"It just seemed . . . appropriate," Sazed said quietly, regarding the scene of
shadowed death.
"Kell," Dockson called from the back of the room. "Come look at this."
Kelsier moved to join him, as did Vin. Dockson stood by the long corridor-
like chamber that had been her crew's sleeping quarters. Vin poked her head
inside, expecting to find a scene similar to the one in the common room.
Instead, there was only a single corpse tied to a chair. In the weak light she
could barely make out that his eyes had been gouged out.
Kelsier stood quietly for a moment. "That's the man I put in charge."
"Milev," Vin said with a nod. "What about him?"
"He was killed slowly," Kelsier said. "Look at the amount of blood on the
floor, the way his limbs are twisted. He had time to scream and struggle."
"Torture," Dockson said, nodding.
Vin felt a chill. She glanced up at Kelsier.
"Shall we move our base?" Ham asked.
Kelsier slowly shook his head. "When Clubs came to this lair, he would
have worn a disguise to and from the meeting, hiding his limp. It's his job as
a Smoker to make certain that you can't find him just by asking around on the
street. None of the people in this crew could have betrayed us—we should
still be safe."
No one spoke the obvious. The Inquisitor shouldn't have been able to find
this lair either.
Kelsier stepped back into the main room, pulling Dockson aside and
speaking to him in a quiet voice. Vin edged closer, trying to hear what they
were saying, but Sazed placed a restraining hand on her shoulder.
"Mistress Vin," he said disapprovingly, "if Master Kelsier wanted us to
hear what he was saying, would he not speak in a louder voice?"
Vin shot the Terrisman an angry glance. Then she reached inside and
burned tin.
The sudden stench of blood almost staggered her. She could hear Sazed's
breathing. The room was no longer dark—in fact, the brilliant light of two
lanterns made her eyes water. She became aware of the stuffy, unventilated
air.
And she could hear, quite distinctly, Dockson's voice.
" . . . went to check on him a couple times, like you asked. You'll find him
three streets west of the Fourwell Crossroads."
Kelsier nodded. "Ham," he said in a loud voice, causing Vin to jump.
Sazed looked down at her with disapproving eyes.
He knows something of Allomancy, Vin thought, reading the man's
expression. He guessed what I was doing.
"Yes, Kell?" Ham said, peeking out of the back room.
"Take the others back to the shop," Kelsier said. "And be careful."
"Of course," Ham promised.
Vin eyed Kelsier, then resentfully allowed herself to be ushered from the
lair with Sazed and Dockson.
I should have taken the carriage, Kelsier thought, frustrated by his slow pace.
The others could have walked back from Camon's lair.
He itched to burn steel and begin jumping toward his destination.
Unfortunately, it was very difficult to remain inconspicuous when flying
through the city during the full light of day.
Kelsier adjusted his hat and continued walking. A nobleman pedestrian
was not an irregular sight, especially in the commercial district, where more
fortunate skaa and less fortunate noblemen mixed on the streets—though
each group did its best to ignore the other.
Patience. Speed doesn't matter. If they know about him, he's already dead.
Kelsier entered a large crossroad square. Four wells sat in its corners, and a
massive copper fountain—its green skin caked and blackened by soot—
dominated the square's center. The statue depicted the Lord Ruler, standing
dramatically in cloak and armor, a formless representation of the Deepness
dead in the water at his feet.
Kelsier passed the fountain, its waters flaked from a recent ashfall. Skaa
beggars called out from the streetsides, their pitiful voices walking a fine line
between audibility and annoyance. The Lord Ruler barely suffered them; only
skaa with severe disfigurements were allowed to beg. Their pitiful life,
however, was not something even plantation skaa would envy.
Kelsier tossed them a few clips, not caring that doing so made him stand
out, and continued to walk. Three streets over, he found a much smaller
crossroads. It was also rimmed by beggars, but no fine fountain splashed the
center of this intersection, nor did the corners contain wells to draw traffic.
The beggars here were even more pathetic—these were the sorry
individuals who were too wretched to fight themselves a spot in a major
square. Malnourished children and age-withered adults called out with
apprehensive voices; men missing two or more limbs huddled in corners,
their soot-stained forms almost invisible in the shadows.
Kelsier reached reflexively for his coin purse. Stay on track, he told
himself. You can't save them all, not with coins. There will be time for these
once the Final Empire is gone.
Ignoring the piteous cries—which became louder once the beggars realized
he was watching them—Kelsier studied each face in turn. He had only seen
Camon briefly, but he thought that he'd recognize the man. However, none of
the faces looked right, and none of the beggars had Camon's girth, which
should have still been noticeable despite weeks of starvation.
He's not here, Kelsier thought with dissatisfaction. Kelsier's order—given
to Milev, the new crewleader—that Camon be made a beggar had been
carried out. Dockson had checked on Camon to make certain.
Camon's absence in the square could simply mean that he'd gained a better
spot. It could also mean that the Ministry had found him. Kelsier stood
quietly for a moment, listening to the beggars' haunted moanings. A few
flakes of ash began to float down from the sky.
Something was wrong. There weren't any beggars near the north corner of
the intersection. Kelsier burned tin, and smelled blood on the air.
He kicked off his shoes, then pulled his belt free. His cloak clasp went
next, the fine garment dropping to the cobblestones. That done, the only
metal remaining on his body was in his coin pouch. He dumped a few coins
into his hand, then carefully made his way forward, leaving his discarded
garments for the beggars.
The smell of death grew stronger, but he didn't hear anything except
scrambling beggars behind him. He edged onto the northern street,
immediately noticing a thin alleyway to his left. Taking a breath, he flared
pewter and ducked inside.
The thin, dark alley was clogged with refuse and ash. No one waited for
him—at least, no one living.
Camon, crewleader turned beggar, hung quietly from a rope tied far above.
His corpse spun leisurely in the breeze, ash falling lightly around it. He
hadn't been hanged in the conventional fashion—the rope had been tied to a
hook, then rammed down his throat. The bloodied end of the hook jutted
from his skin below the chin, and he swung with head tipped back, rope
running out of his mouth. His hands were tied, his still plump body showing
signs of torture.
This isn't good.
A foot scraped the cobblestones behind, and Kelsier spun, flaring steel and
spraying forth a handful of coins.
With a girlish yelp, a small figure ducked to the ground, coins deflected as
she burned steel.
"Vin?" Kelsier said. He cursed, reaching out and yanking her into the
alleyway. He glanced around the corner, watching the beggars perk up as
they heard coins hit the cobblestones.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded, turning back. Vin wore the
same brown overalls and gray shirt she had before, though she at least had the
sense to wear a nondescript cloak with the hood up.
"I wanted to see what you were doing," she said, cringing slightly before
his anger.
"This could have been dangerous!" Kelsier said. "What were you
thinking?"
Vin cowered further.
Kelsier calmed himself. You can't blame her for being curious, he thought
as a few brave beggars scuttled in the street after the coins. She's just—
Kelsier froze. It was so subtle he almost missed it. Vin was Soothing his
emotions.
He glanced down. The girl was obviously trying to make herself invisible
against the corner of the wall. She seemed so timid, yet he caught a hidden
glimmer of determination in her eyes. This child had made an art of making
herself seem harmless.
So subtle! Kelsier thought. How did she get so good so quickly?
"You don't have to use Allomancy, Vin," Kelsier said softly. "I'm not
going to hurt you. You know that."
She flushed. "I didn't mean it . . . it's just habit. Even still."
"It's all right," Kelsier said, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Just remember
—no matter what Breeze says, it's bad manners to touch the emotions of your
friends. Plus, the noblemen consider it an insult to use Allomancy in formal
settings. Those reflexes will get you into trouble if you don't learn to control
them."
She nodded, rising to study Camon. Kelsier expected her to turn away in
disgust, but she just stood quietly, a look of grim satisfaction on her face.
No, this one isn't weak, Kelsier thought. No matter what she'd have you
believe.
"They tortured him here?" she asked. "Out in the open?"
Kelsier nodded, imagining the screams reverberating out to the
uncomfortable beggars. The Ministry liked to be very visible with its
punishments.
"Why the hook?" Vin asked.
"It's a ritual killing reserved for the most reprehensible of sinners: people
who misuse Allomancy."
Vin frowned. "Camon was an Allomancer?"
Kelsier shook his head. "He must have admitted to something heinous
during his torture." Kelsier glanced at Vin. "He must have known what you
were, Vin. He used you intentionally."
She paled slightly. "Then . . . the Ministry knows that I'm a Mistborn?"
"Perhaps. It depends on whether Camon knew or not. He could have
assumed you were just a Misting."
She stood quietly for a moment. "What does this mean for my part in the
job, then?"
"We'll continue as planned," Kelsier said. "Only a couple of obligators
saw you at the Canton building, and it takes a very rare man to connect the
skaa servant and the well-dressed noblewoman as the same person."
"And the Inquisitor?" Vin asked softly.
Kelsier didn't have an answer to that one. "Come on," he finally said.
"We've already attracted too much attention."
What would it be like if every nation—from the isles in the South to the Terris hills in the North
—were united under a single government? What wonders could be achieved, what progress
could be made, if mankind were to permanently set aside its squabblings and join together?
It is too much, I suppose, to even hope for. A single, unified empire of man? It could never
happen.
12
VIN RESISTED THE URGE TO pick at her noblewoman's dress. Even after a half
week of being forced to wear one—Sazed's suggestion—she found the bulky
garment uncomfortable. It pulled tightly at her waist and chest, then fell to
the floor with several layers of ruffled fabric, making it difficult to walk. She
kept feeling as if she were going to trip—and, despite the gown's bulk, she
felt as if she were somehow exposed by how tight it was through the chest,
not to mention the neckline's low curve. Though she had exposed nearly as
much skin when wearing normal, buttoning shirts, this seemed different
somehow.
Still, she had to admit that the gown made quite a difference. The girl who
stood in the mirror before her was a strange, foreign creature. The light blue
dress, with its white ruffles and lace, matched the sapphire barrettes in her
hair. Sazed claimed he wouldn't be happy until her hair was at least shoulder-
length, but he had still suggested that she purchase the broochlike barrettes
and put them just above each ear.
"Often, aristocrats don't hide their deficiencies," he had explained.
"Instead, they highlight them. Draw attention to your short hair, and instead
of thinking you're unfashionable, they might be impressed by the statement
you are making."
She also wore a sapphire necklace—modest by noble standards, but still
worth more than two hundred boxings. It was complemented by a single ruby
bracelet for accentuation. Apparently, the current fashion dictated a single
splash of a different color to provide contrast.
And it was all hers, paid for by crew funds. If she ran, taking the jewelry
and her three thousand boxings, she could live for decades. It was more
tempting than she wanted to admit. Images of Camon's men, their corpses
twisted and dead in the quiet lair, kept returning to her. That was probably
what waited for her if she remained.
Why, then, didn't she go?
She turned from the mirror, putting on a light blue silken shawl, the female
aristocrat's version of a cloak. Why didn't she leave? Perhaps it was her
promise to Kelsier. He had given her the gift of Allomancy, and he depended
on her. Perhaps it was her duty to the others. In order to survive, crews
needed each person to do their separate job.
Reen's training told her that these men were fools, but she was tempted,
enticed, by the possibility that Kelsier and the others offered. In the end, it
wasn't the wealth or the job's thrill that made her stay. It was the shadowed
prospect—unlikely and unreasonable, but still seductive—of a group whose
members actually trusted one another. She had to stay. She had to know if it
lasted, or if it was—as Reen's growing whispers promised—all a lie.
She turned and left her room, walking toward the front of Mansion
Renoux, where Sazed waited with a carriage. She had decided to stay, and
that meant she had to do her part.
It was time to make her first appearance as a noblewoman.
The carriage shook suddenly, and Vin jumped in surprise. The vehicle
continued normally, however, and Sazed didn't move from his place in the
driver's seat.
A sound came from above. Vin flared her metals, tensing, as a figure
dropped down off the top of the carriage and landed on the footman's rest
just outside her door. Kelsier smiled as he peeked his head in the window.
Vin let out a relieved breath, settling back into her seat. "You could have
just asked us to pick you up."
"No need," Kelsier said, pulling open the carriage door and swinging
inside. It was already dark outside, and he wore his mistcloak. "I warned
Sazed I'd be dropping by sometime during the trip."
"And you didn't tell me?"
Kelsier winked, pulling the door shut. "I figured I still owed you for
surprising me in that alleyway last week."
"How very adult of you," Vin said flatly.
"I've always been very confident in my immaturity. So, are you ready for
this evening?"
Vin shrugged, trying to hide her nervousness. She glanced down. "How . . .
uh, do I look?"
"Splendid," Kelsier said. "Just like a noble young lady. Don't be nervous,
Vin—the disguise is perfect."
For some reason, that didn't feel like the answer she'd wanted to hear.
"Kelsier?"
"Yes?"
"I've been meaning to ask this for a while," she said, glancing out the
window, though all she could see is mist. "I understand that you think this is
important—having a spy among the nobility. But . . . well, do we really have
to do it this way? Couldn't we get street informants to tell us what we need to
know about house politics?"
"Perhaps," Kelsier said. "But those men are called 'informants' for a
reason, Vin. Every question you ask them gives a clue about your true
motives—even meeting with them reveals a bit of information that they could
sell to someone else. It's better to rely on them as little as possible."
Vin sighed.
"I don't send you into danger heedlessly, Vin," Kelsier said, leaning
forward. "We do need a spy among the nobility. Informants generally get
their information from servants, but most aristocrats are not fools. Important
meetings go on where no servant can overhear them."
"And you expect me to be able to get into such meetings?"
"Perhaps," Kelsier said. "Perhaps not. Either way, I've learned that it's
always useful to have someone infiltrate the nobility. You and Sazed will
overhear vital items that street informants wouldn't think important. In fact,
just by being at these parties—even if you don't overhear anything—you will
get us information."
"How so?" Vin asked, frowning.
"Make note of the people who seem interested in you," Kelsier said.
"Those will be of the houses we want to watch. If they pay attention to you,
they're probably paying attention to Lord Renoux—and there's one good
reason why they would be doing that."
"Weapons," Vin said.
Kelsier nodded. "Renoux's position as a weapons merchant will make him
valuable to those who are planning military action. These are the houses on
which I'll need to focus my attention. There should already be a sense of
tension among the nobility—hopefully, they're starting to wonder which
houses are turning against the others. There hasn't been an all-out war among
the Great Houses for over a century, but the last one was devastating. We
need to replicate it."
"That could mean the deaths of a lot of noblemen," Vin said.
Kelsier smiled. "I can live with that. How about you?"
Vin smiled despite her tension.
"There's another reason for you to do this," Kelsier said. "Sometime
during this fiasco of a plan of mine, we might need to face the Lord Ruler. I
have a feeling that the fewer people we need to sneak into his presence, the
better. Having a skaa Mistborn hiding among the nobility . . . well, it could be
a powerful advantage."
Vin felt a slight chill. "The Lord Ruler . . . will he be there tonight?"
"No. There will be obligators in attendance, but probably no Inquisitors—
and certainly not the Lord Ruler himself. A party like this is far beneath his
attention."
Vin nodded. She'd never seen the Lord Ruler before—she'd never wanted
to.
"Don't worry so much," Kelsier said. "Even if you were to meet him,
you'd be safe. He can't read minds."
"Are you sure?"
Kelsier paused. "Well, no. But, if he can read minds, he doesn't do it to
everyone he meets. I've known several skaa who pretended to be noblemen
in his presence—I did it several times myself, before . . ." He trailed off,
glancing down toward his scar-covered hands.
"He caught you eventually," Vin said quietly.
"And he'll probably do so again," Kelsier said with a wink. "But, don't
worry about him for now—our goal this evening is to establish Lady Valette
Renoux. You won't need to do anything dangerous or unusual. Just make an
appearance, then leave when Sazed tells you. We'll worry about building
confidences later."
Vin nodded.
"Good girl," Kelsier said, reaching out and pushing open the door. "I'll be
hiding near the keep, watching and listening."
Vin nodded gratefully, and Kelsier jumped out of the carriage door,
disappearing into the dark mists.
Vin was unprepared for how bright Keep Venture would be in the darkness.
The massive building was enveloped in an aura of misty light. As the carriage
approached, Vin could see that eight enormous lights blazed along the
outside of the rectangular building. They were as bright as bonfires, yet far
more steady, and they had mirrors arranged behind them to make them shine
directly on the keep. Vin had trouble determining their purpose. The ball
would happen indoors—why light the outside of the building?
"Head inside, please, Mistress Vin," Sazed said from his position above.
"Proper young ladies do not gawk."
Vin shot him a glare he couldn't see, but ducked her head back inside,
waiting with impatient nervousness as the carriage pulled up to the massive
keep. It eventually rolled to a stop, and a Venture footman immediately
opened her door. A second footman approached and held out a hand to help
her down.
Vin accepted his hand, trying with as much grace as possible to pull the
frilled, bulky bottom of her dress out of the carriage. As she carefully
descended—trying not to trip—she was grateful for the footman's steadying
hand, and she finally realized why men were expected to help a lady out of
her carriage. It wasn't a silly custom after all—the clothing was the silly part.
Sazed surrendered the carriage and took his place a few steps behind her.
He wore robes even more fine than his standard fare; though they still
maintained the same V-like pattern, they had a belted waist and wide,
enveloping sleeves.
"Forward, Mistress," Sazed coached quietly from behind. "Up the carpet,
so that your dress doesn't rub on the cobbles, and in through the main doors."
Vin nodded, trying to swallow her discomfort. She walked forward,
passing noblemen and ladies in various suits and gowns. Though they
weren't looking at her, she felt exposed. Her steps were nowhere near as
graceful as those of the other ladies, who looked beautiful and comfortable in
their gowns. Her hands began to sweat inside her silky, blue-white gloves.
She forced herself to continue. Sazed introduced her at the door, presenting
her invitation to the attendants. The two men, dressed in black and red
servant's suits, bowed and waved her in. A crowd of aristocrats was pooling
slightly in the foyer, waiting to enter the main hall.
What am I doing? she thought frantically. She could challenge mist and
Allomancy, thieves and burglaries, mist-wraiths and beatings. Yet, facing
these noblemen and their ladies . . . going amongst them in the light, visible,
unable to hide . . . this terrified her.
"Forward, Mistress," Sazed said in a soothing voice. "Remember your
lessons."
Hide! Find a corner! Shadows, mists, anything!
Vin kept her hands clasped rigidly before her, walking forward. Sazed
walked beside her. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see concern on his
normally calm face.
And well he should worry! Everything he had taught her seemed fleeting—
vaporous, like the mists themselves. She couldn't remember names, customs,
anything.
She stopped just inside the foyer, and an imperious-looking nobleman in a
black suit turned to regard her. Vin froze.
The man looked her over with a dismissive glance, then turned away. She
distinctly heard the word "Renoux" whispered, and she glanced
apprehensively to the side. Several women were looking at her.
And yet, it didn't feel like they were seeing her at all. They were studying
the gown, the hair, and the jewelry. Vin glanced to the other side, where a
group of younger men were watching her. They saw the neckline, the pretty
dress and the makeup, but they didn't see her.
None of them could see Vin, they could only see the face she had put on—
the face she wanted them to see. They saw Lady Valette. It was as if Vin
weren't there.
As if . . . she were hiding, hiding right in front of their eyes.
And suddenly, her tension began to retreat. She let out a long, calming
breath, anxiety flowing away. Sazed's training returned, and she adopted the
look of a girl amazed by her first formal ball. She stepped to the side, handing
her shawl to an attendant, and Sazed relaxed beside her. Vin shot him a smile,
then swept forward into the main hall.
She could do this. She was still nervous, but the moment of panic was
over. She didn't need shadows or corners—she just needed a mask of
sapphires, makeup, and blue fabric.
The Venture main hall was a grand and imposing sight. Four or five
daunting stories high, the hall was several times as long as it was wide.
Enormous, rectangular stained-glass windows ran in rows along the hall, and
the strange, powerful lights outside shone on them directly, throwing a
cascade of colors across the room. Massive, ornate stone pillars were set into
the walls, running between the windows. Just before the pillars met the floor,
the wall fell away, indenting and creating a single-story gallery beneath the
windows themselves. Dozens of white-clothed tables sat in this area,
shadowed behind the pillars and beneath the overhang. In the distance, at the
far end of the hallway, Vin could make out a low balcony set into the wall,
and this held a smaller group of tables.
"The dining table of Lord Straff Venture," Sazed whispered, gesturing
toward the far balcony.
Vin nodded. "And those lights outside?"
"Limelights, Mistress," Sazed explained. "I'm not certain the process used
—somehow, the quicklime stones can be heated to brilliance without melting
them."
A string orchestra played on a platform to her left, providing music for the
couples who danced in the very center of the hall. To her right, serving tables
held platter upon platter of foods being attended by scurrying serving men in
white.
Sazed approached an attendant and presented Vin's invitation. The man
nodded, then whispered something in a younger servant's ear. The young
man bowed to Vin, then led the way into the room.
"I asked for a small, solitary table," Sazed said. "You won't need to mingle
during this visit, I think. Just be seen."
Vin nodded gratefully.
"The solitary table will mark you as single," Sazed warned. "Eat slowly—
once your meal is through, men will come to ask you to dance."
"You didn't teach me to dance!" Vin said in an urgent whisper.
"There wasn't time, Mistress," Sazed said. "Worry not—respectfully and
rightly, you can refuse these men. They will assume that you are simply
flustered by your first ball, and no harm will be done."
Vin nodded, and the serving man led them to a small table near the center
of the hallway. Vin seated herself in the only chair while Sazed ordered her
meal. He then stepped up to stand behind her chair.
Vin sat primly, waiting. Most of the tables lay just beneath the overhang of
the gallery—up close to the dancing—and that left a corridorlike walkway
behind them, near the wall. Couples and groups passed along this, speaking
quietly. Occasionally someone gestured or nodded toward Vin.
Well, that part of Kelsier's plan is working. She was getting noticed. She
had to force herself not to cringe or sink down in her chair, however, as a
high prelan strolled along the pathway behind her. He wasn't the one she had
met, fortunately, though he had the same gray robes and dark tattoos around
his eyes.
Actually, there were a fair number of obligators at the party. They strolled
about, mingling with the partygoers. And yet, there was an . . . aloofness to
them. A division. They hovered about, almost like chaperones.
The Garrison watches the skaa, Vin thought. Apparently, the obligators
perform a similar function for the nobility. It was an odd sight—she'd always
thought of the noblemen as being free. And, truthfully, they were far more
confident than the skaa. Many seemed to be enjoying themselves, and the
obligators didn't seem to be acting really as police, or even specifically as
spies. And yet, they were there. Hovering about, joining in conversations. A
constant reminder of the Lord Ruler and his empire.
Vin turned her attention away from the obligators—their presence still
made her a bit uncomfortable—and instead focused on something else: the
beautiful windows. Sitting where she was, she could see some of the ones
directly across and up from where she sat.
They were religious, like many scenes preferred by the aristocracy.
Perhaps it was to show devotion, or perhaps it was required. Vin didn't know
enough—but, likely, that was something Valette wouldn't know either, so it
was all right.
She did, fortunately, recognize some of the scenes—mostly because of
Sazed's teachings. He seemed to know as much about the Lord Ruler's
mythology as he did about other religions, though it seemed odd to her that
he would study the very religion he found so oppressive.
Central to many of the windows was the Deepness. Dark black—or, in
window terms, violet—it was formless, with vengeful, tentaclelike masses
creeping across several windows. Vin looked up at it, along with the
brilliantly colored depictions of the Lord Ruler, and found herself a little bit
transfixed by the backlit scenes.
What was it? she wondered. The Deepness? Why depict it so formlessly—
why not show what it really was?
She'd never really wondered about the Deepness before, but Sazed's
lessons left her wondering. Her instincts whispered scam. The Lord Ruler had
invented some terrible menace that he'd been able to destroy in the past,
therefore "earning" his place as emperor. And yet, staring up at the horrible,
twisting thing, Vin could almost believe.
What if something like that had existed? And, if it had, how had the Lord
Ruler managed to defeat it?
She sighed, shaking her head at the thoughts. Already, she was beginning
to think too much like a noblewoman. She was admiring the beauty of the
decorations—thinking about what they meant—without giving more than a
passing thought to the wealth that had created them. It was just that
everything here was so wondrous and ornate.
The pillars in the hall weren't just normal columns, they were carved
masterpieces. Wide banners hung from the ceiling just above the windows,
and the arching, lofty ceiling was crisscrossed by structural buttressings and
dotted with capstones. Somehow she knew each of those capstones was
intricately carved, despite the fact that they were too far away to be seen from
below.
And the dancers matched, perhaps even outshone, the exquisite setting.
Couples moved gracefully, stepping to the soft music with seemingly
effortless motions. Many were even chatting with one another while they
danced. The ladies moved freely in their dresses—many of which, Vin
noticed, made her own frilly garment look plain by comparison. Sazed was
right: Long hair was certainly the fashion, though an equal number kept their
hair up as left it down.
Surrounded by the majestic hall, the sharp-suited noblemen looked
different, somehow. Distinguished. Were these the same creatures that beat
her friends and enslaved the skaa? They seemed too . . . perfect, too well-
mannered, for such horrible acts.
I wonder if they even notice the outside world, she thought, crossing her
arms on the table as she watched the dancing. Perhaps they can't see beyond
their keeps and their balls—just like they can't see past my dress and
makeup.
Sazed tapped her shoulder, and Vin sighed, adopting a more ladylike
posture. The meal arrived a few moments later—a feast of such strange
flavors that she would have been daunted, had she not eaten similar fare often
during the last few months. Sazed's lessons might have omitted dancing, but
they had been quite extensive regarding dining etiquette, for which Vin was
grateful. As Kelsier had said, her main purpose of the evening was to make
an appearance—and so it was important that she make a proper one.
She ate delicately, as instructed, and that allowed her to be slow and
meticulous. She didn't relish the idea of being asked to dance; she was half
afraid she'd panic again if anyone actually spoke to her. However, a meal
could only be extended so long—especially one with a lady's small portions.
She soon finished, and set her fork across the plate, indicating that she was
done.
The first suitor approached not two minutes later. "Lady Valette Renoux?"
the young man asked, bowing just slightly. He wore a green vest beneath his
long, dark suit coat. "I am Lord Rian Strobe. Would you care to dance?"
"My lord," Vin said, glancing down demurely. "You are kind, but this is
my first ball, and everything here is so grand! I fear that I'll stumble from
nervousness on the dance floor. Perhaps, next time . . .?"
"Of course, my lady," he said with a courteous nod, then withdrew.
"Very well done, Mistress," Sazed said quietly. "Your accent was
masterful. You will, of course, have to dance with him at the next ball. We
shall surely have you trained by then, I think."
Vin flushed slightly. "Maybe he won't attend."
"Perhaps," Sazed said. "But not likely. The young nobility are quite fond
of their nightly diversions."
"They do this every night?"
"Nearly," Sazed said. "The balls are, after all, a prime reason people come
to Luthadel. If one is in town and there is a ball—and there almost always is
—one generally attends, especially if one is young and unmarried. You won't
be expected to attend quite so frequently, but we should probably get you up
to attending two or three a week."
"Two or three . . ." Vin said. "I'm going to need more gowns!"
Sazed smiled. "Ah, thinking like a noblewoman already. Now, Mistress, if
you will excuse me . . ."
"Excuse you?" Vin asked, turning.
"To the steward's dinner," Sazed said. "A servant of my rank is generally
dismissed once my master's meal is finished. I hesitate to go and leave you,
but that room will be filled with the self-important servants of the high
nobility. There will be conversations there that Master Kelsier wishes me to
overhear."
"You're leaving me by myself?"
"You've done well so far, Mistress," Sazed said. "No major mistakes—or,
at least, none that wouldn't be expected of a lady new to court."
"Like what?" Vin asked apprehensively.
"We shall discuss them later. Just remain at your table, sipping your wine
—try not to get it refilled too often—and wait for my return. If other young
men approach, turn them away as delicately as you did the first."
Vin nodded hesitantly.
"I shall return in about an hour," Sazed promised. He remained, however,
as if waiting for something.
"Um, you are dismissed," Vin said.
"Thank you, Mistress," he said, bowing and withdrawing. Leaving her
alone.
Not alone, she thought. Kelsier's out there somewhere, watching in the
night. The thought comforted her, though she wished she didn't feel the
empty space beside her chair quite so keenly.
Three more young men approached her for dances, but each one accepted
her polite rejection. No others came after them; word had probably gotten
around that she wasn't interested in dancing. She memorized the names of the
four men who had approached her—Kelsier would want to know them—and
began to wait.
Oddly, she soon found herself growing bored. The room was well
ventilated, but she still felt hot beneath the layers of fabric. Her legs were
especially bad, since they had to deal with her ankle-long undergarments. The
long sleeves didn't help either, though the silky material was soft against her
skin. The dancing continued, and she watched with interest for a time.
However, her attention soon turned to the obligators.
Interestingly, they did seem to serve some sort of function at the party.
Though they often stood apart from the groups of chatting nobility,
occasionally they would join in. And, every so often, a group would pause
and seek out an obligator, waving one over with a respectful gesture.
Vin frowned, trying to decide what she was missing. Eventually, a group at
a nearby table waved to a passing obligator. The table was too far away to
hear unaided, but with tin . . .
She reached inside to burn the metal, but then paused. Copper first, she
thought, turning the metal on. She would have to grow accustomed to leaving
it on almost all the time, so that she wouldn't expose herself.
Her Allomancy hidden, she burned tin. Immediately, the light in the room
became blinding, and she had to close her eyes. The band's music became
louder, and a dozen conversations around her turned from buzzes to audible
voices. She had to try hard to focus on the one she was interested in, but the
table was the one closest to her, so she eventually singled out the appropriate
voices.
" . . . swear that I'll share news of my engagement with him before anyone
else," one of the people said. Vin opened her eyes a slit—it was one of the
noblemen at the table.
"Very well," said the obligator. "I witness and record this."
The nobleman reached out a hand, and coins clinked. Vin extinguished her
tin, opening her eyes all the way in time to see the obligator wandering away
from the table, slipping something—likely the coins—into a pocket of his
robes.
Interesting, Vin thought.
Unfortunately, the people at that table soon rose and went their separate
ways, leaving Vin without anyone close enough to eavesdrop upon. Her
boredom returned as she watched the obligator stroll across the room toward
one of his companions. She began to tap on the table, idly watching the two
obligators until she realized something.
She recognized one of them. Not the one who had taken the money earlier,
but his companion, an older man. Short and firm-featured, he stood with an
imperious air. Even the other obligator seemed deferential to him.
At first, Vin thought her familiarity came from her visit to the Canton of
Finance with Camon, and she felt a stab of panic. Then, however, she
realized that this wasn't the same man. She'd seen him before, but not there.
He was . . .
My father, she realized with stupefaction.
Reen had pointed him out once, when they had first come to Luthadel, a
year ago; he had been inspecting the workers at a local forge. Reen had taken
Vin, sneaking her in, insisting that she at least see her father once—though
she still didn't understand why. She had memorized the face anyway.
She resisted the urge to shrink down in her chair. There was no way the
man would be able to recognize her—he didn't even know she existed. She
forcibly turned her attention away from him, looking up at the windows
instead. She couldn't get that good a look at them, however, because the
pillars and overhang restricted her view.
As she sat, she noticed something she hadn't seen before—a lofty, inset
balcony that ran just above the entire far wall. It was like a counterpart to the
alcove beneath the windows, except it ran at the top of the wall, between the
stained-glass windows and the ceiling. She could see movement upon it,
couples and singles strolling along, looking down upon the party below.
Her instincts drew her toward the balcony, from where she could watch the
party without being seen herself. It would also give her a wonderful view of
the banners and the windows directly above her table, not to mention let her
study the stonework without seeming to gawk.
Sazed had told her to stay, but the more she sat, the more she found her
eyes drawn toward the hidden balcony. She itched to stand up and move, to
stretch her legs and perhaps air them out a bit. The presence of her father—
oblivious of her or not—served only as another motivation for her to leave
the main floor.
It isn't like anyone else is asking me to dance, she thought. And I've done
what Kelsier wanted, I've been seen by the nobility.
She paused, then waved for a serving boy.
He approached with alacrity. "Yes, Lady Renoux?"
"How do I get up there?" Vin asked, pointing toward the balcony.
"There are stairs just to the side of the orchestra, my lady," the boy said.
"Climb them to the top landing."
Vin nodded her thanks. Then, determined, she stood and made her way to
the front of the room. No one gave her passing more than a glance, and she
walked with more confidence as she crossed the hallway to the stairwell.
The stone corridor twisted upward, curling upon itself, its steps short but
steep. Little stained glass windows, no wider than her hand, ran up the
outside wall—though they were dark in color, lacking backlight. Vin climbed
eagerly, working away her restless energy, but she soon began to puff from
the weight of the dress and the difficulty of holding it up so that she didn't
trip. A spark of burned pewter, however, made the climb effortless enough
that she didn't sweat and ruin her makeup.
The climb proved to be worth the effort. The upper balcony was dark—lit
only by several small blue-glassed lanterns on the walls—and it gave an
amazing view of the stained-glass windows. The area was quiet, and Vin felt
practically alone as she approached the iron railing between two pillars,
looking down. The stone tiles of the floor below formed a pattern she hadn't
noticed, a kind of freeform curving of gray upon white.
Mists? she wondered idly, leaning against the railing. It, like the lantern
bracket behind her, was intricate and detailed—both had been wrought in the
form of thick, curving vines. To her sides, the tops of the pillars were carved
into stone animals that appeared frozen in the motion of jumping off of the
balcony.
"Now, see, here's the problem with going to refill your cup of wine."
The sudden voice made Vin jump, and she spun. A young man stood
behind her. His suit wasn't the finest she had seen, nor was his vest as bright
as most. Both coat and shirt seemed to fit too loosely, and his hair was just a
bit disheveled. He carried a cup of wine, and the outer pocket of his suit coat
bulged with the shape of a book that was just a bit too big for its confines.
"The problem is," the young man said, "you return to find that your
favorite spot has been stolen by a pretty girl. Now, a gentleman would move
on to another place, leaving the lady to her contemplations. However, this is
the best spot on the balcony—it's the only place close enough to a lantern to
have good reading light."
Vin flushed. "I'm sorry, my lord."
"Ah, see, now I feel guilty. All for a cup of wine. Look, there's plenty of
room for two people here—just scoot over a bit."
Vin paused. Could she politely refuse? He obviously wanted her to stay
near him—did he know who she was? Should she try to find out his name, so
she could tell Kelsier?
She stepped a bit to the side, and the man took a place next to her. He
leaned back against the side pillar, and, surprisingly, took out his book and
began to read. He was right: The lantern shined directly on the pages. Vin
stood for a moment, watching him, but he seemed completely absorbed. He
didn't even pause to look up at her.
Isn't he going to pay me any attention at all? Vin thought, puzzled at her
own annoyance. Maybe I should have worn a fancier dress.
The man sipped at his wine, focused on the book.
"Do you always read at balls?" she asked.
The young man looked up. "Whenever I can get away with it."
"Doesn't that kind of defeat the purpose of coming?" Vin asked. "Why
attend if you're just going to avoid socializing?"
"You're up here too," he pointed out.
Vin flushed. "I just wanted to get a brief view of the hall."
"Oh? And why did you refuse all three men who asked you to dance?"
Vin paused. The man smiled, then turned back to his book.
"There were four," Vin said with a huff. "And I refused them because I
don't know how to dance very well."
The man lowered his book slightly, eyeing her. "You know, you're a lot
less timid than you look."
"Timid?" Vin asked. "I'm not the one staring at his book when there's a
young lady standing by him, never having properly introduced himself."
The man raised a speculative eyebrow. "Now, see, you sound like my
father. Far better looking, but just as grumpy."
Vin glared at him. Finally, he rolled his eyes. "Very well, let me be a
gentleman, then." He bowed to her with a refined, formal step. "I am Lord
Elend. Lady Valette Renoux, might I have the pleasure of sharing this
balcony with you whilst I read?"
Vin folded her arms. Elend? Family name or given name? Should I even
care? He just wanted his spot back. But . . . how did he know that I'd refused
dancing partners? Somehow, she had a suspicion that Kelsier would want to
hear about this particular conversation.
Oddly, she didn't feel a desire to shrug this man away as she had the
others. Instead, she felt another stab of annoyance as he again raised his
book.
"You still haven't told me why you would rather read than participate," she
said.
The man sighed, lowering the book again. "Well, see, I'm not exactly the
best dancer either."
"Ah," Vin said.
"But," he said, raising a finger, "that's only part of it. You may not realize
this yet, but it's not that hard to get overpartied. Once you attend five or six
hundred of these balls, they start to feel a bit repetitive."
Vin shrugged. "You'd probably learn to dance better if you practiced."
Elend raised an eyebrow. "You're not going to let me get back to my book,
are you?"
"I wasn't intending to."
He sighed, tucking the book back into his jacket pocket—which was
beginning to show signs of book-shaped wear. "Well, then. Do you want to
go dance instead?"
Vin froze. Elend smiled nonchalantly.
Lord! He's either incredibly smooth or socially incompetent. It was
disturbing that she couldn't determine which.
"That's a no, I assume?" Elend said. "Good—I thought I should offer,
since we've established that I'm a gentleman. However, I doubt the couples
below would appreciate us trampling their toes."
"Agreed. What were you reading?"
"Dilisteni," Elend said. "Trials of Monument. Heard of it?"
Vin shook her head.
"Ah, well. Not many have." He leaned over the railing, looking below.
"So, what do you think of your first experience at court?"
"It's very . . . overwhelming."
Elend chuckled. "Say what you will about House Venture—they know
how to throw a party."
Vin nodded. "You don't like House Venture, then?" she said. Perhaps this
was one of the rivalries Kelsier was watching for.
"Not particularly, no," Elend said. "They're an ostentatious lot, even for
high nobility. They can't just have a party, they have to throw the best party.
Never mind that they run their servants ragged setting it up, then beat the
poor things in retribution when the hall isn't perfectly clean the very next
morning."
Vin cocked her head. Not words I'd expect to hear from a nobleman.
Elend paused, looking a little embarrassed. "But, well, never mind that. I
think your Terrisman is looking for you."
Vin started, glancing over the side of the balcony. Sure enough, Sazed's
tall form stood by her now-empty table, speaking to a serving boy.
Vin yelped quietly. "I've got to go," she said, turning toward the stairwell.
"Ah, well then," Elend said, "back to reading it is." He gave her a half
wave of farewell, but he had his book open before she passed the first step.
Vin reached the bottom out of breath. Sazed saw her immediately.
"I'm sorry," she said, chagrined as she approached.
"Do not apologize to me, Mistress," Sazed said quietly. "It is both
unseemly and unnecessary. Moving about a bit was a good idea, I think. I
would have suggested it, had you not seemed so nervous."
Vin nodded. "Is it time for us to go, then?"
"It is a proper time to withdraw, if you wish," he said, glancing up at the
balcony. "May I ask what you were doing up there, Mistress?"
"I wanted to get a better look at the windows," Vin said. "But I ended up
talking to someone. He seemed interested in me at first, but now I don't think
he ever intended to pay me much attention. It doesn't matter—he didn't seem
important enough to bother Kelsier with his name."
Sazed paused. "Who was it you were speaking to?"
"The man in the corner there, on the balcony," Vin said.
"One of Lord Venture's friends?"
Vin froze. "Is one of them named Elend?"
Sazed paled visibly. "You were chatting with Lord Elend Venture?"
"Um . . . yes?"
"Did he ask you to dance?"
Vin nodded. "But I don't think he meant it."
"Oh, dear," Sazed said. "So much for controlled anonymity."
"Venture?" Vin asked, frowning. "Like, Keep Venture?"
"Heir to the house title," Sazed said.
"Hum," Vin said, realizing that she should probably be a bit more
intimidated than she felt. "He was a bit annoying—in a pleasant sort of way."
"We shouldn't be discussing this here," Sazed said. "You're far, far below
his station. Come, let us retire. I shouldn't have gone away to the dinner. . . ."
He trailed off, mumbling to himself as he led Vin to the entryway. She got
one more glimpse into the main chamber as she retrieved her shawl, and she
burned tin, squinting against the light and seeking the balcony above.
He held the book, closed, in one hand—and she could have sworn that he
was looking down in her direction. She smiled, and let Sazed usher her to
their carriage.
I know that I shouldn't let a simple packman perturb me. However, he is from Terris, where the
prophecies originated. If anyone could spot a fraud, would it not be he?
Nevertheless, I continue my trek, going where the scribbled auguries proclaim that I will
meet my destiny—walking, feeling Rashek's eyes on my back. Jealous. Mocking. Hating.
13
VIN SAT WITH HER LEGS crossed beneath her on one of Lord Renoux's fine
easy chairs. It felt good to be rid of the bulky dress, instead getting back to a
more familiar shirt and trousers.
However, Sazed's calm displeasure made her want to squirm. He stood on
the other side of the room, and Vin got the distinct impression that she was in
trouble. Sazed had questioned her in depth, seeking out every detail of her
conversation with Lord Elend. Sazed's inquiries had been respectful, of
course, but they had also been forceful.
The Terrisman seemed, in Vin's opinion, unduly worried about her
exchange with the young nobleman. They hadn't really talked about anything
important, and Elend himself was decidedly unspectacular for a Great House
lord.
But, there had been something odd about him—something Vin hadn't
admitted to Sazed. She'd felt . . . comfortable with Elend. Looking back on
the experience, she realized that for those few moments, she hadn't really
been Lady Valette. Nor had she been Vin, for that part of her—the timid
crewmember—was almost as fake as Valette was.
No, she'd simply been . . . whoever she was. It was a strange experience.
She had occasionally felt the same way during her time with Kelsier and the
others, but in a more limited manner. How had Elend been able to evoke her
true self so quickly and so thoroughly?
Maybe he used Allomancy on me! she thought with a start. Elend was a
high nobleman; perhaps he was a Soother. Maybe there was more to the
conversation than she had thought.
Vin sat back in her chair, frowning to herself. She'd had copper on, and
that meant he couldn't have used emotional Allomancy on her. Somehow, he
had simply gotten her to let her guard down. Vin thought back to the
experience, thinking about how oddly comfortable she'd felt. In retrospect, it
was clear that she hadn't been careful enough.
I'll be more cautious next time. She assumed that they would meet again.
They'd better.
A servant entered and whispered quietly to Sazed. A quick burn of tin let
Vin hear the conversation—Kelsier had finally returned.
"Please send word to Lord Renoux," Sazed said. The white-clothed servant
nodded, leaving the room with a quick step.
"The rest of you may leave," Sazed said calmly, and the room's attendants
scampered away. Sazed's quiet vigil had forced them to stand, waiting in the
tense room, not speaking or moving.
Kelsier and Lord Renoux arrived together, chatting quietly. As always,
Renoux wore a rich suit cut in the unfamiliar Western style. The aging man
kept his gray mustache trimmed thin and neat, and he walked with a
confident air. Even after spending an entire evening among the nobility, Vin
was again struck by his aristocratic bearing.
Kelsier still wore his mistcloak. "Saze?" he said as he entered. "You have
news?"
"I am afraid so, Master Kelsier," Sazed said. "It appears that Mistress Vin
caught the attention of Lord Elend Venture at the ball tonight."
"Elend?" Kelsier asked, folding his arms. "Isn't he the heir?"
"He is indeed," Renoux said. "I met the lad perhaps four years ago, when
his father visited the West. He struck me as a bit undignified for one of his
station."
Four years? Vin thought. There's no way he's been imitating Lord Renoux
for that long. Kelsier only escaped the Pits two years ago! She eyed the
impostor, but—as always—was unable to detect a flaw in his bearing.
"How attentive was the boy?" Kelsier asked.
"He asked her to dance," Sazed said. "But Mistress Vin was wise enough
to decline. Apparently, their meeting was a matter of idle happenstance—but
I fear she may have caught his eye."
Kelsier chuckled. "You taught her too well, Saze. In the future, Vin,
perhaps you should try to be a little less charming."
"Why?" Vin asked, trying to mask her annoyance. "I thought we wanted
me to be well liked."
"Not by a man as important as Elend Venture, child," Lord Renoux said.
"We sent you to court so you could make alliances—not scandals."
Kelsier nodded. "Venture is young, eligible, and heir to a powerful house.
Your having a relationship with him could make serious problems for us. The
women of the court would be jealous of you, and the older men would
disapprove of the rank difference. You'd alienate yourself from large sections
of the court. To get the information we need, we need the aristocracy to see
you as uncertain, unimportant, and—most importantly—unthreatening."
"Besides, child," Lord Renoux said. "It is unlikely that Elend Venture has
any real interest in you. He is known to be a court eccentric—he is probably
just trying to heighten his reputation by doing the unexpected."
Vin felt her face flush. He's probably right, she told herself sternly. Still,
she couldn't help feeling annoyed at the three of them—especially Kelsier,
with his flippant, unconcerned attitude.
"Yes," Kelsier said, "it's probably best that you avoid Venture completely.
Try to offend him or something. Give him a couple of those glares you do."
Vin regarded Kelsier with a flat look.
"That's the one!" Kelsier said with a laugh.
Vin clinched her teeth, then forced herself to relax. "I saw my father at the
ball tonight," she said, hoping to distract Kelsier and the others away from
Lord Venture.
"Really?" Kelsier asked with interest.
Vin nodded. "I recognized him from a time my brother pointed him out to
me."
"What is this?" Renoux asked.
"Vin's father is an obligator," Kelsier said. "And, apparently an important
one if he has enough pull to go to a ball like this. Do you know what his