The Well of Ascension

12

A FORTRESS SAT IN THE misty murk of evening.

It rested at the bottom of a large depression in the land. The steep-sided, craterlike valley was so wide that even in daylight Sazed would barely have been able to see the other side. In the oncoming darkness, obscured by mist, the far edge of the massive hole was only a deep shadow.

Sazed knew very little about tactics and strategy; though his metalminds held dozens of books on the subjects, he had forgotten their contents in order to create the stored records. The little he did know told him that this fortress – the Conventical of Seran – was not very defensible. It relinquished the high ground, and the crater sides would provide an excellent location for siege engines to pelt rocks down at the walls.

This fortress, however, had not been built to defend against enemy soldiers. It had been built to provide solitude. The crater made it difficult to find, for a slight rise in the land around the crater’s lip made it practically invisible until one drew near. No roads or paths marked the way, and travelers would have great trouble getting down the sheer sides.

The Inquisitors did not want visitors.

“Well?” Marsh asked.

He and Sazed stood on the crater’s northern lip, before a drop of several hundred feet. Sazed tapped his vision tinmind, drawing forth some of the eyesight he had stored within it. The edges of his vision fuzzed, but things directly in front of him seemed to grow much closer. He tapped a little more sight, ignoring the nausea that came from compounding so much vision.

The increased eyesight let him study the Conventical as if he stood before it. He could see each notch in the dark stone walls – flat, broad, imposing. He could discern each bit of rust on the large steel plates that hung bolted into outside stones of the wall. He could see each lichen-encrusted corner and ash-stained ledge. There were no windows.

“I do not know,” Sazed said slowly, releasing his vision tinmind. “It is not easy to say whether or not the fortress is inhabited. There is no motion, nor is there light. But, perhaps the Inquisitors are just hiding inside.”

“No,” Marsh said, his stiff voice uncomfortably loud in the evening air. “They are gone.”

“Why would they leave? This is a place of great strength, I think. Poor defense against an army, but a great defense against the chaos of the times.”

Marsh shook his head. “They are gone.”

“How are you so certain?”

“I do not know.”

“Where did they go, then?”

Marsh looked at him, then turned and glanced over his shoulder. “North.”

“Toward Luthadel?” Sazed asked, frowning.

“Among other things,” Marsh said. “Come. I do not know if they will return, but we should exploit this opportunity.”

Sazed nodded. This was why they had come, after all. Still, a part of him hesitated. He was a man of books and genteel service. Traveling the countryside to visit villages was enough removed from his experience to be discomforting. Infiltrating the Inquisitor stronghold…

Marsh obviously didn’t care about his companion’s inner struggles. The Inquisitor turned and began to walk along the rim of the crater. Sazed threw his pack over his shoulder, then followed. They eventually arrived at a cage-like contraption, obviously meant to be lowered down to the bottom by ropes and pulleys. The cage sat locked in place at the top ledge, and Marsh stopped at its side, but did not enter.

“What?” Sazed asked.

“The pulley system,” Marsh said. “The cage is meant to be lowered by men holding it from below.”

Sazed nodded, realizing this was true. Marsh stepped forward and threw a lever. The cage fell. Ropes began to smoke, and pulleys squealed as the massive cage plummeted toward the chasm floor. A muted crash echoed against the rocks.

If there is anyone down there, Sazed thought, they now know we’re here.

Marsh turned toward him, the heads of his eye-spikes glistening slightly in the failing sunlight. “Follow however you wish,” he said. Then, he tied off the counterrope and began to climb down the ropes.

Sazed stepped up to the platform’s edge, watching Marsh shimmy down the dangling rope into the shadowed, misty abyss. Then, Sazed knelt and opened his pack. He unhooked the large metal bracers around his upper and lower arms – his core copperminds. They contained the memories of a Keeper, the stored knowledge of centuries past. He reverently placed them to the side, then pulled a pair of much smaller bracelets – one iron, one pewter – from the pack. Metalminds for a warrior.

Did Marsh understand how unskilled Sazed was in this area? Amazing strength did not a warrior make. Regardless, Sazed snapped the two bracelets around his ankles. Next, he pulled out two rings – tin and copper. These he slipped on his fingers.

He closed the pack and threw it over his shoulder, then picked up his core copperminds. He carefully located a good hiding place – a secluded hollow between two boulders – and slid them inside. Whatever happened below, he didn’t want to risk them being taken and destroyed by the Inquisitors.

In order to fill a coppermind with memories, Sazed had listened to another Keeper recite his entire collection of histories, facts, and stories. Sazed had memorized each sentence, then shoved those memories into the coppermind for later retrieval. Sazed remembered very little of the actual experience – but he could draw forth any of the books or essays he wished, placing them back into his mind, gaining the ability to recollect them as crisply as when he’d first memorized them. He just had to have the bracers on.

Being without his copperminds made him anxious. He shook his head, walking back over to the platform. Marsh was moving very quickly down toward the chasm floor; like all Inquisitors, he had the powers of a Mistborn. Though how he had gotten those powers – and how he managed to live despite the spikes that had been driven directly through his brain – was a mystery. Marsh had never answered Sazed’s questions on the subject.

Sazed called down, drawing Marsh’s attention, then held up his pack and dropped it. Marsh reached out, and the pack lurched, Pulled by its metals into Marsh’s hand. The Inquisitor threw it over his shoulder before continuing his descent.

Sazed nodded thankfully, then stepped off the platform. As he began to fall, he mentally reached into his ironmind, searching for the power he had stored therein. Filling a metalmind always had a cost: in order to store up sight, Sazed had been forced to spend weeks with poor eyesight. During that time, he had worn a tin bracelet, stowing away the excess sight for later use.

Iron was a bit different from the others. It didn’t store up sight, strength, endurance – or even memories. It stored something completely different: weight.

This day, Sazed didn’t tap the power stored inside the ironmind; that would have made him more heavy. Instead, he began to fill the ironmind, letting it suck away his weight. He felt a familiar sense of lightness – a sense that his own body wasn’t pressing upon itself as forcefully.

His fall slowed. The Terris philosophers had much to say on using an ironmind. They explained that the power didn’t actually change a person’s bulk or size – it just somehow changed the way that the ground pulled against them. Sazed’s fall didn’t slow because of his decrease in weight – it slowed because he suddenly had a relatively large amount of surface exposed to the wind of his fall, and a lighter body to go along with it.

Regardless of the scientific reasons, Sazed didn’t fall as quickly. The thin metal bracelets on his legs were the heaviest things on his body, and they kept him pointed feet-downward. He held out his arms and bent his body slightly, letting the wind push against him. His descent was not terribly slow – not like that of a leaf or a feather. However, he didn’t plummet either. Instead, he fell in a controlled – almost leisurely – manner. Clothing flapping, arms outspread, he passed Marsh, who watched with a curious expression.

As he approached the ground, Sazed tapped his pewtermind, drawing forth a tiny bit of strength to prepare. He hit the ground – but, because his body was so light, there was very little shock. He barely even needed to bend his knees to absorb the force of impact.

He stopped filling the ironmind, released his pewter, and waited quietly for Marsh. Beside him, the carrying cage lay in shambles. Sazed noticed several broken iron shackles with discomfort. Apparently, some of those who had visited the Conventical had not come by choice.

By the time Marsh neared the bottom, the mists were thick in the air. Sazed had lived with them all of his life, and had never before felt uncomfortable in them. Yet, now he half expected the mists to begin choking him. To kill him, as they seemed to have done to old Jed, the unfortunate farmer whose death Sazed had investigated.

Marsh dropped the last ten feet or so, landing with an Allomancer’s increased agility. Even after spending so much time with Mistborn, Sazed was impressed with Allomancy’s gifts. Of course, he’d never been jealous of them – not really. True, Allomancy was better in a fight; but it could not expand the mind, giving one access to the dreams, hopes, and beliefs of a thousand years of culture. It could not give the knowledge to treat a wound, or help teach a poor village to use modern fertilization techniques. The metalminds of Feruchemy weren’t flamboyant, but they had a far more lasting value to society.

Besides, Sazed knew a few tricks with Feruchemy that were bound to surprise even the most prepared warrior.

Marsh handed him the pack. “Come.”

Sazed nodded, shouldering the pack and following the Inquisitor across the rocky ground. Walking next to Marsh was odd, for Sazed wasn’t accustomed to being around people who were as tall as he was. Terrismen were tall by nature, and Sazed even more so: his arms and legs were a bit too long for his body, a medical condition brought on by his having been castrated as a very young boy. Though the Lord Ruler was dead, Terris culture would long feel the effects of his stewardship and breeding programs – the methods by which he had tried to breed Feruchemical powers out of the Terris people.

The Conventical of Seran loomed in the darkness, looking even more ominous now that Sazed stood within the crater. Marsh strode right up to the front doors, and Sazed followed behind. He wasn’t afraid, not really. Fear had never been a strong motivator in Sazed’s life. However, he did worry. There were so few Keepers left; if he died, that was one fewer person who could travel, restoring lost truths and teaching the people.

Not that I’m doing such at the moment anyway…

Marsh regarded the massive steel doors. Then he threw his weight against one, obviously burning pewter to enhance his strength. Sazed joined him, pushing hard. The door did not budge.

Regretting the expenditure of power, Sazed reached into his pewtermind and tapped strength. He used far more than he had when landing, and his muscles immediately increased in size. Unlike Allomancy, Feruchemy often had direct effects on a person’s body. Beneath his robes, Sazed gained the bulk and build of a lifetime warrior, easily becoming twice as strong as he had been a moment earlier. With their combined effort, the two of them managed to push the door open.

It did not creak. It slid slowly, but evenly, inward, exposing a long, dark hallway.

Sazed released his pewtermind, reverting to his normal self. Marsh strode into the Conventical, his feet kicking up the mist that had begun to pour through the open doorway.

“Marsh?” Sazed asked.

The Inquisitor turned.

“I won’t be able to see inside there.”

“Your Feruchemy…”

Sazed shook his head. “It can let me see better in darkness, but only if there’s some light to begin with. In addition, tapping that much sight would drain my tinmind in a matter of minutes. I’ll need a lantern.”

Marsh paused, then nodded. He turned into the darkness, quickly disappearing from Sazed’s view.

So, Sazed thought, Inquisitors don’t need light to see. It was to be expected: the spikes filled Marsh’s entire sockets, completely destroying the eyeballs. Whatever strange power allowed Inquisitors to see, it apparently worked just as well in pure darkness as it did in daylight.

Marsh returned a few moments later, carrying a lamp. From the chains Sazed had seen on the descent cage, Sazed suspected that the Inquisitors had kept a sizable group of slaves and servants to attend their needs. If that was the case, where had the people gone? Had they fled?

Sazed lit the lamp with a flint from his pack. The lamp’s ghostly light illuminated a stark, daunting hallway. He stepped into the Conventical, holding the lamp high, and began to fill the small copper ring on his finger, the process transforming it into a coppermind.

“Large rooms,” he whispered, “without adornment.” He didn’t really need to say the words, but he’d found that speaking helped him form distinct memories. He could then place them into the coppermind.

“The Inquisitors, obviously, had a fondness for steel,” he continued. “This is not surprising, considering that their religion was often referred to as the Steel Ministry. The walls are hung with massive steel plates, which bear no rust, unlike the ones outside. Many of those here are not completely smooth, but instead crafted with some interesting patterns etched… almost buffed… into their surfaces.”

Marsh frowned, turning toward him. “What are you doing?”

Sazed held up his right hand, showing the copper ring. “I must make an account of this visit. I will need to repeat this experience back to other Keepers when the opportunity presents itself. There is much to be learned from this place, I think.”

Marsh turned away. “You should not care about the Inquisitors. They are not worthy of your record.”

“It isn’t a matter of worthiness, Marsh,” Sazed said, holding up his lamp to study a square pillar. “Knowledge of all religions is valuable. I must make certain these things persist.”

Sazed regarded the pillar for a moment, then closed his eyes and formed an image of it inside his head, which he then added to the coppermind. Visual memories, however, were less useful than spoken words. Visualizations faded very quickly once taken out of a coppermind, suffering from the mind’s distortion. Plus, they could not be passed to other Keepers.

Marsh didn’t respond to Sazed’s comment about religion; he just turned and walked deeper into the building. Sazed followed at a slower pace, speaking to himself, recording the words in his coppermind. It was an interesting experience. As soon as he spoke, he felt the thoughts sucked from his mind, leaving behind a blank hollowness. He had difficulty remembering the specifics of what he had just been saying. However, once he was done filling his coppermind, he would be able to tap those memories later and know them with crisp clarity.

“The room is tall,” he said. “There are a few pillars, and they are also wrapped in steel. They are blocky and square, rather than round. I get a sense that this place was created by a people who cared little for subtlety. They ignored small details in favor of broad lines and full geometries.

“As we move beyond the main entryway, this architectural theme continues. There are no paintings on the walls, nor are there wooden adornments or tile floors. Instead, there are only the long, broad hallways with their harsh lines and reflective surfaces. The floor is constructed of steel squares, each a few feet across. They are… cold to the touch.

“It is strange not to see the tapestries, stained-glass windows, and sculpted stones that are so common in Luthadel’s architecture. There are no spires or vaultings here. Just squares and rectangles. Lines… so many lines. Nothing here is soft. No carpet, no rugs, no windows. It is a place for people who see the world differently from ordinary men.

“Marsh walked straight down this massive hallway, as if oblivious to its decor. I will follow him, then come back to record more later. He seems to be following something… something I cannot sense. Perhaps it is…”

Sazed trailed off as he stepped around a bend and saw Marsh standing in the doorway of a large chamber. The lamplight flickered unevenly as Sazed’s arm quivered.

Marsh had found the servants.

They had been dead long enough that Sazed hadn’t noticed the scent until he had come close. Perhaps that was what Marsh had been following; the senses of a man burning tin could be quite acute.

The Inquisitors had done their work thoroughly. These were the remnants of a slaughter. The room was large, but had only one exit, and the bodies were piled high near the back, killed by what looked like harsh sword or axe strokes. The servants had huddled up against the back wall as they died.

Sazed turned away.

Marsh, however, remained in the doorway. “There is a bad air about this place,” he finally said.

“You have only just noticed that?” Sazed asked.

Marsh turned, glancing at him, demanding his gaze. “We should not spend much time here. There are stairs at the end of the hallway behind us. I will go up – that is where the Inquisitors’ quarters will be. If the information I seek is here, I will find it there. You may stay, or you may descend. However, do not follow me.”

Sazed frowned. “Why?”

“I must be alone here. I cannot explain it. I do not care if you witness Inquisitor atrocities. I just… do not wish to be with you when you do.”

Sazed lowered his lamp, turning its light away from the horrific scene. “Very well.”

Marsh turned, brushing past Sazed and disappearing into the dark hallway. And Sazed was alone.

He tried not to think about that very much. He returned to the main hallway, describing the slaughter to his coppermind before giving a more detailed explanation of the architecture and the art – if, indeed, that was what the different patterns on the wall plates could be called.

As he worked – his voice echoing quietly against the rigid architecture, his lamp a weak drop of light reflected in steel – his eyes were drawn toward the back of the hallway. There was a pool of darkness there. A stairwell, leading down.

Even as he turned back to his description of one of the wall mounts, he knew that he would eventually find himself walking toward that darkness. It was the same as ever – the curiosity, the need to understand the unknown. This sense had driven him as a Keeper, had led him to Kelsier’s company. His search for truths could never be completed, but neither could it be ignored. So, he eventually turned and approached the stairwell, his own whispering voice his only companion.

“The stairs are akin to what I saw in the hallway. They are broad and expansive, like the steps leading up to a temple or palace. Except, these go down, into darkness. They are large, likely cut from stone and then lined with steel. They are tall, meant for a determined stride.

“As I walk, I wonder what secrets the Inquisitors deemed worthy of hiding below the earth, in the basement of their stronghold. This entire building is a secret. What did they do here, in these massive hallways and open, empty rooms?

“The stairwell ends in another large, square room. I’ve noticed something – there are no doors in the doorways here. Each room is open, visible to those outside. As I walk, peeking into the rooms beneath the earth, I find cavernous chambers with few furnishings. No libraries, no lounges. Several contain large metal blocks that could be altars.

“There is… something different here in this last room, at the back of the main landing. I’m not certain what to make of it. A torture chamber, perhaps? There are tables – metal tables – set into the floor. They are bloody, though there are no corpses. Blood flakes and powders at my feet – a lot of men have died in this room, I think. There don’t appear to be torture implements beyond…

“Spikes. Like the ones in Inquisitor eyes. Massive, heavy things – like the spikes one might pound into the ground with a very large mallet. Some are tipped with blood, though I don’t think I’ll handle those. These other ones… yes, they look indistinguishable from the ones in Marsh’s eyes. Yet, some are of different metals.”

Sazed set the spike down on a table, metal clinking against metal. He shivered, scanning the room again. A place to make new Inquisitors, perhaps? He had a sudden horrific vision of the creatures – once only several dozen in number – having swelled their ranks during their months sequestered in the Conventical.

But that didn’t seem right. They were a secretive, exclusive bunch. Where would they have found enough men worthy of joining their ranks? Why not make Inquisitors from the servants above, rather than just killing them?

Sazed had always suspected that a man had to be an Allomancer to be changed into an Inquisitor. Marsh’s own experience substantiated that premise: Marsh had been a Seeker, a man who could burn bronze, before his transformation. Sazed looked again at the blood, the spikes, and the tables, and decided he wasn’t certain that he wanted to know how one made a new Inquisitor.

Sazed was about to leave the room when his lamp revealed something at the back. Another doorway.

He moved forward, trying to ignore the dried blood at his feet, and entered a chamber that didn’t seem to match the rest of the Conventical’s daunting architecture. It was cut directly into the stone, and it twisted down into a very small stairwell. Curious, Sazed walked down the set of worn stone steps. For the first time since entering the building, he felt cramped, and he had to stoop as he reached the bottom of the stairwell and entered a small chamber. He stood up straight, and held up his lamp to reveal…

A wall. The room ended abruptly, and his light sparkled off the wall. It held a steel plate, like those above. This one was a good five feet across, and nearly as tall. And it bore writing. Suddenly interested, Sazed set down his pack and stepped forward, raising his lamp to read the top words on the wall.

The text was in Terris.

It was an old dialect, certainly, but one that Sazed could make out even without his language coppermind. His hand trembled as he read the words.

I write these words in steel, for anything not set in metal cannot be trusted.

I have begun to wonder if I am the only sane man remaining. Can the others not see? They have been waiting so long for their hero to come – the one spoken of in Terris prophecies – that they quickly jump between conclusions, presuming that each story and legend applies to this one man.

My brethren ignore the other facts. They cannot connect the other strange things that are happening. They are deaf to my objections and blind to my discoveries.

Perhaps they are right. Perhaps I am mad, or jealous, or simply daft. My name is Kwaan. Philosopher, scholar, traitor. I am the one who discovered Alendi, and I am the one who first proclaimed him to be the Hero of Ages. I am the one who started this all.

And I am the one who betrayed him, for I now know that he must never be allowed to complete his quest.

“Sazed.”

Sazed jumped, nearly dropping the lamp. Marsh stood in the doorway behind him. Imperious, discomforting, and so dark. He fit this place, with its lines and hardness.

“The upstairs quarters are empty,” Marsh said. “This trip has been a waste – my brethren took anything of use with them.”

“Not a waste, Marsh,” Sazed said, turning back to the plate of text. He hadn’t read all of it; he hadn’t even gotten close. The script was written in a tight, cramped hand, its etchings coating the wall. The steel had preserved the words despite their obvious age. Sazed’s heart beat a little faster.

This was a fragment of text from before the Lord Ruler’s reign. A fragment written by a Terris philosopher – a holy man. Despite ten centuries of searching, the Keepers had never fulfilled the original goal of their creation: they had never discovered their own Terris religion.

The Lord Ruler had squelched Terris religious teachings soon after his rise to power. His persecution of the Terris people – his own people – had been the most complete of his long reign, and the Keepers had never found more than vague fragments regarding what their own people had once believed.

“I have to copy this down, Marsh,” Sazed said, reaching for his pack. Taking a visual memory wouldn’t work – no man could stare at a wall of so much text, then remember the words. He could, perhaps, read them into his coppermind. However, he wanted a physical record, one that perfectly preserved the structure of lines and punctuation.

Marsh shook his head. “We will not stay here. I do not think we should even have come.”

Sazed paused, looking up. Then he pulled several large sheets of paper from his pack. “Very well, then,” he said. “I’ll take a rubbing. That will be better anyway, I think. It will let me see the text exactly as it was written.”

Marsh nodded, and Sazed got out his charcoal.

This discovery… he thought with excitement. This will be like Rashek’s logbook. We are getting close!

However, even as he began the rubbing – his hands moving carefully and precisely – another thought occurred to him. With a text like this in his possession, his sense of duty would no longer let him wander the villages. He had to return to the north to share what he had found, lest he die and this text be lost. He had to go to Terris.

Or… to Luthadel. From there he could send messages north. He had a valid excuse to get back to the center of action, to see the other crewmembers again.

Why did that make him feel even more guilty?

13

MIST SWIRLED AND SPUN, LIKE monochrome paints running together on a canvas. Light died in the west, and night came of age.

Vin frowned. “Does it seem like the mists are coming earlier?”

“Earlier?” OreSeur asked in his muffled voice. The kandra wolfhound sat next to her on the rooftop.

Vin nodded. “Before, the mists didn’t start to appear until after it grew dark, right?”

“It is dark, Mistress.”

“But they’re already here – they started to gather when the sun was barely beginning to set.”

“I don’t see that it matters, Mistress. Perhaps the mists are simply like other weather patterns – they vary, sometimes.”

“Doesn’t it even seem a little strange to you?”

“I will think it strange if you wish me to, Mistress,” OreSeur said.

“That isn’t what I meant.”

“I apologize, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “Tell me what you do mean, and I will be certain to believe as commanded.”

Vin sighed, rubbing her brow. I wish Sazed were back… she thought. It was an idle wish, however. Even if Sazed were in Luthadel, he wouldn’t be her steward. The Terrismen no longer called any man master. She’d have to make do with OreSeur. The kandra, at least, could provide information that Sazed could not – assuming she could get it out of him.

“We need to find the impostor,” Vin said. “The one who… replaced someone.”

“Yes, Mistress,” OreSeur said.

Vin sat back in the mists, reclining on a slanted rooftop, resting her arms back on the tiles. “Then, I need to know more about you.”

“Me, Mistress?”

“Kandra in general. If I’m going to find this impostor, I need to know how he thinks, need to understand his motivations.”

“His motivations will be simple, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “He will be following his Contract.”

“What if he’s acting without a Contract?”

OreSeur shook his canine head. “Kandra always have a Contract. Without one, they are not allowed to enter human society.”

“Never?” Vin asked.

“Never.”

“And what if this is some kind of rogue kandra?” Vin said.

“Such a thing does not exist,” OreSeur said firmly.

Oh? Vin thought skeptically. However, she let the matter drop. There was little reason for a kandra to infiltrate the palace on his own; it was far more likely that one of Elend’s enemies had sent the creature. One of the warlords, perhaps, or maybe the obligators. Even the other nobility in the city would have had good reason to spy on Elend.

“Okay,” Vin said. “The kandra is a spy, sent to gather information for another human.”

“Yes.”

“But,” Vin said, “if he did take the body of someone in the palace, he didn’t kill them himself. Kandra can’t kill humans, right?”

OreSeur nodded. “We are all bound by that rule.”

“So, somebody snuck into the palace, murdered a member of the staff, then had their kandra take the body.” She paused, trying to work through the problem. “The most dangerous possibilities – the crewmembers – should be considered first. Fortunately, since the killing happened yesterday, we can eliminate Breeze, who was outside the city at the time.”

OreSeur nodded.

“We can eliminate Elend as well,” Vin said. “He was with us on the wall yesterday.”

“That still leaves the majority of the crew, Mistress.”

Vin frowned, sitting back. She’d tried to establish solid alibis for Ham, Dockson, Clubs, and Spook. However, all of them had had at least a few hours unaccounted for. Long enough for a kandra to digest them and take their place.

“All right,” she said. “So, how do I find the impostor? How can I tell him from other people?”

OreSeur sat quietly in the mists.

“There has to be a way,” Vin said. “His imitation can’t be perfect. Would cutting him work?”

OreSeur shook his head. “Kandra replicate a body perfectly, Mistress – blood, flesh, skin, and muscle. You have seen that when I split my skin.”

Vin sighed, standing and stepping up on the tip of the peaked rooftop. The mists were already full, and the night was quickly becoming black. She began to walk idly back and forth on the ridge, an Allomancer’s balance keeping her from falling.

“Perhaps I can just see who isn’t acting oddly,” she said. “Are most kandra as good at imitation as you are?”

“Among kandra, my own skill is average. Some are worse, others are better.”

“But no actor is perfect,” Vin said.

“Kandra don’t often make mistakes, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “But, this is probably your best method. Be warned, however – he could be anyone. My kind are very skilled.”

Vin paused. It’s not Elend, she told herself forcibly. He was with me all day yesterday. Except in the morning.

Too long, she decided. We were on the wall for hours, and those bones were freshly expelled. Besides, I’d know if it were him… wouldn’t I?

She shook her head. “There has to be another way. Can I spot a kandra with Allomancy somehow?”

OreSeur didn’t answer immediately. She turned toward him in the darkness, studying his canine face. “What?” she asked.

“These are not things we speak of with outsiders.”

Vin sighed. “Tell me anyway.”

“Do you command me to speak?”

“I don’t really care to command you in anything.”

“Then I may leave?” OreSeur asked. “You do not wish to command me, so our Contract is dissolved?”

“That isn’t what I meant,” Vin said.

OreSeur frowned – a strange expression to see on a dog’s face. “It would be easier for me if you would try to say what you mean, Mistress.”

Vin gritted her teeth. “Why is it you’re so hostile?”

“I’m not hostile, Mistress. I am your servant, and will do as you command. That is part of the Contract.”

“Sure. Are you like this with all of your masters?”

“With most, I am fulfilling a specific role,” OreSeur said. “I have bones to imitate – a person to become, a personality to adopt. You have given me no direction; just the bones of this… animal.”

So that’s it, Vin thought. Still annoyed by the dog’s body. “Look, those bones don’t really change anything. You are still the same person.”

“You do not understand. It is not who a kandra is that’s important. It’s who a kandra becomes. The bones he takes, the role he fulfills. None of my previous masters have asked me to do something like this.”

“Well, I’m not like other masters,” Vin said. “Anyway, I asked you a question. Is there a way I can spot a kandra with Allomancy? And yes, I command you to speak.”

A flash of triumph shone in OreSeur’s eyes, as if he enjoyed forcing her into her role. “Kandra cannot be affected by mental Allomancy, Mistress.”

Vin frowned. “Not at all?”

“No, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “You can try to Riot or Soothe our emotions, if you wish, but it will have no effect. We won’t even know that you are trying to manipulate us.”

Like someone who is burning copper. “That’s not exactly the most useful bit of information,” she said, strolling past the kandra on the roof. Allomancers couldn’t read minds or emotions; when they Soothed or Rioted another person, they simply had to hope that the person reacted as intended.

She could “test” for a kandra by Soothing someone’s emotions, perhaps. If they didn’t react, that might mean they were a kandra – but it could also just mean that they were good at containing their emotions.

OreSeur watched her pacing. “If it were easy to detect kandra, Mistress, then we wouldn’t be worth much as impostors, would we?”

“I suppose not,” Vin acknowledged. However, thinking about what he’d said made her consider something else. “Can a kandra use Allomancy? If they eat an Allomancer, I mean?”

OreSeur shook his head.

That’s another method, then, Vin thought. If I catch a member of the crew burning metals, then I know he’s not the kandra. Wouldn’t help with Dockson or the palace servants, but it would let her eliminate Ham and Spook.

“There’s something else,” Vin said. “Before, when we were doing the job with Kelsier, he said that we had to keep you away from the Lord Ruler and his Inquisitors. Why was that?”

OreSeur looked away. “This is not a thing we speak of.”

“Then I command you to speak of it.”

“Then I must refuse to answer,” OreSeur said.

“Refuse to answer?” Vin asked. “You can do that?”

OreSeur nodded. “We are not required to reveal secrets about kandra nature, Mistress. It is–”

“In the Contract,” Vin finished, frowning. I really need to read that thing again.

“Yes, Mistress. I have, perhaps, said too much already.”

Vin turned away from OreSeur, looking out over the city. The mists continued to spin. Vin closed her eyes, questing out with bronze, trying to feel the telltale pulse of an Allomancer burning metals nearby.

OreSeur rose and padded over beside her, then settled down on his haunches again, sitting on the inclined roof. “Shouldn’t you be at the meeting the king is having, Mistress?”

“Perhaps later,” Vin said, opening her eyes. Out beyond the city, watchfires from the armies lit the horizon. Keep Venture blazed in the night to her right, and inside of it, Elend was holding council with the others. Many of the most important men in the government, sitting together in one room. Elend would call her paranoid for insisting that she be the one who watched for spies and assassins. That was fine; he could call her whatever he wanted, as long as he stayed alive.

She settled back down. She was glad Elend had decided to pick Keep Venture as his palace, rather than moving into Kredik Shaw, the Lord Ruler’s home. Not only was Kredik Shaw too big to be properly defended, but it also reminded her of him. The Lord Ruler.

She thought of the Lord Ruler often, lately – or, rather, she thought of Rashek, the man who had become the Lord Ruler. A Terrisman by birth, Rashek had killed the man who should have taken the power at the Well of Ascension and…

And done what? They still didn’t know. The Hero had been on a quest to protect the people from a danger simply known as the Deepness. So much had been lost; so much had been intentionally destroyed. Their best source of information about those days came in the form of an aged journal, written by the Hero of Ages during the days before Rashek had killed him. However, it gave precious few clues about his quest.

Why do I even worry about these things? Vin thought. The Deepness is a thing a thousand years forgotten. Elend and the others are right to be concerned about more pressing events.

And still, Vin found herself strangely detached from them. Perhaps that was why she found herself scouting outside. It wasn’t that she didn’t worry about the armies. She just felt… removed from the problem. Even now, as she considered the threat to Luthadel, her mind was drawn back to the Lord Ruler.

You don’t know what I do for mankind, he had said. I was your god, even if you couldn’t see it. By killing me, you have doomed yourselves. Those were the Lord Ruler’s last words, spoken as he lay dying on the floor of his own throne room. They worried her. Chilled her, even still.

She needed to distract herself. “What kinds of things do you like, kandra?” she asked, turning to the creature, who still sat on the rooftop beside her. “What are your loves, your hatreds?”

“I do not want to answer that.”

Vin frowned. “Do not want to, or do not have to?”

OreSeur paused. “Do not want to, Mistress.” The implication was obvious. You’re going to have to command me.

She almost did. However, something gave her pause, something in those eyes – inhuman though they were. Something familiar.

She’d known resentment like that. She’d felt it often during her youth, when she’d served crewleaders who had lorded over their followers. In the crews, one did what one was commanded – especially if one was a small waif of a girl, without rank or means of intimidation.

“If you don’t wish to speak of it,” Vin said, turning away from the kandra, “then I won’t force you.”

OreSeur was silent.

Vin breathed in the mist, its cool wetness tickling her throat and lungs. “Do you know what I love, kandra?”

“No, Mistress.”

“The mists,” she said, holding out her arms. “The power, the freedom.”

OreSeur nodded slowly. Nearby, Vin felt a faint pulsing with her bronze. Quiet, strange, unnerving. It was the same odd pulsing that she had felt atop Keep Venture a few nights before. She had never been brave enough to investigate it again.

It’s time to do something about that, she decided. “Do you know what I hate, kandra?” she whispered, falling to a crouch, checking her knives and metals.

“No, Mistress.”

She turned, meeting OreSeur’s eyes. “I hate being afraid.”

She knew that others thought her jumpy. Paranoid. She had lived with fear for so long that she had once seen it as something natural, like the ash, the sun, or the ground itself.

Kelsier had taken that fear away. She was careful, still, but she didn’t feel a constant sense of terror. The Survivor had given her a life where the ones she loved didn’t beat her, had shown her something better than fear. Trust. Now that she knew of these things, she would not quickly surrender them. Not to armies, not to assassins…

Not even to spirits.

“Follow if you can,” she whispered, then dropped off the rooftop to the street below.

She dashed along the mist-slicked street, building momentum before she had time to lose her nerve. The source of the bronze pulses was close; it came from only one street over, in a building. Not the top, she decided. One of the darkened windows on the third floor, the shutters open.

Vin dropped a coin and jumped into the air. She shot upward, angling herself by Pushing against a latch across the street. She landed in the window’s pitlike opening, arms grabbing the sides of the frame. She flared tin, letting her eyes adjust to the deep darkness within the abandoned room.

And it was there. Formed entirely of mists, it shifted and spun, its outline vague in the dark chamber. It had a vantage to see the rooftop where Vin and OreSeur had been talking.

Ghosts don’t spy on people… do they? Skaa didn’t speak of things like spirits or the dead. It smacked too much of religion, and religion was for the nobility. To worship was death for skaa. That hadn’t stopped some, of course – but thieves like Vin had been too pragmatic for such things.

There was only one thing in skaa lore that this creature matched. Mistwraiths. Creatures said to steal the souls of men foolish enough to go outside at night. But, Vin now knew what mistwraiths were. They were cousins to the kandra – strange, semi-intelligent beasts who used the bones of those they ingested. They were odd, true – but hardly phantoms, and not really even that dangerous. There were no dark wraiths in the night, no haunting spirits or ghouls.

Or so Kelsier had said. The thing standing in the dark room – its insubstantial form writhing in the mists – seemed a powerful counterexample. She gripped the sides of the window, fear – her old friend – returning.

Run. Flee. Hide.

“Why have you been watching me?” she demanded.

The thing did not move. Its form seemed to draw the mists forward, and they spun slightly, as if in an air current.

I can sense it with bronze. That means it’s using Allomancy – and Allomancy attracts the mist.

The thing stepped forward. Vin tensed.

And then the spirit was gone.

Vin paused, frowning. That was it? She had–

Something grabbed her arm. Something cold, something terrible, but something very real. A pain shot through her head, moving as if from her ear and into her mind. She yelled, but cut off as her voice failed. With a quiet groan – her arm quivering and shaking – she fell backward out of the window.

Her arm was still cold. She could feel it whipping in the air beside her, seeming to exude chill air. Mist passed like trailing clouds.

Vin flared tin. Pain, cold, wetness, and lucidity burst into her mind, and she threw herself into a twist and flared pewter just as she hit the ground.

“Mistress?” OreSeur said, darting from the shadows.

Vin shook her head, pushing herself up to her knees, her palms cool against the slick cobblestones. She could still feel the trailing chill in her left arm.

“Shall I go for aid?” the wolfhound asked.

Vin shook her head, forcing herself into a wobbling stand. She looked upward, through swirling mists, toward the black window above.

She shivered. Her shoulder was sore from where she had hit the ground, and her still bruised side throbbed, but she could feel her strength returning. She stepped away from the building, still looking up. Above her, the deep mists seemed… ominous. Obscuring.

No, she thought forcefully. The mists are my freedom; the night is my home! This is where I belong. I haven’t needed to be afraid in the night since Kelsier taught me otherwise.

She couldn’t lose that. She wouldn’t go back to the fear. Still, she couldn’t help the quick urgency in her step as she waved to OreSeur and scampered away from the building. She gave no explanation for her strange actions.

He didn’t ask for one.

Elend set a third pile of books onto the table, and it slumped against the other two, threatening to topple the entire lot to the floor. He steadied them, then glanced up.

Breeze, in a prim suit, regarded the table with amusement as he sipped his wine. Ham and Spook were playing a game of stones as they waited for the meeting to begin; Spook was winning. Dockson sat in the corner of the room, scribbling on a ledger, and Clubs sat in a deep plush chair, eyeing Elend with one of his stares.

Any of these men could be an impostor, Elend thought. The thought still seemed insane to him. What was he to do? Exclude them all from his confidence? No, he needed them too much.

The only option was to act normally and watch them. Vin had told him to try and spot inconsistencies in their personalities. He intended to do his best, but the reality was he wasn’t sure how much he would be able to see. This was more Vin’s area of expertise. He needed to worry about the armies.

Thinking of her, he glanced at the stained-glass window at the back of the study, and was surprised to see it was dark.

That late already? Elend thought.

“My dear man,” Breeze noted. “When you told us you needed to ‘go and gather a few important references,’ you might have warned us that you were planning to be gone for two full hours.”

“Yes, well,” Elend said, “I kind of lost track of time…”

“For two hours?”

Elend nodded sheepishly. “There were books involved.”

Breeze shook his head. “If the fate of the Central Dominance weren’t at stake – and if it weren’t so fantastically enjoyable to watch Hammond lose an entire month’s earnings to the boy there – I’d have left an hour ago.”

“Yes, well, we can get started now,” Elend said.

Ham chuckled, standing up. “Actually, it’s kind of like the old days. Kell always arrived late, too – and he liked to hold his meetings at night. Mistborn hours.”

Spook smiled, his coin pouch bulging.

We still use boxings – Lord Ruler imperials – as our coinage, Elend thought. We’ll have to do something about that.

“I miss the charcoal board, though,” Spook said.

“I certainly don’t,” Breeze replied. “Kell had atrocious handwriting.”

“Absolutely atrocious,” Ham said with a smile, sitting. “You have to admit, though – it was distinctive.”

Breeze raised an eyebrow. “It was that, I suppose.”

Kelsier, the Survivor of Hathsin, Elend thought. Even his handwriting is legendary. “Regardless,” he said, “I think perhaps we should get to work. We’ve still got two armies waiting out there. We’re not leaving tonight until we have a plan to deal with them!”

The crewmembers shared looks.

“Actually, Your Majesty,” Dockson said, “we’ve already worked on that problem for a bit.”

“Oh?” Elend asked, surprised. Well, I guess I did leave them alone for a couple of hours. “Let me hear it, then.”

Dockson stood, pulling his chair a bit closer to join the rest of the group, and Ham began to speak.

“Here’s the thing, El,” Ham said. “With two armies here, we don’t have to worry about an immediate attack. But, we’re still in serious danger. This will probably turn into an extended siege as each army tries to outlast the other.”

“They’ll try to starve us out,” Clubs said. “Weaken us, and their enemies, before attacking.”

“And,” Ham continued, “that puts us in a bind – because we can’t last very long. The city is already on the edge of starvation – and the enemy kings are probably aware of that fact.”

“What are you saying?” Elend asked slowly.

“We have to make an alliance with one of those armies, Your Majesty,” Dockson said. “They both know it. Alone, they can’t reliably defeat one another. With our help, however, the balance will be tipped.”

“They’ll hem us in,” Ham said. “Keep us blockaded until we get desperate enough to side with one of them. Eventually, we’ll have to do so – either that, or let our people starve.”

“The decision comes down to this,” Breeze said. “We can’t outlast the others, so we have to choose which of those men we want to take over the city. And, I would suggest making our decision quickly as opposed to waiting while our supplies run out.”

Elend stood quietly. “By making a deal with one of those armies, we’ll essentially be giving away our kingdom.”

“True,” Breeze said, tapping the side of his cup. “However, what I gained us by bringing a second army is bargaining power. You see, at least we are in a position to demand something in exchange for our kingdom.”

“What good is that?” Elend asked. “We still lose.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Breeze said. “I think that we might be able to persuade Cett to leave you as a provisional leader in Luthadel. He doesn’t like the Central Dominance; he finds it barren and flat.”

“Provisional leader of the city,” Elend said with a frown. “That is somewhat different from king of the Central Dominance.”

“True,” Dockson said. “But, every emperor needs good men to administrate the cities under their rule. You wouldn’t be king, but you – and our armies – would live through the next few months, and Luthadel wouldn’t be pillaged.”

Ham, Breeze, and Dockson all sat resolutely, looking him in the eye. Elend glanced down at his pile of books, thinking of his research and study. Worthless. How long had the crew known that there was only one course of action?

The crew seemed to take Elend’s silence as assent.

“Cett really is the best choice, then?” Dockson asked. “Perhaps Straff would be more likely to make an agreement with Elend – they are, after all, family.”

Oh, he’d make an agreement, Elend thought. And he’d break it the moment it was convenient. But… the alternative? Give the city over to this Cett? What would happen to this land, this people, if he were in charge?

“Cett is best, I think,” Breeze said. “He is very willing to let others rule, as long as he gets his glory and his coins. The problem is going to be that atium. Cett thinks it is here, and if he doesn’t find it…”

“We just let him search the city,” Ham said.

Breeze nodded. “You’d have to persuade him that I misled him about the atium – and that shouldn’t be too hard, considering what he thinks of me. Which is another small matter – you’ll have to convince him that I’ve been dealt with. Perhaps he’d believe that I was executed as soon as Elend found out I had raised an army against him.”

The others nodded.

“Breeze?” Elend asked. “How does Lord Cett treat the skaa in his lands?”

Breeze paused, then glanced away. “Not well, I’m afraid.”

“Now, see,” Elend said. “I think we need to consider how to best protect our people. I mean, if we give everything over to Cett, then we’d save my skin – but at the cost of the entire skaa population of the dominance!”

Dockson shook his head. “Elend, it’s not a betrayal. Not if this is the only way.”

“That’s easy to say,” Elend said. “But I’m the one who’d have to bear the guilty conscience for doing such a thing. I’m not saying that we should throw out your suggestion, but I do have a few ideas that we might talk about…”

The others shared looks. As usual, Clubs and Spook remained quiet during proceedings; Clubs only spoke when he felt it absolutely necessary, and Spook tended to stay on the periphery of the conversations. Finally, Breeze, Ham, and Dockson looked back at Elend.

“This is your country, Your Majesty,” Dockson said carefully. “We’re simply here to give advice.” Very good advice, his tone implied.

“Yes, well,” Elend said, quickly selecting a book. In his haste, he knocked over one of the stacks, sending a clatter of books across the table and landing a volume in Breeze’s lap.

“Sorry,” Elend said, as Breeze rolled his eyes and sat the book back up on the table. Elend pulled open his own book. “Now, this volume had some very interesting things to say about the movement and arrangement of troop bodies–”

“Uh, El?” Ham asked, frowning. “That looks like a book on shipping grain.”

“I know,” Elend said. “There weren’t a lot of books about warfare in the library. I guess that’s what we get for a thousand years without any wars. However, this book does mention how much grain it took to keep the various garrisons in the Final Empire stocked. Do you have any idea how much food an army needs?”

“You have a point,” Clubs said, nodding. “Usually, it’s a blasted pain to keep soldiers fed; we often had supply problems fighting on the frontier, and we were only small bands, sent to quell the occasional rebellion.”

Elend nodded. Clubs didn’t often speak of his past fighting in the Lord Ruler’s army – and the crew didn’t often ask him about it.

“Anyway,” Elend said, “I’ll bet both Cett and my father are unaccustomed to moving large bodies of men. There will be supply problems, especially for Cett, since he marched so hastily.”

“Maybe not,” Clubs said. “Both armies have secured canal routes into Luthadel. That will make it easy for them to send for more supplies.”

“Plus,” Breeze added, “though much of Cett’s land is in revolt right now, he does still hold the city of Haverfrex, which held one of the Lord Ruler’s main canneries. Cett has a remarkable amount of food a short canal trip away.”

“Then, we disrupt the canals,” Elend said. “We find a way to stop those supplies from coming. Canals make resupply quick, but also vulnerable, since we know exactly which route it will take. And, if we can take away their food, perhaps they’ll be forced to turn around and march home.”

“Either that,” Breeze said, “or they’ll just decide to risk attacking Luthadel.”

Elend paused. “That’s a possibility,” he said. “But, well, I’ve been researching how to hold the city as well.” He reached across the table, picking up a book. “Now, this is Jendellah’s City Management in the Modern Era. He mentions how difficult Luthadel is to police because of its extreme size and large number of skaa slums. He suggests using roving bands of city watchmen. I think we could adapt his methods to use in a battle – our wall is too long to defend in detail, but if we had mobile bands of troops that could respond to–”

“Your Majesty,” Dockson interrupted.

“Hum? Yes?”

“We’ve got a troop of boys and men who have barely a year’s training, and we’re facing not one overwhelming force, but two. We can’t win this battle by force.”

“Oh, yes,” Elend said. “Of course. I was just saying that if we did have to fight, I have some strategies…”

“If we fight, we lose,” Clubs said. “We’ll probably lose anyway.”

Elend paused for a moment. “Yes, well, I just…”

“Attacking the canal routes is a good idea, though,” Dockson said. “We can do that covertly, perhaps hire some of the bandits in the area to attack supply barges. It probably won’t be enough to send Cett or Straff home, but we could make them more desperate to make alliances with us.”

Breeze nodded. “Cett’s already worried about instability back in his home dominance. We should send him a preliminary messenger, let him know we’re interested in an alliance. That way, as soon as his supply problems begin, he’ll think of us.”

“We could even send him a letter explaining Breeze’s execution,” Dockson said, “as a sign of good faith. That–”

Elend cleared his throat. The others paused.

“I, uh, wasn’t finished yet,” Elend said.

“I apologize, Your Majesty,” Dockson said.

Elend took a deep breath. “You’re right – we can’t afford to fight those armies. But, I think we need to find a way to get them to fight each other.”

“A pleasant sentiment, my dear man,” Breeze said. “But getting those two to attack one another isn’t as simple as persuading Spook over there to refill my wine.” He turned, holding out his empty cup. Spook paused, then sighed, rising to fetch the wine bottle.

“Well, yes,” Elend said. “But, while there aren’t a lot of books on warfare, there are a lot about politics. Breeze, you said the other day that being the weakest party in a three-way stalemate gives us power.”

“Exactly,” Breeze said. “We can tip the battle for either of the two larger sides.”

“Yes,” Elend said, opening a book. “Now that there are three parties involved, it’s not warfare – it’s politics. This is just like a contest between houses. And in house politicking, even the most powerful houses can’t stand without allies. The small houses are weak individually, but they are strong when considered as a group.

“We’re like one of those small houses. If we want to make any gains, we’re going to have to get our enemies to forget about us – or, at least, make them think us inconsequential. If they both assume that they have the better of us – that they can use us to defeat the other army, then turn on us at their leisure – then they’ll leave us alone and concentrate on each other.”

Ham rubbed his chin. “You’re talking about playing both sides, Elend. It’s a dangerous position to put ourselves in.”

Breeze nodded. “We’d have to switch our allegiance to whichever side seems weaker at the moment, keep them snapping at each other. And there’s no guarantee that the winner between the two would be weakened enough for us to defeat.”

“Not to mention our food problems,” Dockson said. “What you propose would take time, Your Majesty. Time during which we’d be under siege, our supplies dwindling. It’s autumn right now. Winter will soon be upon us.”

“It will be tough,” Elend agreed. “And risky. But, I think we can do it. We make them both think we’re allied with them, but we hold back our support. We encourage them against one another, and we wear away at their supplies and morale, pushing them into a conflict. When the dust settles, the surviving army might just be weak enough for us to beat.”

Breeze looked thoughtful. “It has style,” he admitted. “And, it does kind of sound fun.”

Dockson smiled. “You only say that because it involves making someone else do our work for us.”

Breeze shrugged. “Manipulation works so well on a personal level, I don’t see why it wouldn’t be an equally viable national policy.”

“That’s actually how most rulership works,” Ham mused. “What is a government but an institutionalized method of making sure somebody else does all the work?”

“Uh, the plan?” Elend asked.

“I don’t know, El,” Ham said, getting back on topic. “It sounds like one of Kell’s plans – foolhardy, brave, and a little insane.” He sounded as if he were surprised to hear Elend propose such a measure.

I can be as foolhardy as any man, Elend thought indignantly, then paused. Did he really want to follow that line of thought?

“We could get ourselves into some serious trouble,” Dockson said. “If either side decides it’s tired of our games…”

“They’ll destroy us,” Elend said. “But… well, gentlemen, you’re gamblers. You can’t tell me that this plan doesn’t appeal to you more than simply bowing before Lord Cett.”

Ham shared a look with Breeze, and they seemed to be considering the idea. Dockson rolled his eyes, but seemed like he was objecting simply out of habit.

No, they didn’t want to take the safe way out. These were the men who had challenged the Lord Ruler, men who had made their livelihood scamming noblemen. In some ways, they were very careful; they could be precise in their attention to detail, cautious in covering their tracks and protecting their interests. But when it came time to gamble for the big prize, they were often willing.

No, not willing. Eager.

Great, Elend thought. I’ve filled my inner council with a bunch of thrill-seeking masochists. Even worse, I’ve decided to join them. But, what else could he do?

“We could at least consider it,” Breeze said. “It does sound exciting.”

“Now, see, I didn’t suggest this because it was exciting, Breeze,” Elend said. “I spent my youth trying to plan how I would make a better city of Luthadel once I became leader of my house. I’m not going to throw away those dreams at the first sign of opposition.”

“What about the Assembly?” Ham said.

“That’s the best part,” Elend said. “They voted in my proposal at the meeting two days back. They can’t open the city gates to any invader until I meet with my father in parlay.”

The crew sat quietly for a few moments. Finally, Ham turned to Elend, shaking his head. “I really don’t know, El. It sounds appealing. We actually discussed a few more daring plans like this while we were waiting for you. But…”

“But what?” Elend asked.

“A plan like this depends a lot on you, my dear man,” Breeze said, sipping his wine. “You’d have to be the one to meet with the kings – the one to persuade them both that we’re on their side. No offense, but you’re new to scamming. It’s difficult to agree to a daring plan that puts a newcomer in as the linchpin member of the team.”

“I can do this,” Elend said. “Really.”

Ham glanced at Breeze, then both glanced at Clubs. The gnarled general shrugged. “If the kid wants to try it, then let him.”

Ham sighed, then looked back. “I guess I agree. As long as you’re up to this, El.”

“I think I am,” Elend said, covering his nervousness. “I just know we can’t give up, not easily. Maybe this won’t work – maybe, after a couple months of being besieged, we’ll just end up giving away the city anyway. However, that gives us a couple of months during which something could happen. It’s worth the risk to wait, rather than fold. Wait, and plan.”

“All right, then,” Dockson said. “Give us some time to come up with some ideas and options, Your Majesty. We’ll meet again in a few days to talk about specifics.”

“All right,” Elend said. “Sounds good. Now, if we can move on to other matters, I’d like to mention–”

A knock came at the door. At Elend’s call, Captain Demoux pushed open the door, looking a little embarrassed. “Your Majesty?” he said. “I apologize, but… I think we caught someone listening in on your meeting.”

“What?” Elend said. “Who?”

Demoux turned to the side, waving in a pair of his guards. The woman they led into the room was vaguely familiar to Elend. Tall, like most Terris, she wore a bright-colored, but utilitarian, dress. Her ears were stretched downward, the lobes elongated to accommodate numerous earrings.

“I recognize you,” Elend said. “From the Assembly hall a few days ago. You were watching me.”

The woman didn’t answer. She looked over the room’s occupants, standing stiffly – even haughtily – despite her bound wrists. Elend had never actually met a Terriswoman before; he’d only met stewards, eunuchs trained from birth to work as manservants. For some reason, Elend had expected a Terriswoman to seem a bit more servile.

“She was hiding in the next room over,” Demoux said. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I don’t know how she got past us. We found her listening against the wall, though I doubt she heard anything. I mean, those walls are made of stone.”

Elend met the woman’s eyes. Older – perhaps fifty – she wasn’t beautiful, but neither was she homely. She was sturdy, with a straightforward, rectangular face. Her stare was calm and firm, and it made Elend uncomfortable to hold it for long.

“So, what did you expect to overhear, woman?” Elend asked.

The Terriswoman ignored the comment. She turned to the others, and spoke in a lightly accented voice. “I would speak with the king alone. The rest of you are excused.”

Ham smiled. “Well, at least she’s got nerve.”

Dockson addressed the Terriswoman. “What makes you think that we would leave our king alone with you?”

“His Majesty and I have things to discuss,” the woman said in a businesslike manner, as if oblivious of – or unconcerned about – her status as a prisoner. “You needn’t be worried about his safety; I’m certain that the young Mistborn hiding outside the window will be more than enough to deal with me.”

Elend glanced to the side, toward the small ventilation window beside the more massive stained-glass one. How would the Terriswoman have known that Vin was watching? Her ears would have to be extraordinarily keen. Keen enough, perhaps, to listen in on the meeting through a stone wall?

Elend turned back to the newcomer. “You’re a Keeper.”

She nodded.

“Did Sazed send you?”

“It is because of him that I am here,” she said. “But I was not ‘sent.’ ”

“Ham, it’s all right,” Elend said slowly. “You can go.”

“Are you sure?” Ham asked, frowning.

“Leave me bound, if you wish,” the woman said.

If she really is a Feruchemist, that won’t be much of a hindrance, Elend thought. Of course, if she really is a Feruchemist – a Keeper, like Sazed – I shouldn’t have anything to fear from her. Theoretically.

The others shuffled from the room, their postures indicating what they thought of Elend’s decision. Though they were no longer thieves by profession, Elend suspected that they – like Vin – would always bear the effects of their upbringing.

“We’ll be just outside, El,” Ham – the last one out – said, then pulled the door shut.

14

THE TERRISWOMAN SNAPPED HER BONDS, and the ropes dropped to the floor.

“Uh, Vin?” Elend said, beginning to wonder about the logic of meeting with this woman. “Perhaps it’s time you came in.”

“She’s not actually there,” the Terriswoman said offhandedly, walking forward. “She left a few minutes ago to do her rounds. That is why I let myself be caught.”

“Um, I see,” Elend said. “I’ll be calling for the guards now.”

“Don’t be a fool,” the Terriswoman said. “If I wanted to kill you, I could do it before the others got back in. Now be quiet for a moment.”

Elend stood uncomfortably as the tall woman walked around the table in a slow circle, studying him as a merchant might inspect a piece of furniture up for auction. Finally she stopped, placing her hands on her hips.

“Stand up straight,” she commanded.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re slouching,” the woman said. “A king must maintain an air of dignity at all times, even when with his friends.”

Elend frowned. “Now, while I appreciate advice, I don’t–”

“No,” the woman said. “Don’t hedge. Command.”

“Excuse me?” Elend said again.

The woman stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder and pressing his back firmly to improve his posture. She stepped back, then nodded slightly to herself.

“Now, see,” Elend said. “I don’t–”

“No,” the woman interrupted. “You must be stronger in the way that you speak. Presentation – words, actions, postures – will determine how people judge you and react to you. If you start every sentence with softness and uncertainty, you will seem soft and uncertain. Be forceful!”

“What is going on here?” Elend demanded, exasperated.

“There,” the woman said. “Finally.”

“You said that you know Sazed?” Elend asked, resisting the urge to slouch back into his earlier posture.

“He is an acquaintance,” the woman said. “My name is Tindwyl; I am, as you have guessed, a Keeper of Terris.” She tapped her foot for a moment, then shook her head. “Sazed warned me about your slovenly appearance, but I honestly assumed that no king could have such a poor sense of self-presentation.”

“Slovenly?” Elend asked. “Excuse me?”

“Stop saying that,” Tindwyl snapped. “Don’t ask questions; say what you mean. If you object, object – don’t leave your words up to my interpretation.”

“Yes, well, while this is fascinating,” Elend said, walking toward the door, “I’d rather avoid further insults this evening. If you’ll excuse me…”

“Your people think you are a fool, Elend Venture,” Tindwyl said quietly.

Elend paused.

“The Assembly – a body you yourself organized – ignores your authority. The skaa are convinced that you won’t be able to protect them. Even your own council of friends makes their plans in your absence, assuming your input to be no great loss.”

Elend closed his eyes, taking a slow, deep breath.

“You have good ideas, Elend Venture,” Tindwyl said. “Regal ideas. However, you are not a king. A man can only lead when others accept him as their leader, and he has only as much authority as his subjects give to him. All of the brilliant ideas in the world cannot save your kingdom if no one will listen to them.”

Elend turned. “This last year I’ve read every pertinent book on leadership and governance in the four libraries.”

Tindwyl raised an eyebrow. “Then, I suspect that you spent a great deal of time in your room that you should have been out, being seen by your people and learning to be a ruler.”

“Books have great value,” Elend said.

“Actions have greater value.”

“And where am I to learn the proper actions?”

“From me.”

Elend paused.

“You may know that every Keeper has an area of special interest,” Tindwyl said. “While we all memorize the same store of information, one person can only study and understand a limited amount of that store. Our mutual friend Sazed spends his time on religions.”

“And your specialty?”

“Biographies,” she said. “I have studied the lives of generals, kings, and emperors whose names you have never heard. Understanding theories of politics and leadership, Elend Venture, is not the same as understanding the lives of men who lived such principles.”

“And… you can teach me to emulate those men?”

“Perhaps,” Tindwyl said. “I haven’t yet decided whether or not you’re a hopeless case. But, I am here, so I will do what I can. A few months ago, I received a letter from Sazed, explaining your predicament. He did not ask me to come to train you – but, then, Sazed is perhaps another man who could learn to be more forceful.”

Elend nodded slowly, meeting the Terriswoman’s eyes.

“Will you accept my instruction, then?” she asked.

Elend thought for a moment. If she’s anywhere near as useful as Sazed, then… well, I could certainly use some help at this. “I will,” he said.

Tindwyl nodded. “Sazed also mentioned your humility. It could be an asset – assuming you don’t let it get in the way. Now, I believe that your Mistborn has returned.”

Elend turned toward the side window. The shutter swung open, allowing mist to begin streaming into the room and revealing a crouching, cloaked form.

“How did you know I was here?” Vin asked quietly.

Tindwyl smiled – the first such expression Elend had seen on her face. “Sazed mentioned you as well, child. You and I should speak soon in private, I think.”

Vin slipped into the room, drawing mist in behind her, then closed the shutter. She didn’t bother to hide her hostility or mistrust as she put herself between Elend and Tindwyl.

“Why are you here?” Vin demanded.

Tindwyl smiled again. “It took your king there several minutes to get to that question, and here you ask it after a few bare moments. You are an interesting couple, I think.”

Vin’s eyes narrowed.

“Regardless, I should withdraw,” Tindwyl said. “We shall speak again, I assume, Your Majesty?”

“Yes, of course,” Elend said. “Um… is there anything I should begin practicing?”

“Yes,” Tindwyl said, walking to the door. “Stop saying ‘um.’ ”

“Right.”

Ham poked his head in the door as soon as Tindwyl opened it. He immediately noticed her discarded bonds. He didn’t say anything, however; he likely assumed that Elend had freed her.

“I think we’re done for the night, everyone,” Elend said. “Ham, would you see that Mistress Tindwyl is given quarters in the palace? She’s a friend of Sazed’s.”

Ham shrugged. “All right, then.” He nodded to Vin, then withdrew. Tindwyl did not bid them good night as she left.

Vin frowned, then glanced at Elend. He seemed… distracted. “I don’t like her,” she said.

Elend smiled, stacking up the books on his table. “You don’t like anyone when you first meet them, Vin.”

“I liked you.”

“Thereby demonstrating that you are a terrible judge of character.”

Vin paused, then smiled. She walked over and began picking through the books. They weren’t typical Elend fare – far more practical than the kinds of things he usually read. “How did it go tonight?” she asked. “I didn’t have much time to listen.”

Elend sighed. He turned, sitting down on the table, looking up at the massive rose window at the back of the room. It was dark, its colors only hinted as reflections in the black glass. “It went well, I suppose.”

“I told you they’d like your plan. It’s the sort of thing they’ll find challenging.”

“I suppose,” Elend said.

Vin frowned. “All right,” she said, hopping up to stand on the table. She sat down beside him. “What is it? Is it something that woman said? What did she want, anyway?”

“Just to pass on some knowledge,” he said. “You know how Keepers are, always wanting an ear to listen to their lessons.”

“I suppose,” Vin said slowly. She hadn’t ever seen Elend depressed, but he did get discouraged. He had so many ideas, so many plans and hopes, that she sometimes wondered how he kept them all straight. She would have said that he lacked focus; Reen had always said that focus kept a thief alive. Elend’s dreams, however, were so much a part of who he was. She doubted he could discard them. She didn’t think she would want him to, for they were part of what she loved about him.

“They agreed to the plan, Vin,” Elend said, still looking up at the window. “They even seemed excited, like you said they’d be. It’s just… I can’t help thinking that their suggestion was far more rational than mine. They wanted to side with one of the armies, giving it our support in exchange for leaving me as a subjugated ruler in Luthadel.”

“That would be giving up,” Vin said.

“Sometimes, giving up is better than failing. I just committed my city to an extended siege. That will mean hunger, perhaps starvation, before this is over with.”

Vin put a hand on his shoulder, watching him uncertainly. Usually, he was the one who reassured her. “It’s still a better way,” she said. “The others probably just suggested a weaker plan because they thought you wouldn’t go along with something more daring.”

“No,” Elend said. “They weren’t pandering to me, Vin. They really thought that making a strategic alliance was a good, safe plan.” He paused, then looked at her. “Since when did that group represent the reasonable side of my government?”

“They’ve had to grow,” Vin said. “They can’t be the men they once were, not with this much responsibility.”

Elend turned back toward the window. “I’ll tell you what worries me, Vin. I’m worried that their plan wasn’t reasonable – perhaps it itself was a bit foolhardy. Perhaps making an alliance would have been a difficult enough task. If that’s the case, then what I’m proposing is just downright ludicrous.”

Vin squeezed his shoulder. “We fought the Lord Ruler.”

“You had Kelsier then.”

“Not that again.”

“I’m sorry,” Elend said. “But, really, Vin. Maybe my plan to try and hold on to the government is just arrogance. What was it you told me about your childhood? When you were in the thieving crews, and everyone was bigger, stronger, and meaner than you, what did you do? Did you stand up to the leaders?”

Memories flashed in her mind. Memories of hiding, of keeping her eyes down, of weakness.

“That was then,” she said. “You can’t let others beat on you forever. That’s what Kelsier taught me – that’s why we fought the Lord Ruler. That’s why the skaa rebellion fought the Final Empire all those years, even when there was no chance of winning. Reen taught me that the rebels were fools. But Reen is dead now – and so is the Final Empire. And…”

She leaned down, catching Elend’s eyes. “You can’t give up the city, Elend,” she said quietly. “I don’t think I’d like what that would do to you.”

Elend paused, then smiled slowly. “You can be very wise sometimes, Vin.”

“You think that?”

He nodded.

“Well,” she said, “then obviously you’re as poor a judge of character as I am.”

Elend laughed, putting his arm around her, hugging her against his side. “So, I assume the patrol tonight was uneventful?”

The mist spirit. Her fall. The chill she could still feel – if only faintly remembered – in her forearm. “It was,” she said. The last time she’d told him of the mist spirit, he’d immediately thought she’d been seeing things.

“See,” Elend said, “you should have come to the meeting; I would have liked to have had you here.”

She said nothing.

They sat for a few minutes, looking up at the dark window. There was an odd beauty to it; the colors weren’t visible because of the lack of back light, and she could instead focus on the patterns of glass. Chips, slivers, slices, and plates woven together within a framework of metal.

“Elend?” she finally said. “I’m worried.”

“I’d be concerned if you weren’t,” he said. “Those armies have me so worried that I can barely think straight.”

“No,” Vin said. “Not about that. I’m worried about other things.”

“Like what?”

“Well… I’ve been thinking about what the Lord Ruler said, right before I killed him. Do you remember?”

Elend nodded. He hadn’t been there, but she’d told him.

“He talked about what he’d done for mankind,” Vin said. “He saved us, the stories say. From the Deepness.”

Elend nodded.

“But,” Vin said, “what was the Deepness? You were a nobleman – religion wasn’t forbidden to you. What did the Ministry teach about the Deepness and the Lord Ruler?”

Elend shrugged. “Not much, really. Religion wasn’t forbidden, but it wasn’t encouraged either. There was something proprietary about the Ministry, an air that implied they would take care of religious things – that we didn’t need to worry ourselves.”

“But they did teach you about some things, right?”

Elend nodded. “Mostly, they talked about why the nobility were privileged and the skaa cursed. I guess they wanted us to understand how fortunate we were – though honestly, I always found the teachings a little disturbing. See, they claimed that we were noble because our ancestors supported the Lord Ruler before the Ascension. But, that means that we were privileged because of what other people had done. Not really fair, eh?”

Vin shrugged. “Fair as anything else, I guess.”

“But, didn’t you get angry?” Elend said. “Didn’t it frustrate you that the nobility had so much while you had so little?”

“I didn’t think about it,” Vin said. “The nobility had a lot, so we could take it from them. Why should I care how they got it? Sometimes, when I had food, other thieves beat me and took it. What did it matter how I got my food? It was still taken from me.”

Elend paused. “You know, sometimes I wonder what the political theorists I’ve read would say if they met you. I have a feeling they’d throw up their hands in frustration.”

She poked him in the side. “Enough politics. Tell me about the Deepness.”

“Well, I think it was a creature of some sort – a dark and evil thing that nearly destroyed the world. The Lord Ruler traveled to the Well of Ascension, where he was given the power to defeat the Deepness and unite mankind. There are several statues in the city depicting the event.”

Vin frowned. “Yes, but they never really show what the Deepness looked like. It’s depicted as a twisted lump at the Lord Ruler’s feet.”

“Well, the last person who actually saw the Deepness died a year ago, so I guess we’ll have to make do with the statues.”

“Unless it comes back,” Vin said quietly.

Elend frowned, looking at her again. “Is that what this is about, Vin?” His face softened slightly. “Two armies aren’t enough? You have to worry about the fate of the world as well?”

Vin glanced down sheepishly, and Elend laughed, pulling her close. “Ah, Vin. I know you’re a bit paranoid – honestly, considering our situation, I’m starting to feel the same – but I think this is one problem you don’t have to worry about. I haven’t heard any reports of monstrous incarnations of evil rampaging across the land.”

Vin nodded, and Elend leaned back a bit, obviously assuming that he’d answered her question.

The Hero of Ages traveled to the Well of Ascension to defeat the Deepness, she thought. But the prophecies all said that the Hero shouldn’t take the Well’s power for himself. He was supposed to give it, trust in the power itself to destroy the Deepness.

Rashek didn’t do that – he took the power for himself. Wouldn’t that mean that the Deepness was never defeated? Why, then, wasn’t the world destroyed?

“The red sun and brown plants,” Vin said. “Did the Deepness do that?”

“Still thinking about that?” Elend frowned. “Red sun and brown plants? What other colors would they be?”

“Kelsier said that the sun was once yellow, and plants were green.”

“That’s an odd image.”

“Sazed agrees with Kelsier,” Vin said. “The legends all say that during the early days of the Lord Ruler, the sun changed colors, and ash began to fall from the skies.”

“Well,” Elend said, “I guess the Deepness could have had something to do with it. I don’t know, honestly.” He sat musingly for a few moments. “Green plants? Why not purple or blue? So odd…”

The Hero of Ages traveled north, to the Well of Ascension, Vin thought again. She turned slightly, her eyes drawn toward the Terris mountains so far away. Was it still up there? The Well of Ascension?

“Did you have any luck getting information out of OreSeur?” Elend asked. “Anything to help us find the spy?”

Vin shrugged. “He told me that kandra can’t use Allomancy.”

“So, you can find our impostor that way?” Elend said, perking up.

“Maybe,” Vin said. “I can test Spook and Ham, at least. Regular people will be more difficult – though kandra can’t be Soothed, so maybe that will let me find the spy.”

“That sounds promising,” Elend said.

Vin nodded. The thief in her, the paranoid girl that Elend always teased, itched to use Allomancy on him – to test him, to see if he reacted to her Pushes and Pulls. She stopped herself. This one man she would trust. The others she would test, but she would not question Elend. In a way, she’d rather trust him and be wrong than deal with the worry of mistrust.

I finally understand, she thought with a start. Kelsier. I understand what it was like for you with Mare. I won’t make your same mistake.

Elend was looking at her.

“What?” she asked.

“You’re smiling,” he said. “Do I get to hear the joke?”

She hugged him. “No,” she said simply.

Elend smiled. “All right then. You can test Spook and Ham, but I’m pretty sure the impostor isn’t one of the crew – I talked to them all today, and they were all themselves. We need to search the palace staff.”

He doesn’t know how good kandra can be. The enemy kandra had probably studied his victim for months and months, learning and memorizing their every mannerism.

“I’ve spoken to Ham and Demoux,” Elend said. “As members of the palace guard, they know about the bones – and Ham was able to guess what they were. Hopefully, they can sort through the staff with minimal disturbance and locate the impostor.”

Vin’s senses itched at how trusting Elend was. No, she thought. Let him assume the best. He has enough to worry about. Besides, perhaps the kandra is imitating someone outside our core team. Elend can search that avenue.

And, if the impostor is a member of the crew… Well, that’s the sort of situation where my paranoia comes in handy.

“Anyway,” Elend said, standing. “I have a few things to check on before it gets too late.”

Vin nodded. He gave her a long kiss, then left. She sat on the table for a few moments longer, not looking at the massive rose window, but at the smaller window to the side, which she’d left slightly open. It stood, a doorway into the night. Mist churned in the blackness, tentatively sending tendrils into the room, evaporating quietly in the warmth.

“I will not fear you,” Vin whispered. “And I will find your secret.” She climbed off the table and slipped out the window, back out to meet with OreSeur and do another check of the palace grounds.

15

ON THE EIGHTH DAY OUT of the Conventical, Sazed awoke to find himself alone.

He stood, pushing off his blanket and the light film of ash that had fallen during the night. Marsh’s place beneath the tree’s canopy was empty, though a patch of bare earth indicated where the Inquisitor had slept.

Sazed stood, following Marsh’s footsteps out into the harsh red sunlight. The ash was deeper here, without the cover of trees, and there was also more wind blowing it into drifts. Sazed regarded the windswept landscape. There was no further sign of Marsh.

Sazed returned to camp. The trees here – in the middle of the Eastern Dominance – rose twisted and knotted, but they had shelflike, overlapping branches, thick with brown needles. These provided decent shelter, though the ash seemed capable of infiltrating any sanctuary.

Sazed made a simple soup for breakfast. Marsh did not return. Sazed washed his brown travel robes in a nearby stream. Marsh did not return. Sazed sewed a rent in his sleeve, oiled his walking boots, and shaved his head. Marsh did not return. Sazed got out the rubbing he’d made in the Conventical, transcribed a few words, then forced himself to put the sheet away – he worried about blurring the words by opening it too often or by getting ash on it. Better to wait until he could have a proper desk and clean room.

Marsh did not return.

Finally, Sazed left. He couldn’t define the sense of urgency that he felt – part excitement to share what he had learned, part desire to see how Vin and the young king Elend Venture were handling events in Luthadel.

Marsh knew the way. He would catch up.

Sazed raised his hand, shading his eyes against the red sunlight, looking down from his hilltop vantage. There was a slight darkness on the horizon, to the east of the main road. He tapped his geography coppermind, seeking out descriptions of the Eastern Dominance.

The knowledge swelled his mind, blessing him with recollection. The darkness was a village named Urbene. He searched through one of his indexes, looking for the right gazetteer. The index was growing fuzzy, its information difficult to remember – which meant that he’d switched it from coppermind to memory and back too many times. Knowledge inside a coppermind would remain pristine, but anything inside his head – even for only a few moments – would decay. He’d have to re-memorize the index later.

He found what he was looking for, and dumped the right memories into his head. The gazetteer listed Urbene as “picturesque,” which probably meant that some important nobleman had decided to make his manor there. The listing said that the skaa of Urbene were herdsmen.

Sazed scribbled a note to himself, then redeposited the gazetteer’s memories. Reading the note told him what he had just forgotten. Like the index, the gazetteer memories had inevitably decayed slightly during their stay in his head. Fortunately, he had a second set of copperminds hidden back up in Terris, and would use those to pass his knowledge on to another Keeper. His current copperminds were for everyday use. Unapplied knowledge benefited no one.

He shouldered his pack. A visit to the village would do him some good, even if it slowed him down. His stomach agreed with the decision. It was unlikely the peasants would have much in the way of food, but perhaps they would be able to provide something other than broth. Besides, they might have news of events at Luthadel.

He hiked down the short hill, taking the smaller, eastern fork in the road. Once, there had been little travel in the Final Empire. The Lord Ruler had forbidden skaa to leave their indentured lands, and only thieves and rebels had dared disobey. Still, most of the nobility had made their livings by trading, so a village such as this one might be accustomed to visitors.

Sazed began to notice the oddities immediately. Goats roamed the countryside along the road, unwatched. Sazed paused, then dug a coppermind from his pack. He searched through it as he walked. One book on husbandry claimed that herdsmen sometimes left their flocks alone to graze. Yet, the unwatched animals made him nervous. He quickened his pace.

Just to the south, the skaa starve, he thought. Yet here, livestock is so plentiful that nobody can be spared to keep it safe from bandits or predators?

The small village appeared in the distance. Sazed could almost convince himself that the lack of activity – the lack of movement in the streets, the derelict doors and shutters swinging in the breeze – was due to his approach. Perhaps the people were so scared that they were hiding. Or, perhaps they simply were all out. Tending flocks…

Sazed stopped. A shift in the wind brought a telltale scent from the village. The skaa weren’t hiding, and they hadn’t fled. It was the scent of rotting bodies.

Suddenly urgent, Sazed pulled out a small ring – a scent tinmind – and slipped it on his thumb. The smell on the wind, it didn’t seem like that of a slaughter. It was a mustier, dirtier smell. A smell not only of death, but of corruption, unwashed bodies, and waste. He reversed the use of the tinmind, filling it instead of tapping it, and his ability to smell grew very weak – keeping him from gagging.

He continued on, carefully entering the village proper. Like most skaa villages, Urbene was organized simply. It had a group of ten large hovels built in a loose circle with a well at the center. The buildings were wood, and for thatching they used the same needle-bearing branches from the trees he’d seen. Overseers’ huts, along with a fine nobleman’s manor, stood a little farther up the valley.

If it hadn’t been for the smell – and the sense of haunted emptiness – Sazed might have agreed with his gazetteer’s description of Urbene. For skaa residences, the hovels looked well maintained, and the village lay in a quiet hollow amid the rising landscape.

It wasn’t until he got a little closer that he found the first bodies. They lay scattered around the doorway to the nearest hovel, about a half-dozen of them. Sazed approached carefully, but could quickly see that the corpses were at least several days old. He knelt beside the first one, that of a woman, and could see no visible cause of death. The others were the same.

Nervous, Sazed forced himself to reach up and pull open the door to the hovel. The stench from inside was so strong that he could smell it through his tinmind.

The hovel, like most, was only a single chamber. It was filled with bodies. Most lay wrapped in thin blankets; some sat with backs pressed up against the walls, rotting heads hanging limply from their necks. They had gaunt, nearly fleshless bodies with withered limbs and protruding ribs. Haunted, unseeing eyes sat in desiccated faces.

These people had died of starvation and dehydration.

Sazed stumbled from the hovel, head bowed. He didn’t expect to find anything different in the other buildings, but he checked anyway. He saw the same scene repeated again and again. Woundless corpses on the ground outside; many more bodies huddled inside. Flies buzzing about in swarms, covering faces. In several of the buildings he found gnawed human bones at the center of the room.

He stumbled out of the final hovel, breathing deeply through his mouth. Dozens of people, over a hundred total, dead for no obvious reason. What possibly could have caused so many of them to simply sit, hidden in their houses, while they ran out of food and water? How could they have starved when there were beasts running free? And what had killed those that he’d found outside, lying in the ash? They didn’t seem as emaciated as the ones inside, though from the level of decomposition, it was difficult to tell.

I must be mistaken about the starvation, Sazed told himself. It must have been a plague of some sort, a disease. That is a much more logical explanation. He searched through his medical coppermind. Surely there were diseases that could strike quickly, leaving their victims weakened. And the survivors must have fled. Leaving behind their loved ones. Not taking any of the animals from their pastures…

Sazed frowned. At that moment, he thought he heard something.

He spun, drawing auditory power from his hearing tinmind. The sounds were there – the sound of breathing, the sound of movement, coming from one of the hovels he’d visited. He dashed forward, throwing open the door, looking again on the sorry dead. The corpses lay where they had been before. Sazed studied them very carefully, this time watching until he found the one whose chest was moving.

By the forgotten gods… Sazed thought. The man didn’t need to work hard to feign death. His hair had fallen out, and his eyes were sunken into his face. Though he didn’t look particularly starved, Sazed must have missed seeing him because of his dirty, almost corpselike body.

Sazed stepped toward the man. “I am a friend,” he said quietly. The man remained motionless. Sazed frowned as he walked forward and laid a hand on the man’s shoulder.

The man’s eyes snapped open, and he cried out, jumping to his feet. Dazed and frenzied, he scrambled over corpses, moving to the back of the room. He huddled down, staring at Sazed.

“Please,” Sazed said, setting down his pack. “You mustn’t be afraid.” The only food he had besides broth spices was a few handfuls of meal, but he pulled some out. “I have food.”

The man shook his head. “There is no food,” he whispered. “We ate it all. Except… the food.” His eyes darted toward the center of the room. Toward the bones Sazed had noticed earlier. Uncooked, gnawed on, placed in a pile beneath a ragged cloth, as if to hide them.

“I didn’t eat the food,” the man whispered.

“I know,” Sazed said, taking a step forward. “But, there is other food. Outside.”

“Can’t go outside.”

“Why not?”

The man paused, then looked down. “Mist.”

Sazed glanced toward the doorway. The sun was nearing the horizon, but wouldn’t set for another hour or so. There was no mist. Not now, anyway.

Sazed felt a chill. He slowly turned back toward the man. “Mist… during the day?”

The man nodded.

“And it stayed?” Sazed asked. “It didn’t go away after a few hours?”

The man shook his head. “Days. Weeks. All mist.”

Lord Ruler! Sazed thought, then caught himself. It had been a long time since he’d sworn by that creature’s name, even in his thoughts.

But for the mist to come during the day, then to stay – if this man were to be believed – for weeks… Sazed could imagine the skaa, frightened in their hovels, a thousand years of terror, tradition, and superstition keeping them from venturing outside.

But to remain inside until they starved? Even their fear of the mist, deep-seated though it was, wouldn’t have been enough to make them starve themselves to death, would it?

“Why didn’t you leave?” Sazed asked quietly.

“Some did,” the man said, nodding as if to himself. “Jell. You know what happened to him.”

Sazed frowned. “Dead?”

“Taken by the mist. Oh, how he shook. Was a bull-headed one, you know. Old Jell. Oh, how he shook. How he writhed when it took him.”

Sazed closed his eyes. The corpses I found outside the doors.

“Some got away,” the man said.

Sazed snapped his eyes open. “What?”

The crazed villager nodded again. “Some got away, you know. They called to us, after leaving the village. Said it was all right. It didn’t take them. Don’t know why. It killed others, though. Some, it shook to the ground, but they got up later. Some it killed.”

“The mist let some survive, but it killed others?”

The man didn’t answer. He’d sat down, and now he lay back, staring unfocused at the ceiling.

“Please,” Sazed said. “You must answer me. Who did it kill and who did it let pass? What is the connection?”

The man turned toward him. “Time for food,” he said, then rose. He wandered over to a corpse, then pulled on an arm, ripping the rotted meat free. It was easy to see why he hadn’t starved to death like the others.

Sazed pushed aside nausea, striding across the room and grabbing the man’s arm as he raised the near fleshless bone to his lips. The man froze, then looked up at Sazed. “It’s not mine!” he yelped, dropping the bone and running to the back of the room.

Sazed stood for a moment. I must hurry. I must get to Luthadel. There is more wrong with this world than bandits and armies.

The wild man watched with a feral sort of terror as Sazed picked up his pack, then paused and set it down again. He pulled out his largest pewtermind. He fastened the wide metal bracer to his forearm, then turned and walked toward the villager.

“No!” the man screamed, trying to dash to the side. Sazed tapped the pewtermind, pulling out a burst of strength. He felt his muscles enlarge, his robes growing tight. He snatched the villager as the man ran passed, then held him out, far enough away that the man couldn’t do either of them much harm.

Then he carried the man outside of the building.

The man stopped struggling as soon as they emerged into the sunlight. He looked up, as if seeing the sun for the first time. Sazed set him down, then released his pewtermind.

The man knelt, looking up at the sun, then turned to Sazed. “The Lord Ruler… why did he abandon us? Why did he go?”

“The Lord Ruler was a tyrant.”

The man shook his head. “He loved us. He ruled us. Now that he’s gone, the mists can kill us. They hate us.”

Then, surprisingly adroit, the man leaped to his feet and scrambled down the pathway out of the village. Sazed took a step forward, but paused. What would he do? Pull the man all the way to Luthadel? There was water in the well and there were animals to eat. Sazed could only hope that the poor wretch would be able to manage.

Sighing, Sazed returned to the hovel and retrieved his pack. On his way out, he paused, then pulled out one of his steelminds. Steel held one of the very most difficult attributes to store up: physical speed. He had spent months filling this particular steelmind in preparation for the possibility that someday he might need to run somewhere very, very quickly.

He put it on now.

16

VIN RARELY USED HER QUARTERS. Elend had assigned her spacious rooms – which was, perhaps, part of the problem. She’d spent her childhood sleeping in nooks, lairs, or alleys. Having three separate chambers was a bit daunting.

It didn’t really matter, however. During her time awake she was with either Elend or the mists. Her rooms existed for her to sleep in. Or, in this case, for her to make a mess in.

She sat on the floor in the center of her main chamber. Elend’s steward, concerned that Vin didn’t have any furniture, had insisted on decorating her rooms. This morning, Vin had pushed some of this aside, bunching up rugs and chairs on one side so that she could sit on the cool stones with her book.

It was the first real book she had ever owned, though it was just a collection of pages bound loosely at one side. That suited her just fine; the simple binding had made the book that much easier to pull apart.

She sat amid stacks of paper. It was amazing how many pages there were in the book, once she had separated them. Vin sat next to one pile, looking over its contents. She shook her head, then crawled over to another pile. She leafed through the pages, eventually selecting one.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m going mad, the words read. Perhaps it is due to the pressure of knowing that I must somehow bear the burden of an entire world. Perhaps it is caused by the death I have seen, the friends I have lost. The friends I have been forced to kill.

Either way, I sometimes see shadows following me. Dark creatures that I don’t understand, nor do I wish to understand. They are, perhaps, some figment of my overtaxed mind?

Vin sat for a moment, rereading the paragraphs. Then she moved the sheet over to another pile. OreSeur lay on the side of the room, head on paws, eyeing her. “Mistress,” he said as she set down the page, “I have been watching you work for the last two hours, and will admit that I am thoroughly confused. What is the point of all this?”

Vin crawled over to another stack of pages. “I thought you didn’t care how I spent my time.”

“I don’t,” OreSeur said. “But I do get bored.”

“And annoyed, apparently.”

“I like to understand what is going on around me.”

Vin shrugged, gesturing toward the stacks of paper. “This is the Lord Ruler’s logbook. Well, actually, it’s not the logbook of the Lord Ruler we knew, but the logbook of the man who should have been the Lord Ruler.”

“Should have been?” OreSeur asked. “You mean he should have conquered the world, but didn’t?”

“No,” Vin said. “I mean he should have been the one who took the power at the Well of Ascension. This man, the man who wrote this book – we don’t actually know his name – was some kind of prophesied hero. Or… everyone thought he was. Anyway, the man who became the Lord Ruler – Rashek – was this hero’s packman. Don’t you remember us talking about this, back when you were imitating Renoux?”

OreSeur nodded. “I recall you briefly mentioning it.”

“Well, this is the book Kelsier and I found when we infiltrated the Lord Ruler’s palace. We thought it was written by the Lord Ruler, but it turns out it was written by the man the Lord Ruler killed, the man whose place he took.”

“Yes, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “Now, why exactly are you tearing it to pieces?”

“I’m not,” Vin said. “I just took off the binding so I could move the pages around. It helps me think.”

“I… see,” OreSeur said. “And, what exactly are you looking for? The Lord Ruler is dead, Mistress. Last I checked, you killed him.”

What am I looking for? Vin thought, picking up another page. Ghosts in the mist.

She read the words on this page slowly.

It isn’t a shadow.

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 black fog.

Or mist, perhaps.

Vin lowered the page. It watched him, too, she thought. She remembered reading the words over a year before, thinking that the Hero must have started to go mad. With all the pressures on him, who would have been surprised?

Now, however, she thought she understood the nameless logbook author better. She knew he was not the Lord Ruler, and could see him for what he might have been. Uncertain of his place in the world, but forced into important events. Determined to do the best he could. Idealistic, in a way.

And the mist spirit had chased him. What did it mean? What did seeing it imply for her?

She crawled over to another pile of pages. She’d spent the morning scanning through the logbook for clues about the mist creature. However, she was having trouble digging out much beyond these two, familiar passages.

She made piles of pages that mentioned anything strange or supernatural. She made a small pile with pages that referenced the mist spirit. She also had a special pile for references to the Deepness. This last one, ironically, was both the largest and least informative of the group. The logbook author had a habit of mentioning the Deepness, but not saying much about it.

The Deepness was dangerous, that much was clear. It had ravaged the land, slaying thousands. The monster had sown chaos wherever it stepped, bringing destruction and fear, but the armies of mankind had been unable to defeat it. Only the Terris prophecies and the Hero of Ages had offered any hope.

If only he had been more specific! Vin thought with frustration, riffling papers. However, the tone of the logbook really was more melancholy than it was informative. It was something that the Hero had written for himself, to stay sane, to let him put his fears and hopes down on paper. Elend said he wrote for similar reasons, sometimes. To Vin, it seemed a silly method of dealing with problems.

With a sigh, she turned to the last stack of papers – the one with pages she had yet to study. She lay down on the stone floor and began to read, searching for useful information.

It took time. Not only was she a slow reader, but her mind kept wandering. She’d read the logbook before – and, oddly, hints and phrases from it reminded her of where she’d been at the time. Two years and a world away in Fellise, still recovering from her near death at the hands of a Steel Inquisitor, she’d been forced to spend her days pretending to be Valette Renoux, a young, inexperienced country noblewoman.

Back then, she still hadn’t believed in Kelsier’s plan to overthrow the Final Empire. She’d stayed with the crew because she valued the strange things they offered her – friendship, trust, and lessons in Allomancy – not because she accepted their goals. She would never have guessed where that would lead her. To balls and parties, to actually growing – just a bit – to become the noblewoman she had pretended to be.

But that had been a farce, a few months of make-believe. She forced her thoughts away from the frilly clothing and the dances. She needed to focus on practical matters.

And… is this practical? she thought idly, setting a page in one of the stacks. Studying things I barely comprehend, fearing a threat nobody else even cares to notice?

She sighed, folding her arms under her chin as she lay on her stomach. What was she really worried about? That the Deepness would return? All she had were a few phantom visions in the mist – things that could, as Elend implied, have easily been fabricated by her overworked mind. More important was another question. Assuming that the Deepness was real, what did she expect to do about it? She was no hero, general, or leader.

Oh, Kelsier, she thought, picking up another page. We could use you now. Kelsier had been a man beyond convention… a man who had somehow been able to defy reality. He’d thought that by giving his life to overthrow the Lord Ruler, he would secure freedom for the skaa. But, what if his sacrifice had opened the way for a greater danger, something so destructive that the Lord Ruler’s oppression was a preferable alternative?

She finally finished the page, then placed it in the stack of those that contained no useful information. Then she paused. She couldn’t even remember what she’d just read. She sighed, picking the page back up, looking at it again. How did Elend do it? He could study the same books over and over again. But, for Vin, it was hard to–

She paused.

I must assume that I am not mad, the words said. I cannot, with any rational sense of confidence, continue my quest if I do not believe this. The thing following me must, therefore, be real.

She sat up. She only vaguely remembered this section of the logbook. The book was organized like a diary, with sequential – but dateless – entries. It had a tendency to ramble, and the Hero had been fond of droning on about his insecurities. This section had been particularly dry.

But there, in the middle of his complaining, was a tidbit of information.

I believe that it would kill me, if it could, the text continued.

There is an evil feel to the thing of shadow and fog, and my skin recoils at its touch. Yet, it seems limited in what it can do, especially to me.

It can affect this world, however. The knife it placed in Fedik’s chest proves that much. I’m still not certain which was more traumatic for him – the wound itself, or seeing the thing that did it to him.

Rashek whispers that I stabbed Fedik myself, for only Fedik and I can give witness to that night’s events. However, I must make a decision. I must determine that I am not mad. The alternative is to admit that it was I who held that knife.

Somehow, knowing Rashek’s opinion on the matter makes it much easier for me to believe the opposite.

The next page continued on about Rashek, and the next several entries contained no mention of the mist spirit. However, Vin found even these few paragraphs exciting.

He made a decision, she thought. I have to make the same one. She’d never worried that she was mad, but she had sensed some logic in Elend’s words. Now she rejected them. The mist spirit was not some delusion brought on by a mixture of stress and memories of the logbook. It was real.

That didn’t mean the Deepness was returning, nor did it mean that Luthadel was in any sort of supernatural danger. Both, however, were possibilities.

She set this page with the two others that contained concrete information about the mist spirit, then turned back to her studies, determined to pay closer attention to her reading.

The armies were digging in.

Elend watched from atop the wall as his plan, vague though it was, began to take form. Straff was making a defensive perimeter to the north, holding the canal route back a relatively short distance to Urteau, his home city and capital. Cett was digging in to the west of the city, holding the Luth-Davn Canal, which ran back to his cannery in Haverfrex.

A cannery. That was something Elend wished he had in the city. The technology was newer – perhaps fifty years old – but he’d read of it. The scholars had considered its main use that of providing easily carried supplies for soldiers fighting at the fringes of the empire. They hadn’t considered stockpiles for sieges – particularly in Luthadel. But, then, who would have?

Even as Elend watched, patrols began to move out from the separate armies. Some moved to watch the boundaries between the two forces, but others moved to secure other canal routes, bridges across the River Channerel, and roads leading away from Luthadel. In a remarkably short time, the city felt completely surrounded. Cut off from the world, and the rest of Elend’s small kingdom. No more moving in or out. The armies were counting on disease, starvation, and other weakening factors to bring Elend to his knees.

The siege of Luthadel had begun.

That’s a good thing, he told himself. For this plan to work, they have to think me desperate. They have to be so sure that I’m willing to side with them, that they don’t consider that I might be working with their enemies, too.

As Elend watched, he noticed someone climbing up the steps to the wall. Clubs. The general hobbled over to Elend, who had been standing alone. “Congratulations,” Clubs said. “Looks like you now have a full-blown siege on your hands.”

“Good.”

“It’ll give us a little breathing room, I guess,” Clubs said. Then he eyed Elend with one of his gnarled looks. “You’d better be up to this, kid.”

“I know,” Elend whispered.

“You’ve made yourself the focal point,” Clubs said. “The Assembly can’t break this siege until you meet officially with Straff, and the kings aren’t likely to meet with anyone on the crew other than yourself. This is all about you. Useful place for a king to be, I suppose. If he’s a good one.”

Clubs fell silent. Elend stood, looking out over the separate armies. The words spoken to him by Tindwyl the Terriswoman still bothered him. You are a fool, Elend Venture…

So far, neither of the kings had responded to Elend’s requests for a meeting – though the crew was sure that they soon would. His enemies would wait, to make Elend sweat a bit. The Assembly had just called another meeting, probably to try and bully him into releasing them from their earlier proposal. Elend had found a convenient reason to skip the meeting.

He looked at Clubs. “And am I a good king, Clubs? In your opinion.”

The general glanced at him, and Elend saw a harsh wisdom in his eyes. “I’ve known worse leaders,” he said. “But I’ve also known a hell of a lot better.”

Elend nodded slowly. “I want to be good at this, Clubs. Nobody else is going to look after the skaa like they deserve. Cett, Straff. They’d just make slaves of the people again. I… I want to be more than my ideas, though. I want to – need to – be a man that others can look to.”

Clubs shrugged. “My experience has been that the man is usually made by the situation. Kelsier was a selfish dandy until the Pits nearly broke him.” He glanced at Elend. “Will this siege be your Pits of Hathsin, Elend Venture?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly.

“Then we’ll have to wait and see, I guess. For now, someone wants to speak with you.” He turned, nodding down toward the street some forty feet below, where a tall, feminine figure stood in colorful Terris robes.

“She told me to send you down,” Clubs said. He paused, then glanced at Elend. “It isn’t often you meet someone who feels like they can order me around. And a Terriswoman at that. I thought those Terris were all docile and kindly.”

Elend smiled. “I guess Sazed spoiled us.”

Clubs snorted. “So much for a thousand years of breeding, eh?”

Elend nodded.

“You sure she’s safe?” Clubs asked.

“Yes,” Elend said. “Her story checks out – Vin brought in several of the Terris people from the city, and they knew and recognized Tindwyl. She’s apparently a fairly important person back in her homeland.”

Plus, she had performed Feruchemy for him, growing stronger to free her hands. That meant she wasn’t a kandra. All of it together meant that she was trustworthy enough; even Vin admitted that, even if she continued to dislike the Terriswoman.

Clubs nodded to him, and Elend took a deep breath. Then he walked down the stairs to meet Tindwyl for another round of lessons.

“Today, we will do something about your clothing,” Tindwyl said, closing the door to Elend’s study. A plump seamstress with bowl-cut white hair waited inside, standing respectfully with a group of youthful assistants.

Elend glanced down at his clothing. It actually wasn’t bad. The suit coat and vest fit fairly well. The trousers weren’t as stiff as those favored by imperial nobility, but he was the king now; shouldn’t he be able to set the trends?

“I don’t see what’s wrong with it,” he said. He held up a hand as Tindwyl began to speak. “I know it’s not quite as formal as what other men like to wear, but it suits me.”

“It’s disgraceful,” Tindwyl said.

“Now, I hardly see–”

“Don’t argue with me.”

“But, see, the other day you said that–”

“Kings don’t argue, Elend Venture,” Tindwyl said firmly. “They command. And, part of your ability to command comes from your bearing. Slovenly clothing invites other slovenly habits – such as your posture, which I’ve already mentioned, I believe.”

Elend sighed, rolling his eyes as Tindwyl snapped her fingers. The seamstress and her assistants started unpacking a pair of large trunks.

“This isn’t necessary,” Elend said. “I already have some suits that fit more snugly; I wear them on formal occasions.”

“You’re not going to wear suits anymore,” Tindwyl said.

“Excuse me?”

Tindwyl eyed him with a commanding stare, and Elend sighed.

“Explain yourself!” he said, trying to sound commanding.

Tindwyl nodded. “You have maintained the dress code preferred by the nobility sanctioned by the Final Emperor. In some respects, this was a good idea – it gave you a connection to the former government, and made you seem less of a deviant. Now, however, you are in a different position. Your people are in danger, and the time for simple diplomacy is over. You are at war. Your dress should reflect that.”

The seamstress selected a particular costume, then brought it over to Elend while the assistants set up a changing screen.

Elend hesitantly accepted the costume. It was stiff and white, and the front of the jacket appeared to button all the way up to a rigid collar. All and all, it looked like…

“A uniform,” he said, frowning.

“Indeed,” Tindwyl said. “You want your people to believe that you can protect them? Well, a king isn’t simply a lawmaker – he’s a general. It is time you began to act like you deserve your title, Elend Venture.”

“I’m no warrior,” Elend said. “This uniform is a lie.”

“The first point we will soon change,” Tindwyl said. “The second is not true. You command the armies of the Central Dominance. That makes you a military man whether or not you know how to swing a sword. Now, go change.”

Elend acceded with a shrug. He walked around the changing screen, pushed aside a stack of books to make room, then began to change. The white trousers fit snugly and fell straight around the calves. While there was a shirt, it was completely obscured by the large, stiff jacket – which had military shoulder fittings. It had an array of buttons – all of which, he noticed, were wood instead of metal – as well as a strange shieldlike design over the right breast. It seemed to have some sort of arrow, or perhaps spear, emblazoned in it.

Stiffness, cut, and design considered, Elend was surprised how well the uniform fit. “It’s sized quite well,” he noted, putting on the belt, then pulling down the bottom of the jacket, which came all the way to his hips.

“We got your measurements from your tailor,” Tindwyl said.

Elend stepped around the changing screen, and several assistants approached. One politely motioned for him to step into a pair of shiny black boots, and the other attached a white cape to fastenings at his shoulders. The final assistant handed him a polished hardwood dueling cane and sheath. Elend hooked it onto the belt, then pulled it through a slit in the jacket so it hung outside; that much, at least, he had done before.

“Good,” Tindwyl said, looking him up and down. “Once you learn to stand up straight, that will be a decent improvement. Now, sit.”

Elend opened his mouth to object, but thought better of it. He sat down, and an assistant approached to attach a sheet around his shoulders. She then pulled out a pair of shears.

“Now, wait,” Elend said. “I see where this is going.”

“Then voice an objection,” Tindwyl said. “Don’t be vague!”

“All right, then,” Elend said. “I like my hair.”

“Short hair is easier to care for than long hair,” Tindwyl said. “And you have proven that you cannot be trusted in the area of personal grooming.”

“You aren’t cutting my hair,” Elend said firmly.

Tindwyl paused, then nodded. The apprentice backed away, and Elend stood, pulling off the sheet. The seamstress produced a large mirror, and Elend walked forward to inspect himself.

And froze.

The difference was surprising. All his life, he’d seen himself as a scholar and socialite, but also as just a bit of a fool. He was Elend – the friendly, comfortable man with the funny ideas. Easy to dismiss, perhaps, but difficult to hate.

The man he saw now was no dandy of the court. He was a serious man – a formal man. A man to be taken seriously. The uniform made him want to stand up straighter, to rest one hand on the dueling cane. His hair – slightly curled, long on the top and sides, and blown loose by the wind atop the city wall – didn’t fit.

Elend turned. “All right,” he said. “Cut it.”

Tindwyl smiled, then nodded for him to sit. He did so, waiting quietly while the assistant worked. When he stood again, his head matched the suit. It wasn’t extremely short, not like Ham’s hair, but it was neat and precise. One of the assistants approached and handed him a loop of silver-painted wood. He turned to Tindwyl, frowning.

“A crown?” he asked.

“Nothing ostentatious,” Tindwyl said. “This is a more subtle era than some of those gone by. The crown isn’t a symbol of your wealth, but of your authority. You will wear it from now on, whether you are in private or in public.”

“The Lord Ruler didn’t wear a crown.”

“The Lord Ruler didn’t need to remind people that he was in charge,” Tindwyl said.

Elend paused, then slipped on the crown. It bore no gemstones or ornamentation; it was just a simple coronet. As he might have expected, it fit perfectly.

He turned back toward Tindwyl, who waved for the seamstress to pack up and leave. “You have six uniforms like this one waiting for you in your rooms,” Tindwyl said. “Until this siege is over, you will wear nothing else. If you want variety, change the color of the cape.”

Elend nodded. Behind him, the seamstress and her assistants slipped out the door. “Thank you,” he told Tindwyl. “I was hesitant at first, but you are right. This makes a difference.”

“Enough of one to deceive people for now, at least,” Tindwyl said.

“Deceive people?”

“Of course. You didn’t think that this was it, did you?”

“Well…”

Tindwyl raised an eyebrow. “A few lessons, and you think you’re through? We’ve barely begun. You are still a fool, Elend Venture – you just don’t look like one anymore. Hopefully, our charade will begin reversing some of the damage you’ve done to your reputation. However, it is going to take a lot more training before I’ll actually trust you to interact with people and not embarrass yourself.”

Elend flushed. “What do you–” He paused. “Tell me what you plan to teach me, then.”

“Well, you need to learn how to walk, for one thing.”

“Something’s wrong with the way I walk?”

“By the forgotten gods, yes!” Tindwyl said, sounding amused, though no smile marred her lips. “And your speech patterns still need work. Beyond that, of course, there is your inability to handle weapons.”

“I’ve had some training,” Elend said. “Ask Vin – I rescued her from the Lord Ruler’s palace the night of the Collapse!”

“I know,” Tindwyl said. “And, from what I’ve heard, it was a miracle you survived. Fortunately, the girl was there to do the actual fighting. You apparently rely on her quite a bit for that sort of thing.”

“She’s Mistborn.”

“That is no excuse for your slovenly lack of skill,” Tindwyl said. “You cannot always rely on your woman to protect you. Not only is it embarrassing, but your people – your soldiers – will expect you to be able to fight with them. I doubt you will ever be the type of leader who can lead a charge against the enemy, but you should at least be able to handle yourself if your position gets attacked.”

“So, you want me to begin sparring with Vin and Ham during their training sessions?”

“Goodness, no! Can’t you imagine how terrible it would be for morale if the men saw you being beaten up in public?” Tindwyl shook her head. “No, we’ll have you trained discreetly by a dueling master. Given a few months, we should have you competent with the cane and the sword. Hopefully, this little siege of yours will last that long before the fighting starts.”

Elend flushed again. “You keep talking down to me. It’s like I’m not even king in your eyes – like you see me as some kind of placeholder.”

Tindwyl didn’t answer, but her eyes glinted with satisfaction. You said it, not I, her expression seemed to say.

Elend flushed more deeply.

“You can, perhaps, learn to be a king, Elend Venture,” Tindwyl said. “Until then, you’ll just have to learn to fake it.”

Elend’s angry response was cut off by a knock at the door. Elend gritted his teeth, turning. “Come in.”

The door swung open. “There’s news,” Captain Demoux said, his youthful face excited as he entered. “I–” He froze.

Elend cocked his head. “Yes?”

“I… uh…” Demoux paused, looked Elend over again before continuing. “Ham sent me, Your Majesty. He says that a messenger from one of the kings has arrived.”

“Really?” Elend said. “From Lord Cett?”

“No, Your Majesty. The messenger is from your father.”

Elend frowned. “Well, tell Ham I’ll be there in a moment.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Demoux said, retreating. “Uh, I like the new uniform, Your Majesty.”

“Thank you, Demoux,” Elend said. “Do you, by chance, know where Lady Vin is? I haven’t seen her all day.”

“I think she’s in her quarters, Your Majesty.”

Her quarters? She never stays there. Is she sick?

“Do you want me to summon her?” Demoux asked.

“No, thank you,” Elend said. “I’ll get her. Tell Ham to make the messenger comfortable.”

Demoux nodded, then withdrew.

Elend turned to Tindwyl, who was smiling to herself with a look of satisfaction. Elend brushed by her, walking over to grab his notebook. “I’m going to learn to do more than just ‘fake’ being king, Tindwyl.”

“We’ll see.”

Elend shot a glance at the middle-aged Terriswoman in her robes and jewelry.

“Practice expressions like that one,” Tindwyl noted, “and you just might do it.”

“Is that all it is, then?” Elend asked. “Expressions and costumes? Is that what makes a king?”

“Of course not.”

Elend stopped by the door, turning back. “Then, what does? What do you think makes a man a good king, Tindwyl of Terris?”

“Trust,” Tindwyl said, looking him in the eyes. “A good king is one who is trusted by his people – and one who deserves that trust.”

Elend paused, then nodded. Good answer, he acknowledged, then pulled open the door and rushed out to find Vin.

17

THE PILES OF PAPER SEEMED to multiply as Vin found more and more ideas in the logbook that she wanted to isolate and remember. What were the prophecies about the Hero of Ages? How did the logbook author know where to go, and what did he think he’d have to do when he got there?

Eventually, lying amid the mess – overlapping piles turned in odd directions to keep them separate – Vin acknowledged a distasteful fact. She was going to have to take notes.

With a sigh, she rose and crossed the room, stepping carefully over several stacks and approaching the room’s desk. She’d never used it before; in fact, she’d complained about it to Elend. What need did she have of a writing desk?

So she’d thought. She selected a pen, then pulled out a little jar of ink, remembering the days when Reen had taught her to write. He’d quickly grown frustrated with her scratchings, complaining about the cost of ink and paper. He’d taught her to read so that she could decipher contracts and imitate a noblewoman, but he’d thought that writing was less useful. In general, Vin shared this opinion.

Apparently, however, writing had uses even if one wasn’t a scribe. Elend was always scribbling notes and memos to himself; she’d often been impressed by how quickly he could write. How did he make the letters come so easily?

She grabbed a couple of blank sheets of paper and walked back over to her sorted piles. She sat down with crossed legs and unscrewed the top of the ink bottle.

“Mistress,” OreSeur noted, still lying with his paws before him, “you do realize that you just left the writing desk behind to sit on the floor.”

Vin looked up. “And?”

“The purpose of a writing desk is, well, writing.”

“But my papers are all over here.”

“Papers can be moved, I believe. If they prove too heavy, you could always burn pewter to give yourself more strength.”

Vin eyed his amused face as she inked the nib of her pen. Well, at least he’s displaying something other than his dislike of me. “The floor is more comfortable.”

“If you say so, Mistress, I will believe it to be true.”

She paused, trying to determine if he was still mocking her or not. Blasted dog’s face, she thought. Too hard to read.

With a sigh, she leaned down and began to write out the first word. She had to make each line precisely so that the ink didn’t smudge, and she had to pause often to sound out words and find the right letters. She’d barely written a couple of sentences before a knock came at her door. She looked up with a frown. Who was bothering her?

“Come in,” she called.

She heard a door open in the other room, and Elend’s voice called out. “Vin?”

“In here,” she said, turning back to her writing. “Why did you knock?”

“Well, you might have been changing,” he said, entering.

“So?” Vin asked.

Elend chuckled. “Two years, and privacy is still a strange concept to you.”

Vin looked up. “Well, I did–”

For just the briefest flash of a moment, she thought he was someone else. Her instincts kicked in before her brain, and she reflexively dropped the pen, jumping up and flaring pewter.

Then she stopped.

“That much of a change, eh?” Elend asked, holding out his arms so she could get a better look at his costume.

Vin put a hand to her chest, so shocked that she stepped right on one of her stacks. It was Elend, but it wasn’t. The brilliant white costume, with its sharp lines and firm figure, looked so different from his normal loose jacket and trousers. He seemed more commanding. More regal.

“You cut your hair,” she said, walking around him slowly, studying the costume.

“Tindwyl’s idea,” he said. “What do you think?”

“Less for people to grab on to in a fight,” Vin said.

Elend smiled. “Is that all you think about?”

“No,” Vin said absently, reaching up to tug his cape. It came free easily, and she nodded approvingly. Mistcloaks were the same; Elend wouldn’t have to worry about someone grabbing his cape in a fight.

She stepped back, arms folded. “Does this mean I can cut my hair, too?”

Elend paused just briefly. “You’re always free to do what you want, Vin. But, I kind of think it’s pretty longer.”

It stays, then.

“Anyway,” Elend said. “You approve?”

“Definitely,” Vin said. “You look like a king.” Though, she suspected a part of her would miss the tangle-haired, disheveled Elend. There had been something… endearing about that mixture of earnest competence and distracted inattention.

“Good,” Elend said. “Because I think we’re going to need the advantage. A messenger just…” He trailed off, looking over her stacks of paper. “Vin? Were you doing research?”

Vin flushed. “I was just looking through the logbook, trying to find references to the Deepness.”

“You were!” Elend stepped forward excitedly. To her chagrin, he quickly located the paper with her fledgling notes on it. He held the paper up, then looked over at her. “Did you write this?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Your penmanship is beautiful,” he said, sounding a bit surprised. “Why didn’t you tell me you could write like this?”

“Didn’t you say something about a messenger?”

Elend put the sheet back down, looking oddly like a proud parent. “Right. A messenger from my father’s army has arrived. I’m making him wait for a bit – it didn’t seem wise to appear too eager. But, we should probably go meet with him.”

Vin nodded, waving to OreSeur. The kandra rose and padded to her side, and the three of them left her quarters.

That was one nice thing about books and notes. They could always wait for another time.

They found the messenger waiting in the third-floor Venture atrium. Vin and Elend walked in, and she stopped immediately.

It was him. The Watcher.

Elend stepped forward to meet the man, and Vin grabbed his arm. “Wait,” she hissed quietly.

Elend turned, confused.

If that man has atium, Vin thought with a stab of panic, Elend is dead. We’re all dead.

The Watcher stood quietly. He didn’t look much like a messenger or courier. He wore all black, even a pair of black gloves. He wore trousers and a silken shirt, with no cloak or cape. She remembered that face. It was him.

But… she thought, if he’d wanted to kill Elend, he could have done so already. The thought frightened her, yet she had to admit it was true.

“What?” Elend asked, standing in the doorway with her.

“Be careful,” she whispered. “This is no simple messenger. That man is Mistborn.”

Elend paused, frowning. He turned back toward the Watcher, who stood quietly, clasping his hands behind his back, looking confident. Yes, he was Mistborn; only a man such as he could walk into an enemy palace, completely surrounded by guards, and not be the slightest bit unsettled.

“All right,” Elend said, finally stepping into the room. “Straff’s man. You bring a message for me?”

“Not just a message, Your Majesty,” the Watcher said. “My name is Zane, and I am something of an… ambassador. Your father was very pleased to receive your invitation for an alliance. He’s glad that you are finally seeing reason.”

Vin studied the Watcher, this “Zane.” What was his game? Why come himself? Why reveal who he was?

Elend nodded, keeping a distance from Zane. “Two armies,” Elend said, “camped outside my door… well, that’s not the kind of thing I can ignore. I’d like to meet with my father and discuss possibilities for the future.”

“I think he would enjoy that,” Zane said. “It has been some time since he saw you, and he has long regretted your falling-out. You are, after all, his only son.”

“It’s been hard on both of us,” Elend said. “Perhaps we could set up a tent in which to meet outside the city?”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Zane said. “His Majesty rightly fears assassins. If you wish to speak with him, he’d be happy to host you at his tent in the Venture camp.”

Elend frowned. “Now, I don’t think that makes much sense. If he fears assassins, shouldn’t I?”

“I’m certain he could protect you in his own camp, Your Majesty,” Zane said. “You have nothing to fear from Cett’s assassins there.”

“I… see,” Elend said.

“I’m afraid that His Majesty was quite firm on this point,” Zane said. “You are the one who is eager for an alliance – if you wish a meeting, you will have to come to him.”

Elend glanced at Vin. She continued to watch Zane. The man met her eyes, and spoke. “I have heard reports of the beautiful Mistborn who accompanies the Venture heir. She who slew the Lord Ruler, and was trained by the Survivor himself.”

There was silence in the room for a moment.

Elend finally spoke. “Tell my father that I will consider his offer.”

Zane finally turned away from Vin. “His Majesty was hoping for us to set a date and time, Your Majesty.”

“I will send another message when I have made my decision,” Elend said.

“Very well,” Zane said, bowing slightly, though he used the move to catch Vin’s eyes once again. Then he nodded once to Elend, and let the guards escort him away.

In the cold mist of early evening, Vin waited on the short wall of Keep Venture, OreSeur sitting at her side.

The mists were quiet. Her thoughts were far less serene.

Who else would he work for? she thought. Of course he’s one of Straff’s men.

That explained many things. It had been quite a while since their last encounter; Vin had begun to think that she wouldn’t see the Watcher again.

Would they spar again, then? Vin tried to suppress her eagerness, tried to tell herself that she simply wanted to find this Watcher because of the threat he posed. But, the thrill of another fight in the mists – another chance to test her abilities against a Mistborn – made her tense with anticipation.

She didn’t know him, and she certainly didn’t trust him. That only made the prospect of a fight all the more exciting.

“Why are we waiting here, Mistress?” OreSeur asked.

“We’re just on patrol,” Vin said. “Watching for assassins or spies. Just like every night.”

“Do you command me to believe you, Mistress?”

Vin shot him a flat stare. “Believe as you wish, kandra.”

“Very well,” OreSeur said. “Why did you not tell the king that you’ve been sparring with this Zane?”

Vin turned back toward the dark mists. “Assassins and Allomancers are my concern, not Elend’s. No need to worry him yet – he has enough troubles at the moment.”

OreSeur sat back on his haunches. “I see.”

“You don’t believe I’m right?”

“I believe as I wish,” OreSeur said. “Isn’t that what you just commanded me, Mistress?”

“Whatever,” Vin said. Her bronze was on, and she had to try very hard not to think about the mist spirit. She could feel it waiting in the darkness to her right. She didn’t look toward it.

The logbook never did mention what became of that spirit. It nearly killed one of the Hero’s companions. After that, there was barely a mention of it.

Problems for another night, she thought as another source of Allomancy appeared to her bronze senses. A stronger, more familiar source.

Zane.

Vin hopped up onto the battlements, nodded farewell to OreSeur, then jumped out into the night.

Mist twisted in the sky, different breezes forming silent streams of white, like rivers in the air. Vin skimmed them, burst through them, and rode them like a bouncing stone cast upon the waters. She quickly reached the place where she and Zane had last parted, the lonely abandoned street.

He waited in the center, still wearing black. Vin dropped to the cobbles before him in a flurry of mistcloak tassels. She stood up straight.

He never wears a cloak. Why is that?

The two stood opposite one another for a few silent moments. Zane had to know of her questions, but he offered no introduction, greeting, or explanation. Eventually, he reached into a pocket and pulled out a coin. He tossed it to the street between them, and it bounced – metal ringing against stone – and came to a stop.

He jumped into the air. Vin did likewise, both Pushing against the coin. Their separate weights nearly canceled each other out, and they shot up and back, like the two arms of a “V.”

Zane spun, throwing a coin behind him. It slammed against the side of a building and he Pushed, throwing himself toward Vin. Suddenly, she felt a force slam against her coin pouch, threatening to toss her back down to the ground.

What is the game tonight, Zane? she thought even as she yanked the tie on her pouch, dropping it free from her belt. She Pushed against it, and it shot downward, forced by her weight. When it hit the ground, Vin had the better upward force: she was Pushing against the pouch from directly above, while Zane was only pushing from the side. Vin lurched upward, streaking past Zane in the cool night air, then threw her weight against the coins in his own pocket.

Zane began to drop. However, he grabbed the coins – keeping them from ripping free – and Pushed down on her pouch. He froze in the air – Vin Pushing him from above, his own Push forcing him upward. And, because he stopped, Vin’s Push suddenly threw her backward.

Vin let go of Zane and allowed herself to drop. Zane, however, didn’t let himself fall. He Pushed himself back up into the air, then began to bound away, never letting his feet touch rooftops or cobblestones.

He tried to force me to the ground, Vin thought. First one to fall loses, is that it? Still tumbling, Vin spun herself in the air. She retrieved her coin pouch with a careful Pull, then threw it down toward the ground and Pushed herself upward.

She Pulled the pouch back into her hand even as she flew, then jumped after Zane, Pushing recklessly through the night, trying to catch up. In the darkness, Luthadel seemed cleaner than it did during the day. She couldn’t see the ash-stained buildings, the dark refineries, the haze of smoke from the forges. Around her, the empty keeps of the old high nobility watched like silent monoliths. Some of the majestic buildings had been given to lesser nobles, and others had become government buildings. The rest – after being plundered at Elend’s command – lay unused, their stained-glass windows dark, their vaultings, statues, and murals ignored.

Vin wasn’t certain if Zane purposely headed to Keep Hasting, or if she simply caught up to him there. Either way, the enormous structure loomed as Zane noticed her proximity and turned, throwing a handful of coins at her.

Vin Pushed against them tentatively. Sure enough, as soon as she touched them, Zane flared steel and Pushed harder. If she’d been Pushing hard, the force of his attack would have thrown her backward. As it was, she was able to deflect the coins to her sides.

Zane immediately Pushed against her coin pouch again, throwing himself upward along one of Keep Hasting’s walls. Vin was ready for this move as well. Flaring pewter, she grabbed the pouch in a two-handed grip and ripped it in half.

Coins sprayed beneath her, shooting toward the ground under the force of Zane’s Push. She selected one and Pushed herself, gaining lift as soon as it hit the ground. She spun, facing upward, her tin-enhanced ears hearing a shower of metal hit the stones far below. She’d still have access to the coins, but she didn’t have to carry them on her body.

She shot up toward Zane, one of the keep’s outer towers looming in the mists to her left. Keep Hasting was one of the finest in the city. It had a large tower at the center – tall, imposing, wide – with a ballroom at the very top. It also had six smaller towers rising equidistant around the central structure, each one connected to it by a thick wall. It was an elegant, majestic building. Somehow, she suspected that Zane had sought it out for that reason.

Vin watched him now, his Push losing power as he got too far from the coin anchor below. He spun directly above her, a dark figure against a shifting sky of mist, still well below the top of the wall. Vin yanked sharply on several coins below, Pulling them into the air in case she needed them.

Zane plummeted toward her. Vin reflexively Pushed against the coins in his pocket, then realized that was probably what he’d wanted: it gave him lift while forcing her down. She let go as she fell, and she soon passed the group of coins she’d Pulled into the air. She Pulled on one, bringing it into her hand, then Pushed on another, sending it sideways into the wall.

Vin shot to the side. Zane whooshed by her in the air, his passing churning the mists. He soon bobbed back up – probably using a coin from below – and flung a double handful of coins straight at her.

Vin spun, again deflecting the coins. They shot around her, and she heard several pling against something in the mists behind her. Another wall. She and Zane were sparring between a pair of the keep’s outer towers; there was an angled wall to either side of them, with the central tower just a short distance in front of them. They were fighting near the tip of an open-bottomed triangle of stone walls.

Zane shot toward her. Vin reached out to throw her weight against him, but realized with a start that he was no longer carrying any coins. He was Pushing on something behind him, though – the same coin Vin had slammed against the wall with her weight. She Pushed herself upward, trying to get out of the way, but he angled upward as well.

Zane crashed into her, and they began to fall. As they spun together, Zane grabbed her by the upper arms, holding his face close to hers. He didn’t seem angry, or even very forceful.

He just seemed calm.

“This is what we are, Vin,” he said quietly. Wind and mist whipped around them as they fell, the tassels of Vin’s mistcloak writhing in the air around Zane. “Why do you play their games? Why do you let them control you?”

Vin placed her hand lightly against Zane’s chest, then Pushed on the coin that had been in her palm. The force of the Push lurched her free of his grip, flipping him up and backward. She caught herself just a few feet from the ground, Pushing against fallen coins, throwing herself upward again.

She passed Zane in the night, and saw a smile on his face as he fell. Vin reached downward, locking on to the blue lines extending toward the ground far below, then flared iron and Pulled against all of them at once. Blue lines zipped around her, the coins rising and rising shooting past the surprised Zane.

She Pulled a few choice coins into her hands. Let’s see if you can stay in the air now, Vin thought with a smile, Pushing outward, spraying the other coins away into the night. Zane continued to fall.

Vin began to fall as well. She threw a coin to each side, then Pushed. The coins shot into the mists, flying toward the stone walls to either side. Coins slapped against stone, and Vin lurched to a halt in the air.

She Pushed hard, holding herself in place, anticipating a Pull from below. If he pulls, I Pull, too, she thought. We both fall, and I keep the coins between us in the air. He’ll hit the ground first.

A coin shot past her in the air.

What! Where did he get that! She’d been sure that she’d Pushed away every coin below.

The coin arced upward, through the mists, trailing a blue line visible to her Allomancer’s eyes. It crested the top of the wall to her right. Vin glanced down just in time to see Zane slow, then lurch upward – Pulling on the coin that was now held in place atop the wall by the stone railing.

He passed her with a self-satisfied look on his face.

Show-off.

Vin let go of the coin to her left while still Pushing to her right. She lurched to the left, nearly colliding with the wall before she threw another coin at it. She Pushed on this one, throwing herself upward and to the right. Another coin sent her back upward to the left, and she continued to bounce between the walls, back and forth, until she crested the top.

She smiled as she twisted in the air. Zane – hovering in the air above the wall’s top – nodded appreciatively as she passed. She noticed that he’d grabbed a few of her discarded coins.

Time for a little attack myself, Vin thought.

She slammed a Push against the coins in Zane’s hand, and they shot her upward. However, Zane was still Pushing against the coin on the wall top below, and so he didn’t fall. Instead he hung in the air between the two forces – his own Push forcing him upward, Vin’s Push forcing him downward.

Vin heard him grunt in exertion, and she Pushed harder. She was so focused, however, that she barely saw him open his other hand and Push a coin up toward her. She reached out to Push against it, but fortunately his aim was off, and the coin missed her by a few inches.

Or perhaps it didn’t. Immediately, the coin zipped back downward and hit her in the back. Zane Pulled on it forcefully, and the bit of metal dug into Vin’s skin. She gasped, flaring pewter to keep the coin from cutting through her.

Zane didn’t relent. Vin gritted her teeth, but he weighed much more than she did. She inched down toward him in the night, her Push straining to keep the two of them apart, the coin digging painfully into her back.

Never get into a raw Pushing match, Vin, Kelsier had warned her. You don’t weigh enough – you’ll lose every time.

She stopped Pushing on the coin in Zane’s hand. Immediately, she fell, Pulled by the coin on her back. She Pushed on it slightly, giving herself a little leverage, then threw her final coin to the side. It hit at the last moment, and Vin’s Push scooted her out from between Zane and his coin.

Zane’s coin snapped him in the chest, and he grunted: he had obviously been trying to get Vin to collide with him again. Vin smiled, then Pulled against the coin in Zane’s hand.

Give him what he wants, I guess.

He turned just in time to see her slam feet-first into him. Vin spun, feeling him crumple beneath her. She exulted in the victory, spinning in the air above the wall walk. Then she noticed something: several faint lines of blue disappearing into the distance. Zane had pushed all of their coins away.

Desperately, Vin grabbed one of the coins and Pulled it back. Too late, however. She searched frantically for a closer source of metal, but all was stone or wood. Disoriented, she hit the stone wall walk, tumbling amid her mistcloak until she came to a halt beside the wall’s stone railing.

She shook her head and flared tin, clearing her vision with a flash of pain and other senses. Surely Zane hadn’t fared better. He must have fallen as–

Zane hung a few feet away. He’d found a coin – Vin couldn’t fathom how – and was Pushing against it below him. However, he didn’t shoot away. He hovered above the wall top, just a few feet in the air, still in a half tumble from Vin’s kick.

As Vin watched, Zane rotated slowly in the air, hand outstretched beneath him, twisting like a skilled acrobat on a pole. There was a look of intense concentration on his face, and his muscles – all of them, arms, face, chest – were taut. He turned in the air until he was facing her.

Vin watched with awe. It was possible to Push just slightly against a coin, regulating the amount of force with which one was thrown backward. It was incredibly difficult, however – so difficult that even Kelsier had struggled with it. Most of the time, Mistborn simply used short bursts. When Vin fell, for instance, she slowed herself by throwing a coin and Pushing against it briefly – but powerfully – to counteract her momentum.

She’d never seen an Allomancer with as much control as Zane. His ability to push slightly against that coin would be of little use in a fight; it obviously took too much concentration. Yet, there was a grace to it, a beauty to his movements that implied something Vin herself had felt.

Allomancy wasn’t just about fighting and killing. It was about skill and grace. It was something beautiful.

Zane rotated until he was upright, standing in a gentleman’s posture. Then he dropped to the wall walk, his feet slapping quietly against the stones. He regarded Vin – who still lay on the stones – with a look that lacked contempt.

“You are very skilled,” he said. “And quite powerful.”

He was tall, impressive. Like… Kelsier. “Why did you come to the palace today?” she asked, climbing to her feet.

“To see how they treated you. Tell me, Vin. What is it about Mistborn that makes us – despite our powers – so willing to act as slaves to others?”

“Slaves?” Vin said. “I’m no slave.”

Zane shook his head. “They use you, Vin.”

“Sometimes it’s good to be useful.”

“Those words are spoken of insecurity.”

Vin paused; then she eyed him. “Where did you get that coin, at the end? There were none nearby.”

Zane smiled, then opened his mouth and pulled out a coin. He dropped it to the stones with a pling. Vin opened her eyes wide. Metal inside a person’s body can’t be affected by another Allomancer… That’s such an easy trick! Why didn’t I think of it?

Why didn’t Kelsier think of it?

Zane shook his head. “We don’t belong with them, Vin. We don’t belong in their world. We belong here, in the mists.”

“I belong with those who love me,” Vin said.

“Love you?” Zane asked quietly. “Tell me. Do they understand you, Vin? Can they understand you? And, can a man love something he doesn’t understand?”

He watched her for a moment. When she didn’t respond, he nodded to her slightly, then Pushed against the coin he had dropped moments before, throwing himself back into the mists.

Vin let him go. His words held more weight than he probably understood. We don’t belong in their world… He couldn’t know that she’d been pondering her place, wondering whether she was noblewoman, assassin, or something else.

Zane’s words, then, meant something important. He felt himself to be an outsider. A little like herself. It was a weakness in him, certainly. Perhaps she could turn him against Straff – his willingness to spar with her, his willingness to reveal himself, hinted at that much.

She breathed in deeply of the cool, mist air, her heart still beating quickly from the exchange. She felt tired, yet alive, from fighting someone who might actually be better than she was. Standing in the mists atop the wall of an abandoned keep, she decided something.

She had to keep sparring with Zane.

18

“KILL HIM,” GOD WHISPERED.

Zane hung quietly in the mists, looking through Elend Venture’s open balcony doors. The mists swirled around him, obscuring him from the king’s view.

“You should kill him,” God said again.

In a way, Zane hated Elend, though he had never met the man before today. Elend was everything that Zane should have been. Favored. Privileged. Pampered. He was Zane’s enemy, a block in the road to domination, the thing that was keeping Straff – and therefore Zane – from ruling the Central Dominance.

But he was also Zane’s brother.

Zane let himself drop through the mists, falling silently to the ground outside Keep Venture. He Pulled his anchors up into his hand – three small bars he had been pushing on to hold himself in place. Vin would be returning soon, and he didn’t want to be near the keep when she did. She had a strange ability to know where he was; her senses were far more keen than any Allomancer he had ever known or fought. Of course, she had been trained by the Survivor himself.

I would have liked to have known him, Zane thought as he moved quietly across the courtyard. He was a man who understood the power of being Mistborn. A man who didn’t let others control him.

A man who did what had to be done, no matter how ruthless it seemed. Or so the rumors said.

Zane paused beside the outer keep wall, below a buttress. He stooped, removing a cobblestone, and found the message left there by his spy inside Elend’s palace. Zane retrieved it, replaced the cobblestone, then dropped a coin and launched himself out into the night.

Zane did not slink. Nor did he creep, skulk, or cower. In fact, he didn’t even like to hide.

So, he approached the Venture army camp with a determined stride. It seemed to him that Mistborn spent too much of their existence hiding. True, anonymity offered some limited freedom. However, his experience had been that it bound them more than it freed them. It let them be controlled, and it let society pretend that they didn’t exist.

Zane strode toward a guard post, where two soldiers sat beside a large fire. He shook his head; they were virtually useless, blinded by the firelight. Normal men feared the mists, and that made them less valuable. That wasn’t arrogance; it was a simple fact. Allomancers were more useful, and therefore more valuable, than normal men. That was why Zane had Tineyes watching in the darkness as well. These regular soldiers were more a formality than anything else.

“Kill them,” God commanded as Zane walked up to the guard post. Zane ignored the voice, though it was growing more and more difficult to do so.

“Halt!” one of the guards said, lowering a spear. “Who is that?”

Zane Pushed the spear offhandedly, flipping up the tip. “Who else would it be?” he snapped, walking into the firelight.

“Lord Zane!” the other soldier said.

“Summon the king,” Zane said, passing the guard post. “Tell him to meet me in the command tent.”

“But, my lord,” the guard said. “The hour is late. His Majesty is probably…”

Zane turned, giving the guard a flat stare. The mists swirled between them. Zane didn’t even have to use emotional Allomancy on the soldier; the man simply saluted, then rushed off into the night to do as commanded.

Zane strode through the camp. He wore no uniform or mistcloak, but soldiers stopped and saluted as he passed. This was the way it should be. They knew him, knew what he was, knew to respect him.

And yet, a part of him acknowledged that if Straff hadn’t kept his bastard son hidden, Zane might not be the powerful weapon that he was today. That secrecy had forced Zane to live a life of near squalor while his half brother, Elend, had been privileged. But it also meant that Straff had been able to keep Zane hidden for most of his life. Even still, while rumors were growing about the existence of Straff’s Mistborn, few realized that Zane was Straff’s son.

Plus, living a harsh life had taught Zane to survive on his own. He had become hard, and powerful. Things he suspected Elend would never understand. Unfortunately, one side effect of his childhood was that it had apparently driven him mad.

“Kill him,” God whispered as Zane passed another guard. The voice spoke every time he saw a person – it was Zane’s quiet, constant companion. He understood that he was insane. It hadn’t really been all that hard to determine, all things considered. Normal people did not hear voices. Zane did.

He found insanity no excuse, however, for irrational behavior. Some men were blind, others had poor tempers. Still others heard voices. It was all the same, in the end. A man was defined not by his flaws, but by how he overcame them.

And so, Zane ignored the voice. He killed when he wanted to, not when it commanded. In his estimation, he was actually quite lucky. Other madmen saw visions, or couldn’t distinguish their delusions from reality. Zane, at least, could control himself.

For the most part.

He Pushed on the metal clasps on the flaps of the command tent. The flaps flipped backward, opening for him as the soldiers to either side saluted. Zane ducked inside.

“My lord!” said the nightwatch officer of command.

“Kill him,” God said. “He’s really not that important.”

“Paper,” Zane ordered, walking to the room’s large table. The officer scrambled to comply, grabbing a stack of sheets. Zane Pulled on the nib of a pen, flipping it across the room to his waiting hand. The officer brought the ink.

“These are troop concentrations and night patrols,” Zane said, scribbling down some numbers and diagrams on the paper. “I observed them tonight, while I was in Luthadel.”

“Very good, my lord,” the soldier said. “We appreciate your help.”

Zane paused. Then he slowly continued to write. “Soldier, you are not my superior. You aren’t even my equal. I am not ‘helping’ you. I am seeing to the needs of my army. Do you understand?”

“Of course, my lord.”

“Good,” Zane said, finishing his notes and handing the paper to the soldier. “Now, leave – or I’ll do as a friend has suggested and ram this pen through your throat.”

The soldier accepted the paper, then quickly withdrew. Zane waited impatiently. Straff did not arrive. Finally, Zane cursed quietly and Pushed open the tent flaps and strode out. Straff’s tent was a blazing red beacon in the night, well lit by numerous lanterns. Zane passed the guards, who knew better than to bother him, and entered the king’s tent.

Straff was having a late dinner. He was a tall man, brown of hair like both his sons – the two important ones, at least. He had fine nobleman’s hands, which he used to eat with finesse. He didn’t react as Zane entered.

“You’re late,” Straff said.

“Kill him,” God said.

Zane clinched his fists. This command from the voice was the hardest to ignore. “Yes,” he said. “I’m late.”

“What happened tonight?” Straff asked.

Zane glanced at the servants. “We should do this in the command tent.”

Straff continued to sip his soup, staying where he was, implying that Zane had no power to order him about. It was frustrating, but not unexpected. Zane had used virtually the same tactic on the nightwatch officer just moments before. He had learned from the best.

Finally, Zane sighed, taking a seat. He rested his arms on the table, idly spinning a dinner knife as he watched his father eat. A servant approached to ask Zane if he wanted a meal, but he waved the man away.

“Kill Straff,” God commanded. “You should be in his place. You are stronger than he is. You are more competent.”

But I’m not as sane, Zane thought.

“Well?” Straff asked. “Do they have the Lord Ruler’s atium or not?”

“I’m not sure,” Zane said.

“Does the girl trust you?” Straff asked.

“She’s beginning to,” Zane said. “I did see her use atium, that once, fighting Cett’s assassins.”

Straff nodded thoughtfully. He really was competent; because of him, the Northern Dominance had avoided the chaos that prevailed in the rest of the Final Empire. Straff’s skaa remained under control, his noblemen quelled. True, he had been forced to execute a number of people to prove that he was in charge. But, he did what needed to be done. That was one attribute in a man that Zane respected above all others.

Especially since he had trouble displaying it himself.

“Kill him!” God yelled. “You hate him! He kept you in squalor, forcing you to fight for your survival as a child.”

He made me strong, Zane thought.

“Then use that strength to kill him!”

Zane grabbed the carving knife off the table. Straff looked up from his meal, then flinched just slightly as Zane sliced the flesh of his own arm. He cut a long gash into the top of his forearm, drawing blood. The pain helped him resist the voice.

Straff watched for a moment, then waved for a servant to bring Zane a towel so he wouldn’t get blood on the rug.

“You need to get her to use atium again,” Straff said. “Elend may have been able to gather one or two beads. We’ll only know the truth if she runs out.” He paused, turning back to his meal. “Actually, what you need to do is get her to tell you where the stash is hidden, if they even have it.”

Zane sat, watching the blood seep from the gash on his forearm. “She’s more capable than you think, Father.”

Straff raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you believe those stories, Zane? The lies about her and the Lord Ruler?”

“How do you know they are lies?”

“Because of Elend,” Straff said. “That boy is a fool; he only controls Luthadel because every nobleman with half a wit in his head fled the city. If that girl were powerful enough to defeat the Lord Ruler, I sincerely doubt that your brother could ever have gained her loyalty.”

Zane cut another slice in his arm. He didn’t cut deeply enough to do any real damage, and the pain worked as it usually did. Straff finally turned from his meal, masking a look of discomfort. A small, twisted piece of Zane took pleasure from seeing that look in his father’s eyes. Perhaps it was a side effect of his insanity.

“Anyway,” Straff said, “did you meet with Elend?”

Zane nodded. He turned to a serving girl. “Tea,” he said, waving his uncut arm. “Elend was surprised. He wanted to meet with you, but he obviously didn’t like the idea of coming into your camp. I doubt he’ll come.”

“Perhaps,” Straff said. “But, don’t underestimate the boy’s foolishness. Either way, perhaps now he understands how our relationship will proceed.”

So much posturing, Zane thought. By sending this message, Straff took a stand: he wouldn’t be ordered about, or even inconvenienced, on Elend’s behalf.

Being forced into a siege inconvenienced you, though, Zane thought with a smile. What Straff would have liked to do was attack directly, taking the city without parlay or negotiations. The arrival of the second army made that impossible. Attack now, and Straff would be defeated by Cett.

That meant waiting, waiting in a siege, until Elend saw reason and joined with his father willingly. But, waiting was something Straff disliked. Zane didn’t mind as much. It would give him more time to spar with the girl. He smiled.

As the tea arrived, Zane closed his eyes, then burned tin to enhance his senses. His wounds burst to life, minor pains becoming great, shocking him to wakefulness.

There was a part of all this he wasn’t telling Straff. She is coming to trust me, he thought. And there’s something else about her. She’s like me. Perhaps… she could understand me.

Perhaps she could save me.

He sighed, opening his eyes and using the towel to clean his arm. His insanity frightened him sometimes. But, it seemed weaker around Vin. That was all he had to go on for the moment. He accepted his tea from the serving girl – long braid, firm chest, homely features – and took a sip of the hot cinnamon.

Straff raised his own cup, then hesitated, sniffing delicately. He eyed Zane. “Poisoned tea, Zane?”

Zane said nothing.

“Birchbane, too,” Straff noted. “That’s a depressingly unoriginal move for you.”

Zane said nothing.

Straff made a cutting motion. The girl looked up with terror as one of Straff’s guards stepped toward her. She glanced at Zane, expecting some sort of aid, but he just looked away. She yelled pathetically as the guard pulled her off to be executed.

She wanted the chance to kill him, he thought. I told her it probably wouldn’t work.

Straff just shook his head. Though not a full Mistborn, the king was a Tineye. Still, even for one with such an ability, sniffing birchbane amid the cinnamon was an impressive feat.

“Zane, Zane…” Straff said. “What would you do if you actually managed to kill me?”

If I actually wanted to kill you, Zane thought, I’d use that knife, not poison. But, he let Straff think what he wished. The king expected assassination attempts. So Zane provided them.

Straff held something up – a small bead of atium. “I was going to give you this, Zane. But I see that we’ll have to wait. You need to get over these foolish attempts on my life. If you were ever to succeed, where would you get your atium?”

Straff didn’t understand, of course. He thought that atium was like a drug, and assumed that Mistborn relished using it. Therefore, he thought he could control Zane with it. Zane let the man continue in his misapprehension, never explaining that he had his own personal stockpile of the metal.

That, however, brought him to face the real question that dominated his life. God’s whispers were returning, now that the pain was fading. And, of all the people the voice whispered about, Straff Venture was the one who most deserved to die.

“Why?” God asked. “Why won’t you kill him?”

Zane looked down at his feet. Because he’s my father, he thought, finally admitting his weakness. Other men did what they had to. They were stronger than Zane.

“You’re insane, Zane,” Straff said.

Zane looked up.

“Do you really think you could conquer the empire yourself, if you were to kill me? Considering your… particular malady, do you think you could run even a city?”

Zane looked away. “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.

19

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.

20

“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.”

21

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.

22

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.”

23

“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.

24

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.

25

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.

26

“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” 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.

27

“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.