regarding its authenticity."
"I do not believe it to be a fabrication, Master Ladrian," Sazed said. "It
contains a remarkable level of detail, especially regarding unimportant issues
—like packmen and supplies. In addition, the Lord Ruler it depicts is very
conflicted. If the Ministry were going to devise a book for worship, they
would present their god with more . . . divinity, I think."
"I'll want to read it when you are done, Saze," Dockson said.
"And I," Breeze said.
"Some of Clubs's apprentices occasionally work as scribes," Kelsier said.
"We'll have them make a copy for each of you."
"Handy lot, those," Dockson noted.
Kelsier nodded. "So, where does that leave us?"
The group paused, then Dockson nodded to Vin. "With the nobility."
Kelsier frowned slightly.
"I can go back to work," Vin said quickly. "I'm mostly healed, now."
Kelsier shot a look at Sazed, who raised an eyebrow. He checked on her
wound periodically. Apparently, he didn't like what he saw.
"Kell," Vin said. "I'm going insane. I grew up as a thief, scrambling for
food and space—I can't just sit around and let these servants pamper me."
Besides, I have to prove that I can still be useful to this crew.
"Well," Kelsier said. "You're one of the reasons we came here today.
There's a ball this weekend that—"
"I'll go," Vin said.
Kelsier held up a finger. "Hear me out, Vin. You've been through a lot
lately, and this infiltration could get dangerous."
"Kelsier," Vin said flatly. "My whole life has been dangerous. I'm going."
Kelsier didn't look convinced.
"She has to do it, Kell," Dockson said. "For one thing, the nobility is going
to get suspicious if she doesn't start going to parties again. For another, we
need to know what she sees. Having servant spies on the staff isn't the same
as having a spy listening to local plots. You know that."
"All right, then," Kelsier finally said. "But you have to promise not to use
physical Allomancy until Sazed says otherwise."
Later that evening, Vin still couldn't believe how eager she was to go the
ball. She stood in her room, looking over the different gown ensembles that
Dockson had found for her. Since she had been forced to wear noblewoman's
attire for a good month straight, she was beginning to find dresses just a
shade more comfortable than she once had.
Not that they aren't frivolous, of course, she thought, inspecting the four
gowns. All of that lace, the layers of material . . . a simple shirt and trousers
are so much more practical.
Yet, there was something special about the gowns—something in their
beauty, like the gardens outside. When regarded as static items, like a solitary
plant, the dresses were only mildly impressive. However, when she
considered attending the ball, the gowns took on a new meaning. They were
beautiful, and they would make her beautiful. They were the face she would
show to the court, and she wanted to choose the right one.
I wonder if Elend Venture will be there. . . . Didn't Sazed say that most of
the younger aristocrats attended every ball?
She lay a hand on one dress, black with silver embroiderings. It would
match her hair, but was it too dark? Most of the other women wore colorful
dresses; muted colors seemed reserved for men's suits. She eyed a yellow
gown, but it just seemed a little too . . . perky. And the white one was too
ornate.
That left the red. The neckline was lower—not that she had a lot to show—
but it was beautiful. A bit gossamer, with full sleeves that were made of
translucent mesh in places, it enticed her. But it seemed so . . . blatant. She
picked it up, feeling the soft material in her fingers, imagining herself
wearing it.
How did I get to this? Vin thought. This thing would be impossible to hide
in! These frilly creations, these aren't me.
And yet . . . part of her longed to be back at the ball again. The daily life of
a noblewoman frustrated her, but her memories of that one night were
alluring. The beautiful couples dancing, the perfect atmosphere and music,
the marvelous crystalline windows . . .
I don't even realize when I'm wearing perfume anymore, she realized with
shock. She found it preferable to bathe in scented water each day, and the
servants even perfumed her clothing. It was all subtle, of course, but it would
be enough to give her away while sneaking.
Her hair had grown longer, and had been carefully cut by Renoux's stylist
so that it fell around her ears, curling just slightly. She no longer looked quite
so scrawny in the mirror, despite her lengthy sickness; regular meals had
filled her out.
I'm becoming . . . Vin paused. She didn't know what she was becoming.
Certainly not a noblewoman. Noblewomen didn't get annoyed when they
couldn't to go out stalking at night. Yet, she wasn't really Vin the urchin
anymore. She was . . .
Mistborn.
Vin carefully laid the beautiful red dress back on her bed, then crossed the
room to look out the window. The sun was close to setting; soon, the mists
would come—though, as usual, Sazed would have guards posted to make
certain that she didn't go on any unauthorized Allomantic romps. She hadn't
complained at the precautions. He was right. Unwatched, she probably would
have broken her promise long ago.
She caught a glimpse of motion to her right, and could just barely make out
a figure standing out on the garden balcony. Kelsier. Vin stood for a moment,
then left her rooms.
Kelsier turned as she walked onto the balcony. She paused, not wanting to
interrupt, but he gave her one of his characteristic smiles. She walked
forward, joining him at the carved stone balcony railing.
He turned and looked westward—not at the grounds, but beyond them.
Toward the wilderness, lit by a setting sun, outside of town. "Does it ever
look wrong to you, Vin?"
"Wrong?" she asked.
Kelsier nodded. "The dry plants, the angry sun, the smoky-black sky."
Vin shrugged. "How can those things be right or wrong? That's just the
way things are."
"I suppose," Kelsier said. "But, I think your mind-set is part of the
wrongness. The world shouldn't look like this."
Vin frowned. "How do you know that?"
Kelsier reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. He
unfolded it with a gentle touch, then handed it to Vin.
She accepted the sheet, holding it carefully; it was so old and worn that it
seemed close to breaking at the creases. It didn't contain any words, just an
old, faded picture. It depicted a strange shape—something like a plant,
though not one Vin had ever seen. It was too . . . flimsy. It didn't have a thick
stalk, and its leaves were far too delicate. At its top, it had a strange collection
of leaves that were a different color from the rest.
"It's called a flower," Kelsier said. "They used to grow on plants, before
the Ascension. Descriptions of them appear in the old poems and stories—
things that only Keepers and rebel sages know about anymore. Apparently,
these plants were beautiful, and they had a pleasant smell."
"Plants that smell?" Vin asked. "Like fruit?"
"Something like that, I think. Some of the reports even claim that these
flowers grew into fruit, in the days before the Ascension."
Vin stood quietly, frowning, trying to imagine such a thing.
"That picture belonged to my wife, Mare," Kelsier said quietly. "Dockson
found it in her things after we were taken. He kept it, hoping that we would
return. He gave it to me after I escaped."
Vin looked down at the picture again.
"Mare was fascinated by pre-Ascension times," Kelsier said, still staring
out over the gardens. In the distance, the sun touched the horizon, and grew
an even deeper red. "She collected things like that paper: pictures and
descriptions of the old times. I think that fascination—along with the fact that
she was a Tineye—is part of what led her to the underground, and to me.
She's the one who first introduced me to Sazed, though I didn't use him in
my crew at the time. He wasn't interested in thieving."
Vin folded up the paper. "And you keep this picture still? After . . . what
she did to you?"
Kelsier fell silent for a moment. Then he eyed her. "Been listening at doors
again, have we? Oh, don't worry. I suppose it's common enough
knowledge." In the distance, the setting sun became a blaze, its ruddy light
illuminating clouds and smoke alike.
"Yes, I keep the flower," Kelsier said. "I'm not really sure why. But . . . do
you stop loving someone just because they betray you? I don't think so.
That's what makes the betrayal hurt so much—pain, frustration, anger . . .
and I still loved her. I still do."
"How?" Vin asked. "How can you? And, how can you possibly trust
people? Didn't you learn from what she did to you?"
Kelsier shrugged. "I think . . . I think given the choice between loving
Mare—betrayal included—and never knowing her, I'd choose love. I risked,
and I lost, but the risk was still worth it. It's the same with my friends.
Suspicion is healthy in our profession—but only to an extent. I'd rather trust
my men than worry about what will happen if they turn on me."
"That sounds foolish," Vin said.
"Is happiness foolish?" Kelsier asked, turning toward her. "Where have
you been happier, Vin? On my crew, or back with Camon?"
Vin paused.
"I don't know for sure if Mare betrayed me," Kelsier said, looking back at
the sunset. "She always claimed that she didn't."
"And she was sent to the Pits, right?" Vin said. "That doesn't make sense,
if she sided with the Lord Ruler."
Kelsier shook his head, still staring into the distance. "She showed up at
the Pits a few weeks after I was sent there—we were separated, after we were
caught. I don't know what happened during that time, or why she was
eventually sent to Hathsin. The fact that she was sent to die hints that maybe
she really didn't betray me, but . . ."
He turned toward Vin. "You didn't hear him when he caught us, Vin. The
Lord Ruler . . . he thanked her. Thanked her for betraying me. His words—
spoken with such an eerie sense of honesty—mixed with the way that the
plan was set up . . . well, it was hard to believe Mare. That didn't change my
love, though—not deep down. I nearly died when she did a year later, beaten
before the slavemasters at the Pits. That night, after her corpse was taken
away, I Snapped."
"You went mad?" Vin asked.
"No," Kelsier said. "Snapping is an Allomantic term. Our powers are latent
at first—they only come out after some traumatic event. Something intense—
something almost deadly. The philosophers say that a man can't command
the metals until he has seen death and rejected it."
"So . . . when did it happen to me?" Vin asked.
Kelsier shrugged. "It's hard to tell. Growing up as you did, there were
probably ample opportunities for you to Snap."
He nodded as if to himself. "For me," he said, "it was that night. Alone in
the Pits, my arms bleeding from the day's work. Mare was dead, and I feared
that I was responsible—that my lack of faith took away her strength and will.
She died knowing that I questioned her loyalty. Maybe, if I'd really loved
her, I wouldn't have ever questioned. I don't know."
"But, you didn't die," Vin said.
Kelsier shook his head. "I decided that I'd see her dream fulfilled. I'd
make a world where flowers returned, a world with green plants, a world
where no soot fell from the sky. . . ." He trailed off, then sighed. "I know. I'm
insane."
"Actually," Vin said quietly, "it kind of makes sense. Finally."
Kelsier smiled. The sun sank beneath the horizon, and while its light was
still a flare in the west, the mists began to appear. They didn't come from one
specific place, they just sort of . . . grew. They extended like translucent,
twisting vines in the sky—curling back and forth, lengthening, dancing,
melding.
"Mare wanted children," Kelsier said suddenly. "Back when we were first
married, a decade and a half ago. I . . . didn't agree with her. I wanted to
become the most famous skaa thief of all time, and didn't have time for
things that would slow me down.
"It's probably a good thing that we didn't have children. The Lord Ruler
might have found and killed them. But, he might not have—Dox and the
others survived. Now, sometimes, I wish that I had a piece of her with me. A
child. A daughter, perhaps, with Mare's same dark hair and resilient
stubbornness."
He paused, then looked down at Vin. "I don't want to be responsible for
something happening to you, Vin. Not again."
Vin frowned. "I'm not spending any more time locked in this mansion."
"No, I don't suppose you will. If we try and keep you in much longer,
you'll probably just show up at Clubs's shop one night having done
something very foolish. We're a bit too much alike that way, you and I. Just .
. . be careful."
Vin nodded. "I will."
They stood for a few more minutes, watching the mists gather. Finally,
Kelsier stood up straight, stretching. "Well, for what it's worth, I'm glad you
decided to join us, Vin."
Vin shrugged. "To tell you the truth, I'd kind of like to see one of those
flowers for myself."
You could say that circumstances forced me to leave my home behind—certainly, if I had stayed,
I would now be dead. During those days—running without knowing why, carrying a burden I
didn't understand—I assumed that I would lose myself in Khlennium and seek a life of
indistinction.
I am slowly coming to understand that anonymity, like so many other things, has already
been lost to me forever.
18
SHE DECIDED TO WEAR THE red dress. It was definitely the boldest choice, but
that felt right. After all, she hid her true self behind an aristocratic
appearance; the more visible that appearance was, the easier it should be for
her to hide.
A footman opened the carriage door. Vin took a deep breath—chest a little
confined by the special corset she was wearing to hide her bandages—then
accepted the footman's hand and climbed down. She straightened her dress,
nodded to Sazed, then joined the other aristocrats making their way up the
steps to Keep Elariel. It was a bit smaller than the keep of House Venture.
However, Keep Elariel apparently had a separate party ballroom, while
House Venture had its gatherings in the enormous main hall.
Vin eyed the other noblewomen, and felt a bit of her confidence vanish.
Her dress was beautiful, but the other women had so much more than just
gowns. Their long, flowing hair and self-assured airs matched their bejeweled
figures. They filled out the upper portions of their dresses with voluptuous
curves, and moved elegantly in the frilled splendor of the lower folds. Vin
occasionally caught glimpses of the women's feet, and they didn't wear
simple slippers like her own, but rather high-heeled shoes.
"Why don't I have shoes like that?" she asked quietly as they climbed the
carpet-covered stairs.
"Heels take practice to walk in, Mistress," Sazed replied. "Since you've
only just learned to dance, it might be best if you wore regular shoes for a
time."
Vin frowned, but accepted the explanation. Sazed's mention of dancing,
however, increased her discomfort. She remembered the flowing poise of the
dancers at her last ball. She certainly wouldn't be able to imitate that—she
barely even knew the basic steps.
That won't matter, she thought. They won't see me—they'll see Lady
Valette. She's supposed to be new and uncertain, and everyone thinks she's
been ill lately. It will make sense for her to be a poor dancer.
That thought in mind, Vin reached the top of the stairs feeling a bit more
secure.
"I must say, Mistress," Sazed said. "You seem far less nervous this time—
in fact, you even seem excited. This is the proper attitude for Valette to
display, I think."
"Thank you," she said, smiling. He was right: She was excited. Excited to
be part of the job again—excited, even, to be back among the nobility, with
their splendor and grace.
They stepped up to the squat ballroom building—one of several low wings
extending from the main keep—and a servant took her shawl. Vin paused a
moment just inside the doorway, waiting as Sazed arranged her table and
meal.
The Elariel ballroom was very different from the majestic Venture grand
hall. The dim room was only a single story high, and while it had a lot of
stained-glass windows, they were all in the ceiling. Circular rose-window
skylights shone from above, lit by small limelights on the roof. Each table
was set with candles, and despite the light from above, there was a reserved
darkness about the room. It seemed . . . private, despite the numerous people
in attendance.
This room had obviously been designed to accommodate parties. A sunken
dancing floor lay at its center, and this was better lit than the rest of the room.
There were two tiers of tables circling the dancing floor: The first tier was
only a few feet above, the other was farther back and about twice as high.
A servant led her to a table at the rim of the room. She sat, Sazed taking his
customary place beside her, and began to wait for her meal to arrive.
"How exactly am I supposed to get the information Kelsier wants?" she
asked quietly, scanning the dark room. The deep, crystalline colors from
above projected patterns across tables and people, creating an impressive
atmosphere, yet making it difficult to distinguish faces. Was Elend here
somewhere amidst the ball-goers?
"Tonight, some men should ask you to dance," Sazed said. "Accept their
invitations—this will give you an excuse to seek them out later and mingle in
their groups. You don't need to participate in conversations—you just have to
listen. At future balls, perhaps some of the young men will begin to ask you
to accompany them. Then you'll be able to sit at their table and listen to all of
their discussions."
"You mean, sit with one man the entire time?"
Sazed nodded. "It's not uncommon. You would dance only with him that
night as well."
Vin frowned. However, she let the matter drop, turning to inspect the room
again. He's probably not even here—he said he avoided balls when possible.
Even if he were here, he'd be off on his own. You won't even—
A muted thump sounded as someone dropped a stack of books onto her
table. Vin jumped in startlement, turning as Elend Venture pulled over a
chair, then sat down with a relaxed posture. He leaned back in the chair,
angling toward a candelabrum beside her table, and opened a book to begin
reading.
Sazed frowned. Vin hid a smile, eyeing Elend. He still didn't look as if he
had bothered to brush his hair, and again wore his suit without the buttons
done up. The garment wasn't shabby, but nor was it as rich as others at the
party. It seemed to have been tailored to be loose and relaxed, defying the
traditional sharp, well-cut fashion.
Elend flipped through his book. Vin waited patiently for him to
acknowledge her, but he just continued to read. Finally, Vin raised an
eyebrow. "I don't remember giving you permission to sit at my table, Lord
Venture," she said.
"Don't mind me," Elend said, not looking up. "You've got a big table—
there's plenty of room for both of us."
"Both of us, perhaps," Vin said. "But I'm not sure about those books.
Where are the servers going to put my meal?"
"There's a bit of space to your left," Elend said offhandedly.
Sazed's frown deepened. He stepped forward, gathering up the books and
setting them on the floor beside Elend's chair.
Elend continued to read. He did, however, raise a hand to gesture. "See,
now, that's why I don't ever use Terrismen servants. They're an insufferably
efficient lot, I must say."
"Sazed is hardly insufferable," Vin said coolly. "He is a good friend, and is
probably a better man than you will ever be, Lord Venture."
Elend finally looked up. "I'm . . . sorry," he said in a frank tone. "I
apologize."
Vin nodded. Elend, however, opened his book and began reading again.
Why sit with me if he's just going to read? "What did you do at these
parties before you had me to pester?" she asked in an annoyed tone.
"See, now, how can I be pestering you?" he asked. "I mean, really, Valette.
I'm just sitting here, reading quietly to myself."
"At my table. I'm certain you could get your own—you're the Venture
heir. Not that you were forthcoming about that fact during our last meeting."
"True," Elend said. "I do, however, recall telling you that the Ventures
were an annoying lot. I'm just trying to live up to the description."
"You're the one that made up the description!"
"Convenient, that," Elend said, smiling slightly as he read.
Vin sighed in frustration, scowling.
Elend peeked up over his book. "That's a stunning dress. It's almost as
beautiful as you are."
Vin froze, jaw hanging open slightly. Elend smiled mischievously, then
turned back to his book, eyes sparkling as if to indicate that he'd made the
comment simply because he knew the reaction he'd get.
Sazed loomed over the table, not bothering to mask his disapproval. Yet,
he said nothing. Elend was obviously too important to be chastised by a
simple steward.
Vin finally found her tongue. "How is it, Lord Venture, that an eligible
man like yourself comes to these balls alone?"
"Oh, I don't," Elend said. "My family usually has one girl or another lined
up to accompany me. Tonight's fare is the Lady Stase Blanches—she's the
one in the green dress sitting on the lower tier across from us."
Vin glanced across the room. Lady Blanches was a gorgeous blond
woman. She kept glancing up at Vin's table, covering a scowl.
Vin flushed, turning away. "Um, shouldn't you be down there with her?"
"Probably," Elend said. "But, see, I'll tell you a secret. The truth is, I'm
not really much of a gentleman. Besides, I didn't invite her—it wasn't until I
got into the carriage that I was informed regarding my accompaniment."
"I see," Vin said with a frown.
"My behavior is, nonetheless, deplorable. Unfortunately, I'm quite prone
to such bouts of deplorability—take, for instance, my fondness for reading
books at the dinner table. Excuse me for a moment; I'm going to go get
something to drink."
He stood, tucking the book into his pocket, and walked toward one of the
room's bar tables. Vin watched him go, both annoyed and bemused.
"This is not good, Mistress," Sazed said in a low tone.
"He's not that bad."
"He's using you, Mistress," Sazed said. "Lord Venture is infamous for his
unconventional, disobedient attitude. Many people dislike him—precisely
because he does things like this."
"Like this?"
"He is sitting with you because he knows that it will annoy his family,"
Sazed said. "Oh, child—I do not wish to bring you pain, but you must
understand the ways of the court. This young man is not romantically
interested in you. He is a young, arrogant lord who chafes at his father's
restrictions—so he rebels, acting rude and offensive. He knows that his father
will relent if he acts spoiled enough for long enough."
Vin felt her stomach twist. Sazed's probably right, of course. Why else
would Elend seek me out? I'm exactly what he needs—someone lowborn
enough to annoy his father, but inexperienced enough not to see the truth.
Her meal arrived, but Vin didn't have much of an appetite anymore. She
began to pick at the food as Elend returned, settling down with a large goblet
filled with some mixed drink. He sipped as he read.
Let's see how he reacts if I don't interrupt his reading, Vin thought in
annoyance, remembering her lessons, and eating her food with a lady's grace.
It wasn't a large meal—mostly some rich, buttered vegetables—and the
sooner she finished, the sooner she could get to dancing. At least then she
wouldn't have to sit with Elend Venture.
The young lord paused several times as she ate, peeking at her over the top
of his book. He obviously expected her to say something, but she never did.
As she ate, however, her anger faded. She glanced at Elend, studying his
slightly disheveled appearance, watching the earnestness with which he read
his book. Could this man really hide the twisted sense of manipulation Sazed
implied? Was he really just using her?
Anyone will betray you, Reen whispered. Everyone will betray you.
Elend just seemed so . . . genuine. He felt like a real person, not a front or a
face. And it did seem like he wanted her to talk to him. It felt like a personal
victory to Vin when he finally sat the book down and looked at her.
"Why are you here, Valette?" he asked.
"Here at the party?"
"No, here in Luthadel."
"Because it's the center of everything," Vin said.
Elend frowned. "I suppose it is. But, the empire is a big place to have such
a small center. I don't think we really understand how large it is. How long
did it take you to get here?"
Vin felt a moment of panic, but Sazed's lessons snapped quickly into her
mind. "Almost two months by canal, with some stops."
"Such a long time," Elend said. "They say it can take half a year to travel
from one end of the empire to the other, yet most of us ignore everything but
this little bit at the center."
"I . . ." Vin trailed off. With Reen, she'd been all across the Central
Dominance. It was the smallest of the dominances, however, and she'd never
visited the more exotic places in the empire. This central area was good for
thieves; oddly, the place closest to the Lord Ruler was also the one with the
most corruption, not to mention the most riches.
"What do you think of the city, then?" Elend asked.
Vin paused. "It's . . . dirty," she said honestly. In the dim light, a servant
arrived to remove her empty plate. "It's dirty, and it's full. The skaa are
treated terribly, but I guess that's true everywhere."
Elend cocked his head, giving her a strange look.
I shouldn't have mentioned the skaa. That wasn't very noble-like.
He leaned forward. "You think the skaa here are treated worse than the
ones on your plantation? I always thought they would be better off in the
city."
"Um . . . I'm not sure. I didn't go to the fields very often."
"So, you didn't interact with them very much?"
Vin shrugged. "Why does it matter? They're just skaa."
"See, now, that's what we always say," Elend said. "But I don't know.
Maybe I'm too curious, but they interest me. Did you ever hear them talk to
one another? Did they sound like regular people?"
"What?" Vin asked. "Of course they did. What else would they sound
like?"
"Well, you know what the Ministry teaches."
She didn't. However, if it was regarding the skaa, it probably wasn't
flattering. "I make it a rule to never completely believe anything the Ministry
says."
Elend paused again, cocking his head. "You're . . . not what I expected,
Lady Valette."
"People rarely are."
"So, tell me about the plantation skaa. What are they like?"
Vin shrugged. "Like skaa everywhere else."
"Are they intelligent?"
"Some are."
"But, not like you and me, right?" Elend asked.
Vin paused. How would a noblewoman respond? "No, of course not.
They're just skaa. Why are you so interested in them?"
Elend seemed . . . disappointed. "No reason," he said, sitting back in his
chair and opening his book. "I think some of those men over there want to
ask you to dance."
Vin turned, noticing that there was indeed a group of young men standing
a short distance from her table. They looked away as soon as she turned.
After a few moments, one of the men pointed at another table; then he walked
over and asked a young lady to dance.
"Several people have noticed you, my lady," Sazed said. "However, they
never approach. Lord Venture's presence intimidates them, I think."
Elend snorted. "They should know that I am anything but intimidating."
Vin frowned, but Elend just continued to read. Fine! she thought, turning
back toward the young men. She caught one man's eye, smiling slightly.
A few moments later, the young man approached. He spoke to her in a
stiff, formal tone. "Lady Renoux, I am Lord Melend Liese. Would you care
to dance?"
Vin shot a glance at Elend, but he didn't look up from his book.
"I would love to, Lord Liese," Vin said, taking the young man's hand and
rising.
He led her down to the dance floor, and as they approached, Vin's
nervousness returned. Suddenly, one week of practice didn't seem like
enough. The music stopped, allowing for couples to leave or enter the floor,
and Lord Liese led her forward.
Vin fought down her paranoia, reminding herself that everyone saw the
dress and the rank, not Vin herself. She looked up into Lord Liese's eyes and
saw, surprisingly, apprehension.
The music began, as did the dancing. Lord Liese's face took on a look of
consternation. She could feel his palm sweating in her hands. Why, he's just
as nervous as I am! Perhaps even more.
Liese was younger than Elend, closer to her own age. He probably wasn't
very experienced with balls—he certainly didn't look like he'd danced much.
He focused so much on the steps that his motions felt rigid.
It makes sense, Vin realized, relaxing and letting her body move in the
motions Sazed had taught. The experienced ones wouldn't ask me to dance,
not when I'm so new. I'm beneath their notice.
But, why is Elend paying attention to me? Is it simply what Sazed said—a
ploy to annoy his father? Why, then, does he seem interested in what I have to
say?
"Lord Liese," Vin said. "Do you know much of Elend Venture?"
Liese looked up. "Um, I . . ."
"Don't focus so much on the dancing," Vin said. "My instructor says that it
will flow more naturally if you don't try too hard."
He blushed.
Lord Ruler! Vin thought. How fresh is this boy?
"Um, Lord Venture . . ." Liese said. "I don't know. He's a very important
person. Far more important than I am."
"Don't let his lineage intimidate you," Vin said. "From what I've seen,
he's pretty harmless."
"I don't know, my lady," Liese said. "Venture is a very influential house."
"Yes, well, Elend doesn't live up to that reputation. He seems very fond of
ignoring those in his company—does he do that to everyone?"
Liese shrugged, dancing more naturally now that they were talking. "I
don't know. You . . . seem to know him better than I, my lady."
"I . . ." Vin trailed off. She felt as if she knew him well—far better than she
should know a man after two brief encounters. She couldn't very well explain
that to Liese, however.
But, maybe . . . Didn't Renoux say that he'd met Elend once?
"Oh, Elend is a friend of the family," Vin said as they spun beneath a
crystalline skylight.
"He is?"
"Yes," Vin said. "It was very kind of my uncle to ask Elend to watch over
me at these parties, and so far he's been quite a dear. I do wish that he'd pay
less attention to those books of his and more attention to introducing me,
though."
Liese perked up, and he seemed to grow a little less insecure. "Oh. Why,
that makes sense."
"Yes," Vin said, "Elend has been like an older brother to me during my
time here in Luthadel."
Liese smiled.
"I ask you about him because he doesn't speak much of himself," Vin said.
"The Ventures have all been quiet lately," Liese said. "Ever since the
attack on their keep several months back."
Vin nodded. "You know much about that?"
Liese shook his head. "No one tells me anything." He glanced down,
watching their feet. "You're very good at dancing, Lady Renoux. You must
have attended many balls back in your home city."
"You flatter me, my lord," Vin said.
"No, really. You're so . . . graceful."
Vin smiled, feeling a slight surge of confidence.
"Yes," Liese said, almost to himself. "You're not at all like Lady Shan said
—" He stopped, jerking slightly, as if realizing what he was saying.
"What?" Vin said.
"Nothing," Liese said, his blush rising. "I'm sorry. It was nothing."
Lady Shan, Vin thought. Remember that name.
She prodded Liese further as the dance progressed, but he was obviously
too inexperienced to know much. He did feel that there was a tension rising
between the houses; though the balls continued, there were more and more
absences as people didn't attend parties thrown by their political rivals.
When the dance ended, Vin felt good about her efforts. She probably
hadn't discovered much of value to Kelsier—however, Liese was only the
beginning. She'd work up to more important people.
Which means, Vin thought as Liese led her back to her table, I'm going to
have to attend a lot more of these balls. It wasn't that the balls themselves
were unpleasant—especially now that she was more confident in her dancing.
However, more balls meant fewer chances to be out in the mists.
Not that Sazed would let me go anyway, she thought with an inward sigh,
smiling politely as Liese bowed and retreated.
Elend had spread his books across the table, and her alcove was lit by
several more candelabra—apparently filched from other tables.
Well, Vin thought, we've at least got thieving in common.
Elend hunched over the table, making notations in a small, pocket-sized
book. He didn't look up as she sat. Sazed, she noticed, was nowhere to be
seen.
"I sent the Terrisman to dinner," Elend said distractedly as he scribbled.
"No need for him to go hungry while you twirled down below."
Vin raised an eyebrow, regarding the books that dominated her tabletop.
Even as she watched, Elend pushed one tome aside—leaving it open to a
specific page—and pulled over another. "So, how was the aforementioned
twirling, anyway?" he said.
"It was actually kind of fun."
"I thought you weren't very good at it."
"I wasn't," Vin said. "I practiced. You may find this information
surprising, but sitting in the back of a room reading books in the dark doesn't
exactly help one become a better dancer."
"Is that a proposition?" Elend asked, pushing aside his book and selecting
another. "It's unladylike to ask a man to dance, you know."
"Oh, I wouldn't want to take you away from your reading," Vin said,
turning a book toward her. She grimaced—the text was written in a small,
cramped hand. "Besides, dancing with you would undermine all of the work I
just did."
Elend paused. Then he finally looked up. "Work?"
"Yes," Vin said. "Sazed was right—Lord Liese finds you intimidating, and
he found me intimidating by association. It could be quite disastrous to a
young lady's social life if all of the young men assumed her unavailable
simply because an annoying lord decided to study at her table."
"So . . ." Elend said.
"So I told him that you were simply showing me the ways of court. Kind
of like an . . . older brother."
"Older brother?" Elend asked, frowning.
"Much older," Vin said, smiling. "I mean, you've got to be at least twice
my age."
"Twice your . . . Valette, I'm twenty-one. Unless you're a very mature ten-
year-old, I'm nowhere near 'twice your age!'"
"I've never been good with math," Vin said offhandedly.
Elend sighed, rolling his eyes. Nearby, Lord Liese was speaking quietly
with his group of friends, gesturing toward Vin and Elend. Hopefully, one
would come ask her to dance soon.
"Do you know a Lady Shan?" Vin asked idly as she waited.
Surprisingly, Elend looked up. "Shan Elariel?"
"I assume so," Vin said. "Who is she?"
Elend turned back to his book. "Nobody important."
Vin raised an eyebrow. "Elend, I've only been doing this for a few months,
but even I know not to trust a comment like that."
"Well . . ." Elend said. "I might be engaged to her."
"You have a fiancée?" Vin asked with exasperation.
"I'm not exactly sure. We haven't really done anything about the situation
for a year or so. Everyone's likely forgotten the matter by now."
Great, Vin thought.
A moment later, one of Liese's friends approached. Glad to be rid of the
frustrating Venture heir, Vin stood, accepting the young lord's hand. As she
walked to the dance floor, she glanced at Elend, and caught him peeking over
the book at her. He immediately turned back to his research with an overtly
indifferent air.
Vin sat down at her table, feeling a remarkable level of exhaustion. She
resisted the urge to pull off her shoes and massage her feet; she suspected that
wouldn't be very ladylike. She quietly turned on her copper, then burned
pewter, strengthening her body and washing away a bit of her fatigue.
She let her pewter, then her copper, lapse. Kelsier had assured her that with
copper on, she couldn't be spotted as an Allomancer. Vin wasn't so certain.
With pewter burning, her reactions were too fast, her body too strong. It
seemed to her that an observant person would be able to notice such
inconsistencies, whether or not they themselves were an Allomancer.
With the pewter off, her fatigue returned. She'd been trying to wean herself
off constant pewter lately. Her wound was to the point that it only hurt badly
if she twisted the wrong way, and she wanted to recover her strength on her
own, if she could.
In a way, her fatigue this evening was a good thing—it was a result of an
extended period of dancing. Now that the young men regarded Elend as a
guardian, rather than a romantic interest, they had no qualms about asking
Vin to dance. And, worried that she would make an unintended political
statement by refusing, Vin had agreed to each request. A few months ago, she
would have laughed at the idea of exhaustion from dancing. However, her
sore feet, aching side, and tired legs were only part of it. The effort of
memorizing names and houses—not to mention putting up with her dancing
partners' fluffy conversation—left her mentally drained.
It's a good thing Sazed had me wear slippers instead of heels, Vin thought
with a sigh, sipping her chilled juice. The Terrisman hadn't returned from his
dinner yet. Notably, Elend wasn't at the table either—though his books still
lay scattered across its top.
Vin eyed the tomes. Perhaps if she appeared to be reading, the young men
would leave her alone for a bit. She reached over, riffling through the books
for a likely candidate. The one she was most interested in—Elend's small,
leather-bound notebook—was missing.
Instead, she picked a large, blue tome and hefted it over to her side of the
table. She had picked it for its large lettering—was paper really so expensive
that scribes needed to cram as many lines to a page as possible? Vin sighed,
leafing through the volume.
I can't believe people read books this big, she thought. Despite the large
lettering, each page was filled with words. It would take days and days to
read the entire thing. Reen had taught her reading so that she would be able to
decipher contracts, write notes, and perhaps play a noblewoman. However,
her training hadn't extended to texts this massive.
Historical Practices in Imperial Political Rule, the first page read. The
chapters had titles like "The Fifth Century Governorship Program" and "The
Rise of Skaa Plantations." She flipped through to the end of the book,
figuring it would probably be the most interesting. The final chapter was
titled "Current Political Structure."
So far, she read, the plantation system has produced a far more stable
government than previous methodologies. The structure of Dominances with
each provincial lord taking command of—and responsibility for—his skaa
has fostered a competitive environment where discipline is harshly enforced.
The Lord Ruler apparently finds this system troubling because of the
freedom it allows the aristocracy. However, the relative lack of organized
rebellion is undoubtedly enticing; during the two hundred years that the
system has been in place, there hasn't been a major uprising in the Five
Inner Dominances.
Of course, this political system is only an extension of the greater
theocratic rulership. The aristocracy's independence has been tempered by a
renewed vigor in obligator enforcement. No lord, no matter how lofty, would
be advised to think himself above their law. The call from an Inquisitor can
come to anyone.
Vin frowned. While the text itself was dry, she was surprised that the Lord
Ruler allowed such analytical discussions of his empire. She settled back in
her chair, holding up the book, but she didn't read any more. She was too
exhausted from the hours she had spent covertly trying to wiggle information
out of her dancing partners.
Unfortunately, politics didn't pay heed to Vin's state of exhaustion.
Though she did her best to appear absorbed in Elend's book, a figure soon
approached her table.
Vin sighed, preparing herself for another dance. She soon realized,
however, that the newcomer wasn't a nobleman, but a Terrisman steward.
Like Sazed, he wore robes with overlapping V designs, and was very fond of
jewelry.
"Lady Valette Renoux?" the tall man asked in a faintly accented voice.
"Yes," Vin said hesitantly.
"My mistress, Lady Shan Elariel, requires your presence at her table."
Requires? Vin thought. She already didn't like that tone, and she had little
desire to meet with Elend's former betrothed. Unfortunately, House Elariel
was one of the more powerful Great Houses—probably not someone to
dismiss offhandedly.
The Terrisman waited expectantly.
"Very well," Vin said, rising with as much grace as she could muster.
The Terrisman led Vin toward a table a short distance from her own. The
table was well attended, with five women seated around it, and Vin picked
out Shan immediately. Lady Elariel was obviously the statuesque woman
with long dark hair. She wasn't participating in the conversation, but seemed
to dominate it nonetheless. Her arms sparkled with lavender bracelets that
matched her dress, and she turned dismissive eyes toward Vin as she
approached.
Those dark eyes, however, were keen. Vin felt exposed before them—
stripped of her fine dress, reduced to a dirty urchin once again.
"Excuse us, ladies," Shan said. The women immediately did as ordered,
departing the table in a stately flurry.
Shan picked up a fork and began to meticulously dissect and devour a
small piece of dessert cake. Vin stood uncertainly, the Terrisman steward
taking up a position behind Shan's chair.
"You may sit," Shan said.
I feel like a skaa again, Vin thought, sitting. Noblemen treat each other
this way too?
"You are in an enviable position, child," Shan said.
"How is that?" Vin asked.
"Address me as 'Lady Shan,' " Shan said, her tone unchanged. "Or,
perhaps, 'Your Ladyship.' "
Shan waited expectantly, taking petite bites of the cake. Finally, Vin said,
"Why is that, Your Ladyship?"
"Because young Lord Venture has decided to use you in his games. That
means you have the opportunity to be used by me as well."
Vin frowned. Remember to stay in character. You're the easily intimidated
Valette.
"Wouldn't it be better to not be used at all, Your Ladyship?" Vin said
carefully.
"Nonsense," Shan replied. "Even an uncultured simpleton like yourself
must see the importance of being useful to your betters." Shan said the words,
even the insult, without vehemence; she simply seemed to take it for granted
that Vin would agree.
Vin sat, dumbfounded. None of the other nobility had treated her in such a
manner. Of course, the only member of a Great House she'd met so far was
Elend.
"I trust from your vapid look that you accept your place," Shan said. "Do
well, child, and perhaps I will let you join my retinue. You could learn much
from the ladies here in Luthadel."
"Such as?" Vin asked, trying to keep the snappishness out of her voice.
"Look at yourself sometime, child. Hair like you've undergone some
terrible disease, so scrawny that your dress hangs like a bag. Being a
noblewoman in Luthadel requires . . . perfection. Not that." She said the last
word while waving her hand dismissively toward Vin.
Vin flushed. There was a strange power to this woman's demeaning
attitude. With a start, Vin realized that Shan reminded her of some
crewleaders she had known, Camon the latest of them—men who would hit a
person, fully expecting no resistance. Everyone knew that resisting such men
only made the beating worse.
"What do you want from me?" Vin asked.
Shan raised an eyebrow as she set aside her fork, the cake only half-eaten.
The Terrisman took the plate and walked off with it. "You really are a dull-
minded thing, aren't you?" Shan asked.
Vin paused. "What does Her Ladyship want from me?"
"I'll tell you eventually—assuming Lord Venture decides to keep playing
with you." Vin caught just the barest flash of hatred in her eyes when she said
Elend's name.
"For now," Shan continued, "tell me of your conversation with him this
evening."
Vin opened her mouth to respond. But . . . something felt wrong. She only
caught the barest flicker of it—she wouldn't have even noticed that much
without Breeze's training.
A Soother? Interesting.
Shan was trying to make Vin complacent. So that she would talk, perhaps?
Vin began to relate her conversation with Elend, staying away from anything
interesting. However, something still felt odd to her—something about the
way that Shan was playing with her emotions. From the corner of her eye,
Vin saw Shan's Terrisman return from the kitchens. However, he didn't walk
back toward Shan's table—he headed in the other direction.
Toward Vin's own table. He paused beside it, and began to poke through
Elend's books.
Whatever he wants, I can't let him find it.
Vin stood suddenly, finally provoking an overt reaction in Shan as the
woman looked up with surprise.
"I just remembered that I told my Terrisman to find me at my table!" Vin
said. "He'll be worried if I'm not sitting there!"
"Oh, for the Lord Ruler's sake," Shan muttered under her breath. "Child,
there is no need—"
"I'm sorry, Your Ladyship," Vin said. "I've got to go."
It was a bit obvious, but it was the best she could manage. Vin curtsied and
withdrew from Shan's table, leaving the displeased woman behind. The
Terrisman was good—by the time Vin was a few steps away from Shan's
table, he had noticed Vin and continued on his way, his motions impressively
smooth.
Vin arrived back at her table, wondering if she'd made a blunder by
leaving Shan so rudely. However, she was growing too tired to care. As she
noticed another group of young men eyeing her, she hurriedly sat, plopping
open one of Elend's books.
Fortunately, the ploy worked better this time. The young men eventually
trailed away, leaving Vin in peace, and she sat back, relaxing slightly with
the book open before her. The evening was growing late, and the ballroom
was slowly beginning to empty.
The books, she thought with a frown, picking up her cup of juice to take a
sip. What did the Terrisman want with them?
She scanned the table, trying to notice if anything had been disturbed, but
Elend had left the books in such a state of disarray that it was hard to tell.
However, a small book sitting beneath another tome caught her eye. Most of
the other texts lay open to a specific page, and she had seen Elend perusing
them. This particular book, however, was closed—and she couldn't
remember him ever opening it. It had been there before—she recognized it
because it was so much thinner than the others—so the Terrisman hadn't left
it behind.
Curious, Vin reached over and slid the book out from underneath the larger
book. It had had a black leather cover, and the spine read Weather Patterns of
the Northern Dominance. Vin frowned, turning the book over in her hands.
There was no title page, nor was an author listed. It launched directly into
text.
When regarding the Final Empire in its entirety, one certain fact is unmistakable. For a nation
ruled by a self-proclaimed divinity, the empire has experienced a frightening number of colossal
leadership errors. Most of these have been successfully covered up, and can only be found in the
metalminds of Feruchemists or on the pages of banned texts. However, one only need look to the
near past to note such blunders as the Massacre at Devanex, the revision of the Deepness
Doctrine, and the relocation of the Renates peoples.
The Lord Ruler does not age. That much, at least, is undeniable. This text, however, purports
to prove that he is by no means infallible. During the days before the Ascension, mankind
suffered chaos and uncertainty caused by an endless cycle of kings, emperors, and other
monarchs. One would think that now, with a single, immortal governor, society would finally
have an opportunity to find stability and enlightenment. It is the remarkable lack of either
attribute in the Final Empire that is the Lord Ruler's most grievous oversight.
Vin stared at the page. Some of the words were beyond her skill, but she
was able to grasp the author's meaning. He was saying . . .
She snapped the book closed and hurriedly put it back in its place. What
would happen if the obligators discovered that Elend owned such a text? She
glanced to the sides. They were there, of course, mingling with the crowds
like at the other ball, marked by their gray robes and tattooed faces. Many sat
at tables with noblemen. Friends? Or spies for the Lord Ruler? Nobody
seemed quite as comfortable when an obligator was nearby.
What is Elend doing with a book like that? A powerful nobleman like
himself? Why would he read texts that malign the Lord Ruler?
A hand fell on her shoulder, and Vin spun reflexively, pewter and copper
flaring in her stomach.
"Whoa," Elend said, stepping back and raising his hand. "Has anyone ever
told you how jumpy you are, Valette?"
Vin relaxed, sitting back in her chair and extinguishing her metals. Elend
sauntered over to his place and sat down. "Enjoying Heberen?"
Vin frowned, and Elend nodded to the larger, thick book that still sat
before her.
"No," Vin said. "It's boring. I was just pretending to read so that the men
would leave me alone for a bit."
Elend chuckled. "Now, see, your cleverness is coming back to snap at
you."
Vin raised an eyebrow as Elend began to gather up his books, stacking
them on the table. He didn't appear to notice that she'd moved the "weather"
book, but he did carefully slide it into the middle of the stack.
Vin turned her eyes from the book. I probably shouldn't tell him about
Shan—not until I talk to Sazed. "I think my cleverness did its job well," she
said instead. "After all, I came to the ball to dance."
"I find dancing overrated."
"You can't remain aloof from the court forever, Lord Venture—you're the
heir of a very important house."
He sighed, stretching and leaning back in his chair. "I suppose you're
right," he said with surprising frankness. "But the longer I hold out, the more
annoyed my father will become. That, in itself, is a worthy goal."
"He's not the only one you hurt," Vin said. "What of the girls that never
get asked to dance because you're too busy rummaging through your books?"
"As I recall," Elend said, setting the last book on the top of his pile,
"someone was just pretending to read in order to avoid dancing. I don't think
the ladies have any trouble finding more amicable partners than myself."
Vin raised an eyebrow. "I didn't have trouble because I'm new and I'm
low-ranked. I suspect that the ladies closer to your station have trouble
finding partners, amicable or not. As I understand it, noblemen are
uncomfortable dancing with women above their station."
Elend paused, obviously searching for a comeback.
Vin leaned forward. "What is it, Elend Venture? Why are you so intent on
avoiding your duty?"
"Duty?" Elend asked, leaning toward her, his posture earnest. "Valette, this
isn't duty. This ball . . . this is fluff and distraction. A waste of time."
"And women?" Vin asked. "Are they a waste too?"
"Women?" Elend asked. "Women are like . . . thunderstorms. They're
beautiful to look at, and sometimes they're nice to listen to—but most of the
time they're just plain inconvenient."
Vin felt her jaw drop slightly. Then she noticed the twinkle in his eye, the
smile at the edges of his lips, and she found herself smiling as well. "You say
these things just to provoke me!"
His smile deepened. "I'm charming that way." He stood, looking at her
fondly. "Ah, Valette. Don't let them trick you into taking yourself too
seriously. It's not worth the effort. But, I must bid you a good evening. Try
not to let months pass between balls you attend in the future."
Vin smiled. "I'll think about it."
"Please do," Elend said, bending down and scooting the tall stack of books
off the table and into his arms. He teetered for a moment, then steadied
himself and peeked to the side. "Who knows—maybe one of these days
you'll actually get me to dance."
Vin smiled, nodding as the nobleman turned and walked off, circling the
perimeter of the ballroom's second tier. He was soon met by two other young
men. Vin watched curiously as one of the men clapped Elend on the shoulder
in a friendly way, then took half of the books. The three began to walk
together, chatting.
Vin didn't recognize the newcomers. She sat thoughtfully as Sazed finally
appeared out of a side hallway, and Vin eagerly waved him forward. He
approached with a hurried step.
"Who are those men with Lord Venture?" Vin asked, pointing toward
Elend.
Sazed squinted behind his spectacles. "Why . . . one of them is Lord Jastes
Lekal. The other is a Hasting, though I don't know his given name."
"You sound surprised."
"Houses Lekal and Hasting are both political rivals of House Venture,
Mistress. Noblemen often visit with each other in smaller, after-ball parties,
making alliances. . . ." The Terrisman paused, turning back to her. "Master
Kelsier will wish to hear of this, I think. It is time we retire."
"I agree," Vin said, rising. "And so do my feet. Let's go."
Sazed nodded, and the two of them made their way to the front doors.
"What took you so long?" Vin asked as they waited for an attendant to fetch
her shawl.
"I came back several times, Mistress," Sazed said. "But you were always
dancing. I decided I would be of far more use speaking with the servants than
I would be standing beside your table."
Vin nodded, accepting her shawl, then walked out the front steps and down
the carpeted stairs, Sazed just behind her. Her step was quick—she wanted to
get back and tell Kelsier the names she'd memorized before she forgot the
whole list. She paused at the landing, waiting for a servant to fetch her
carriage. As she did, she noticed something odd. A small disturbance was
going on a short distance away in the mists. She stepped forward, but Sazed
put a hand on her shoulder, holding her back. A lady wouldn't wander off
into the mists.
She reached to burn copper and tin, but waited—the disturbance was
getting closer. It resolved as a guard appeared from the mists, pulling a small,
struggling form: a skaa boy in dirty clothing, face soot-stained. The soldier
gave Vin a wide berth, nodding apologetically to her as he approached one of
the guard captains. Vin burned tin to hear what was said.
"Kitchen boy," the soldier said quietly. "Tried to beg from one of the
noblemen inside a carriage when they stopped for the gates to open."
The captain simply nodded. The soldier pulled his captive back out into the
mists, walking toward the far courtyard. The boy struggled, and the soldier
grunted with annoyance, keeping a tight grip. Vin watched him go, Sazed's
hand on her shoulder, as if to hold her back. Of course she couldn't help the
boy. He shouldn't have—
In the mists, beyond the eyesight of regular people, the soldier drew out a
dagger and slit the boy's throat. Vin jumped, shocked, as the sounds of the
boy's struggling tapered off. The guard dropped the body, then grabbed it by
a leg and began to drag it away.
Vin stood, stunned, as her carriage pulled up.
"Mistress," Sazed prompted, but she simply stood there.
They killed him, she thought. Right here, just a few paces away from where
noblemen wait for their carriages. As if . . . the death were nothing out of the
ordinary. Just another skaa, slaughtered. Like an animal.
Or less than an animal. Nobody would slaughter pigs in a keep courtyard.
The guard's posture as he'd performed the murder indicated that he'd simply
been too annoyed with the struggling boy to wait for a more appropriate
location. If any of the other nobility around Vin had noticed the event, they
paid it no heed, continuing their chatting as they waited. Actually, they