussion, Zane. He isn't using me." Zane looked up at her, meeting her eyes, standing straight-backed and confident in the night. He's so strong, she thought. So sure of himself. So different from. . . She stopped herself. Zane turned away. "Tell me, Vin," he said, "when you were younger, did you ever wish for power?" Vin cocked her head, frowning at the strange question. "What do you mean?" "You grew up on the streets," Zane said. "When you were younger, did you wish for power? Did you dream of having the ability to free yourself, to kill those who brutalized you?" "Of course I did," Vin said. "And now you have that power," Zane said. "What would the child Vin say if she could see you? A Mistborn who is bent and bowed by the weight of another's will? Powerful, yet somehow still subservient?" "I'm a different person now, Zane," Vin said. "I'd like to think that I've learned things since I was a child." "I've found that a child's instincts are often the most honest," Zane said. "The most natural." Vin didn't respond. Zane turned quietly, looking out over the city, seemingly unconcerned that he was exposing his back to her. Vin eyed him, then dropped a coin. It plinked against the metal rooftop, and he immediately glanced back toward her. No, she thought, he doesn't trust me. He turned away again, and Vin watched him. She did understand what he meant, for she had once thought as he did. Idly, she wondered what kind of person she might have become if she'd gained full access to her powers without—at the same time—learning of friendship and trust from Kelsier's crew. "What would you do, Vin?" Zane asked, turning back toward her. "Assuming you didn't have any constraints—assuming there were no repercussions for your actions?" Go north. The thought was immediate. Find out what is causing that thumping. She didn't say it, however. "I don't know," she said instead. He turned, eyeing her. "You aren't taking me seriously, I see. I apologize for wasting your time." He turned to go, walking directly between her and OreSeur. Vin watched him, and felt a sudden stab of concern. He'd come to her, willing to talk rather than just fight—and she'd wasted the opportunity. She was never going to turn him to her side if she didn't talk to him. "You want to know what I'd do?" she asked, her voice ringing in the silent mists.
|
Zane paused. "If I could just use my power as I wanted?" Vin asked. "No repercussions? I'd protect him." "Your king?" Zane asked, turning. Vin nodded sharply. "These men who brought armies against him—your master, this man named Cett. I'd kill them. I'd use my power to make certain that nobody could threaten Elend." Zane nodded quietly, and she saw respect in his eyes. "And why don't you?" "Because. . ." "I see the confusion in your eyes," Zane said. "You know that your instincts to kill those men are right—yet you hold back. Because of him." "There would be repercussions, Zane," Vin said. "If I killed those men, their armies might just attack. Right now, diplomacy could still work." "Perhaps," Zane said. "Until he asks you to go kill someone for him." Vin snorted. "Elend doesn't work that way. He doesn't give me orders, and the only people I kill are the ones who try to kill him first." "Oh?" Zane said. "You may not act at his order, Vin, but you certainly refrain from action at it. You are his toy. I don't say this to insult you—you see, I'm as much a toy as you are. Neither of us can break free. Not alone." Suddenly, the coin Vin had dropped snapped into the air, flying toward Zane. She tensed, but it simply streaked into Zane's waiting hand. "It's interesting," he said, turning the coin in his fingers. "Many Mistborn stop seeing the value in coins. To us, they simply become something to be used for jumping. It's easy to forget the value of something when you use it so often. When it becomes commonplace and convenient to you. When it becomes. . .just a tool." He flipped the coin up, then shot it out into the night. "I must go," he said, turning. Vin raised a hand. Seeing him use Allomancy made her realize that there was another reason she wanted to speak with him. It had been so long since she'd talked with another Mistborn, one who understood her powers. Someone like her. But, it seemed to her that she was too desperate for him to stay. So she let him go, and returned to her vigil. He fathered no children, yet all of the land became his progeny. VIN WAS A VERY LIGHT sleeper—a heritage from her youth. Thieving crews worked together out of necessity, and any man who couldn't guard his own possessions was considered to be unworthy of them. Vin, of course, had been at the very bottom of the hierarchy—and while she hadn't had many possessions to protect, being a young girl in a primarily male environment gave her other reasons to be a light sleeper. So it was that when she awoke to a quiet bark of warning, she reacted without thinking. She tossed off her covers, reaching immediately for the vial on her bedstand. She didn't sleep with metals inside of her; many of the Allomantic metals were, to some small extent, poisonous. It was unavoidable that she'd have to deal with
|
some of that danger, but she had been warned to burn away excess metals at the end of each day. She downed this vial even as she reached for the obsidian daggers hidden beneath her pillow. The door to her sleeping chamber swung open, and Tindwyl walked in. The Terriswoman froze in midstep as she saw Vin crouching on the bed's footboard a few feet away, twin daggers glistening, body tense. Tindwyl raised an eyebrow. "So you are awake." "Now." The Terriswoman smiled. "What are you doing in my rooms?" Vin demanded. "I came to wake you. I thought we might go shopping." "Shopping?" "Yes, dear," Tindwyl said, walking over to pull open the curtains. It was far earlier in the day than Vin usually rose. "From what I hear, you're going to meet with His Majesty's father on the morrow. You'll want a suitable dress for the occasion, I assume?" "I don't wear dresses anymore." What is your game? Tindwyl turned, eyeing Vin. "You sleep in your clothing?" Vin nodded. "You don't keep any ladies-in-waiting?" Vin shook her head. "Very well, then," Tindwyl said, turning to walk from the room. "Bathe and change. We'll leave when you're ready." "I don't take commands from you." Tindwyl paused by the door, turning. Then her face softened. "I know you don't, child. You may come with me if you wish—the choice is yours. However, do you really want to meet with Straff Venture in trousers and a shirt?" Vin hesitated. "At least come browse," Tindwyl said. "It will help take your mind off things." Finally, Vin nodded. Tindwyl smiled again, then left. Vin glanced at OreSeur, who sat beside her bed. "Thanks for the warning." The kandra shrugged. Once, Vin wouldn't have been able to imagine living in a place like Keep Venture. The young Vin had been accustomed to hidden lairs, skaa hovels, and the occasional alley. Now she lived in a building bespeckled with stained glass, bounded by mighty walls and grand archways. Of course, Vin thought as she left the stairwell, many things have happened that I didn't expect. Why think about them now? Her youth in the thieving crews had been much on her mind of late, and Zane's comments—ridiculous though they were—itched in her mind. Did Vin belong in a place like this keep? She had a great many skills, but few of them were beautiful hallway kinds of skills. They were more. . .ash-stained alleyway kinds of skills. She sighed, OreSeur at her side as she made her way to the southern entryway, where Tindwyl said she'd be waiting. The hallway here grew wide and grand, and opened directly into the courtyard. Usually, coaches came right up into the entryway to pick up their occupants—that way the noblemen wouldn't be exposed to the elements. As she approached, her tin let her hear voices. One was Tindwyl, the other. . . "I didn't bring much," Allrianne said. "A couple hundred boxings. But I do so need something to wear. I can't survive on borrowed gowns forever!" Vin paused as
|
she turned into the last part of the hallway. "The king's gift will surely be enough to pay for a dress, dear," Tindwyl said, noticing Vin. "Ah, here she is." A sullen-looking Spook stood with the two women. He had on his palace guard's uniform, though he wore the jacket undone and the trousers loose. Vin walked forward slowly. "I wasn't expecting company," she said. "Young Allrianne was trained as a courtly noblewoman," Tindwyl said. "She will know the current fashions, and will be able to advise on your purchases." "And Spook?" Tindwyl turned, eyeing the boy. "Packman." Well, that explains his mood, Vin thought. "Come," Tindwyl said, walking toward the courtyard. Allrianne followed quickly, walking with a light, graceful step. Vin glanced at Spook, who shrugged, and they followed as well. "How did you get pulled into this?" Vin whispered to Spook. "Was up too early, sneaking food," Spook grumbled. "Miss Imposing there noticed me, smiled like a wolfhound, and said, 'We'll be needing your services this afternoon, young man.'" Vin nodded. "Stay alert and keep your tin burning. Remember, we're at war." Spook obediently did what she said. Standing close to him as she was, Vin easily picked up and identified his tin's Allomantic pulses—meaning he wasn't the spy. Another one off the list, Vin thought. At least this trip won't be a total waste. A coach waited for them by the front keep gates. Spook climbed up beside the coachman, and the women piled into the back. Vin sat down inside, and OreSeur climbed in and took the seat next to her. Allrianne and Tindwyl sat across from her, and Allrianne eyed OreSeur with a frown, wrinkling her nose. "Does the animal have to sit on the seats with us?" "Yes," Vin said as the carriage started moving. Allrianne obviously expected more of an explanation, but Vin didn't give one. Finally, Allrianne turned to look out the window. "Are you sure we'll be safe, traveling with only one manservant, Tindwyl?" Tindwyl eyed Vin. "Oh, I think that we'll be all right." "Oh, that's right," Allrianne said, looking back at Vin. "You're an Allomancer! Are the things they say true?" "What things?" Vin asked quietly. "Well, they say you killed the Lord Ruler, for one. And that you're kind of. . .um. . .well." Allrianne bit her lip. "Well, just a little bit rickety." "Rickety?" "And dangerous," Allrianne said. "But, well, that can't be true. I mean, you're going shopping with us, right?" Is she trying to provoke me on purpose? "Do you always wear clothing like that?" Allrianne asked. Vin was in her standard gray trousers and tan shirt. "It's easy to fight in." "Yes, but. . .well." Allrianne smiled. "I guess that's why we're here today, right, Tindwyl?" "Yes, dear," Tindwyl said. She'd been studying Vin through the entire conversation. Like what you see? Vin thought. What is it you want? "You have to be the strangest noblewoman I've ever met," Allrianne declared. "Did you grow up far from court? I did, but my mother was quite certain
|
to train me well. Of course, she was just trying to make me into a good catch so Father could auction me off to make an alliance." Allrianne smiled. It had been a while since Vin had been forced to deal with women like her. She remembered hours spent at court, smiling, pretending to be Valette Renoux. Often when she thought of those days, she remembered the bad things. The spite she'd faced from court members, her own lack of comfort in the role. But, there had also been good things. Elend was one. She would never have met him if she hadn't been pretending to be a noblewoman. And the balls—with their colors, their music, and their gowns—had held a certain transfixing charm. The graceful dancing, the careful interactions, the perfectly decorated rooms. . . Those things are gone now, she told herself. We don't have time for silly balls and gatherings, not when the dominance is on the verge of collapse. Tindwyl was still watching her. "Well?" Allrianne asked. "What?" Vin asked. "Did you grow up far from court?" "I'm not noble, Allrianne. I'm skaa." Allrianne paled, then flushed, then raised her fingers to her lips. "Oh! You poor thing!" Vin's augmented ears heard something beside her—a light chuckling from OreSeur, soft enough that only an Allomancer could have heard him. She resisted the urge to shoot the kandra a flat look. "It wasn't so bad," she said. "But, well, no wonder you don't know how to dress!" Allrianne said. "I know how to dress," Vin said. "I even own a few gowns." Not that I've put one on in months. . .. Allrianne nodded, though she obviously didn't believe Vin's comment. "Breezy is skaa, too," she said quietly. "Or, half skaa. He told me. Good thing he didn't tell Father—Father never has been very nice to skaa." Vin didn't reply. Eventually, they reached Kenton Street, and the crowds made the carriage a liability. Vin climbed out first, OreSeur hopping down to the cobblestones beside her. The market street was busy, though not as packed as it had been the last time she'd visited. Vin glanced over the prices at some nearby shops as the others exited the coach. Five boxings for a bin of aging apples, Vin thought with dissatisfaction. Food is already going at a premium. Elend had stores, fortunately. But how long would they last before the siege? Not through the approaching winter, certainly—not with so much of the dominance's grain still unharvested in the outer plantations. Time may be our friend now, Vin thought, but it will turn on us eventually. They had to get those armies to fight each other. Otherwise, the city's people might die of starvation before the soldiers even tried to take the walls. Spook hopped down from the carriage, joining them as Tindwyl surveyed the street. Vin eyed the bustling crowds. The people were obviously trying to go about their daily activities, despite the threat from outside. What else could they do? The siege had already lasted for weeks. Life had
|
to go on. "There," Tindwyl said, pointing to a dressmaker's shop. Allrianne scampered forward. Tindwyl followed behind, walking with modest decorum. "Eager young thing, isn't she?" the Terriswoman asked. Vin shrugged. The blond noblewoman had already gotten Spook's attention; he was following her with a lively step. Of course, it wasn't hard to get Spook's attention. You just had to have breasts and smell nice—and the second was sometimes optional. Tindwyl smiled. "She probably hasn't had an opportunity to go shopping since she left with her father's army weeks ago." "You sound like you think she went through some awful ordeal," Vin said. "Just because she couldn't go shopping." "She obviously enjoys it," Tindwyl said. "Surely you can understand being taken from that which you love." Vin shrugged as they reached the shop. "I have trouble feeling sympathy for a courtly puff who is tragically taken from her dresses." Tindwyl frowned slightly as they entered the shop, OreSeur settling down to wait outside. "Do not be so hard on the child. She is a product of her upbringing, just as you are. If you judge her worth based on frivolities, then you are doing the same as those who judge you based on your simple clothing." "I like it when people judge me based on my simple clothing," Vin said. "Then they don't expect too much." "I see," Tindwyl said. "Then, you haven't missed this at all?" She nodded toward the shop's inner room. Vin paused. The room burst with colors and fabric, lace and velvet, bodices and skirts. Everything was powdered with a light perfume. Standing before the dressing dummies in their brilliant hues, Vin was—for just a moment—again taken back to the balls. Back to when she was Valette. Back to when she had an excuse to be Valette. "They say you enjoyed noble society," Tindwyl said lightly, walking forward. Allrianne was already standing near the front of the room, running her fingers across a bolt of fabric, talking to the dressmaker in a firm voice. "Who told you that?" Vin asked. Tindwyl turned back. "Why, your friends, dear. It's quite curious—they say you stopped wearing dresses a few months after the Collapse. They all wonder why. They say you seemed to like dressing like a woman, but I guess they were wrong." "No," Vin said quietly. "They were right." Tindwyl raised an eyebrow, pausing beside a dressmaker's dummy in a bright green dress, edged with lace, the bottom flaring wide with several underskirts. Vin approached, looking up at the gorgeous costume. "I was beginning to like dressing like this. That was the problem." "I don't see a problem in that, dear." Vin turned away from the gown. "This isn't me. It never was—it was just an act. When wearing a dress like that, it's too easy to forget who you really are." "And these dresses can't be part of who you really are?" Vin shook her head. "Dresses and gowns are part of who she is." She nodded toward Allrianne. "I need to be something else. Something harder." I
|
shouldn't have come here. Tindwyl laid a hand on Vin's shoulder. "Why haven't you married him, child?" Vin looked up sharply. "What kind of question is that?" "An honest one," Tindwyl said. She seemed far less harsh than she had been the other times Vin had met her. Of course, during those times, she had mostly been addressing Elend. "That topic is not your concern," Vin said. "The king has asked me to help him improve his image," Tindwyl said. "And I have taken it upon myself to do more than that—I want to make a real king of him, if I can. There is some great potential in him, I think. However, he's not going to be able to realize it until he's more sure about certain things in his life. You in particular." "I. . ." Vin closed her eyes, remembering his marriage proposal. That night, on the balcony, ash lightly falling in the night. She remembered her terror. She'd known, of course, where the relationship was going. Why had she been so frightened? That was the day she'd stopped wearing dresses. "He shouldn't have asked me," Vin said quietly, opening her eyes. "He can't marry me." "He loves you, child," Tindwyl said. "In a way, that is unfortunate—this would all be much easier if he could feel otherwise. However, as things stand. . ." Vin shook her head. "I'm wrong for him." "Ah," Tindwyl said. "I see." "He needs something else," Vin said. "Something better. A woman who can be a queen, not just a bodyguard. Someone. . ." Vin's stomach twisted. "Someone more like her." Tindwyl glanced toward Allrianne, who laughed at a comment made by the elderly dressmaker as he took her measurements. "You are the one he fell in love with, child," Tindwyl said. "When I was pretending to be like her." Tindwyl smiled. "Somehow, I doubt that you could be like Allrianne, no matter how hard you practiced." "Perhaps," Vin said. "Either way, it was my courtly performance that he loved. He didn't know what I really was." "And has he abandoned you now that he does know of it?" "Well, no. But—" "All people are more complex than they first appear," Tindwyl said. "Allrianne, for instance, is eager and young—perhaps a bit too outspoken. But she knows more of the court than many would expect, and she seems to know how to recognize what is good in a person. That is a talent many lack. "Your king is a humble scholar and thinker, but he has the will of a warrior. He is a man who has the nerve to fight, and I think—perhaps—you have yet to see the best of him. The Soother Breeze is a cynical, mocking man—until he looks at young Allrianne. Then he softens, and one wonders how much of his harsh unconcern is an act." Tindwyl paused, looking at Vin. "And you. You are so much more than you are willing to accept, child. Why look at only one side of yourself, when your Elend sees so much more?"
|
"Is that what this is all about?" Vin said. "You trying to turn me into a queen for Elend?" "No, child," Tindwyl said. "I wish to help you turn into whoever you are. Now, go let the man take your measurements so you can try on some stock dresses." Whoever I am? Vin thought, frowning. However, she let the tall Terriswoman push her forward, and the elderly dressmaker took his tape and began to measure. A few moments and a changing room later, Vin stepped back into the room wearing a memory. Silky blue with white lace, the gown was tight at the waist and through the bust, but had a large, flowing bottom. The numerous skirts made it flare out, tapering down in a triangular shape, her feet completely covered, the bottom of the skirt flush with the floor. It was terribly impractical. It rustled when she moved, and she had to be careful where she stepped to keep it from catching or brushing a dirty surface. But it was beautiful, and it made her feel beautiful. She almost expected a band to start playing, Sazed to stand over her shoulder like a protective sentry, and Elend to appear in the distance, lounging and watching couples dance as he flipped through a book. Vin walked forward, letting the dressmaker watch where the garment pinched and where it bunched, and Allrianne let out an "Ooo" as she saw Vin. The old dressmaker leaned on his cane, dictating notes to a young assistant. "Move around a bit more, my lady," he requested. "Let me see how it fits when you do more than just walk in a straight line." Vin spun slightly, turning on one foot, trying to remember the dancing moves Sazed had taught her. I never did get to dance with Elend, she realized, stepping to the side, as if to music she could only faintly remember. He always found an excuse to wiggle out of it. She twirled, getting a feel for the dress. She would have thought that her instincts would have decayed. Now that she had one on again, however, she was surprised at how easy it was to fall back into those habits—stepping lightly, turning so that the bottom of the dress flared just a bit. . .. She paused. The dressmaker was no longer dictating. He watched her quietly, smiling. "What?" Vin asked, flushing. "I'm sorry, my lady," he said, turning to tap on his assistant's notebook, sending the boy away with a point of his finger. "But I don't rightly think I've ever seen someone move so gracefully. Like a. . .passing breath." "You flatter me," Vin said. "No, child," Tindwyl said, standing to the side. "He's right. You move with a grace that most women can only envy." The dressmaker smiled again, turning as his assistant approached with a group of square cloth color samples. The old man began to sort through them with a wizened hand, and Vin stepped over to Tindwyl, holding her hands at the sides, trying not to let the
|
traitorous dress take control of her again. "Why are you being so nice to me?" Vin demanded quietly. "Why shouldn't I be?" Tindwyl asked. "Because you're mean to Elend," Vin said. "Don't deny it—I've listened in on your lessons. You spend the time insulting and disparaging him. But now you're pretending to be nice." Tindwyl smiled. "I am not pretending, child." "Then why are you so mean to Elend?" "The lad grew up as a pampered son of a great lord," Tindwyl said. "Now that he's king, he needs a little harsh truth, I think." She paused, glancing down at Vin. "I sense that you've had quite enough of that in your life." The dressmaker approached with his swatches, spreading them out on a low table. "Now, my lady," he said, tapping one group with a bent finger. "I think your coloring would look particularly good with dark cloth. A nice maroon, perhaps?" "What about a black?" Vin asked. "Heavens, no," Tindwyl said. "Absolutely no more black or gray for you, child." "What about this one, then?" Vin asked, pulling out a royal blue swatch. It was nearly the shade she'd worn the first night she'd met Elend, so long ago. "Ah, yes," the dressmaker said. "That would look wonderful against that light skin and dark hair. Hum, yes. Now, we'll have to pick a style. You need this by tomorrow evening, the Terriswoman said?" Vin nodded. "Ah, then. We'll have to modify one of the stock dresses, but I think I have one in this color. We'll have to take it in quite a bit, but we can work through the night for a beauty like yourself, can't we, lad? Now, as for the style. . ." "This is fine, I guess," Vin said, looking down. The gown was the standard cut of those she'd worn at previous balls. "Well, we're not looking for 'fine,' now, are we?" the dressmaker said with a smile. "What if we removed some of the pettiskirts?" Tindwyl said, pulling at the sides of Vin's dress. "And perhaps raised the hem just a bit, so that she could move more freely?" Vin paused. "You could do that?" "Of course," the dressmaker said. "The lad says thinner skirts are more popular to the south, though they tend to lag in fashion a bit behind Luthadel." He paused. "Though, I don't know that Luthadel even really has a fashion anymore. . .." "Make cuffs of the sleeves wide," Tindwyl said. "And sew a couple of pockets into them for certain personal items." The old man nodded as his quiet assistant scribbled down the suggestion. "The chest and waist can be tight," Tindwyl continued, "but not restrictive. Lady Vin needs to be able to move freely." The old man paused. "Lady Vin?" he asked. He looked a little closer at Vin, squinting, then turned to his assistant. The boy nodded quietly. "I see. . ." the man said, paling, hand shaking just a little bit more. He placed it on the top of his cane, as if to give
|
himself a little more stability. "I'm. . .I'm sorry if I offended you, my lady. I didn't know." Vin flushed again. Another reason why I shouldn't go shopping. "No," she said, reassuring the man. "It's all right. You haven't offended me." He relaxed slightly, and Vin noticed Spook strolling over. "Looks like we've been found," Spook said, nodding to the front windows. Vin glanced past dressing dummies and bales of cloth to see a crowd gathering outside. Tindwyl watched Vin with curiosity. Spook shook his head. "Why do you get to be so popular?" "I killed their god," Vin said quietly, ducking around a dressing dummy, hiding from the dozens of peeking eyes. "I helped too," Spook said. "I even got my nickname from Kelsier himself! But nobody cares about poor little Spook." Vin scanned the room for windows. There's got to be a back door. Of course, there might be people in the alley. "What are you doing?" Tindwyl asked. "I have to go," Vin said. "Get away from them." "Why don't you go out and talk to them?" Tindwyl asked. "They're obviously very interested in seeing you." Allrianne emerged from a dressing room—wearing a gown of yellow and blue—and twirled dramatically. She was obviously put out when she didn't even get Spook's attention. "I'm not going out there," Vin said. "Why would I want to do something like that?" "They need hope," Tindwyl said. "Hope you can give them." "A false hope," Vin said. "I'd only encourage them to think of me as some object of worship." "That's not true," Allrianne said suddenly, walking forward, looking out the windows without the least bit of embarrassment. "Hiding in corners, wearing strange clothing, and being mysterious—that's what has gotten you this amazing reputation. If people knew how ordinary you were, they wouldn't be so crazy to get a look at you." She paused, then looked back. "I. . .uh, didn't mean that like I think it sounded." Vin flushed. "I'm not Kelsier, Tindwyl. I don't want people to worship me. I just want to be left alone." "Some people don't have that choice, child," Tindwyl said. "You struck down the Lord Ruler. You were trained by the Survivor, and you are the king's consort." "I'm not his consort," Vin said, flushing. "We're just. . ." Lord, even I don't understand our relationship. How am I supposed to explain it? Tindwyl raised an eyebrow. "All right," Vin said, sighing and walking forward. "I'll go with you," Allrianne said, grabbing Vin's arm as if they had been friends since childhood. Vin resisted, but couldn't figure a way to pry her off without making a scene. They stepped out of the shop. The crowd was already large, and the periphery was filling as more and more people came to investigate. Most were skaa in brown, ash-stained work coats or simple gray dresses. The ones in the front backed away as Vin stepped out, giving her a little ring of empty space, and a murmur of awed excitement moved through the crowd. "Wow," Allrianne said quietly.
|
"There sure are a lot of them. . .." Vin nodded. OreSeur sat where he had before, near the door, and he watched her with a curious canine expression. Allrianne smiled at the crowd, waving with a sudden hesitance. "You can, you know, fight them off or something if this turns messy, right?" "That won't be necessary," Vin said, finally slipping her arm free of Allrianne's grasp and giving the crowd a bit of a Soothing to calm them. After that, she stepped forward, trying to push down her sense of itching nervousness. She'd grown to no longer feel she needed to hide when she went out in public, but standing before a crowd like this. . .well, she almost turned and slinked back into the dressmaker's shop. A voice, however, stopped her. The speaker was a middle-aged man with an ash-stained beard and a dirty black cap held nervously in his hands. He was a strong man, probably a mill worker. His quiet voice seemed a contrast to his powerful build. "Lady Heir. What will become of us?" The terror—the uncertainty—in the large man's voice was so piteous that Vin hesitated. He regarded her with hopeful eyes, as did most of the others. So many, Vin thought. I thought the Church of the Survivor was small. She looked at the man, who stood wringing his cap. She opened her mouth, but then. . .couldn't do it. She couldn't tell him that she didn't know what would happen; she couldn't explain to those eyes that she wasn't the savior that he needed. "Everything will be all right," Vin heard herself say, increasing her Soothing, trying to take away some of their fear. "But the armies, Lady Heir!" one of the women said. "They're trying to intimidate us," Vin said. "But the king won't let them. Our walls are strong, as are our soldiers. We can outlast this siege." The crowd was silent. "One of those armies is led by Elend's father, Straff Venture," Vin said. "Elend and I are going to go meet with Straff tomorrow. We will persuade him to be our ally." "The king is going to surrender!" a voice said. "I heard it. He's going to trade the city for his life." "No," Vin said. "He would never do that!!" "He won't fight for us!" a voice called. "He's not a soldier. He's a politician!" Other voices called out in agreement. Reverence disappeared as people began to yell out concerns, while others began to demand help. The dissidents continued to rail against Elend, yelling that there was no way he could protect them. Vin raised her hands to her ears. Trying to ward off the crowd, the chaos. "Stop!" she yelled, Pushing out with steel and brass. Several people stumbled back away from her, and she could see a wave in the crowd as buttons, coins, and buckles suddenly pressed backward. The people grew suddenly quiet. "I will suffer no ill words spoken of our king!" Vin said, flaring her brass and increasing her Soothing. "He is a good
|
man, and a good leader. He has sacrificed much for you—your freedom comes because of his long hours spent drafting laws, and your livelihoods come because of his work securing trade routes and agreements with merchants." Many members of the crowd looked down. The bearded man at the front continued to twist his cap, however, looking at Vin. "They're just right frightened, Lady Heir. Right frightened." "We'll protect you," Vin said. What am I saying? "Elend and I, we'll find a way. We stopped the Lord Ruler. We can stop these armies. . ." She trailed off, feeling foolish. Yet, the crowd responded. Some were obviously still unsatisfied, but many seemed calmed. The crowd began to break up, though some of its members came forward, leading or carrying small children. Vin paused nervously. Kelsier had often met with and held the children of the skaa, as if giving them his blessing. She bid the group a hasty farewell and ducked back into the shop, pulling Allrianne after her. Tindwyl waited inside, nodding with satisfaction. "I lied," Vin said, pushing the door closed. "No you didn't," Tindwyl said. "You were optimistic. The truth or fiction of what you said has yet to be proven." "It won't happen," Vin said. "Elend can't defeat three armies, not even with my help." Tindwyl raised an eyebrow. "Then you should leave. Run away, leave the people to deal with the armies themselves." "I didn't mean that," Vin said. "Well, make a decision then," Tindwyl said. "Either give up on the city or believe in it. Honestly, the pair of you. . .." She shook her head. "I thought you weren't going to be harsh with me," Vin noted. "I have trouble with that sometimes," Tindwyl said. "Come, Allrianne. Let's finish your fitting." They moved to do so. However, at that moment—as if to belie Vin's assurances of safety—several warning drums began to beat atop the city wall. Vin froze, glancing through the window, out over the anxious crowd. One of the armies was attacking. Cursing the delay, she rushed into the back of the shop to change out of the bulky dress. Elend scrambled up the steps to the city wall, nearly tripping on his dueling cane in his haste. He stumbled out of the stairwell, moving onto the wall top, rearranging the cane at his side with a curse. The wall top was in chaos. Men scrambled about, calling to each other. Some had forgotten their armor, others their bows. So many tried to get up after Elend that the stairwell got clogged, and he watched hopelessly as men crowded around the openings below, creating an even larger jam of bodies in the courtyard. Elend spun, watching a large group of Straff's men—thousands of them—rush toward the wall. Elend stood near Tin Gate, at the north of the city, nearest Straff's army. He could see a separate group of soldiers rushing toward Pewter Gate, a little to the east. "Archers!" Elend yelled. "Men, where are your bows?" His voice, however, was lost in the shouting. Captains
|
moved about, trying to organize the men, but apparently too many footmen had come to the wall, leaving a lot of the archers trapped in the courtyard below. Why? Elend thought desperately, turning back toward the charging army. Why is he attacking? We had an a agreement to meet! Had he, perhaps, gotten wind of Elend's plan to play both sides of the conflict? Perhaps there really was a spy in the inner crew. Either way, Elend could only watch hopelessly as the army approached his wall. One captain managed to get off a pathetic volley of arrows, but it didn't do much good. As the army approached, arrows began to zip up toward the wall, mixed with flying coins. Straff had Allomancers in the group. Elend cursed, ducking down below a merlon as coins bounced against the stonework. A few soldiers fell. Elend's soldiers. Killed because he'd been too proud to surrender the city. He peeked carefully over the wall. A group of men carrying a battering ram were approaching, their bodies carefully protected by men with shields. The care probably meant that the rammers were Thugs, a suspicion confirmed by the sound the ram made when it smashed into the gate. That was not the blow of ordinary men. Hooks followed next. Shot up toward the wall by Coinshots below, falling far more accurately than if they'd been thrown. Soldiers moved to pull them off, but coins shot up, taking the men almost as quickly as they made the attempt. The gate continued to thump beneath him, and he doubted it would last for long. And so we fall, Elend thought. With barely a hint of resistance. And there was nothing he could do. He felt impotent, forced to keep ducking down lest his white uniform make him a target. All of his politicking, all of his preparations, all of his dreams and his plans. Gone. And then Vin was there. She landed atop the wall, breathing hard, amid a group of wounded men. Coins and arrows that came near to her deflected back out into the air. Men rallied around her, moving to remove hooks and pull the wounded to safety. Her knives cut ropes, dropping them back down below. She met Elend's eyes, looking determined, then moved as if to leap over the side of the wall and confront the Thugs with their battering ram. Elend raised a hand, but someone else spoke. "Vin, wait!" Clubs bellowed, bursting out of the stairwell. She paused. Elend had never heard such a forceful command from the gnarled general. Arrows stopped flying. The booming calmed. Elend stood hesitantly, watching with a frown as the army retreated back across the ash-strewn fields toward their camp. They left a couple of corpses behind; Elend's men had actually managed to hit a few with their arrows. His own army had taken far heavier casualties: some two dozen men appeared to be wounded. "What. . .?" Elend asked, turning to Clubs. "They weren't putting up scaling ladders," Clubs said, eyeing the retreating force. "This wasn't
|
an actual attack." "What was it then?" Vin asked, frowning. "A test," Clubs said. "It's common in warfare—a quick skirmish to see how your enemy responds, to feel out their tactics and preparations." Elend turned, watching the disorganized soldiers make way for healers to care for the wounded. "A test," he said, glancing at Clubs. "My guess is that we didn't do very well." Clubs shrugged. "Far worse than we should have. Maybe this will scare the lads into paying better attention during drills." He paused, and Elend could see something he wasn't expressing. Worry. Elend glanced out over the wall, watching the retreating army. Suddenly, it made sense. It was exactly the kind of move that his father liked to make. The meeting with Straff would take place as planned. However, before it happened, Straff wanted Elend to know something. I can take this city any time, the attack seemed to say. It's mine, no matter what you do. Remember that. He was forced into war by a misunderstanding—and always claimed he was no warrior—yet he came to fight as well as any man. "THIS IS NOT A GOOD idea, Mistress." OreSeur sat on his haunches, watching Vin unpack a large, flat box. "Elend thinks it's the only way," she said, pulling off the top of the box. The luxurious blue dress lay wrapped within. She pulled it out, noting its comparatively light weight. She walked over to the changing screen and began to disrobe. "And the assault on the walls yesterday?" OreSeur asked. "That was a warning," she said, continuing to unbutton her shirt. "Not a serious attack." Though, apparently, it had really unsettled the Assembly. Perhaps that had been the point. Clubs could say all he wished about strategy and testing the walls, but from Vin's standpoint, the thing Straff had gained most was even more fear and chaos inside Luthadel. Only a few weeks of being besieged, and the city was already strained near to breaking. Food was terribly expensive, and Elend had been forced to open the city stockpiles. The people were on edge. Some few thought the attack had been a victory for Luthadel, taking it as a good sign that the army had been "repelled." Most, however, were simply even more scared than they had been before. But, again, Vin was left with a conundrum. How to react, facing such an overpowering force? Cower, or try to continue with life? Straff had tested the walls, true—but he had maintained the larger part of his army back and in position, should Cett have tried to make an opportunistic attack at that time. He'd wanted information, and he'd wanted to intimidate the city. "I still don't know if this meeting is a good idea," OreSeur said. "The attack aside, Straff is not a man to be trusted. Kelsier had me study all of the major noblemen in the city when I was preparing to become Lord Renoux. Straff is deceitful and harsh, even for a human." Vin sighed, removing her trousers, then pulled on the dress's slip.
|
It wasn't as tight as some, and gave her a lot of room to move through the thigh and legs. Good so far. OreSeur's objection was logical. One of the first things she had learned on the street was to avoid situations where it was difficult to flee. Her every instinct rebelled at the idea of walking into Straff's camp. Elend had made his decision, however. And, Vin understood that she needed to support him. In fact, she was even coming to agree with the move. Straff wanted to intimidate the entire city—but he really wasn't as threatening as he thought. Not as long as he had to worry about Cett. Vin had had enough of intimidation in her life. In a way, Straff's attack on the walls left her feeling even more determined to manipulate him to their own ends. Going into his camp seemed a bit crazy on first impression, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized that it was the only way they were going to get to Straff. He had to see them as weak, had to feel that his bullying tactics had worked. That was the only way they would win. That meant doing something she didn't like. It meant being surrounded, entering the enemy's den. However, if Elend did manage to get out of the camp safely, it would provide a large morale boost for the city. Beyond that, it would make Ham and the rest of the crew more confident in Elend. Nobody would even have questioned the idea of Kelsier entering an enemy camp to negotiate; in fact, they probably would have expected him to come back from the negotiations somehow having convinced Straff to surrender. I just need to make sure he comes back out safely, Vin thought, pulling on the dress. Straff can display all the muscle he wants—none of it will matter if we're the ones directing his attacks. She nodded to herself, smoothing her dress. Then she walked out from behind the changing screen, studying herself in her mirror. Though the dressmaker had obviously sewn it to retain a traditional form, it didn't have a completely triangular bell shape, but instead fell a bit straighter down along her thighs. It was cut open near the shoulders—though it had tight sleeves and open cuffs—and the waist bent with her and gave her a good range of motion. Vin stretched a bit, jumping, twisting. She was surprised at how light the dress felt, and how well she moved in it. Of course, any skirt would hardly be ideal for fighting—but this one would be an enormous improvement over the bulky creations she had worn to the parties a year before. "Well?" she asked, spinning. OreSeur raised a canine eyebrow. "What?" "What do you think?" OreSeur cocked his head. "Why ask me?" "Because I care what you think," Vin said. "The dress is very nice, Mistress. Though, to be honest, I have always found the garments to be a little ridiculous. All of that cloth and color, it doesn't
|
seem very practical." "Yes, I know," Vin said, using a pair of sapphire barrettes to pin the sides of her hair back a bit from her face. "But. . .well, I'd forgotten how much fun these things could be to wear." "I fail to see why that would be, Mistress." "That's because you're a man." "Actually, I'm a kandra." "But you're a boy kandra." "How do you know that?" OreSeur asked. "Gender is not easy to tell in my people, since our forms are fluid." Vin looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "I can tell." Then she turned back to her jewelry cabinet. She didn't have much; though the crew had outfitted her with a good sampling of jewelry during her days as Valette, she had given most of it to Elend to help fund various projects. She had, however, kept a few of her favorites—as if she'd known that she'd someday find her way back into a dress. I'm just wearing it this once, she thought. This still isn't me. She snapped on a sapphire bracelet. Like her barrettes, it contained no metal; the gemstones were set into a thick hardwood that closed with a wooden twist-clasp. The only metal on her body, then, would be her coins, her metal vial, and the single earring. Kept, by Kelsier's suggestion, as a bit of metal she could Push on in an emergency. "Mistress," OreSeur said, pulling something out from under her bed with his paw. A sheet of paper. "This fell from the box as you were opening it." He grabbed it between two of his surprisingly dexterous paw fingers and held it up for her. Vin accepted the paper. Lady Heir, it read. I made the chest and bodice extra tight to give support—and cut the skirts so they would resist flaring—in case you need to jump. There are slits for metal vials in each of the cuffs, as well as a ripple in the cloth cut to obscure a dagger strapped around each forearm. I hope you find the alterations suitable. Feldeu, Dressmaker. She glanced down, noting the cuffs. They were thick and wide, and the way they pointed at the sides made perfect hiding places. Though the sleeves were tight around the upper arms, the forearms were looser, and she could see where the daggers could be strapped. "It seems that he has made dresses for Mistborn before," OreSeur noted. "Probably," Vin said. She moved over to her dressing mirror to apply a little makeup, and found that several of her makeup pads had dried out. Guess I haven't done this for a while either. . .. "What time are we leaving, Mistress?" OreSeur asked. Vin paused. "Actually, OreSeur, I wasn't planning to bring you. I still intend to keep your cover with the other people in the palace, and I think it would look very suspicious of me to bring my pet dog on this particular trip." OreSeur was silent for a moment. "Oh," he said. "Of course. Good luck, then, Mistress." Vin felt only a tiny stab
|
of disappointment; she'd expected him to object more. She pushed the emotion aside. Why should she fault him? He'd been the one to rightly point out the dangers of going into the camp. OreSeur simply lay down, resting head on paws as he watched her continue applying her makeup. "But, El," Ham said, "you should at least let us send you in our own carriage." Elend shook his head, straightening his jacket as he looked in the mirror. "That would require sending in a coachman, Ham." "Right," Ham said. "Who would be me." "One man won't make a difference in getting us out of that camp. And, the fewer people I take with me, the fewer people Vin and I have to worry about." Ham shook his head. "El, I. . ." Elend laid a hand on Ham's shoulder. "I appreciate the concern, Ham. But, I can do this. If there's one man in this world I can manipulate, it's my father. I'll come out of this with him feeling assured that he has the city in his pocket." Ham sighed. "All right." "Oh, one other thing," Elend said hesitantly. "Yes?" "Would you mind calling me 'Elend' instead of just 'El'?" Ham chuckled. "I suppose that one's easy enough to do." Elend smiled thankfully. It's not what Tindwyl wanted, but it's a start. We'll worry about the "Your Majesty"s later. The door opened, and Dockson walked in. "Elend," he said. "This just arrived for you." He held up a sheet of paper. "From the Assembly?" Elend asked. Dockson nodded. "They're not happy about you missing the meeting this evening." "Well, I can't change the appointment with Straff just because they want to meet a day early," Elend said. "Tell them I'll try and visit when I get back." Dockson nodded, then turned as a rustling sounded from behind him. He stepped to the side, a strange look on his face, as Vin walked up to the doorway. And she was wearing a dress—a beautiful blue gown that was sleeker than the common courtly fare. Her black hair sparkled with a pair of sapphire barrettes, and she seemed. . .different. More feminine—or, rather, more confident in her femininity. How much she's changed since I first met her, Elend thought, smiling. Almost two years had passed. Then she had been a youth, albeit one with the life experiences of someone far older. Now she was a woman—a very dangerous woman, but one who still looked up at him with eyes that were just a bit uncertain, just a bit insecure. "Beautiful," Elend whispered. She smiled. "Vin!" Ham said, turning. "You're wearing a dress!" Vin flushed. "What did you expect, Ham? That I would meet with the king of the Northern Dominance in trousers?" "Well. . ." Ham said. "Actually, yes." Elend chuckled. "Just because you insist on going about everywhere in casual clothing, Ham, doesn't mean that everyone does. Honestly, don't you get tired of those vests?" Ham shrugged. "They're easy. And simple." "And cold," Vin said, rubbing her arms. "I'm glad I asked
|
for something with sleeves." "Be thankful for the weather," Ham said. "Every chill you suffer will seem far worse to the men out in those armies." Elend nodded. Winter had, technically, started. The weather probably wouldn't get bad enough to be more than a mild discomfort—they rarely got snow in the Central Dominance—but the chill nights certainly wouldn't improve morale. "Well, let's go," Vin said. "The sooner we get this over with, the better." Elend stepped forward, smiling, taking Vin's hands. "I appreciate this, Vin," he said quietly. "And you really do look gorgeous. If we weren't marching off to near certain doom, I'd be tempted to command a ball be held tonight just for the opportunity to show you off." Vin smiled. "Near certain doom is that compelling?" "Guess I've been spending too much time with the crew." He leaned down to kiss her, but she yelped and jumped back. "It took me the better part of an hour to get this makeup on right," she snapped. "No kissing!" Elend chuckled as Captain Demoux poked his head in the door. "Your Majesty, the carriage has arrived." Elend looked at Vin. She nodded. "Let's go," he said. Sitting inside the carriage Straff had sent for them, Elend could see a solemn group standing on the wall, watching them roll away. The sun was near to setting. He commands us to come in the evening; we'll have to leave when the mists are out, Elend thought. A crafty way of pointing out how much power he has over us. It was his father's way—a move, in a way, that was similar to the attack on the walls a day before. To Straff, everything was about posturing. Elend had watched his father at court, and had seen him manipulate even obligators. By holding the contract to oversee the Lord Ruler's atium mine, Straff Venture had played a game even more dangerous than his fellow noblemen. And he had played that game very well. He hadn't factored in Kelsier throwing chaos into the mix, but who had? Since the Collapse, Straff had secured the most stable, and most powerful, kingdom in the Final Empire. He was a crafty, careful man who knew how to plan for years to get what he wanted. And this was the man Elend had to manipulate. "You look worried," Vin said. She was across from him in the carriage, sitting in a prim, ladylike posture. It was as if donning a dress somehow granted her new habits and mannerisms. Or just a return to old ones—she'd once been able to act like a noblewoman well enough to fool Elend. "We'll be all right," she said. "Straff won't hurt you—even if things go bad, he won't dare make a martyr of you." "Oh, I'm not worried about my safety," Elend said. Vin raised an eyebrow. "Because?" "Because I have you," Elend said with a smile. "You're worth an army, Vin." This, however, didn't seem to console her. "Come here," he said, scooting over and waving her to the seat beside him.
|
She rose and moved across the carriage—but paused, eyeing him. "Makeup." "I'll be careful," Elend promised. She nodded, sitting and letting him put an arm around her. "Be careful of the hair, too," she said. "And your suit coat—don't get anything on it." "When did you get so fashion-conscious?" he asked. "It's the dress," Vin said with a sigh. "As soon as I put it on, all of Sazed's lessons started coming back to me." "I really do like the dress on you," Elend said. Vin shook her head. "What?" Elend asked as the carriage bumped, pushing her a bit closer to him. Another new perfume, he thought. At least that's one habit she never got out of. "This isn't me, Elend," she said quietly. "This dress, these mannerisms. They're a lie." Elend sat quietly for a moment. "No objections?" Vin said. "Everyone else thinks I'm speaking nonsense." "I don't know," Elend said honestly. "Changing into my new clothes made me feel different, so what you say makes sense. If wearing dresses feels wrong to you, then you don't have to wear them. I want you to be happy, Vin." Vin smiled, looking up at him. Then she leaned up and kissed him. "I thought you said none of that," he said. "From you," she said. "I'm Mistborn—we're more precise." Elend smiled, though he couldn't quite feel jovial. Conversation, however, did keep him from fretting. "I feel uncomfortable in these clothes, sometimes. Everyone expects so much more from me when I wear them. They expect a king." "When I wear a dress," Vin said, "they expect a lady. Then they're disappointed when they find me instead." "Anyone who would feel disappointed to find you is too dense to be of any relevance," Elend said. "I don't want you to be like them, Vin. They're not honest. They don't care. I like you as you are." "Tindwyl thinks that I can be both," Vin said. "A woman and a Mistborn." "Tindwyl is wise," Elend said. "A bit brutal, but wise. You should listen to her." "You just told me you liked me how I am." "I do," Elend said. "But I'd like you however you were, Vin. I love you. The question is, how do you like yourself?" That gave her pause. "Clothing doesn't really change a man," Elend said. "But it changes how others react to him. Tindwyl's words. I think. . .I think the trick is convincing yourself that you deserve the reactions you get. You can wear the court's dresses, Vin, but make them your own. Don't worry that you aren't giving people what they want. Give them who you are, and let that be enough." He paused, smiling. "It was for me." She smiled back, then carefully leaned against him. "All right," she said. "Enough insecurity for the moment. Let's review. Tell me more about your father's disposition." "He's a perfect imperial nobleman. Ruthless, clever, and infatuated with power. You remember my. . .experience when I was thirteen?" Vin nodded. "Well, Father was very fond of skaa brothels. I
|
think that he liked how strong he felt by taking a girl while knowing that she would be killed for his passion. He keeps several dozen mistresses, and if they don't please him, they get removed." Vin muttered something quietly in response to this. "He's the same way with political allies. One didn't ally with House Venture—one agreed to be dominated by House Venture. If you weren't willing to be our slave, then you didn't get to contract with us." Vin nodded. "I've known crewleaders like that." "And how did you survive when they turned an eye toward you?" "By acting unimportant," Vin said. "By crawling on the ground when they passed and by never giving them reason to challenge me. Exactly what you're planning to do tonight." Elend nodded. "Be careful," Vin said. "Don't let Straff think that you're mocking him." "All right." "And don't promise too much," Vin said. "Act like you're trying to seem tough. Let him think he's bullying you into doing what he wants—he'll enjoy that." "You've had experience with this before, I see." "Too much of it," Vin said. "But, you've heard this before." Elend nodded. They'd planned and replanned this meeting. Now he simply had to do what the crew had taught him. Make Straff think we're weak, imply we'll give him the city—but only if he helps us against Cett first. Outside the window, Elend could see that they were approaching Straff's army. So big! he thought. Where did Father learn to administrate a force like this? Elend had hoped, perhaps, that his father's lack of military experience would translate to a poorly run army. Yet, the tents were arranged in a careful pattern, and the soldiers wore neat uniforms. Vin moved over to her window, looking out with avid eyes, showing far more interest than an imperial noblewoman would have dared. "Look," she said, pointing. "What?" Elend asked, leaning over. "Obligator," Vin said. Elend looked over her shoulder, spotting the former imperial priest—the skin around his eyes tattooed in a wide pattern—directing a line of soldiers outside a tent. "So that's it. He's using obligators to administrate." Vin shrugged. "It makes sense. They'd know how to manage large groups of people." "And how to supply them," Elend said. "Yes, it's a good idea—but it's still surprising. It implies that he still needs obligators—and that he's still subject to the Lord Ruler's authority. Most of the other kings threw off the obligators as soon as they could." Vin frowned. "I thought you said your father likes being in power." "He does," Elend said. "But also likes powerful tools. He always keeps a kandra, and he has a history of associating with dangerous Allomancers. He believes that he can control them—and he probably believes the same thing about the obligators." The carriage slowed, then stopped beside a large tent. Straff Venture emerged a moment later. Elend's father had always been a large man, firm of figure with a commanding posture. The new beard only heightened the effect. He wore a sharp, well-cut suit, just like
|
the suits he had tried to get Elend to wear as a boy. That was when Elend had begun wearing his clothing disheveled—the buttons undone, the jackets too large. Anything to separate him from his father. Elend's defiance had never been meaningful, however. He had annoyed Straff, pulling small stunts and acting foolish when he knew he could get away with it. None of it had mattered. Not until that final night. Luthadel in flames, the skaa rebellion running out of control, threatening to bring down the entire city. A night of chaos and destruction, with Vin trapped somewhere within it. Then Elend had stood up to Straff Venture. I'm not the same boy you pushed around, Father. Vin squeezed his arm, and Elend climbed out of the carriage as the coachman opened the door. Straff waited quietly, a strange look on his face as Elend raised a hand to help Vin down. "You came," Straff said. "You seem surprised, Father." Straff shook his head. "I see that you're just as big an idiot as ever, boy. You're in my power now—I could have you killed with a bare wave of my hand." He raised his arm, as if to do just that. Now's the moment, Elend thought, heart thumping. "I've always been in your power, Father," he said. "You could have had me killed months ago, could have taken my city away at a bare whim. I don't see how my coming here changes anything." Straff hesitated. "We came for dinner," Elend said. "I had hoped to give you a chance to meet Vin, and had hoped that we might discuss certain. . .issues of particular import to you." Straff frowned. That's right, Elend thought. Wonder if I have some offer yet to make. You know that the first man to play his hand usually loses. Straff wouldn't pass up an opportunity for gain—even a slim opportunity, like the one Elend represented. He probably figured there was nothing Elend could say that was of real importance. But could he be sure? What did he have to lose? "Go and confirm with my chef that there will be three for dinner," Straff said to a servant. Elend let out a lightly held breath. "That girl's your Mistborn, then?" Straff asked. Elend nodded. "Cute little thing," Straff said. "Tell her to stop Soothing my emotions." Vin flushed. Straff nodded toward the tent. Elend led Vin forward, though she glanced over her shoulder, obviously not liking the idea of exposing her back to Straff. Little bit late for that. . .Elend thought. The tent chamber was what Elend would have expected of his father: stuffed with pillows and rich furniture, very little of which Straff would actually use. Straff furnished to suggest his power. Like the massive keeps of Luthadel, a nobleman's surroundings were an expression of how important he was. Vin waited quietly, tensely, at Elend's side in the center of the room. "He's good," she whispered. "I was as subtle as I can manage, and he still noticed my touch." Elend nodded.
|
"He's also a Tineye," he said in a normal voice. "So he's probably listening to us right now." Elend looked toward the door. Straff walked in a few moments later, giving no indication as to whether he had heard Vin or not. A group of servants entered a few moments later, carrying a large dining table. Vin inhaled sharply. The servants were skaa—imperial skaa, after the old tradition. They were ragged, their clothing made of torn smocks, and showed bruises from a recent beating. They carried their loads with lowered eyes. "Why the reaction, girl?" Straff asked. "Oh, that's right. You're skaa, aren't you—pretty dress notwithstanding? Elend is very kind; I wouldn't let you wear something like that." Or much at all, his tone implied. Vin shot Straff a look, but pulled a little closer to Elend, grabbing his arm. Again, Straff's words were only about posturing; Straff was cruel, but only insofar as it served him. He wanted to make Vin uncomfortable. Which he seemed to be doing. Elend frowned, glancing down, and caught just a hint of a sly smile on her lips. Breeze has told me that Vin is more subtle with her Allomancy than most Soothers, he recalled. Father's good, but for him to pick out her touch. . . She let him, of course. Elend looked back at Straff, who hit one of the skaa servants on their way out. "I hope none of them are relatives of yours," Straff said to Vin. "They haven't been very diligent lately. I might have to execute a few." "I'm not skaa anymore," Vin said quietly. "I'm a noblewoman." Straff just laughed. He had already dismissed Vin as a threat. He knew she was Mistborn, he must have heard that she was dangerous, and yet he now assumed that she was weak and inconsequential. She is good at this, Elend thought with wonder. Servants began to bring in a feast that was impressive considering the circumstances. As they waited, Straff turned to an aide. "Send in Hoselle," he ordered. "And tell her to be quick." He seems less reserved than I remember, Elend thought. In the Lord Emperor's day, a good nobleman had been stiff and inhibited when in public, though many had turned to extravagant indulgence when in private. They would dance and have quiet dinner conversation at the ball, for instance, but enjoy whores and drunkenness in the small hours of night. "Why the beard, Father?" Elend asked. "Last I knew, those weren't in fashion." "I set the fashion now, boy," Straff said. "Sit." Vin waited respectfully, Elend noticed, until Elend was seated before taking her place. She managed to maintain an air of half jumpiness: she'd look Straff in the eyes, but always gave a reflexive twitch, as if part of her wanted to glance away. "Now," Straff said, "tell me why you're here." "I thought it was obvious, Father," Elend said. "I'm here to discuss our alliance." Straff raised an eyebrow. "Alliance? We both just agreed that your life is mine. I don't see a need
|
to ally with you." "Perhaps," Elend said. "But, there are other factors at play here. I assume that you weren't expecting Cett's arrival?" "Cett is of little concern," Straff said, turning his attention to the meal: big slabs of barely cooked beef. Vin wrinkled her nose, though Elend couldn't tell if that was part of her act or not. Elend cut his steak. "A man with an army nearly as large as your own is hardly of 'little' concern, Father." Straff shrugged. "He'll be of no trouble to me once I have the city walls. You'll turn those over to me as part of our alliance, I assume?" "And invite Cett to attack the city?" Elend said. "Yes, together you and I could hold against him, but why go on the defensive? Why let him weaken our fortifications, and possibly just continue this siege until both of our armies are starving? We need to attack him, Father." Straff snorted. "You think I need your help to do so?" "You do if you want to beat him with any measure of assured success," Elend said. "We can take him easily together—but never alone. We need each other. Let's attack, you leading your armies, me leading mine." "Why are you so eager?" Straff asked, narrowing his eyes. "Because I want to prove something," Elend said. "Look, we both know you're going to take Luthadel from me. But, if we ride together against Cett first, it will look like I wanted to ally with you all along. I'll be able to give you the city without looking like a complete buffoon. I can spin it that I brought in my father to help us against the army I knew was coming. I turn the city over to you, and then become your heir again. We both get what we want. But only once Cett is dead." Straff paused, and Elend could see that his words were having an effect. Yes, he thought. Think that I'm just the same boy you left behind—eccentric, eager to resist you for silly reasons. And, saving face is a very Venture thing to do. "No," Straff said. Elend started. "No," Straff said again, turning to his meal. "That's not how we're going to do this, boy. I'll decide when—or even if—I attack Cett." That should have worked! Elend thought. He studied Straff, trying to judge what was wrong. There was a faint hesitance about his father. I need more information, he thought. He glanced to his side, to where Vin sat, spinning something lightly in her hand. Her fork. She met his eyes, then tapped it lightly. Metal, Elend thought. Good idea. He looked over at Straff. "You came for the atium," he said. "You don't have to conquer my city to get it." Straff leaned forward. "Why haven't you spent it?" "Nothing brings sharks faster than fresh blood, Father," Elend said. "Spending large amounts of atium would only have indicated for certain that I had it—a bad idea, considering the trouble we took to squelch those rumors." There was
|
a sudden motion at the front of the tent, and soon a flustered young girl entered. She wore a ball gown—red—and had her black hair pulled back into a long, flowing tail. She was, perhaps, fifteen. "Hoselle," Straff said, pointing to the chair next to him. The girl nodded obediently, scurrying forward to sit beside Straff. She was done up in makeup, and the dress was low-cut. Elend had little doubt as to her relationship with Straff. Straff smiled and chewed his food, calm and gentlemanly. The girl looked a little bit like Vin—same almond face, similar dark hair, same fine features and thin build. It was a statement. I can get one just like yours—only younger and prettier. More posturing. It was that moment—that smirk in Straff's eyes—which reminded Elend more than ever why he hated his father. "Perhaps we can make a deal, boy," Straff said. "Deliver the atium to me, and I'll deal with Cett." "Getting it to you will take time," Elend said. "Why?" Straff asked. "Atium is light." "There's a lot of it." "Not so much you couldn't pack it on a cart and send it out," Straff said. "It's more complicated than that," Elend said. "I don't think it is," Straff said, smiling. "You just don't want to give it to me." Elend frowned. "We don't have it," Vin whispered. Straff turned. "We never found it," she said. "Kelsier overthrew the Lord Ruler just so he could get that atium. But we never could find out where the metal was. It probably wasn't ever in the city." Wasn't expecting that. . .Elend thought. Of course, Vin tended to do things by instinct, much as Kelsier was said to have done. All the planning in the world could go out the window with Vin around—but what she did instead was usually better. Straff sat for a moment. He seemed to believe Vin. "So you really have nothing at all to offer me." I need to act weak, Elend remembered. Need him to think he can take the city any time, but also think it isn't worth taking right now. He began to tap the table quietly with his index finger, trying to look nervous. If Straff thinks we don't have the atium. . .then he'll be a lot less likely to risk attacking the city. Less gain. That's why Vin said what she did. "Vin doesn't know what she's talking about," Elend said. "I've kept the atium hidden, even from her. I'm sure we can arrange something, Father." "No," Straff said, now sounding amused. "You really don't have it. Zane said. . .but, well, I didn't believe. . ." Straff shook his head, turning back toward his meal. The girl at his side didn't eat; she sat quietly, like the ornament she was expected to be. Straff took a long drink of his wine, then let out a satisfied sigh. He looked at his child mistress. "Leave us," he said. She immediately did as commanded. "You, too," Straff said to Vin. Vin stiffened slightly. She looked toward
|
Elend. "It's all right," he said slowly. She paused, then nodded. Straff himself was little danger to Elend, and she was a Mistborn. If something went wrong, she could get to Elend quickly. And, if she left, it would do what they wanted—make Elend look less powerful. In a better position to deal with Straff. Hopefully. "I'll wait just outside," Vin said quietly, withdrawing. He was no simple soldier. He was a force of leadership—a man that fate itself seemed to support. "ALL RIGHT," STRAFF SAID, setting down his fork. "Let's be honest, boy. I'm this close to simply having you killed." "You'd execute your only son?" Elend asked. Straff shrugged. "You need me," Elend said. "To help you fight Cett. You can kill me, but you'd gain nothing. You'd still have to take Luthadel by force, and Cett would still be able to attack—and defeat you—in your weakened state." Straff smiled, folding his arms, leaning forward so he loomed over the table. "You are wrong on both counts, boy. First, I think that if I killed you, the next leader of Luthadel would be more accommodating. I have certain interests in the city who indicate that is true. Second, I don't need your help to fight Cett. He and I already have a treaty." Elend paused. "What?" "What do you think I've been doing these last few weeks? Sitting and waiting on your whims? Cett and I have exchanged pleasantries. He's not interested in the city—he just wants the atium. We agreed to split what we discover in Luthadel, then work together to take the rest of the Final Empire. He conquers to the west and north, I head east and south. Very accommodating man, Cett." He's bluffing, Elend thought with reasonable certainty. That wasn't Straff's way; he wouldn't make an alliance with someone so near to him in strength. Straff feared betrayal too much. "You think I would believe that?" Elend said. "Believe what you wish," Straff said. "And the koloss army marching this way?" Elend asked, playing one of their trump cards. This made Straff pause. "If you want to take Luthadel before those koloss get here, Father," Elend said, "then I think you might want to be a little more accommodating toward the man who's come, offering you everything you want. I only ask one thing—let me have a victory. Let me fight Cett, secure my legacy. Then you can have the city." Straff thought about it, thought about it long enough that Elend dared to hope he might just have won. Then, however, Straff shook his head. "No, I think not. I'll take my chances with Cett. I don't know why he is willing to let me have Luthadel, but he doesn't seem to care much about it." "And you do?" Elend said. "You know we don't have the atium. What does the city matter to you now?" Straff leaned forward a bit farther. Elend could smell his breath, odorous from the dinner spices. "That's where you are wrong about me, boy. That's why—even if you'd been
|
able to promise me that atium—you would never have left this camp tonight. I made a mistake a year ago. If I'd stayed in Luthadel, I would have been the one on that throne. Instead, it was you. I can't imagine why—I guess a weak Venture was still better than the other alternatives." Straff was everything Elend had hated about the old empire. Presumptuous. Cruel. Arrogant. Weakness, Elend thought, calming himself. I can't be threatening. He shrugged. "It's only a city, Father. From my position, it doesn't matter half as much as your army." "It's more than a city," Straff said. "It's the Lord Ruler's city—and it has my home in it. My keep. I understand that you're using it as your palace." "I didn't really have any other place to go." Straff turned back to his meal. "All right," he said in between cutting chunks of steak, "at first, I thought you were an idiot for coming tonight, but now I'm not so certain. You must have seen the inevitable." "You're stronger," Elend said. "I can't stand up to you." Straff nodded. "You've impressed me, boy. Wearing proper clothing, getting yourself a Mistborn mistress, maintaining control of the city. I'm going to let you live." "Thank you," Elend said. "And, in exchange, you're going to give me Luthadel." "As soon as Cett is dealt with." Straff laughed. "No, that's not the way these things work, boy. We're not negotiating. You're listening to my orders. Tomorrow, we'll ride to the city together, and you'll order the gates opened. I'll march my army in and take command, and Luthadel will become the new capital of my kingdom. If you stay in line and do as I say, I'll name you heir again." "We can't do that," Elend said. "I left orders that the gates weren't to be opened to you, no matter what." Straff paused. "My advisors thought you might try and use Vin as a hostage, forcing me to relinquish the city," Elend said. "If we go together, they'll assume you're threatening me." Straff's mood darkened. "You'd better hope that they don't." "They will," Elend said. "I know these men, Father. They'd be eager for an excuse to take the city away from me." "Then, why come here?" "To do as I said," Elend said. "To negotiate an alliance against Cett. I can deliver Luthadel to you—but I still need time. Let's take down Cett first." Straff grabbed his dinner knife by the hilt and slammed it down into the table. "I said this wasn't a negotiation! You don't make demands, boy. I could have you killed!" "I'm just stating facts, Father," Elend said quickly. "I don't want to—" "You've gotten smooth," Straff said, eyes narrowing. "What did you hope to accomplish with this game? Coming to my camp? Bringing nothing to offer. . ." He paused, then continued. "Nothing to offer except for that girl. Pretty little thing, she is." Elend flushed. "That won't get you into the city. Remember, my advisors thought you might try threatening her." "Fine," Straff snapped.
|
"You die; I take the city by force." "And Cett attacks you from behind," Elend said. "Pinning you against our wall and forcing you to fight surrounded." "He'd take heavy losses," Straff said. "He wouldn't be able to take and hold the city after that." "Even with diminished forces, he'd have a better chance of taking it from us than he would if he waited and then tried to take it from you." Straff stood. "I'll have to take that chance. I left you behind before. I'm not going to let you loose again, boy. Those cursed skaa were supposed to kill you and leave me free of you." Elend stood as well. However, he could see the resolve in Straff's eyes. It isn't working, Elend thought, panic beginning to set in. This plan had been a gamble, but he hadn't ever really thought that he'd fail. Indeed, he'd played his cards well. But, something was wrong—something he hadn't anticipated, and still didn't understand. Why was Straff resisting so much? I'm too new to this, Elend thought. Ironically, if he had let his father train him better as a child, he might have known what he'd done wrong. As it was, he suddenly realized the gravity of his situation. Surrounded by a hostile army. Separated from Vin. He was going to die. "Wait!" Elend said desperately. "Ah," Straff said smiling. "Finally realized what you've gotten yourself into?" There was pleasure in Straff's smile. Eagerness. There had always been something inside Straff that had enjoyed hurting others, though Elend had rarely seen it applied to him. Propriety had always been there to stop Straff. Propriety enforced by the Lord Ruler. At that moment, Elend saw murder in his father's eyes. "You never intended to let me live," Elend said. "Even if I'd given you the atium, even if I'd gone with you to the city." "You were dead the moment I decided to march here," Straff said. "Idiot boy. I do thank you for bringing me that girl, though. I'll take her tonight. We'll see if she cries my name or yours while I'm—" Elend laughed. It was a desperate laugh, a laugh at the ridiculous situation he'd gotten himself into, a laugh at his sudden worry and fear—but most of all, it was a laugh at the idea of Straff trying to force himself upon Vin. "You have no idea how foolish you sound," Elend said. Straff flushed. "For that, boy, I'll be extra rough with her." "You are a pig, Father," Elend said. "A sick, disgusting man. You thought you were a brilliant leader, but you were barely competent. You nearly got our house destroyed—only the Lord Ruler's own death saved you!" Straff called for his guards. "You may take Luthadel," Elend said, "but you'll lose it! I may have been a bad king, but you'll be a terrible one. The Lord Ruler was a tyrant, but he was also a genius. You're neither. You're just a selfish man who'll use up his resources, then end up dead from a knife
|
in the back." Straff pointed at Elend as soldiers rushed in. Elend didn't cringe. He'd grown up with this man, been raised by him, been tortured by him. And, despite it all, Elend had never spoken his mind. He'd rebelled with the petty timidity of a teenage boy, but he'd never spoken the truth. It felt good. It felt right. Perhaps playing the weak hand was a mistake against Straff. He always was fond of crushing things. And suddenly Elend knew what he had to do. He smiled, looking Straff in the eyes. "Kill me, Father," he said, "and you'll die, too." "Kill me, Father," Elend said, "and you'll die, too." Vin paused. She stood outside the tent, in the darkness of early night. She'd been standing with Straff's soldiers, but they'd rushed in at his command. She'd moved into the darkness, and now stood on the north side of the tent, watching the shadowed forms move within. She'd been about to burst in. Elend hadn't been doing very well—not that he was a bad negotiator. He was just too honest by nature. It wasn't difficult to tell when he was bluffing, especially if you knew him well. But, this new proclamation was different. It wasn't a sign of Elend attempting to be clever, nor was it an angry outburst like the one he'd made moments before. Suddenly, he seemed calm and forceful. Vin waited quietly, her daggers out, tense in the mists before the glowing tent. Something told her she had to give Elend just a few more moments. Straff laughed at Elend's threat. "You are a fool, Father," Elend said. "You think I came here to negotiate? You think I would willingly deal with one such as you? No. You know me better than that. You know that I'd never submit to you." "Then why?" Straff asked. She could almost hear Elend's smile. "I came to get near you, Father. . .and to bring my Mistborn to the very heart of your camp." Silence. Finally, Straff laughed. "You threaten me with that wisp of a girl? If that's the great Mistborn of Luthadel I've been hearing of, then I'm sorely disappointed." "That's because she wants you to feel that way," Elend said. "Think, Father. You were suspicious, and the girl confirmed those suspicions. But, if she's as good as the rumors say—and I know you've heard the rumors—then how would you have spotted her touch on your emotions? "You caught her Soothing you, and you called her on it. Then, you didn't feel the touch anymore, so you assumed that she was cowed. But, after that, you began to feel confident. Comfortable. You dismissed Vin as a threat—but would any rational man dismiss a Mistborn, no matter how small or quiet? In fact, you'd think that the small, quiet ones would be the assassins you'd want to pay the most attention to." Vin smiled. Clever, she thought. She reached out, Rioting Straff's emotions, flaring her metal and stoking his sense of anger. He gasped in sudden shock. Take the clue,
|
Elend. "Fear," Elend said. She Soothed away Straff's anger and exchanged it for fear. "Passion." She complied. "Calmness." She soothed everything away. Inside the tent, she saw Straff's shadow standing stiffly. An Allomancer couldn't force a person to do anything—and usually, strong Pushes or Pulls on an emotion were less effective, since they alerted the target that something was wrong. In this case, however, Vin wanted Straff to know for certain she was watching. She smiled, extinguishing her tin. Then she burned duralumin and Soothed Straff's emotions with explosive pressure, wiping away all capacity for feeling within him. His shadow stumbled beneath the attack. Her brass was gone a moment later, and she turned on her tin again, watching the black patterns on the canvas. "She's powerful, Father," Elend said. "She's more powerful than any Allomancer you've known. She killed the Lord Ruler. She was trained by the Survivor of Hathsin. And if you kill me, she'll kill you." Straff righted himself, and the tent fell silent again. A footstep sounded. Vin spun, ducking, raising her dagger. A familiar figure stood in the night mists. "Why is it I can never sneak up on you?" Zane asked quietly. Vin shrugged and turned back to the tent—but moved herself so she could keep an eye on Zane, too. He walked over and crouched beside her, watching the shadows. "That's hardly a useful threat," Straff finally said from within. "You'll be dead, even if your Mistborn does get to me." "Ah, Father," Elend said. "I was wrong about your interest in Luthadel. However, you're also wrong about me—you've always been wrong about me. I don't care if I die, not if it brings safety to my people." "Cett will take the city if I'm gone," Straff said. "I think my people might be able to hold against him," Elend said. "After all, he has the smaller army." "This is idiocy!" Straff snapped. He didn't, however, order his soldiers forward any farther. "Kill me, and you die, too," Elend said. "And not just you. Your generals. Your captains. Even your obligators. She has orders to slaughter you all." Zane took a step closer to Vin, his feet crunching slightly on the packed-down weeds that made up the floor of the camp. "Ah," he whispered, "clever. No matter how strong your opponent is, he can't attack if you've got a knife at his throat." Zane leaned even closer, and Vin looked up at him, their faces just inches from each other. He shook his head in the soft mists. "But tell me—why is it that people like you and me always have to be the knives?" Inside the tent, Straff was growing concerned. "No one is that powerful, boy," he said, "not even a Mistborn. She might be able to kill some of my generals, but she'd never get to me. I have my own Mistborn." "Oh?" Elend said. "And why hasn't he killed her? Because he's afraid to attack? If you kill me, Father—if you even make so much as a move toward my city—then
|
she'll begin the slaughter. Men will die like prisoners before the fountains on a day of execution." "I thought you said he was above this kind of thing," Zane whispered. "You claimed you weren't his tool. You said he wouldn't use you as an assassin. . .." Vin shuffled uncomfortably. "He's bluffing, Zane," she said. "He'd never actually do anything like that." "She is an Allomancer like you've never seen, Father," Elend said, voice muffled by the tent. "I've seen her fight other Allomancers—none of them can even touch her." "Is that true?" Zane asked. Vin paused. Elend hadn't actually ever seen her attack other Allomancers. "He saw me attack some soldiers once, and I've told him about my fights with other Allomancers." "Ah," Zane said softly. "So it's only a small lie, then. Those are fine when one is king. Many things are. Exploiting one person to save an entire kingdom? What leader wouldn't pay such a cheap price? Your freedom in exchange for his victory." "He's not using me," Vin said. Zane stood. Vin turned slightly, watching carefully as he walked into the mists, away from tents, torches, and soldiers. He paused, standing a short distance away, looking up. Even with the light of tent and fires, this camp was claimed by the mists. It spun all around them. From within it, the torchlight and campfires seemed insignificant. Like dying coals. "What is this to him," Zane said quietly, sweeping a hand around him. "Can he ever understand the mists? Can he ever understand you?" "He loves me," Vin said, glancing back at the shadowed forms. They had fallen quiet for a moment, Straff obviously considering Elend's threats. "He loves you?" Zane asked. "Or he loves having you?" "Elend isn't like that," Vin said. "He's a good man." "Good or not, you aren't like him," Zane said, voice echoing in the night to her tin-enhanced ears. "Can he understand what it is like to be one of us? Can he know the things we know, care about the things we love? Has he ever seen those?" Zane gestured upward, toward the sky. Far beyond the mists, lights shone in the sky, like tiny freckles. Stars, invisible to the normal eye. Only a person burning tin could penetrate the mists and see them shining. She remembered the first time Kelsier had shown them to her. She remembered how stunned she had been that the stars had been there all along, invisible beyond the mists. . .. Zane continued to point upward. "Lord Ruler!" Vin whispered, taking a small step away from the tent. Through the swirling mists, in the reflected light of the tent, she could see something on Zane's arm. The skin was covered with thin white streaks. Scars. Zane immediately lowered his arm, hiding the scarred flesh with his sleeve. "You were in the Pits of Hathsin," Vin said quietly. "Like Kelsier." Zane looked away. "I'm sorry," Vin said. Zane turned back, smiling in the night. It was a firm, confident smile. He stepped forward. "I understand you, Vin."
|
Then he bowed slightly to her and jumped away, disappearing into the mists. Inside the room, Straff spoke to Elend. "Go. Leave here." The carriage rolled away. Straff stood outside his tent, heedless of the mists, still feeling a bit stunned. I let him go. Why did I let him go? Yet—even now—he could feel her touch slamming against him. One emotion after another, like a treasonous maelstrom within him, and then. . .nothing. Like a massive hand, grabbing his soul and squeezing it into painful submission. It had felt the way he thought death might. No Allomancer could be that powerful. Zane respects her, Straff thought. And everyone says she killed the Lord Ruler. That little thing. It couldn't be. It seemed impossible. And apparently, that was just the way she wanted it to seem. Everything had been going so well. The information provided by Zane's kandra spy had been accurate: Elend did try to make an alliance. The frightening thing about it was that Straff might have gone along with it, assuming Elend to be of no consequence, if the spy hadn't sent warning. Even so, Elend had bested him. Straff had even been prepared for their feint of weakness, and he had still fallen. She's so powerful. . .. A figure in black stepped out of the mists and walked up to Straff. "You look like you've seen a ghost, Father," Zane said with a smile. "Your own, perhaps?" "Was there anyone else out there, Zane?" Straff asked, too shaken for repartee at the moment. "Another couple of Mistborn, perhaps, helping her?" Zane shook his head. "No. She really is that strong." He turned to walk back out into the mists. "Zane!" Straff snapped, making the man pause. "We're going to change plans. I want you to kill her." Zane turned. "But—" "She's too dangerous. Plus, we now have the information we wanted to get from her. They don't have the atium." "You believe them?" Zane asked. Straff paused. After how thoroughly he'd been manipulated this evening, he wasn't going to trust anything he thought he'd learned. "No," he decided. "But we'll find it another way. I want that girl dead, Zane." "Are we attacking the city for real, then?" Straff almost gave the order right then, commanding his armies to prepare for a morning assault. The preliminary attack had gone well, showing that the defenses were hardly impressive. Straff could take that wall, then use it against Cett. However, Elend's final words before departing this evening made him stop. Send your armies against my city, Father, the boy had said, and die. You've felt her power—you know what she can do. You can try and hide, you can even conquer my city. But she will find you. And she will kill you. Your only option is to wait. I'll contact you when my armies are prepared to attack Cett. We'll strike together, as I said earlier. Straff couldn't depend on that. The boy had changed—had become strong, somehow. If Straff and Elend attacked together, Straff had no illusions
|
as to how quickly he'd be betrayed. But Straff couldn't attack Luthadel while that girl was alive. Not knowing her strength, having felt her touch on his emotions. "No," he finally said to Zane's question. "We won't attack. Not until you kill her." "That might be harder than you make it sound, Father," Zane said. "I'll need some help." "What kind of help?" "A strike team. Allomancers that can't be traced." Zane was speaking of a particular group. Most Allomancers were easy to identify because of their noble lineages. Straff, however, had access to some special resources. There was a reason that he had so many mistresses—dozens and dozens of them. Some thought it was just because he was lustful. That wasn't it at all. More mistresses meant more children. And more children, born from a high noble line like his, meant more Allomancers. He'd only spawned one Mistborn, but there were many Mistings. "It will be done," Straff said. "They might not survive the encounter, Father," Zane warned, still standing in the mists. That awful sensation returned. The sense of nothingness, the horrible knowledge that someone else had complete and total control over his emotions. Nobody should have that much power over him. Especially not Elend. He should be dead. He came right to me. And I let him go. "Get rid of her," Straff said. "Do anything you need to, Zane. Anything." Zane nodded, then walked away with a self-satisfied stroll. Straff returned to his tent and sent for Hoselle again. She looked enough like Elend's girl. It would do him good to remind himself that most of the time, he really was in control. Elend sat back in the carriage, a little stunned. I'm still alive! he thought with growing excitement. I did it! I convinced Straff to leave the city alone. For a time, at least. Luthadel's safety depended on Straff remaining frightened of Vin. But. . .well, any victory was an enormous one for Elend. He hadn't failed his people. He was their king, and his plan—crazy though it might have seemed—had worked. The small crown on his head suddenly didn't seem as heavy as it had before. Vin sat across from him. She didn't look nearly as pleased as she could have. "We did it, Vin!" Elend said. "It wasn't what we planned, but it worked. Straff won't dare attack the city now." She nodded quietly. Elend frowned. "Um, it's because of you that the city will be safe. You know that, right? If you hadn't been there. . .well, of course, if it hadn't been for you, the entire Final Empire would still be enslaved." "Because I killed the Lord Ruler," she said quietly. Elend nodded. "But it was Kelsier's plan—the crew's skills, the people's strength of will—that freed the empire. I just held the knife." "You make it sound like a trivial thing, Vin," he said. "It's not! You're a fantastic Allomancer. Ham says he can't beat you even in an unfair fight anymore, and you've kept the palace free of assassins. There's nobody
|
like you in all of the Final Empire!" Strangely, his words made her huddle into the corner just a little farther. She turned, watching out the window, eyes staring into the mists. "Thank you," she said softly. Elend wrinkled his brow. Every time I begin to think I've figured out what's going on in her head. . .He moved over, putting an arm around her. "Vin, what's wrong?" She was silent, then finally shook her head, forcing a smile. "It's nothing, Elend. You're right to be excited. You were brilliant in there—I doubt even Kelsier could have manipulated Straff so neatly." Elend smiled, and pulled her close, impatient as the carriage rolled up to the dark city. The doors of Tin Gate opened hesitantly, and Elend saw a group of men standing just inside of the courtyard. Ham held aloft a lantern in the mists. Elend didn't wait for the carriage to stop on its own. He opened the door and hopped down as it was rolling to a halt. His friends began to smile eagerly. The gates thumped closed. "It worked?" Ham asked hesitantly as Elend approached. "You did it?" "Kind of," Elend said with a smile, clasping hands with Ham, Breeze, Dockson, and finally Spook. Even the kandra, OreSeur, was there. He padded over to the carriage, waiting for Vin. "The initial feint didn't go so well—my father didn't bite on an alliance. But then I told him I'd kill him!" "Wait. How was that a good idea?" Ham asked. "We overlooked one of our greatest resources, my friends," Elend said as Vin climbed down from the carriage. Elend turned, waving his hand toward her. "We have a weapon like nothing they can match! Straff expected me to come begging, and he was ready to control that situation. However, when I mentioned what would happen to him and his army if Vin's anger was roused. . ." "My dear man," Breeze said. "You went into the camp of the strongest king in the Final Empire, and you threatened him?" "Yes I did!" "Brilliant!" "I know!" Elend said. "I told my Father that he was going to let me leave his camp and that he was going to leave Luthadel alone, otherwise I'd have Vin kill him and every general in his army." He put his arm around Vin. She smiled at the group, but he could tell that something was still troubling her. She doesn't think I did a good job, Elend realized. She saw a better way to manipulate Straff, but she doesn't want to spoil my enthusiasm. "Well, guess we won't need a new king," Spook said with a smile. "I was kind of looking forward to taking the job. . .." Elend laughed. "I don't intend to vacate the position for quite some time yet. We'll let the people know that Straff has been cowed, if temporarily. That should boost morale a bit. Then, we deal with the Assembly. Hopefully, they'll pass a resolution to wait for me to meet with Cett like I just did with
|
Straff." "Shall we have a celebration back at the palace?" Breeze asked. "As fond as I am of the mists, I doubt the courtyard is an appropriate place to be discussing these issues." Elend patted him on the back and nodded. Ham and Dockson joined him and Vin, while the others took the carriage they'd come in. Elend glanced oddly at Dockson as he climbed into the carriage. Ordinarily, the man would have chosen the other vehicle—the one Elend wasn't in. "Honestly, Elend," Ham said as he settled into his seat. "I'm impressed. I half thought we were going to have to raid that camp to get you back." Elend smiled, eyeing Dockson, who sat down as the carriage began moving. He pulled open his satchel and took out a sealed envelope. He looked up and met Elend's eyes. "This came from the Assembly members for you a short time ago, Your Majesty." Elend paused. Then he took it and broke the seal. "What is it?" "I'm not sure," Dockson said. "But. . .I've already started hearing rumors." Vin leaned in, reading over Elend's arm as he scanned the sheet inside. Your Majesty, it read. This note is to inform you that by majority vote, the Assembly has decided to invoke the charter's no-confidence clause. We appreciate your efforts on behalf of the city, but the current situation calls for a different kind of leadership than Your Majesty can provide. We take this step with no hostility, but only resignation. We see no other alternative, and must act for the good of Luthadel. We regret to have to inform you of this by letter. It was signed by all twenty-three members of the Assembly. Elend lowered the paper, shocked. "What?" Ham asked. "I've just been deposed," Elend said quietly. He left ruin in his wake, but it was forgotten. He created kingdoms, and then destroyed them as he made the world anew. "LET ME SEE IF I understand this correctly," Tindwyl said, calm and polite, yet somehow still stern and disapproving. "There is a clause in the kingdom's legal code that lets the Assembly overthrow their king?" Elend wilted slightly. "Yes." "And you wrote the law yourself?" Tindwyl demanded. "Most of it," Elend admitted. "You wrote into your own law a way that you could be deposed?" Tindwyl repeated. Their group—expanded from those who had met in the carriages to include Clubs, Tindwyl, and Captain Demoux—sat in Elend's study. The group's size was such that they'd run out of chairs, and Vin sat quietly at the side, on a stack of Elend's books, having quickly changed to trousers and shirt. Tindwyl and Elend were standing, but the rest were seated—Breeze prim, Ham relaxed, and Spook trying to balance his chair as he leaned back on two legs. "I put in that clause intentionally," Elend said. He stood at the front of the room, leaning with one arm against the glass of his massive stained-glass window, looking up at its dark shards. "This land wilted beneath the hand of an oppressive ruler for
|
a thousand years. During that time, philosophers and thinkers dreamed of a government where a bad ruler could be ousted without bloodshed. I took this throne through an unpredictable and unique series of events, and I didn't think it right to unilaterally impose my will—or the will of my descendants—upon the people. I wanted to start a government whose monarchs would be responsible to their subjects." Sometimes, he talks like those books he reads, Vin thought. Not like a normal man at all. . .but like words on a page. Zane's words came back to her, seeming to whisper in her mind. You aren't like him. She pushed the thought out. "With respect, Your Majesty," Tindwyl said, "this has to be one of the most foolish things I've ever seen a leader do." "It was for the good of the kingdom," Elend said. "It was sheer idiocy," Tindwyl snapped. "A king doesn't subject himself to the whims of another ruling body. He is valuable to his people because he is an absolute authority!" Vin had rarely seen Elend so sorrowful, and she cringed a bit at the sadness in his eyes. However, a different piece of her was rebelliously happy. He wasn't king anymore. Now maybe people wouldn't work so hard to kill him. Maybe he could just be Elend again, and they could leave. Go somewhere. A place where things weren't so complicated. "Regardless," Dockson said to the quiet room, "something must be done. Discussing the prudence of decisions already past has little current relevance." "Agreed," Ham said. "So, the Assembly tried to kick you out. What are we going to do about it?" "We obviously can't let them have their way," Breeze said. "Why, the people overthrew a government just last year! This is a bad habit to be getting into, I should think." "We need to prepare a response, Your Majesty," Dockson said. "Something decrying this deceitful maneuver, performed while you were negotiating for the very safety of the city. Now that I look back, it's obvious that they arranged this meeting so that you couldn't be present and defend yourself." Elend nodded, still staring up at the dark glass. "There's probably no need to call me Your Majesty anymore, Dox." "Nonsense," Tindwyl said, arms folded as she stood beside a bookcase. "You are still king." "I've lost the mandate of the people," Elend said. "Yes," Clubs said, "but you've still got the mandate of my armies. That makes you king no matter what the Assembly says." "Exactly," Tindwyl said. "Foolish laws aside, you're still in a position of power. We need to tighten martial law, restrict movement within the city. Seize control of key points, and sequester the members of the Assembly so that your enemies can't raise a resistance against you." "I'll have my men on the streets before light," Clubs said. "No," Elend said quietly. There was a pause. "Your Majesty?" Dockson asked. "It really is the best move. We can't let this faction against you gain momentum." "It's not a faction, Dox," Elend said. "It's
|
the elected representatives of the Assembly." "An Assembly you formed, my dear man," Breeze said. "They have power because you gave it to them." "The law gives them their power, Breeze," Elend said. "And we are all subject to it." "Nonsense," Tindwyl said. "As king, you are the law. Once we secure the city, you can call in the Assembly and explain to its members that you need their support. Those who disagree can be held until the crisis is over." "No," Elend said, a little more firm. "We will do none of that." "That's it, then?" Ham asked. "You're giving up?" "I'm not giving up, Ham," Elend said, finally turning to regard the group. "But I'm not going to use the city's armies to pressure the Assembly." "You'll lose your throne," Breeze said. "See reason, Elend," Ham said with a nod. "I will not be an exception to my own laws!" Elend said. "Don't be a fool," Tindwyl said. "You should—" "Tindwyl," Elend said, "respond to my ideas as you wish, but do not call me a fool again. I will not be belittled because I express my opinion!" Tindwyl paused, mouth partially open. Then she pressed her lips together and took her seat. Vin felt a quiet surge of satisfaction. You trained him, Tindwyl, she thought with a smile. Can you really complain if he stands up to you? Elend walked forward, placing his hands on the table as he regarded the group. "Yes, we will respond. Dox, you write a letter informing the Assembly of our disappointment and feelings of betrayal—inform them of our success with Straff, and lay on the guilt as thickly as possible. "The rest of us will begin planning. We'll get the throne back. As has been stated, I know the law. I wrote it. There are ways to deal with this. Those ways do not, however, include sending our armies to secure the city. I will not be like the tyrants who would take Luthadel from us! I will not force the people to do my will, even if I know it is best for them." "Your Majesty," Tindwyl said carefully, "there is nothing immoral about securing your power during a time of chaos. People react irrationally during such times. That is one of the reasons why they need strong leadership. They need you." "Only if they want me, Tindwyl," Elend said. "Forgive me, Your Majesty," Tindwyl said, "but that statement seems somewhat naive to me." Elend smiled. "Perhaps it is. You can change my clothing and my bearing, but you can't change the soul of who I am. I'll do what I think is right—and that includes letting the Assembly depose me, if that is their choice." Tindwyl frowned. "And if you can't get your throne back through lawful means?" "Then I accept that fact," Elend said. "And do my best to help the kingdom anyway." So much for running away, Vin thought. However, she couldn't help smiling. Part of what she loved about Elend was his sincerity. His simple love for the
|
people of Luthadel—his determination to do what was right for them—was what separated him from Kelsier. Even in martyrdom, Kelsier had displayed a hint of arrogance. He'd made certain that he would be remembered like few men who had ever lived. But Elend—to him, ruling the Central Dominance wasn't about fame or glory. For the first time, completely and honestly, she decided something. Elend was a far better king than Kelsier would ever have been. "I'm. . .not certain what I think of this experience, Mistress," a voice whispered beside her. Vin paused, looking down as she realized that she had begun idly scratching OreSeur's ears. She pulled her hand back with a start. "Sorry," she said. OreSeur shrugged, resting his head back on his paws. "So, you said there's a legal way to get the throne back," Ham said. "How do we go about it?" "The Assembly has one month to choose a new king," Elend said. "Nothing in the law says that the new king can't be the same as the old one. And, if they can't come up with a majority decision by that deadline, the throne reverts to me for a minimum of one year." "Complicated," Ham said, rubbing his chin. "What did you expect?" Breeze said. "It's the law." "I didn't mean the law itself," Ham said. "I meant getting the Assembly to either choose Elend or not choose anyone. They wouldn't have deposed him in the first place unless they had another person in mind for the throne." "Not necessarily," Dockson said. "Perhaps they simply meant this as a warning." "Perhaps," Elend said. "Gentlemen, I think this is a sign. I've been ignoring the Assembly—we thought that they were taken care of, since I got them to sign that proposal giving me right of parlay. However, we never realized that an easy way for them to get around that proposal was to choose a new king, then have him do as they wished." He sighed, shaking his head. "I have to admit, I've never been very good at handling the Assembly. They don't see me as a king, but as a colleague—and because of that, they can easily see themselves taking my place. I'll bet one of the Assemblymen has convinced the others to put him on the throne instead." "So, we just make him disappear," Ham said. "I'm sure Vin could. . ." Elend frowned. "I'm joking, El," Ham said. "You know, Ham," Breeze noted. "The only funny thing about your jokes is how often they lack any humor whatsoever." "You're only saying that because they usually involve you in the punch line." Breeze rolled his eyes. "You know," OreSeur muttered quietly, obviously counting on her tin to let Vin hear him, "it seems that these meetings would be more productive if someone forgot to invite those two." Vin smiled. "They're not that bad," she whispered. OreSeur raised an eyebrow. "Okay," Vin said. "They do distract us a little bit." "I could always eat one of them, if you wish," OreSeur said. "That might speed
|
things up." Vin paused. OreSeur, however, had a strange little smile on his lips. "Kandra humor, Mistress. I apologize. We can be a bit grim." Vin smiled. "They probably wouldn't taste very good anyway. Ham's far too stringy, and you don't want to know the kinds of things that Breeze spends his time eating. . .." "I'm not sure," OreSeur said. "One is, after all, named 'Ham.' As for the other. . ." He nodded to the cup of wine in Breeze's hand. "He does seem quite fond of marinating himself." Elend was picking through his stacks of books, pulling out several relevant volumes on law—including the book of Luthadel law that he himself had written. "Your Majesty," Tindwyl said, emphasizing the term. "You have two armies on your doorstep, and a group of koloss making their way into the Central Dominance. Do you honestly think that you have time for a protracted legal battle now?" Elend set down the books and pulled his chair to the table. "Tindwyl," he said. "I have two armies on my doorstep, koloss coming to pressure them, and I myself am the main obstacle keeping the leaders of this city from handing the kingdom over to one of the invaders. Do you honestly think that it's a coincidence that I get deposed now?" Several members of the crew perked up at this, and Vin cocked her head. "You think one of the invaders might be behind this?" Ham asked, rubbing his chin. "What would you do, if you were them?" Elend said, opening a book. "You can't attack the city, because it will cost you too many troops. The siege has already lasted weeks, your troops are getting cold, and the men Dockson hired have been attacking your canal supply barges, threatening your food supply. Add on top of that, you know that a large force of koloss are marching this way. . .and, well, it makes sense. If Straff and Cett's spies are any good, they'll know that the Assembly just about capitulated and gave the city away when that army first arrived. Assassins have failed to kill me, but if there were another way to remove me. . ." "Yes," Breeze said. "This does sound like something Cett would do. Turn the Assembly against you, put a sympathizer on the throne, then get him to open the gates." Elend nodded. "And my father seemed hesitant to side with me this evening, as if he felt he had some other way to get the city. I can't be certain if either monarch is behind this move, Tindwyl, but we certainly can't ignore the possibility. This isn't a distraction—this is very much part of the same siege tactics we've been fighting since those armies arrived. If I can put myself back on the throne, then Straff and Cett will know that I'm the only one they can work with—and that will, hopefully, make them more likely to side with me in desperation, particularly as those koloss draw near." With that, Elend began riffling through a stack
|
of books. His depression seemed to be abating in face of this new academic problem. "There might be a few other clauses of relevance in the law," he half mumbled. "I need to do some studying. Spook, did you invite Sazed to this meeting?" Spook shrugged. "I couldn't get him to wake up." "He's recovering from his trip here," Tindwyl said, turning away from her study of Elend and his books. "It's an issue of the Keepers." "Needs to refill one of his metalminds?" Ham asked. Tindwyl paused, her expression darkening. "He explained that to you, then?" Ham and Breeze nodded. "I see," Tindwyl said. "Regardless, he could not help with this problem, Your Majesty. I give you some small aid in the area of government because it is my duty to train leaders in knowledge of the past. However, traveling Keepers such as Sazed do not take sides in political matters." "Political matters?" Breeze asked lightly. "You mean, perhaps, like overthrowing the Final Empire?" Tindwyl closed her mouth, lips growing thin. "You should not encourage him to break his vows," she finally said. "If you were his friends, you would see that to be true, I think." "Oh?" Breeze asked, pointing at her with his cup of wine. "Personally, I think you're just embarrassed that he disobeyed you all, but then actually ended up freeing your people." Tindwyl gave Breeze a flat stare, her eyes narrow, her posture stiff. They sat that way for a long moment. "Push on my emotions all you wish, Soother," Tindwyl said. "My feelings are my own. You will have no success here." Breeze finally turned back to his drink, muttering something about "damn Terrismen." Elend, however, wasn't paying attention to the argument. He already had four books open on the table before him, and was flipping through a fifth. Vin smiled, remembering the days—not so long ago—when his courtship of her had often involved him plopping himself down in a nearby chair and opening a book. He is the same man, she thought. And that soul, that man, is the one who loved me before he knew I was Mistborn. He loved me even after he discovered I was a thief, and thought I was trying to rob him. I need to remember that. "Come on," she whispered to OreSeur, standing as Breeze and Ham got into another argument. She needed time to think, and the mists were still fresh. This would be a lot easier if I weren't so skilled, Elend thought with amusement, poking through his books. I set up the law too well. He followed a particular passage with his finger, rereading it as the crew slowly trailed away. He couldn't remember if he'd dismissed them or not. Tindwyl would probably chastise him for that. Here, he thought, tapping the page. I might have grounds to argue for a revote if any of the members of the Assembly arrived late to the meeting, or made their votes in absentia. The vote to depose had to be unanimous—save, of course, for the king
|
being deposed. He paused, noticing movement. Tindwyl was the only one still in the room with him. He looked up from his books with resignation. I probably have this coming. . .. "I apologize for treating you with disrespect, Your Majesty," she said. Elend frowned. Wasn't expecting that. "I have a habit of treating people like children," Tindwyl said. "It is not something that I should be proud of, I think." "It's—" Elend paused. Tindwyl had taught him never to excuse people's failings. He could accept people with failings—even forgive them—but if he glossed over the problems, then they would never change. "I accept your apology," he said. "You've learned quickly, Your Majesty." "I haven't had much choice," Elend said with a smile. "Of course, I didn't change fast enough for the Assembly." "How did you let this happen?" she asked quietly. "Even considering our disagreement over how a government should be run, I should think that these Assemblymen would be supporters of yours. You gave them their power." "I ignored them, Tindwyl. Powerful men, friends or not, never like being ignored." She nodded. "Though, perhaps we should pause to take note of your successes, rather than simply focusing on your failings. Vin tells me that your meeting with your father went well." Elend smiled. "We scared him into submission. It felt very good to do something like that to Straff. But, I think I might have offended Vin somehow." Tindwyl raised an eyebrow. Elend set down his book, leaning forward with his arms on the desk. "She was in an odd mood on the way back. I could barely get her to talk to me. I'm not sure what it was." "Perhaps she was just tired." "I'm not convinced that Vin gets tired," Elend said. "She's always moving, always doing something. Sometimes, I worry that she thinks I'm lazy. Maybe that's why. . ." He trailed off, then shook his head. "She doesn't think that you are lazy, Your Majesty," Tindwyl said. "She refused to marry you because she doesn't think that she is worthy of you." "Nonsense," Elend said. "Vin's Mistborn, Tindwyl. She knows she's worth ten men like me." Tindwyl raised an eyebrow. "You understand very little about women, Elend Venture—especially young women. To them, their competence has a surprisingly small amount to do with how they feel about themselves. Vin is insecure. She doesn't believe that she deserves to be with you—it is less that she doesn't think she deserves you personally, and more that she isn't convinced that she deserves to be happy at all. She has led a very confusing, difficult life." "How sure are you about this?" "I've raised a number of daughters, Your Majesty," Tindwyl said. "I understand the things of which I speak." "Daughters?" Elend asked. "You have children?" "Of course." "I just. . ." The Terrismen he'd known were eunuchs, like Sazed. The same couldn't be true for a woman like Tindwyl, of course, but he'd assumed that the Lord Ruler's breeding programs would have affected her somehow. "Regardless," Tindwyl said curtly,
|
"you must make some decisions, Your Majesty. Your relationship with Vin is going to be difficult. She has certain issues that will provide more problems than you would find in a more conventional woman." "We've already discussed this," Elend said. "I'm not looking for a more 'conventional' woman. I love Vin." "I'm not implying that you shouldn't," Tindwyl said calmly. "I am simply giving you instruction, as I have been asked to do. You need to decide how much you're going to let the girl, and your relationship with her, distract you." "What makes you think I'm distracted?" Tindwyl raised an eyebrow. "I asked you about your success with Lord Venture this evening, and all you wanted to talk about was how Vin felt during the ride home." Elend hesitated. "Which is more important to you, Your Majesty?" Tindwyl asked. "This girl's love, or the good of your people?" "I'm not going to answer a question like that," Elend said. "Eventually, you may not have a choice," Tindwyl said. "It is a question most kings face eventually, I fear." "No," Elend said. "There's no reason that I can't both love Vin and protect my people. I've studied too many hypothetical dilemmas to be caught in a trap like that." Tindwyl shrugged, standing. "Believe as you wish, Your Majesty. However, I already see a dilemma, and I find it not at all hypothetical." She bowed her head slightly in deference, then withdrew from the room, leaving him with his books. There were other proofs to connect Alendi to the Hero of Ages. Smaller things, things that only one trained in the lore of the Anticipation would have noticed. The birthmark on his arm. The way his hair turned gray when he was barely twenty and five years of age. The way he spoke, the way he treated people, the way he ruled. He simply seemed to fit. "TELL ME, MISTRESS," ORESEUR SAID, lying lazily, head on paws. "I have been around humans for a goodly number of years. I was under the impression that they needed regular sleep. I guess I was mistaken." Vin sat on a wall-top stone ledge, one leg up against her chest, the other dangling over the side of the wall. Keep Hasting's towers were dark shadows in the mists to her right and to her left. "I sleep," she said. "Occasionally." OreSeur yawned a deep, tongue-stretching yawn. Was he adopting more canine mannerisms? Vin turned away from the kandra, looking east, over the slumbering city of Luthadel. There was a fire in the distance, a growing light that was too large to be of man's touch. Dawn had arrived. Another night had passed, making it nearly a week since she and Elend had visited Straff's army. Zane had yet to appear. "You're burning pewter, aren't you?" OreSeur asked. "To stay awake?" Vin nodded. Beneath a light burn of pewter, her fatigue was only a mild annoyance. She could feel it deep within her, if she looked hard, but it had no power over her. Her senses were keen,
|
her body strong. Even the night's cold wasn't as bothersome. The moment she extinguished her pewter, however, she'd feel the exhaustion in force. "That cannot be healthy, Mistress," OreSeur said. "You sleep barely three or four hours a day. Nobody—Mistborn, man, or kandra—can survive on a schedule like that for long." Vin looked down. How could she explain her strange insomnia? She should be over that; she no longer had to be frightened of the other crewmembers around her. And yet, no matter how exhausted she grew, she was finding sleep more and more difficult to claim. How could she sleep, with that quiet thumping in the distance? It seemed to be getting closer, for some reason. Or simply stronger? I hear the thumping sounds from above, the pulsings from the mountains. . .. Words from the logbook. How could she sleep, knowing that the spirit watched her from the mist, ominous and hateful? How could she sleep when armies threatened to slaughter her friends, when Elend's kingdom had been taken from him, when everything she thought she'd known and loved was getting muddled and obscure? . . .when I finally lie down, I find sleep elusive. The same thoughts that trouble me during the day are only compounded by the stillness of night. . .. OreSeur yawned again. "He's not coming, Mistress." Vin turned, frowning. "What do you mean?" "This is the last place you sparred with Zane," OreSeur said. "You're waiting for him to come." Vin paused. "I could use a spar," she finally said. Light continued to grow in the east, slowly brightening the mists. The mists persisted, however, reticent to give way before the sun. "You shouldn't let that man influence you so, Mistress," OreSeur said. "I do not think he is the person you believe him to be." Vin frowned. "He's my enemy. What else would I believe?" "You do not treat him like an enemy, Mistress." "Well, he hasn't attacked Elend," Vin said. "Maybe Zane isn't fully under Straff's control." OreSeur sat quietly, head on paws. Then he turned away. "What?" Vin asked. "Nothing, Mistress. I will believe as I'm told." "Oh, no," Vin said, turning on the ledge to look at him. "You're not going back to that excuse. What were you thinking?" OreSeur sighed. "I was thinking, Mistress, that your fixation with Zane is disconcerting." "Fixation?" Vin said. "I'm just keeping an eye on him. I don't like having another Mistborn—enemy or not—running around in my city. Who knows what he could be up to?" OreSeur frowned, but said nothing. "OreSeur," Vin said, "if you have things to say, speak!" "I apologize, Mistress," OreSeur said. "I'm not accustomed to chatting with my masters—especially not candidly." "It's all right. Just speak your mind." "Well, Mistress," OreSeur said, raising his head off his paws, "I do not like this Zane." "What do you know of him?" "Nothing more than you," OreSeur admitted. "However, most kandra are very good judges of character. When you practice imitation for as long as I have, you learn to see to
|
the hearts of men. I do not like what I have seen of Zane. He seems too pleased with himself. He seems too deliberate in the way he has befriended you. He makes me uncomfortable." Vin sat on the ledge, legs parted, hands before her with palms down, resting on the cool stone. He might be right. But, OreSeur hadn't flown with Zane, hadn't sparred in the mists. Through no fault of his own, OreSeur was like Elend. Not an Allomancer. Neither of them could understand what it was to soar on a Push of steel, to flare tin and experience the sudden shock of five heightened senses. They couldn't know. They couldn't understand. Vin leaned back. Then, she regarded the wolfhound in the growing light. There was something she'd been meaning to mention, and now seemed as good a time as any. "OreSeur, you can switch bodies, if you want." The wolfhound raised an eyebrow. "We have those bones that we found in the palace," Vin said. "You can use those, if you're tired of being a dog." "I couldn't use them," OreSeur said. "I haven't digested their body—I wouldn't know the proper arrangement of muscles and organs to make the person look correct." "Well, then," Vin said. "We could get you a criminal." "I thought you liked these bones on me," OreSeur said. "I do," Vin said. "But, I don't want you to stay in a body that makes you unhappy." OreSeur snorted. "My happiness is not an issue." "It is to me," Vin said. "We could—" "Mistress," OreSeur interrupted. "Yes?" "I shall keep these bones. I've grown accustomed to them. It is very frustrating to change forms often." Vin hesitated. "All right," she finally said. OreSeur nodded. "Though," he continued, "speaking of bodies, Mistress, are we ever planning to return to the palace? Not all of us have the constitution of a Mistborn—some people need sleep and food on occasion." He certainly complains a lot more now, Vin thought. However, she found the attitude to be a good sign; it meant OreSeur was growing more comfortable with her. Comfortable enough to tell her when he thought she was being stupid. Why do I even bother with Zane? she thought, rising and turning eyes northward. The mist was still moderately strong, and she could barely make out Straff's army, still holding the northern canal, maintaining the siege. It sat like a spider, waiting for the right time to spring. Elend, she thought. I should be more focused on Elend. His motions to dismiss the Assembly's decision, or to force a revote, had all failed. And, stubbornly lawful as always, Elend continued to accept his failures. He still thought he had a chance to persuade the Assembly to choose him as king—or at least not vote anybody else to the position. So he worked on speeches and planned with Breeze and Dockson. This left him little time for Vin, and rightly so. The last thing he needed was her distracting him. This was something she couldn't help him with—something she couldn't
|
fight or scare away. His world is of papers, books, laws, and philosophies, she thought. He rides the words of his theories like I ride the mists. I always worry that he can't understand me. . .but can I really even understand him? OreSeur stood, stretched, and placed his forepaws on the wall's railing to raise himself and look north, like Vin. Vin shook her head. "Sometimes, I wish Elend weren't so. . .well, noble. The city doesn't need this confusion right now." "He did the right thing, Mistress." "You think so?" "Of course," OreSeur said. "He made a contract. It is his duty to keep that contract, no matter what. He must serve his master—in his case, that would be the city—even if that master makes him do something very distasteful." "That's a very kandralike way of seeing things," Vin said. OreSeur looked up at her, raising a canine eyebrow, as if to ask Well, what did you expect? She smiled; she had to suppress a chuckle every time she saw that expression on his dog face. "Come on," Vin said. "Let's get back to the palace." "Excellent," OreSeur said, dropping down to all fours. "That meat I set out should be perfect by now." "Unless the maids found it again," Vin said with a smile. OreSeur's expression darkened. "I thought you were going to warn them." "What would I say?" Vin asked with amusement. "Please don't throw away this rancid meat—my dog likes to eat it?" "Why not?" OreSeur asked. "When I imitate a human, I almost never get to have a good meal, but dogs eat aged meat sometimes, don't they?" "I honestly don't know," Vin said. "Aged meat is delicious." "You mean 'rotten' meat." "Aged," OreSeur said insistently as she picked him up, preparing to carry him down from the wall. The top of Keep Hasting was a good hundred feet tall—far too high up for OreSeur to jump, and the only path down would be through the inside of the abandoned keep. Better to carry him. "Aged meat is like aged wine or aged cheese," OreSeur continued. "It tastes better when it's a few weeks old." I suppose that's one of the side effects of being related to scavengers, Vin thought. She hopped up on the lip of the wall, dropping a few coins. However, as she prepared to jump—OreSeur a large bulk in her arms—she hesitated. She turned one last time, looking out at Straff's army. It was fully visible now; the sun had risen completely above the horizon. Yet, a few insistent swirls of mist wavered in the air, as if trying to defy the sun, to continue to cloak the city, to stave off the light of day. . .. Lord Ruler! Vin thought, struck by a sudden insight. She'd been working on this problem so long, it had begun to frustrate her. And now, when she'd been ignoring it, the answer had come to her. As if her subconscious had still been picking it apart. "Mistress?" OreSeur asked. "Is everything all right?" Vin
|
opened her mouth slightly, cocking her head. "I think I just realized what the Deepness was." But, I must continue with the sparsest of detail. Space is limited. The other Worldbringers must have thought themselves humble when they came to me, admitting that they had been wrong. Even then, I was beginning to doubt my original declaration. But, I was prideful. I write this record now, Sazed read, pounding it into a metal slab, because I am afraid. Afraid for myself, yes—I admit to being human. If Alendi does return from the Well of Ascension, I am certain that my death will be one of his first objectives. He is not an evil man, but he is a ruthless one. That is, I think, a product of what he has been through. I am also afraid, however, that all I have known—that my story—will be forgotten. I am afraid for the world that is to come. Afraid that Alendi will fail. Afraid of a doom brought by the Deepness. It all comes back to poor Alendi. I feel bad for him, and for all the things he has been forced to endure. For what he has been forced to become. But, let me begin at the beginning. I met Alendi first in Khlennium; he was a young lad then, and had not yet been warped by a decade spent leading armies. Alendi's height struck me the first time I saw him. Here was a man who was small of stature, but who seemed to tower over others, a man who demanded respect. Oddly, it was Alendi's simple ingenuousness that first led me to befriend him. I employed him as an assistant during his first months in the grand city. It wasn't until years later that I became convinced that Alendi was the Hero of Ages. Hero of Ages: the one called Rabzeen in Khlennium, the Anamnesor. Savior. When I finally had the realization—finally connected all of the signs of the Anticipation to him—I was so excited. Yet, when I announced my discovery to the other Worldbringers, I was met with scorn. Oh, how I wish that I had listened to them. And yet, any who know me will realize that there was no chance I would give up so easily. Once I find something to investigate, I become dogged in my pursuit. I had determined that Alendi was the Hero of Ages, and I intended to prove it. I should have bowed before the will of the others; I shouldn't have insisted on traveling with Alendi to witness his journeys. It was inevitable that Alendi himself would find out what I believed him to be. Yes, he was the one who fueled the rumors after that. I could never have done what he himself did, convincing and persuading the world that he was indeed the Hero. I don't know if he himself believed it, but he made others think that he must be the one. If only the Terris religion, and belief in the Anticipation, hadn't spread beyond our people. If only
|
the Deepness hadn't come, providing a threat that drove men to desperation both in action and belief. If only I had passed over Alendi when looking for an assistant, all those years ago. Sazed sat back from his work of transcribing the rubbing. There was still a great deal to do—it was amazing how much writing this Kwaan had managed to cram onto the relatively small sheet of steel. Sazed looked over his work. He'd spent his entire trip north anticipating the time when he could finally begin work on the rubbing. A part of him had been worried. Would the dead man's words seem as important sitting in a well-lit room as they had when in the dungeons of the Conventical of Seran? He scanned to another part of the document, reading a few choice paragraphs. Ones of particular importance to him. As the one who found Alendi, however, I became someone important. Foremost amongst the Worldbringers. There was a place for me, in the lore of the Anticipation—I thought myself the Announcer, the prophet foretold to discover the Hero of Ages. Renouncing Alendi then would have been to renounce my new position, my acceptance, by the others. And so I did not. But I do so now. Let it be known that I, Kwaan, Worldbringer of Terris, am a fraud. Sazed closed his eyes. Worldbringer. The term was known to him; the order of the Keepers had been founded upon memories and hopes from Terris legends. The Worldbringers had been teachers, Feruchemists who had traveled the lands bearing knowledge. They had been a prime inspiration for the secret order of Keepers. And now he had a document made by a Worldbringer's own hand. Tindwyl is going to be very annoyed with me, Sazed thought, opening his eyes. He'd read the entire rubbing, but he would need to spend time studying it. Memorizing it. Cross-referencing it with other documents. This one bit of writing—perhaps twenty pages total—could easily keep him busy for months, even years. His window shutters rattled. Sazed looked up. He was in his quarters at the palace—a tasteful collection of well-decorated rooms that were far too lavish for one who had spent his life as a servant. He rose, walked over to the window, undid the latch, and pulled open the shutters. He smiled as he found Vin crouching on the ledge outside. "Um. . .hi," Vin said. She wore her mistcloak over gray shirt and black trousers. Despite the onset of morning, she obviously hadn't yet gone to bed after her nightly prowling. "You should leave your window unlatched. I can't get in if it's locked. Elend got mad at me for breaking too many latches." "I shall try to remember that, Lady Vin," Sazed said, and gesturing for her to enter. Vin hopped spryly through the window, mistcloak rustling. "Try to remember?" she asked. "You never forget anything. Not even the things you don't have stuck in a metalmind." She's grown so much more bold, he thought as she walked over to his writing desk, peering
|
over his work. Even in the months I've been away. "What's this?" Vin asked, still looking at the desk. "I found it at the Conventical of Seran, Lady Vin," Sazed said, walking forward. It felt so good to be wearing clean robes again, to have a quiet and comfortable place in which to study. Was he a bad man for preferring this to travel? One month, he thought. I will give myself one month of study. Then I will turn the project over to someone else. "What is it?" Vin asked, holding up the rubbing. "If you please, Lady Vin," Sazed said apprehensively. "That is quite fragile. The rubbing could be smudged. . .." Vin nodded, putting it down and scanning his transcription. There had been a time when she would have avoided anything that smelled of stuffy writing, but now she looked intrigued. "This mentions the Deepness!" she said with excitement. "Among other things," Sazed said, joining her at the desk. He sat down, and Vin walked over to one of the room's low-backed, plush chairs. However, she didn't sit on it as an ordinary person would; instead, she hopped up and sat down on the top of the chair's back, her feet resting on the seat cushion. "What?" she asked, apparently noticing Sazed's smile. "Just amused at a proclivity of Mistborn, Lady Vin," he said. "Your kind has trouble simply sitting—it seems you always want to perch instead. That is what comes from having such an incredible sense of balance, I think." Vin frowned, but passed over the comment. "Sazed," she said, "what was the Deepness?" He laced his fingers before himself, regarding the young woman as he mused. "The Deepness, Lady Vin? That is a subject of much debate, I think. It was supposedly something great and powerful, though some scholars have dismissed the entire legend as a fabrication concocted by the Lord Ruler. There is some reason to believe this theory, I think, for the only real records of those times are the ones sanctioned by the Steel Ministry." "But, the logbook mentions the Deepness," Vin said. "And so does that thing you're translating now." "Indeed, Lady Vin," Sazed said. "But, even among those who assume the Deepness was real, there is a great deal of debate. Some hold to the Lord Ruler's official story, that the Deepness was a horrible, supernatural beast—a dark god, if you will. Others disagree with this extreme interpretation. They think the Deepness was more mundane—an army of some sort, perhaps invaders from another land. The Farmost Dominance, during pre-Ascension times, was apparently populated with several breeds of men who were quite primitive and warlike." Vin was smiling. He looked at her questioningly, and she just shrugged. "I asked Elend this same question," she explained, "and I got barely a sentence-long response." "His Majesty has different areas of scholarship; pre-Ascension history may be too stuffy a topic even for him. Besides, anyone who asks a Keeper about the past should be prepared for an extended conversation, I think." "I'm not complaining," Vin said.
|
"Continue." "There isn't much more to say—or, rather, there is a great deal more to say, but I doubt much of it has relevance. Was the Deepness an army? Was it, perhaps, the first attack from koloss, as some theorize? That would explain much—most stories agree that the Lord Ruler gained some power to defeat the Deepness at the Well of Ascension. Perhaps he gained the support of the koloss, and then used them as his armies." "Sazed," Vin said. "I don't think the Deepness was the koloss." "Oh?" "I think it was the mist." "That theory has been proposed," Sazed said with a nod. "It has?" Vin asked, sounding a bit disappointed. "Of course, Lady Vin. During the thousand-year reign of the Final Empire, there are few possibilities that haven't been discussed, I think. The mist theory has been advanced before, but there are several large problems with it." "Such as?" "Well," Sazed said, "for one thing, the Lord Ruler is said to have defeated the Deepness. However, the mist is obviously still here. Also, if the Deepness was simply mist, why call it by such an obscure name? Of course, others point out that much of what we know or have heard of the Deepness comes from oral lore, and something very common can take on mystical properties when transferred verbally through generations. The 'Deepness' therefore could mean not just the mist, but the event of its coming or alteration. "The larger problem with the mist theory, however, is one of malignance. If we trust the accounts—and we have little else to go on—the Deepness was terrible and destructive. The mist seems to display none of this danger." "But it kills people now." Sazed paused. "Yes, Lady Vin. It apparently does." "And what if it did so before, but the Lord Ruler stopped it somehow? You yourself said that you think we did something—something that changed the mist—when we killed the Lord Ruler." Sazed nodded. "The problems I have been investigating are quite terrible, to be certain. However, I do not see that they could be a threat on the same level as the Deepness. Certain people have been killed by the mists, but many are elderly or otherwise lacking in constitution. It leaves many people alone." He paused, tapping his thumbs together. "But, I would be remiss if I didn't admit some merit to the suggestion, Lady Vin. Perhaps even a few deaths would be enough to cause a panic. The danger could have been exaggerated by retelling—and, perhaps the killings were more widespread before. I haven't been able to collect enough information to be certain of anything yet." Vin didn't respond. Oh, dear, Sazed thought, sighing to himself. I've bored her. I really do need to be more careful, watching my vocabulary and my language. One would think that after all my travels among the skaa, I would have learned— "Sazed?" Vin said, sounding thoughtful. "What if we're looking at it wrong? What if these random deaths in the mists aren't the problem at all?" "What do you
|
mean, Lady Vin?" She sat quietly for a moment, one foot tapping back idly against the chair's back cushion. She finally looked up, meeting his eyes. "What would happen if the mists came during the day permanently?" Sazed mused on that for a moment. "There would be no light," Vin continued. "Plants would die, people would starve. There would be death. . .chaos." "I suppose," Sazed said. "Perhaps that theory has merit." "It's not a theory," Vin said, hopping down from her chair. "It's what happened." "You're so certain, already?" Sazed asked with amusement. Vin nodded curtly, joining him at the desk. "I'm right," she said with her characteristic bluntness. "I know it." She pulled something out of a trouser pocket, then drew over a stool to sit beside him. She unfolded the wrinkled sheet and flattened it on the desk. "These are quotes from the logbook," Vin said. She pointed at a paragraph. "Here the Lord Ruler talks about how armies were useless against the Deepness. At first, I thought this meant that the armies hadn't been able to defeat it—but look at the wording. He says 'The swords of my armies are useless.' What's more useless than trying to swing a sword at mist?" She pointed at another paragraph. "It left destruction in its wake, right? Countless thousands died because of it. But, he never says that the Deepness actually attacked them. He says that they 'died because of it.' Maybe we've just been looking at this the wrong way all along. Those people weren't crushed or eaten. They starved to death because their land was slowly being swallowed by the mists." Sazed studied her paper. She seemed so certain. Did she know nothing of proper research techniques? Of questioning, of studying, of postulating and devising answers? Of course she doesn't, Sazed chastised himself. She grew up on the streets—she doesn't use research techniques. She just uses instinct. And she's usually right. He smoothed the paper again, reading its passages. "Lady Vin? Did you write this yourself?" She flushed. "Why is everybody so surprised about that?" "It just doesn't seem in your nature, Lady Vin." "You people have corrupted me," she said. "Look, there isn't a single comment on this sheet that contradicts the idea that the Deepness was mist." "Not contradicting a point and proving it are different things, Lady Vin." She waved indifferently. "I'm right, Sazed. I know I am." "What about this point, then?" Sazed asked, pointing to a line. "The Hero implies that he can sense a sentience to the Deepness. The mist isn't alive." "Well, it does swirl around someone using Allomancy." "That isn't the same thing, I think," Sazed said. "He says that the Deepness was mad. . .destructively insane. Evil." Vin paused. "There is something, Sazed," she admitted. He frowned. She pointed at another section of notes. "Do you recognize these paragraphs?" It isn't a shadow, the words read. This dark thing that follows me, the thing that only I can see—it isn't really a shadow. It is blackish and translucent, but it
|
doesn't have a shadowlike solid outline. It's insubstantial—wispy and formless. Like it's made out of a dark fog. Or mist, perhaps. "Yes, Lady Vin," Sazed said. "The Hero saw a creature following him. It attacked one of his companions, I think." Vin looked in his eyes. "I've seen it, Sazed." He felt a chill. "It's out there," she said. "Every night, in the mists. Watching me. I can feel it, with Allomancy. And, if I get close enough, I can see it. As if formed from the mist itself. Insubstantial, yet somehow still there." Sazed sat quietly for a moment, not certain what to think. "You think me mad," Vin accused. "No, Lady Vin," he said quietly. "I don't think any of us are in a position to call such things madness, not considering what is happening. Just. . .are you certain?" She nodded firmly. "But," Sazed said. "Even if this is true, it does not answer my question. The logbook author saw that same creature, and he didn't refer to it as the Deepness. It was not the Deepness, then. The Deepness was something else—something dangerous, something he could feel as evil." "That's the secret, then," Vin said. "We have to figure out why he spoke of the mists that way. Then we'll know. . ." "Know what, Lady Vin?" Sazed asked. Vin paused, then looked away. She didn't answer, instead turning to a different topic. "Sazed, the Hero never did what he was supposed to. Rashek killed him. And, when Rashek took the power at the Well, he didn't give it up like he was supposed to—he kept it for himself." "True," Sazed said. Vin paused again. "And the mists have started killing people. They've started coming during the day. It's. . .like things are repeating again. So. . .maybe that means that the Hero of Ages will have to come again." She glanced back at him, looking a bit. . .embarrassed? Ah. . .Sazed thought, sensing her implication. She saw things in the mists. The previous Hero had seen the same things. "I am not certain that is a valid statement, Lady Vin." She snorted. "Why can't you just come out and say 'you're wrong,' like regular people?" "I apologize, Lady Vin. I have had much training as a servant, and we are taught to be nonconfrontational. Nevertheless, I do not think that you are wrong. However, I also think that, perhaps, you haven't fully considered your position." Vin shrugged. "What makes you think that the Hero of Ages will return?" "I don't know. Things that happen; things I feel. The mists are coming again, and someone needs to stop them." Sazed ran his fingers across his translated section of the rubbing, looking over its words. "You don't believe me," Vin said. "It isn't that, Lady Vin," Sazed said. "It's just that I am not prone to rushing to decisions." "But, you've thought about the Hero of Ages, haven't you?" Vin said. "He was part of your religion—the lost religion of Terris, the thing you Keepers were founded to
|
try and discover." "That is true," Sazed admitted. "However, we do not know much about the prophecies that our ancestors used to find their Hero. Besides, the reading I've been doing lately suggests that there was something wrong with their interpretations. If the greatest theologians of pre-Ascension Terris were unable to properly identify their Hero, how are we supposed to do so?" Vin sat quietly. "I shouldn't have brought it up," she finally said. "No, Lady Vin, please don't think that. I apologize—your theories have great merit. I simply have a scholar's mind, and must question and consider information when I am given it. I am far too fond of arguing, I think." Vin looked up, smiling slightly. "Another reason you never made a good Terris steward?" "Undoubtedly," he said with a sigh. "My attitude also tends to cause conflicts with the others of my order." "Like Tindwyl?" Vin asked. "She didn't sound happy when she heard that you'd told us about Feruchemy." Sazed nodded. "For a group dedicated to knowledge, the Keepers can be rather stingy with information about their powers. When the Lord Ruler still lived—when Keepers were hunted—the caution was warranted, I think. But, now that we are free from that, my brethren and sisters seem to have found the habit of secrecy a difficult one to break." Vin nodded. "Tindwyl doesn't seem to like you very much. She says that she came because of your suggestion, but every time someone mentions you, she seems to get. . .cold." Sazed sighed. Did Tindwyl dislike him? He thought, perhaps, that her inability to do so was a large part of the problem. "She is simply disappointed in me, Lady Vin. I'm not sure how much you know of my history, but I had been working against the Lord Ruler for some ten years before Kelsier recruited me. The other Keepers thought that I endangered my copperminds, and the very order itself. They believed that the Keepers should remain quiet—waiting for the day when the Lord Ruler fell, but not seeking to make it happen." "Seems a bit cowardly to me," Vin said. "Ah, but it was a very prudent course. You see, Lady Vin, had I been captured, there are many things I could have revealed. The names of other Keepers, the location of our safe houses, the means by which we managed to hide ourselves in Terris culture. My brethren worked for many decades to make the Lord Ruler think that Feruchemy had finally been exterminated. By revealing myself, I could have undone all of that." "That would only have been bad had we failed," Vin said. "We didn't." "We could have." "We didn't." Sazed paused, then smiled. Sometimes, in a world of debate, questions, and self-doubt, Vin's simple bluntness was refreshing. "Regardless," he continued, "Tindwyl is a member of the Synod—a group of Keeper elders who guide our sect. I have been in rebellion against the Synod a number of times during my past. And, by returning to Luthadel, I am defying them once again. She has good
|
reason to be displeased with me." "Well, I think you're doing the right thing," Vin said. "We need you." "Thank you, Lady Vin." "I don't think you have to listen to Tindwyl," she said. "She's the type who acts like she knows more than she does." "She is very wise." "She's hard on Elend." "Then she probably does so because it is best for him," Sazed said. "Do not judge her too harshly, child. If she seems off-putting, it is only because she has lived a very hard life." "Hard life?" Vin asked, tucking her notes back into her pocket. "Yes, Lady Vin," Sazed said. "You see, Tindwyl spent most of her life as a Terris mother." Vin hesitated, hand in pocket, looking surprised. "You mean. . .she was a Breeder?" Sazed nodded. The Lord Ruler's breeding program included selecting a few, special individuals to use for birthing new children—with the goal being to breed Feruchemy out of the population. "Tindwyl had, at last count, birthed over twenty children," he said. "Each with a different father. Tindwyl had her first child when she was fourteen, and spent her entire life being taken repeatedly by strange men until she became pregnant. And, because of the fertility drugs the Breeding masters forced upon her, she often bore twins or triplets." "I. . .see," Vin said softly. "You are not the only one who knew a terrible childhood, Lady Vin. Tindwyl is perhaps the strongest woman I know." "How did she bear it?" Vin asked quietly. "I think. . .I think I would probably have just killed myself." "She is a Keeper," Sazed said. "She suffered the indignity because she knew that she did a great service for her people. You see, Feruchemy is hereditary. Tindwyl's position as a mother ensured future generations of Feruchemists among our people. Ironically, she is exactly the sort of person that the Breeding masters were supposed to avoid letting reproduce." "But, how did such a thing happen?" "The breeders assumed they'd already cut Feruchemy out of the population," Sazed said. "They started looking to create other traits in the Terris—docility, temperance. They bred us like fine horses, and it was a great stroke when the Synod managed to get Tindwyl chosen for their program. "Of course, Tindwyl has very little training in Feruchemy. She did, fortunately, receive some of the copperminds that we Keepers carry. So, during her many years locked away, she was able to study and read biographies. It was only during the last decade—her childbearing years through—that she was able to join and gain fellowship with the other Keepers." Sazed paused, then shook his head. "By comparison, the rest of us have known a life of freedom, I think." "Great," Vin mumbled, standing and yawning. "Another reason for you to feel guilty." "You should sleep, Lady Vin," Sazed noted. "For a few hours," Vin said, walking toward the door, leaving him alone again with his studies. In the end, my pride may have doomed us all. PHILEN FRANDEU WAS NOT SKAA. He had never been skaa.
|
Skaa made things or grew things. Philen sold things. There was an enormous difference between the two. Oh, some people had called him skaa. Even now, he could see that word in the eyes of some of the other Assemblymen. They regarded Philen and his fellow merchants with the same disdain that they gave the eight skaa workers on the Assembly. Couldn't they see that the two groups were completely different? Philen shifted a bit on the bench. Shouldn't the Assembly hall at least have comfortable seating? They were waiting on just a few members; the tall clock in the corner said that fifteen minutes still remained until the meeting began. Oddly, one of those who had yet to arrive was Venture himself. King Elend was usually early. Not king anymore, Philen thought with a smile. Just plain old Elend Venture. It was a poor name—not as good as Philen's own. Of course, he had been just "Lin" until a year and a half ago. Philen Frandeu was what he had dubbed himself after the Collapse. It delighted him to no end that the others had taken to calling him the name without pause. But, why shouldn't he have a grand name? A lord's name? Was Philen not as good as any of the "noblemen" sitting aloofly in their places? Oh, he was just as good. Better, even. Yes, they had called him skaa—but during those years, they had come to him out of need, and so their arrogant sneers had lacked power. He'd seen their insecurity. They'd needed him. A man they called skaa. But he'd also been a merchant. A merchant who wasn't noble. Something that wasn't supposed to have existed in the Lord Ruler's perfect little empire. But, noblemen merchants had to work with the obligators. And, where there had been obligators, nothing illegal could occur. Hence Philen. He'd been. . .an intermediary, of sorts. A man capable of arranging deals between interested parties who, for various reasons, wanted to avoid the watchful eyes of the Lord Ruler's obligators. Philen hadn't been part of a thieving crew—no, that was far too dangerous. And far too mundane. He had been born with an eye for finances and trades. Give him two rocks, and he'd have a quarry by the end of the week. Give him a spoke, and he'd change it to a fine horse-drawn carriage. Two bits of corn, and he'd eventually have a massive shipment of grain sailing to the Farmost Dominance markets. Actual noblemen had done the trades, of course, but Philen had been behind it all. A vast empire of his own. And still, they couldn't see. He wore a suit as fine as theirs; now that he could trade openly, he had become one of the wealthiest men in Luthadel. Yet, the noblemen ignored him, just because he lacked a valid pedigree. Well, they would see. After today's meeting. . .yes, they would see. Philen looked out into the crowd, looking anxiously for the person he had hidden there. Reassured, he looked toward the noblemen
|
of the Assembly, who sat chatting a short distance away. One of their last members—Lord Ferson Penrod—had just arrived. The older man walked up onto the Assembly's dais, passing by the members, greeting each in turn. "Philen," Penrod said, noticing him. "A new suit, I see. The red vest suits you." "Lord Penrod! Why, you're looking well. You got over the other night's ailment, then?" "Yes, it passed quickly," the lord said, nodding a head topped with silver hair. "Just a touch of stomach ills." Pity, Philen thought, smiling. "Well, we'd best be seated. I see that young Venture isn't here, though. . .." "Yes," Penrod said, frowning. He'd been most difficult to convince to vote against Venture; he had something of a fondness for the boy. He had come around in the end. They all had. Penrod moved on, joining the other noblemen. The old fool probably thought he was going to end up as king. Well, Philen had other plans for that throne. It wasn't Philen's own posterior that would sit in it, of course; he had no interest in running a country. Seemed like a terrible way to make money. Selling things. That was a much better way. More stable, less likely to lose one his head. Oh, but Philen had plans. He'd always had those. He had to keep himself from glancing at the audience again. Philen turned, instead, to study the Assembly. They had all arrived except Venture. Seven noblemen, eight merchants, and eight skaa workers: twenty-four men, with Venture. The three-way division was supposed to give the commoners the most power, since they ostensibly outnumbered the noblemen. Even Venture hadn't understood that merchants weren't skaa. Philen wrinkled his nose. Even though the skaa Assemblymen usually cleaned up before coming to the meetings, he could smell the stink of forges, mills, and shops on them. Men who made things. Philen would have to be certain they were put back in their place, once this was over. An Assembly was an interesting idea, but it should be filled only with those who deserved the station. Men like Philen. Lord Philen, he thought. Not long now. Hopefully, Elend would be late. Then, maybe they could avoid his speech. Philen could imagine how it would go anyway. Um. . .now, see, this wasn't fair. I should be king. Here, let me read you a book about why. Now, um, can you all please give some more money to the skaa? Philen smiled. The man next to him, Getrue, nudged him. "You think he's going to show up?" he whispered. "Probably not. He must know that we don't want him. We kicked him out, didn't we?" Getrue shrugged. He'd gained weight since the Collapse—a lot of it. "I don't know, Lin. I mean. . .we didn't mean. He was just. . .the armies. . .We have to have a strong king, right? Someone who will keep the city from falling?" "Of course," Philen said. "And my name isn't Lin." Getrue flushed. "Sorry." "We did the right thing," Philen continued. "Venture is
|
a weak man. A fool." "I wouldn't say that," Getrue said. "He has good ideas. . .." Getrue glanced downward uncomfortably. Philen snorted, glancing at the clock. It was time, though he couldn't hear the chimes over the crowd. The Assembly meetings had become busy since Venture's fall. Benches fanned out before the stage, benches crowded with people, mostly skaa. Philen wasn't sure why they were allowed to attend. They couldn't vote or anything. More Venture foolishness, he thought, shaking his head. At the very back of the room—behind the crowd, opposite the stage—sat two large, broad doors letting in the red sunlight. Philen nodded toward some men, and they pushed the doors shut. The crowds hushed. Philen stood to address the Assembly. "Well, since—" The Assembly hall doors burst back open. A man in white stood with a small crowd of people, backlit by red sunlight. Elend Venture. Philen cocked his head, frowning. The former king strode forward, white cape fluttering behind him. His Mistborn was at his side, as usual, but she was wearing a dress. From the few times Philen had spoken with her, he would have expected her to look awkward in a noblewoman's gown. And yet, she seemed to wear it well, walking gracefully. She actually looked rather fetching. At least, until Philen met her eyes. She did not have a warm look for the Assembly members, and Philen glanced away. Venture had brought all of his Allomancers with him—the former thugs of the Survivor's crew. Elend apparently wanted to remind everyone who his friends were. Powerful men. Frightening men. Men who killed gods. And Elend had not one, but two Terrismen with him. One was only a woman—Philen had never seen a Terriswoman before—but still, it was impressive. Everyone had heard how the stewards had left their masters after the Collapse; they refused to work as servants anymore. Where had Venture found not one, but two of the colorful-robed stewards to serve him? The crowd sat quietly, watching Venture. Some seemed uncomfortable. How were they to treat this man? Others seemed. . .awed? Was that right? Who would be awed by Elend Venture—even if the Elend Venture in question was clean-shaven, had styled hair, wore new clothing and. . .? Philen frowned. Was that a dueling cane the king was wearing? And a wolfhound at his side? He's not king anymore! Philen reminded himself again. Venture strode up onto the Assembly stage. He turned, waving for his people—all eight of them—to sit with the guards. Venture then turned and glanced at Philen. "Philen, did you want to say something?" Philen realized he was still standing. "I. . .was just—" "Are you Assembly chancellor?" Elend asked. Philen paused. "Chancellor?" "The king presides at Assembly meetings," Elend said. "We now have no king—and so, by law, the Assembly should have elected a chancellor to call speakers, adjudicate time allotments, and break tie votes." He paused, eyeing Philen. "Someone needs to lead. Otherwise there is chaos." Despite himself, Philen grew nervous. Did Venture know that Philen had organized the
|
vote against him? No, no he didn't, he couldn't. He was looking at each of the Assembly members in turn, meeting their eyes. There was none of the jovial, dismissible boy that had attended these meetings before. Standing in the militaristic suit, firm instead of hesitant. . .he almost seemed like a different person. You found a coach, it appears, Philen thought. A little too late. Just wait. . .. Philen sat down. "Actually, we didn't get a chance to choose a chancellor," he said. "We were just getting to that." Elend nodded, a dozen different instructions rattling in his head. Keep eye contact. Use subtle, but firm, expressions. Never appear hurried, but don't seem hesitant. Sit down without wiggling, don't shuffle, use a straight posture, don't form your hands into fists when you're nervous. . .. He shot a quick glance at Tindwyl. She gave him a nod. Get back to it, El, he told himself. Let them sense the differences in you. He walked over to take his seat, nodding to the other seven noblemen on the Assembly. "Very well," he said, taking the lead. "Then, might I nominate a chancellor?" "Yourself?" asked Dridel, one of the noblemen; his sneer seemed permanent, as far as Elend could tell. It was a passably appropriate expression for one with such a sharp face and dark hair. "No," Elend said. "I'm hardly an unbiased party in today's proceedings. Therefore, I nominate Lord Penrod. He's as honorable a man as we're likely to find, and I believe he can be trusted to mediate our discussions." The group was quiet for a moment. "That seems logical," Hettel, a forge worker, finally said. "All in favor?" Elend said, raising his hand. He got a good eighteen hands—all of the skaa, most of the nobility, only one of the merchants. It was a majority, however. Elend turned to Lord Penrod. "I believe that means that you are in charge, Ferson." The stately man nodded appreciatively, then rose to formally open the meeting, something Elend had once done. Penrod's mannerisms were polished, his posture strong as he stood in his well-cut suit. Elend couldn't help but feel a little jealous, watching Penrod act so naturally in the things that Elend was struggling to learn. Maybe he would make a better king than I, Elend thought. Perhaps. . . No, he thought firmly. I have to be confident. Penrod is a decent man and an impeccable noble, but those things do not make a leader. He hasn't read what I've read, and doesn't understand legislative theory as I do. He's a good man, but he's still a product of his society—he doesn't consider skaa animals, but he'll never be able to think of them as equals. Penrod finished the introductions, then turned to Elend. "Lord Venture, you called this meeting. I believe that the law grants you first opportunity to address the Assembly." Elend nodded thankfully, rising. "Will twenty minutes be enough time?" Penrod asked. "It should be," Elend said, passing Penrod as they traded places. Elend stood up
|
at the lectern. To his right, the floor of the hall was packed with shuffling, coughing, whispering people. There was a tension to the room—this was the first time Elend had confronted the group that had betrayed him. "As many of you know," Elend said to the twenty-three Assembly members, "I recently returned from a meeting with Straff Venture—the warlord who is, unfortunately, my father. I would like to give a report of this encounter. Realize that because this is an open meeting, I will adjust my report to avoid mentioning sensitive matters of national security." He paused just slightly, and saw the looks of confusion he had expected. Finally, Philen the merchant cleared his throat. "Yes, Philen?" Elend asked. "This is all well and good, Elend," Philen said. "But aren't you going to address the matter that brought us here?" "The reason we meet together, Philen," Elend said, "is so that we can discuss how to keep Luthadel safe and prosperous. I think the people are most worried about the armies—and we should, primarily, seek to address their concerns. Matters of leadership in the Assembly can wait." "I. . .see," Philen said, obviously confused. "The time is yours, Lord Venture," Penrod said. "Proceed as you wish." "Thank you, Chancellor," Elend said. "I wish to make it very clear that my father is not going to attack this city. I can understand why people would be concerned, particularly because of last week's preliminary assault on our walls. That, however, was simply a test—Straff fears attacking too much to commit all of his resources. "During our meeting, Straff told me that he had made an alliance with Cett. However, I believe this to have been a bluff—if, unfortunately, a bluff with teeth. I suspect that he was, indeed, planning to risk attacking us, despite Cett's presence. That attack has been halted." "Why?" asked one of the worker representatives. "Because you're his son?" "No, actually," Elend said. "Straff is not one to let familial relationships hamper his determination." Elend paused, glancing at Vin. He was beginning to realize that she didn't like being the one who held the knife at Straff's throat, but she had given him permission to speak of her in his speech. Still. . . She said it was all right, he told himself. I'm not choosing duty over her! "Come now, Elend," Philen said. "Stop with the theatrics. What did you promise Straff to keep his armies out of the city?" "I threatened him," Elend said. "My fellow Assemblymen, when facing down my father in parlay, I realized that we—as a group—have generally ignored one of our greatest resources. We think of ourselves as an honorable body, created by the mandate of the people. However, we are not here because of anything we ourselves did. There is only one reason we have the positions we do—and that reason is the Survivor of Hathsin." Elend looked the members of the Assembly in the eyes as he continued. "I have, at times, felt as I suspect that many of you do. The
|
Survivor is a legend already, one we cannot hope to emulate. He has power over this people—a power stronger than our own, even though he is dead. We're jealous. Insecure, even. These are natural, human feelings. Leaders feel them just as acutely as other people—perhaps even more so. "Gentlemen, we cannot afford to continue thinking like this. The Survivor's legacy doesn't belong to one group, or even to this city alone. He is our progenitor—the father of everyone who is free in this land. Whether or not you accept his religious authority, you must admit that without his bravery and sacrifice, we would not now enjoy our current freedom." "What does this have to do with Straff?" Philen snapped. "Everything," Elend said. "For, though the Survivor is gone, his legacy remains. Specifically, in the form of his apprentice." Elend nodded toward Vin. "She is the most powerful Mistborn alive—something Straff now knows for himself. Gentlemen, I know my father's temperament. He will not attack this city while he fears retribution from a source he cannot stop. He now realizes that if he attacks, he will incur the wrath of the Survivor's heir—a wrath not even the Lord Ruler himself could withstand." Elend fell silent, listening to the whispered conversations move through the crowd. News of what he'd just said would reach the populace, and bring them strength. Perhaps, even, news would reach Straff's army through the spies Elend knew must be in the audience. He'd noticed his father's Allomancer sitting in the crowd, the one named Zane. And when news reached Straff's army, the men there might think twice about obeying any orders to attack. Who would want to face the very force that had destroyed the Lord Ruler? It was a weak hope—the men of Straff's army probably didn't believe all of the stories out of Luthadel—but every little bit of weakened morale would help. It also wouldn't hurt for Elend to associate himself a little more strongly with the Survivor. He was just going to have to get over his insecurity; Kelsier had been a great man, but he was gone. Elend would just have to do his best to see that the Survivor's legacy lived on. For that was what would be best for his people. Vin sat with a twisted stomach, listening to Elend's speech. "You okay with this?" Ham whispered, leaning over to her as Elend gave a more detailed account of his visit with Straff. Vin shrugged. "Whatever helps the kingdom." "You were never comfortable with the way that Kell set himself up with the skaa—none of us were." "It's what Elend needs," Vin said. Tindwyl, who sat just before them, turned and gave her a flat look. Vin expected some recrimination for whispering during the Assembly proceedings, but apparently the Terriswoman had a different kind of castigation in mind. "The king—" She still referred to Elend that way. "—needs this link with the Survivor. Elend has very little of his own authority to rely upon, and Kelsier is currently the most well loved, most celebrated
|
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.