seemed a little more chatty, now that the screams had stopped.
"Mistress," Sazed said again, pushing her forward.
She allowed herself to be led into the carriage, her mind still distracted. It
seemed such an impossible contrast to her. The pleasant nobility, dancing,
just inside a room sparkling with light and dresses. Death in the courtyard.
Didn't they care? Didn't they know?
This is the Final Empire, Vin, she told herself as the carriage rolled away.
Don't forget the ash because you see a little silk. If those people in there
knew you were skaa, they'd have you slaughtered just as easily as they did
that poor boy.
It was a sobering thought—one that absorbed her during the entire trip
back to Fellise.
Kwaan and I met by happenstance—though, I suppose, he would use the word "providence."
I have met many other Terris philosophers since that day. They are, every one, men of great
wisdom and ponderous sagaciousness. Men with an almost palpable importance.
Not so Kwaan. In a way, he is as unlikely a prophet as I am a hero. He never had an air of
ceremonious wisdom—nor was he even a religious scholar. When we first met, he was studying
one of his ridiculous interests in the great Khlenni library—I believe he was trying to determine
whether or not trees could think.
That he should be the one who finally discovered the great Hero of Terris prophecy is a
matter that would cause me to laugh, had events turned out just a little differently.
19
KELSIER COULD FEEL ANOTHER ALLOMANCER pulsing in the mists. The
vibrations washed over him like rhythmic waves brushing up against a
tranquil shore. They were faint, but unmistakable.
He crouched atop a low garden wall, listening to the vibrations. The
curling white mist continued its normal, placid wafting—indifferent, save for
the bit closest to his body, which curled in the normal Allomantic current
around his limbs.
Kelsier squinted in the night, flaring tin and seeking out the other
Allomancer. He thought he saw a figure crouching atop a wall in the distance,
but he couldn't be certain. He recognized the Allomantic vibrations, however.
Each metal, when burned, gave off a distinct signal, recognizable to one who
was well practiced with bronze. The man in the distance burned tin, as did the
four others Kelsier had sensed hiding around Keep Tekiel. The five Tineyes
formed a perimeter, watching the night, searching for intruders.
Kelsier smiled. The Great Houses were growing nervous. Keeping five
Tineyes on watch wouldn't be that hard for a house like Tekiel, but the
noblemen Allomancers would resent being forced into simple guard duty.
And if there were five Tineyes on watch, chances were good that a number of
Thugs, Coinshots, and Lurchers were on call as well. Luthadel was quietly in
a state of alert.
The Great Houses were growing so wary, in fact, that Kelsier had trouble
finding cracks in their defenses. He was only one man, and even Mistborn
had limits. His success so far had been achieved through surprise. However,
with five Tineyes on watch, Kelsier wouldn't be able to get very close to the
keep without serious risk of being spotted.
Fortunately, Kelsier didn't need to test Tekiel's defenses this night.
Instead, he crept along the wall toward the outer grounds. He paused near the
garden well, and—burning bronze to make certain no Allomancers were near
—reached into a stand of bushes to retrieve a large sack. It was heavy enough
that he had to burn pewter to pull it free and throw it over his shoulder. He
paused in the night for a moment, straining for sounds in the mist, then
hauled the sack back toward the keep.
He stopped near a large, whitewashed garden veranda that sat beside a
small reflecting pool. Then, he heaved the sack off his shoulder and dumped
its contents—a freshly killed corpse—onto the ground.
The body—which had belonged to one Lord Charrs Entrone—rolled to a
stop with its face in the dirt, twin dagger wounds glistening in its back.
Kelsier had ambushed the half-drunken man on a street just outside of a skaa
slum, ridding the world of another nobleman. Lord Entrone, in particular,
would not be missed—he was infamous for his twisted sense of pleasure.
Skaa bloodfights, for instance, were a particular enjoyment of his. That was
where he had spent this evening.
Entrone had, not coincidentally, been a major political ally of House
Tekiel. Kelsier left the corpse sitting in its own blood. The gardeners would
locate it first—and once the servants knew about the death, no amount of
noble obstinacy would keep it quiet. The murder would cause an outcry, and
immediate blame would probably be placed upon House Izenry, House
Tekiel's rival. However, Entrone's suspiciously unexpected death might
make House Tekiel wary. If they began poking around, they would find that
Entrone's gambling opponent at the night's bloodfight had been Crews
Geffenry—a man whose house had been petitioning the Tekiels for a stronger
alliance. Crews was a known Mistborn, and a very competent knife-fighter.
And so, the intrigue would begin. Had House Izenry done the murder? Or,
perhaps, had the death been an attempt by House Geffenry to push Tekiel
into a higher state of alarm—thereby encouraging them to seek allies among
the lesser nobility? Or, was there a third answer—a house that wanted to
strengthen the rivalry between Tekiel and Izenry?
Kelsier hopped off the garden wall, scratching at the fake beard he wore. It
didn't really matter whom House Tekiel decided to blame; Kelsier's real
purpose was to make them question and worry, to make them mistrust and
misunderstand. Chaos was his strongest ally in fostering a house war. When
that war finally came, each noblemen killed would be one less person that the
skaa would have to face in their rebellion.
As soon as Kelsier got a short distance from Keep Tekiel, he flipped a coin
and went to the rooftops. Occasionally, he wondered what the people in the
houses beneath him thought, hearing footsteps from above. Did they know
that Mistborn found their homes a convenient highway, a place where they
could move without being bothered by guards or thieves? Or, did the people
attribute the knockings to the ever-blamable mistwraiths?
They probably don't even notice. Sane people are asleep when the mists
come out. He landed on a peaked roof, retrieved his pocket watch from a
nook to check the time, then stowed it—and the dangerous metal from which
it was made—away again. Many nobility blatantly wore metal, a foolish form
of bravado. The habit had been inherited directly from the Lord Ruler.
Kelsier, however, didn't like carrying any metal—watch, ring, or bracelet—
on him that he didn't have to.
He launched himself into the air again, making his way toward the
Sootwarrens, a skaa slum on the far northern side of town. Luthadel was an
enormous, sprawling city; every few decades or so, new sections were added,
the city wall expanded through the sweat and effort of skaa labor. With the
advent of the modern canal era, stone was growing relatively cheap and easy
to move.
I wonder why he even bothers with the wall, Kelsier thought, moving along
rooftops parallel to the massive structure. Who would attack? The Lord Ruler
controls everything. Not even the western isles resist anymore.
There hadn't been a true war in the Final Empire for centuries. The
occasional "rebellion" consisted of nothing more than a few thousand men
hiding in hills or caves, coming out for periodic raids. Even Yeden's
rebellion wouldn't rely much on force—they were counting on the chaos of a
house war, mixed with the strategic misdirection of the Luthadel Garrison, to
give them an opening. If it came down to an extended campaign, Kelsier
would lose. The Lord Ruler and the Steel Ministry could marshal literally
millions of troops if the need arose.
Of course, there was his other plan. Kelsier didn't speak of it, he barely
even dared consider it. He probably wouldn't even have an opportunity to
implement it. But, if the opportunity did arrive . . .
He dropped to the ground just outside of the Sootwarrens, then pulled his
mistcloak tight and walked along the street with a confident step. His contact
sat in the doorway of a closed shop, puffing quietly on a pipe. Kelsier raised
an eyebrow; tobacco was an expensive luxury. Hoid was either very wasteful,
or he was just as successful as Dockson implied.
Hoid calmly put away the pipe, then climbed to his feet—though that
didn't make him much taller. The scrawny bald man bowed deeply in the
misty night. "Greetings, my lord."
Kelsier paused in front of the man, arms tucked carefully inside his
mistcloak. It wouldn't do for a street informant to realize that the unidentified
"nobleman" he was meeting with had the scars of Hathsin on his arms.
"You come highly recommended," Kelsier said, mimicking the haughty
accent of a nobleman.
"I am one of the best, my lord."
Anyone who can survive as long as you have must be good, Kelsier
thought. Lords didn't like the idea of other men knowing their secrets.
Informants generally didn't live very long.
"I need to know something, informant," Kelsier said. "But first you must
vow never to speak of this meeting to anyone."
"Of course, my lord," Hoid said. He'd likely break the promise before the
night was out—another reason informants didn't tend to live very long.
"There is, however, the matter of payment. . . ."
"You'll have your money, skaa," Kelsier snapped.
"Of course, my lord," Hoid said with a quick bob of the head. "You
requested information regarding House Renoux, I believe. . . ."
"Yes. What is known about it? Which houses is it aligned with? I must
know these things."
"There isn't really much to know, my lord," Hoid said. "Lord Renoux is
very new to the area, and he is a careful man. He's making neither allies nor
enemies at the moment—he's buying a large number of weapons and armor,
but is probably just purchasing from a wide variety of houses and merchants,
thereby ingratiating himself to them all. A wise tactic. He will, perhaps, have
an excess of merchandise, but he will also have an excess of friends, yes?"
Kelsier snorted. "I don't see why I should pay you for that."
"He'll have too much merchandise, my lord," Hoid said quickly. "You
could make a clever profit, knowing that Renoux is shipping at a loss."
"I'm no merchant, skaa," Kelsier said. "I don't care about profits and
shipping!" Let him chew on that. Now he thinks I'm of a Great House—of
course, if he hadn't suspected that because of the mistcloak, then he doesn't
deserve his reputation.
"Of course, my lord," Hoid said quickly. "There is more, of course. . . ."
Ah, and here we see it. Does the street know that House Renoux is
connected to the rumblings of rebellion? If anyone had discovered that secret,
then Kelsier's crew was in serious jeopardy.
Hoid coughed quietly, holding out his hand.
"Insufferable man!" Kelsier snapped, tossing a pouch at Hoid's feet.
"Yes, my lord," Hoid said, falling to his knees and searching about with
his hand. "I apologize, my lord. My eyesight is weak, you know. I can barely
see my own fingers held in front of my face."
Clever, Kelsier thought as Hoid found the pouch and tucked it away. The
comment about eyesight was, of course, a lie—no man would get far in the
underground with such an impediment. However, a nobleman who thought
his informant to be half blind would be far less paranoid about being
identified. Not that Kelsier himself was worried—he wore one of Dockson's
best disguises. Beside the beard, he had a fake, but realistic, nose, along with
platforms in the shoes and makeup to lighten his skin.
"You said there was more?" Kelsier said. "I swear, skaa, if it isn't good . .
."
"It is," Hoid said quickly. "Lord Renoux is considering a union between
his niece, the Lady Valette, and Lord Elend Venture."
Kelsier paused. Wasn't expecting that . . . "That's silly. Venture is far
above Renoux."
"The two youths were seen speaking—at length—at the Venture ball a
month ago."
Kelsier laughed derisively. "Everyone knows about that. It meant nothing."
"Did it?" Hoid asked. "Does everyone know that Lord Elend Venture
spoke very highly of the girl to his friends, the group of nobleling
philosophers that lounge at the Broken Quill?"
"Young men speak of girls," Kelsier said. "It means nothing. You will be
returning those coins."
"Wait!" Hoid said, sounding apprehensive for the first time. "There is
more. Lord Renoux and Lord Venture have had secret dealings."
What?
"It is true," Hoid continued. "This is fresh news—I heard it barely an hour
ago myself. There is a connection between Renoux and Venture. And, for
some reason, Lord Renoux was able to demand that Elend Venture be
assigned to watch over Lady Valette at balls." He lowered his voice. "It is
even whispered that Lord Renoux has some kind of . . . leverage over House
Venture."
What happened at that ball tonight? Kelsier thought. Out loud, however,
he said, "This all sounds very weak, skaa. You have nothing more than idle
speculations?"
"Not about House Renoux, my lord," Hoid said. "I tried, but your worry
over this house is meaningless! You should pick a house more central to
politics. Like, say, House Elariel . . ."
Kelsier frowned. By mentioning Elariel, Hoid was implying that he had
some important tidbit that would be worth Kelsier's payment. It seemed that
House Renoux's secrets were safe. It was time to move the discussion along
to other houses, so that Hoid wouldn't get suspicious of Kelsier's interest in
Renoux.
"Very well," Kelsier said. "But if this isn't worth my time . . ."
"It is, my lord. Lady Shan Elariel is a Soother."
"Proof?"
"I felt her touch on my emotions, my lord," Hoid said. "During a fire at
Keep Elariel a week ago, she was there calming the emotions of the
servants."
Kelsier had started that fire. Unfortunately, it hadn't spread beyond the
guardhouses. "What else?"
"House Elariel has recently given her leave to use her powers more at court
functions," Hoid said. "They fear a house war, and wish her to make
whatever allegiances possible. She always carries a thin envelope of shaved
brass in her right glove. Get a Seeker close to her at a ball, and you shall see.
My lord, I do not lie! My life as an informant depends solely upon my
reputation. Shan Elariel is a Soother."
Kelsier paused, as if musing. The information was useless to him, but his
true purpose—finding out about House Renoux—had already been fulfilled.
Hoid had earned his coins, whether he realized it or not.
Kelsier smiled. Now to sow a little more chaos.
"What of Shan's covert relationship with Salmen Tekiel?" Kelsier said,
picking the name of a likely young nobleman. "Do you think that she used
her powers to gain his favor?"
"Oh, most certainly, my lord," Hoid said quickly. Kelsier could see the
glimmer of excitement in his eyes; he assumed that Kelsier had given him a
luscious bit of political gossip free of charge.
"Perhaps she was the one who secured Elariel the deal with House Hasting
last week," Kelsier said musingly. There had been no such deal.
"Most likely, my lord."
"Very well, skaa," Kelsier said. "You have earned your coins. Perhaps I
shall call upon you another time."
"Thank you, my lord," Hoid said, bowing very low.
Kelsier dropped a coin and launched himself into the air. As he landed on a
rooftop, he caught a glimpse of Hoid scuttling over to pluck the coin off the
ground. Hoid didn't have any trouble locating it, despite his "weak eyesight."
Kelsier smiled, then kept moving. Hoid hadn't mentioned Kelsier's tardiness,
but Kelsier's next appointment would not be so forgiving.
He made his way eastward, toward Ahlstrom Square. He pulled off his
mistcloak as he moved, then ripped off his vest, revealing the tattered shirt
hidden beneath. He dropped to an alleyway, discarding cloak and vest, then
grabbed a double handful of ash from the corner. He rubbed the crusty, dark
flakes on his arms, masking his scars, then ground them onto his face and
false beard.
The man who stumbled out of the alleyway seconds later was very
different from the nobleman who had met with Hoid. The beard, once neat,
now jutted out in an unkempt frazzle. A few, select bits had been removed,
making it look patchy and sickly. Kelsier stumbled, pretending to have a
lame leg, and called out to a shadowed figure standing near the square's quiet
fountain.
"My lord?" Kelsier asked in a raspy voice. "My lord, is that you?"
Lord Straff Venture, leader of House Venture, was a domineering man,
even for a nobleman. Kelsier could make out a pair of guards standing at his
side; the lord himself didn't seem the least bit bothered by the mists—it was
openly known that he was a Tineye. Venture stepped forward firmly, dueling
cane tapping the ground beside him.
"You are late, skaa!" he snapped.
"My lord, I . . . I . . . I was waiting in the alley, my lord, like we agreed!"
"We agreed to no such thing!"
"I'm sorry, my lord," Kelsier said again, bowing—then stumbling because
of his "lame" leg. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I was just in the alley. I didn't mean
to make you wait."
"Couldn't you see us, man?"
"I'm sorry, my lord," Kelsier said. "My eyesight . . . it isn't very good, you
know. I can barely see my own hands in front of my face." Thanks for the tip,
Hoid.
Venture snorted, handing his dueling cane to a guard, then slapped Kelsier
smartly across the face.
Kelsier stumbled to the ground, holding his cheek. "I'm sorry, my lord," he
mumbled again.
"Next time you make me wait, it will be the cane," Venture said curtly.
Well, I know where to go next time I need a corpse to dump on someone's
lawn, Kelsier thought, stumbling to his feet.
"Now," Venture said. "Let us get down to business. What is this important
news you promised to deliver?"
"It's about House Erikell, my lord," Kelsier said. "I know Your Lordship
has had dealings with them in the past."
"And?"
"Well, my lord, they are cheating you dearly. They have been selling their
swords and canes to House Tekiel for half the price you've been paying!"
"Proof?"
"You need only look to Tekiel's new armaments, my lord," Kelsier said.
"My word is true. I have nothing but my reputation! If I have not that, I have
not my life."
And he wasn't lying. Or, at least, not completely. It would be useless of
Kelsier to spread information that Venture could corroborate or dismiss with
ease. Some of what he said was true—Tekiel was giving a slight advantage to
Erikell. Kelsier was overstating it, of course. If he played the game well, he
could start a rift between Erikell and Venture, while at the same time making
Venture jealous of Tekiel. And, if Venture came to Renoux for weapons
instead of Erikell . . . well, that would just be a side benefit.
Straff Venture snorted. His house was powerful—incredibly powerful—
and relied on no specific industry or enterprise to fuel its wealth. That was a
very difficult position to achieve in the Final Empire, considering the Lord
Ruler's taxes and atium costs. It also made Venture a powerful tool to
Kelsier. If he could give this man the right mixture of truth and fiction . . .
"This is of little use to me," Venture said suddenly. "Let's see how much
you really know, informant. Tell me about the Survivor of Hathsin."
Kelsier froze. "Excuse me, my lord?"
"You want to get paid?" Venture asked. "Well, tell me about the Survivor.
Rumors say he's returned to Luthadel."
"Rumors only, my lord," Kelsier said quickly. "I have never met this
Survivor, but I doubt he is in Luthadel—if, indeed, he even lives."
"I've heard that he's gathering a skaa rebellion."
"There are always fools whispering rebellion to the skaa, my lord," Kelsier
said. "And there are always those who try to use the name of the Survivor,
but I do not believe that any man could have lived through the Pits. I could
seek more information on this, if you wish, but I worry you will be
disappointed in what I find. The Survivor is dead—the Lord Ruler . . . he
does not allow such oversights."
"True," Venture said contemplatively. "But the skaa seem convinced about
this rumor of an 'Eleventh Metal.' Have you heard of it, informant?"
"Ah, yes," Kelsier said, covering his shock. "A legend, my lord."
"One I've never heard of," Venture said. "And I pay very close attention to
such things. This is no 'legend.' Someone very clever is manipulating the
skaa."
"An . . . interesting conclusion, my lord," Kelsier said.
"Indeed," Venture said. "And, assuming the Survivor did die in the Pits,
and if someone had gotten ahold of his corpse . . . his bones . . . there are
ways to imitate a man's appearance. You know of what I speak?"
"Yes, my lord," Kelsier said.
"Watch for this," Venture said. "I don't care about your gossip—bring me
something about this man, or whatever he is, that leads the skaa. Then you'll
get some coin of me."
Venture spun in the darkness, waving to his men and leaving a thoughtful
Kelsier behind.
Kelsier arrived at Mansion Renoux a short time later; the spikeway between
Fellise and Luthadel made for quick travel between the cities. He hadn't
placed the spikes himself; he didn't know who had. He often wondered what
he would do if, while traveling the spikeway, he met another Mistborn
traveling in the opposite direction.
We'd probably just ignore each other, Kelsier thought as he landed in
Mansion Renoux's courtyard. We're pretty good at doing that.
He peered through the mists at the lantern-lit mansion, his recovered
mistcloak flapping slightly in the calm wind. The empty carriage indicated
that Vin and Sazed had returned from House Elariel. Kelsier found them
inside, waiting in the sitting room and speaking quietly with Lord Renoux.
"That's a new look for you," Vin noted as Kelsier walked into the room.
She still wore her dress—a beautiful red gown—though she sat in an
unladylike position, legs tucked beneath her.
Kelsier smiled to himself. A few weeks ago she would have changed out of
that gown as soon as she got back. We'll turn her into a lady yet. He found a
seat, picking at the fake, soot-stained beard. "You mean this? I hear beards
are going to make a return soon. I'm just trying to stay on the edge of
fashionability."
Vin snorted. "The edge of beggar fashion, maybe."
"How did the evening go, Kelsier?" Lord Renoux asked.
Kelsier shrugged. "Like most others. Fortunately, it appears that House
Renoux remains free of suspicion—though I myself am something of a
concern to some of the nobility."
"You?" Renoux asked.
Kelsier nodded as a servant brought him a warm, damp cloth to clean his
face and arms—though Kelsier wasn't certain if the servants were worried
about his comfort or the ash he might get on the furniture. He wiped off his
arms, exposing the pale white scratch scars, then began to pick off the beard.
"It seems that the general skaa have gotten wind of the Eleventh Metal," he
continued. "Some of the nobility have heard the building rumors, and the
more intelligent ones are growing worried."
"How does this affect us?" Renoux asked.
Kelsier shrugged. "We'll spread opposite rumors to make the nobility
focus more on each other and less on me. Though, amusingly, Lord Venture
encouraged me to search out information about myself. A man could get very
confused from this kind of playacting—I don't know how you do it,
Renoux."
"It is who I am," the kandra said simply.
Kelsier shrugged again, turning to Vin and Sazed. "So, how did your
evening go?"
"Frustratingly," Vin said with a surly tone.
"Mistress Vin is a tad annoyed," Sazed said. "On the way back from
Luthadel, she told me the secrets she'd gathered while dancing."
Kelsier chuckled. "Not much of interest?"
"Sazed already knew it all!" Vin snapped. "I spent hours twirling and
twittering for those men, and it was all worthless!"
"Hardly worthless, Vin," Kelsier said, pulling off the last bit of false beard.
"You made some contacts, you were seen, and you practiced your twittering.
As for information—well, nobody's going to tell you anything important yet.
Give it some time."
"How much time?"
"Now that you're feeling better, we can have you start attending the balls
regularly. After a few months, you should have gathered enough contacts to
begin finding the kind of information we need."
Vin nodded, sighing. She didn't seem quite as opposed to the idea of
regularly attending balls as she once had, however.
Sazed cleared his throat. "Master Kelsier, I feel that I must mention
something. Our table was attended by Lord Elend Venture for most of the
evening, though Mistress Vin did find a way to make his attentions less
threatening to the court."
"Yes," Kelsier said, "so I understand. What did you tell those people, Vin?
That Renoux and Venture are friends?"
Vin paled slightly. "How do you know?"
"I'm mysteriously powerful," Kelsier said with a wave of his hand.
"Anyway, everyone thinks that House Renoux and House Venture have had
secret business dealings. They probably assume that Venture has been
stockpiling weapons."
Vin frowned. "I didn't mean it to go that far. . . ."
Kelsier nodded, rubbing the glue from his chin. "That's the way court is,
Vin. Things can get out of hand quickly. However, this isn't much of a
problem—though it does mean that you're going to have to be very careful
when dealing with House Venture, Lord Renoux. We'll want to see what
kind of reaction they have to Vin's comments."
Lord Renoux nodded. "Agreed."
Kelsier yawned. "Now, if there isn't anything else, playing both nobleman
and beggar in one evening has made me dreadfully tired. . . ."
"There is one other thing, Master Kelsier," Sazed said. "At the end of the
evening, Mistress Vin saw Lord Elend Venture leaving the ball with young
lords of Houses Lekal and Hasting."
Kelsier paused, frowning. "That's an odd combination."
"So I thought," Sazed said.
"He's probably just trying to annoy his father," Kelsier said musingly.
"Fraternizing with the enemy in public . . ."
"Perhaps," Sazed said. "But the three did seem to be good friends."
Kelsier nodded, standing. "Investigate this further, Saze. There's a chance
that Lord Venture and his son are playing us all for fools."
"Yes, Master Kelsier," Sazed said.
Kelsier left the room, stretching and handing his mistcloak to a servant. As
he walked up the eastern stairway, he heard quick footsteps. He turned to find
Vin scooting up behind him, shimmering red dress held up as she climbed the
steps.
"Kelsier," she said quietly. "There was something else. Something I'd like
to talk about."
Kelsier raised an eyebrow. Something she doesn't even want Sazed to
hear? "My room," he said, and she followed him up the stairs and into the
chamber.
"What is this about?" he asked as she shut the door behind her.
"Lord Elend," Vin said, looking down, seeming a bit embarrassed. "Sazed
already doesn't like him, so I didn't want to mention this in front of the
others. But, I found something strange tonight."
"What?" Kelsier asked curiously, leaning back against his bureau.
"Elend had a stack of books with him," Vin said.
First name, Kelsier thought with disapproval. She is falling for the boy.
"He's known to read a lot," Vin continued, "but some of these books . . .
well, when he was gone, I picked through them."
Good girl. The streets gave you at least a few good instincts.
"One of them drew my attention," she said. "The title said something about
the weather, but the words inside spoke about the Final Empire and its
flaws."
Kelsier raised an eyebrow. "What exactly did it say?"
Vin shrugged. "Something about how since the Lord Ruler is immortal, his
empire should be more advanced and peaceful."
Kelsier smiled. "Book of the False Dawn—any Keeper can quote the entire
thing to you. I didn't think there were any physical copies left. Its author—
Deluse Couvre—went on to write some books that were even more damning.
Though he didn't blaspheme against Allomancy, the obligators made an
exception in his case and strung him up on a hook anyway."
"Well," Vin said, "Elend has a copy. I think one of the other noblewomen
was trying to find the book. I saw one of her servants rifling through them."
"Which noblewoman?"
"Shan Elariel."
Kelsier nodded. "Former fiancée. She's probably searching for something
to blackmail the Venture boy with."
"I think she's an Allomancer, Kelsier."
Kelsier nodded distractedly, thinking about the information. "She's a
Soother. She probably had the right idea with those books—if the Venture
heir is reading a book like False Dawn, not to mention foolish enough to
carry it around with him . . ."
"Is it that dangerous?" Vin asked.
Kelsier shrugged. "Moderately. It's an older book, and it didn't actually
encourage rebellion, so it might slide."
Vin frowned. "The book sounded pretty critical of the Lord Ruler. He
allows the nobility to read things like that?"
"He doesn't really 'allow' them to do such things," Kelsier said. "More, he
sometimes ignores it when they do. Banning books is tricky business, Vin—
the more stink the Ministry makes about a text, the more attention it will
draw, and the more people will be tempted to read it. False Dawn is a stuffy
volume, and by not forbidding it, the Ministry doomed it to obscurity."
Vin nodded slowly.
"Besides," Kelsier said, "the Lord Ruler is far more lenient with the
nobility than he is with skaa. He sees them as the children of his long-dead
friends and allies, the men who supposedly helped him defeat the Deepness.
He occasionally lets them get away with things like reading edgy texts or
assassinating family members."
"So . . . the book is nothing to worry about?" Vin asked.
Kelsier shrugged. "I wouldn't say that either. If young Elend has False
Dawn, he might also have other books that are explicitly forbidden. If
obligators had proof of that, they'd hand young Elend over to the Inquisitors
—nobleman or not. The question is, how do we make certain that happens? If
the Venture heir were to be executed, it would certainly add to Luthadel's
political turmoil."
Vin paled visibly.
Yes, Kelsier thought with an internal sigh. She's definitely falling for him. I
should have foreseen this. Sending a young, pretty girl into noble society?
One vulture or another was bound to latch on to her.
"I didn't tell you this so we could get him killed, Kelsier!" she said. "I
thought, maybe . . . well, he's reading forbidden books, and he seems like a
good man. Maybe we can use him as an ally or something."
Oh, child, Kelsier thought. I hope he doesn't hurt you too much when he
discards you. You should know better than this.
"Don't count on it," he said out loud. "Lord Elend might be reading a
forbidden book, but that doesn't make him our friend. There have always
been noblemen like him—young philosophers and dreamers who think that
their ideas are new. They like to drink with their friends and grumble about
the Lord Ruler; but, in their hearts, they're still noblemen. They'll never
overthrow the establishment."
"But—"
"No, Vin," Kelsier said. "You have to trust me. Elend Venture doesn't care
about us or the skaa. He's a gentleman anarchist because it's fashionable and
exciting."
"He talked to me about the skaa," Vin said. "He wanted to know if they
were intelligent, and if they acted like real people."
"And was his interest compassionate or intellectual?"
She paused.
"See," Kelsier said. "Vin, that man is not our ally—in fact, I distinctly
recall telling you to stay away from him. When you spend time with Elend
Venture, you put the operation—and your fellow crewmembers—in
jeopardy. Understand?"
Vin looked down, nodding.
Kelsier sighed. Why do I suspect that staying away from him is the last
thing she intends to do? Bloody hell—I don't have time to deal with this right
now.
"Go get some sleep," Kelsier said. "We can talk more about this later."
It isn't a shadow.
This dark thing that follows me, the thing that only I can see—It isn't really a shadow. It's
blackish and translucent, but it doesn't have a shadowlike solid outline. It's insubstantial—wispy
and formless. Like it's made out of a dark fog.
Or mist, perhaps.
20
VIN WAS GROWING VERY TIRED of the scenery between Luthadel and Fellise.
She'd made the same trip at least a dozen times during the last few weeks—
watching the same brown hills, scraggly trees, and rug of weedy underbrush.
She was beginning to feel as if she could individually identify each and every
bump in the road.
She attended numerous balls—but they were only the beginning.
Luncheons, sitting parties, and other forms of daily entertainment were just as
popular. Often, Vin traveled between the cities two or even three times a day.
Apparently, young noblewomen didn't have anything better to do than sit in
carriages for six hours a day.
Vin sighed. In the near distance, a group of skaa trudged along the towpath
beside a canal, pulling a barge toward Luthadel. Her life could be much
worse.
Still, she felt frustration. It was still midday, but there weren't any
important events happening until the evening, so she had nowhere to go but
back to Fellise. She kept thinking about how much faster she could make the
trip if she used the spikeway. She longed to leap through the mists again, but
Kelsier had been reluctant to continue her training. He allowed her out for a
short time each night to maintain her skills, but she wasn't allowed any
extreme, exciting leaps. Just some basic moves—mostly Pushing and Pulling
small objects while standing on the ground.
She was beginning to grow frustrated with her continued weakness. It had
been over three months since her encounter with the Inquisitor; the worst of
winter had passed without even a flake of snow. How long was it going to
take her to recover?
At least I can still go to balls, she thought. Despite her annoyance at the
constant traveling, Vin was coming to enjoy her duties. Pretending to be a
noblewoman was actually far less tense than regular thieving work. True, her
life would be forfeit if her secret were ever discovered, but for now the
nobility seemed willing to accept her—to dance with her, dine with her, and
chat with her. It was a good life—a bit unexciting, but her eventual return to
Allomancy would fix that.
That left her with two frustrations. The first was her inability to gather
useful information; she was getting increasingly annoyed at having her
questions avoided. She was growing experienced enough to tell that there
was a great deal of intrigue going on, yet she was still too new to be allowed
a part in it.
Still, while her outsider status was annoying, Kelsier was confident that it
would eventually change. Vin's second major annoyance wasn't so easily
dealt with. Lord Elend Venture had been notably absent from several balls
during the last few weeks, and he had yet to repeat his act of spending the
entire evening with her. While she rarely had to sit alone anymore, she was
quickly coming to realize that none of the other noblemen had the same . . .
depth as Elend. None of them had his droll wit, or his honest, earnest eyes.
The others didn't feel real. Not like he did.
He didn't seem to be avoiding her. However, he also didn't seem to be
making much of an effort to spend time with her.
Did I misread him? she wondered as the carriage reached Fellise. Elend
was so hard to understand sometimes. Unfortunately, his apparent indecision
hadn't changed his former fiancée's temperament. Vin was beginning to
realize why Kelsier had warned her to avoid catching the attention of anyone
too important. She didn't run into Shan Elariel often, thankfully—but when
they did meet, Shan took every occasion to deride, insult, and demean Vin.
She did it with a calm, aristocratic manner, even her bearing reminding Vin
just how inferior she was.
Perhaps I'm just becoming too attached to my Valette persona, Vin
thought. Valette was just a front; she was supposed to be all the things Shan
said. However, the insults still stung.
Vin shook her head, putting both Shan and Elend out of her mind. Ash had
fallen during her trip to the city, and though it was done now, its aftermath
was visible in small drifts and flurries of black blowing across the town's
streets. Skaa workers moved about, sweeping the soot into bins and carrying
it out of the city. They occasionally had to hurry to get out of the way of a
passing noble carriage, none of which bothered to slow for the workers.
Poor things, Vin thought, passing a group of ragged children who were
shaking aspen trees to get the ash out so that it could be swept up—it
wouldn't do for a passing nobleman to get an unexpected dump of tree-borne
ash on his head. The children shook, two to a tree, bringing furious black
showers down on their heads. Careful, cane-wielding taskmasters walked up
and down the street, making certain the work continued.
Elend and the others, she thought. They must not understand how bad life
is for the skaa. They live in their pretty keeps, dancing, never really
understanding the extent of the Lord Ruler's oppression.
She could see beauty in the nobility—she wasn't like Kelsier, hating them
outright. Some of them seemed quite kind, in their own way, and she was
beginning to think some of the stories skaa told about their cruelty must be
exaggerated. And yet, when she saw events like that poor boy's execution or
the skaa children, she had to wonder. How could the nobility not see? How
could they not understand?
She sighed, looking away from the skaa as the carriage finally rolled up to
Mansion Renoux. She immediately noticed a large gathering in the inner
courtyard, and she grabbed a fresh vial of metals, worrying that the Lord
Ruler had sent soldiers to arrest Lord Renoux. However, she quickly realized
that the crowd wasn't made up of soldiers, but of skaa in simple worker's
clothing.
The carriage rolled through the gates, and Vin's confusion deepened.
Boxes and sacks lay in heaps among the skaa—many of them dusted with
soot from the recent ashfall. The workers themselves bustled with activity,
loading a series of carts. Vin's carriage pulled to a stop in front of the
mansion, and she didn't wait for Sazed to open the door. She hopped out on
her own, holding up her dress and stalking over to Kelsier and Renoux, who
stood surveying the operation.
"You're running goods to the caves out of here?" Vin asked under her
breath as she reached the two men.
"Curtsey to me, child," Lord Renoux said. "Maintain appearances while
we can be seen."
Vin did as ordered, containing her annoyance.
"Of course we are, Vin," Kelsier said. "Renoux has to do something with
all of the weapons and supplies he's been gathering. People would start
getting suspicious if they didn't see him sending them away."
Renoux nodded. "Ostensibly, we're sending this all via canal barges to my
plantation in the west. However, the barges will stop to drop off supplies—
and many of the canalmen—at the rebellion caverns. The barges and a few
men will continue on to keep up appearances."
"Our soldiers don't even know that Renoux is in on the plan," Kelsier said,
smiling. "They think he's a nobleman that I'm scamming. Besides, this will
be a great opportunity for us to go and inspect the army. After a week or so at
the caves, we can return to Luthadel on one of Renoux's barges coming east."
Vin paused. " 'We'?" she asked, suddenly imagining weeks spent on the
barge, watching the same, dull scenery day, after day, after day as they
traveled. That would be even worse than traveling back and forth between
Luthadel and Fellise.
Kelsier raised an eyebrow. "You sound worried. Apparently, someone's
coming to enjoy her balls and parties."
Vin flushed. "I just thought that I should be here. I mean, after all the time
I missed by being sick, I—"
Kelsier held up his hand, chuckling. "You're staying; Yeden and I are the
ones going. I need to inspect the troops, and Yeden is going to take a turn
watching over the army so that Ham can come back to Luthadel. We'll also
take my brother with us, then drop him at his insertion point with the
Ministry acolytes up in Vennias. It's a good thing you're back—I want you to
spend a little time with him before we leave."
Vin frowned. "With Marsh?"
Kelsier nodded. "He's a Misting Seeker. Bronze is one of the less useful
metals, especially for a full Mistborn, but Marsh claims he can show you a
few tricks. This will probably be your last chance to train with him."
Vin glanced toward the gathering caravan. "Where is he?"
Kelsier frowned. "He's late."
Runs in the family, I guess.
"He should be here soon, child," Lord Renoux said. "Perhaps you'd like to
go take some refreshment inside?"
I've had plenty of refreshment lately, she thought, controlling her
annoyance. Instead of going into the mansion, she wandered across the
courtyard, studying the goods and workers, who were packing the supplies
onto carts for transport to the local canal docks. The grounds were kept well
maintained, and though the ash hadn't been cleaned up yet, the low-cut grass
meant that she didn't have to hold her dress up much to keep it from
dragging.
Beyond that, ash was surprisingly easy to get out of clothing. With proper
washing, and some expensive soaps, even a white garment could be rendered
clean of ash. That was why the nobility could always have new-looking
clothing. It was such an easy, simple thing to divide the skaa and the
aristocracy.
Kelsier's right, Vin thought. I am coming to enjoy being a noblewoman.
And she was concerned about the changes her new lifestyle was encouraging
inside of her. Once, her problems had been things like starvation and beatings
—now they were things like extended carriage rides and companions who
arrived late for appointments. What did a transformation like that do to a
person?
She sighed to herself, walking amidst the supplies. Some of the boxes
would be filled with weapons—swords, war staves, bows—but the bulk of
the material was sacked foodstuffs. Kelsier said that forming an army
required far more grain than it did steel.
She trailed her fingers along one stack of boxes, careful not to brush the
ash that was on top of them. She'd known that they'd be sending out a barge
this day, but she hadn't expected Kelsier to go with it. Of course, he probably
hadn't made the decision to go until a short time before—even the new, more
responsible Kelsier was an impulsive man. Perhaps that was a good attribute
in a leader. He wasn't afraid to incorporate new ideas, no matter when they
occurred to him.
Maybe I should ask to go with him, Vin thought idly. I've been playing the
noblewoman far too much lately. The other day, she'd caught herself sitting
straight-backed in her carriage with a prim posture, despite the fact that she
was alone. She feared that she was losing her instincts—being Valette was
almost more natural to her now than being Vin was.
But of course she couldn't leave. She had a lunch appointment with Lady
Flavine to attend, not to mention the Hasting ball—it was going to be the
social event of the month. If Valette was absent, it would take weeks to repair
the damage. Besides, there was always Elend. He'd probably forget about her
if she disappeared again.
He's already forgotten you, she told herself. He's barely spoken to you
during the last three parties. Keep your head on, Vin. This is all just another
scam—a game, like the ones you pulled before. You're building your
reputation to gain information, not so that you can flirt and play.
She nodded to herself, resolute. To her side, a few skaa men loaded one of
the carts. Vin paused, standing beside a large stack of boxes and watching the
men work. According to Dockson, the army's recruitment was picking up.
We're gaining momentum, Vin thought. I guess word is spreading. That
was good—assuming it didn't spread too far.
She watched the packmen for a moment, sensing something . . . odd. They
seemed unfocused. After a few moments, she was able to determine the
source of their distraction. They kept shooting looks at Kelsier, whispering as
they worked. Vin inched closer—keeping to the side of the boxes—and
burned tin.
". . . no, that's him for certain," one of the men whispered. "I saw the
scars."
"He's tall," another said.
"Of course he is. What did you expect?"
"He spoke at the meeting where I was recruited," another said. "The
Survivor of Hathsin." There was awe in his tone.
The men moved on, walking over to gather more boxes. Vin cocked her
head, then began to move among the workers, listening. Not all of them were
discussing Kelsier, but a surprising number were. She also heard a number of
references to the "Eleventh Metal."
So that's why, Vin thought. The rebellion's momentum isn't gathering—
Kelsier's is. The men spoke of him in quiet, almost reverent, tones. For some
reason, that made Vin uncomfortable. She would never have been able to
stand hearing similar things said about her. Yet, Kelsier took them in stride;
his charismatic ego probably just fueled the rumors even more.
I wonder if he'll be able to let it go when this is all through. The other
crewmembers obviously had no interest in leadership, but Kelsier seemed to
thrive on it. Would he really let the skaa rebellion take over? Would any man
be able to relinquish that kind of power?
Vin frowned. Kelsier was a good man; he'd probably make a good ruler.
However, if he did try to take control, it would smell of betrayal—a reneging
on the promises that he had made to Yeden. She didn't want to see that from
Kelsier.
"Valette," Kelsier called.
Vin jumped slightly, feeling a bit guilty. Kelsier pointed toward a carriage
that was pulling onto the mansion grounds. Marsh had arrived. She walked
back as the carriage pulled up, and she reached Kelsier about the same time
that Marsh did.
Kelsier smiled, nodding toward Vin. "We won't be ready to leave for a
while yet," he said to Marsh. "If you have time, could you show the kid a few
things?"
Marsh turned toward her. He shared Kelsier's lanky build and blond hair,
but he wasn't as handsome. Maybe it was the lack of a smile.
He pointed up, toward the mansion's fore-balcony. "Wait for me up there."
Vin opened her mouth to reply, but something about Marsh's expression
made her shut it again. He reminded her of the old times, several months ago,
when she had not questioned her superiors. She turned, leaving the three, and
made her way into the mansion.
It was a short trip up the stairs to the fore-balcony. When she arrived, she
pulled over a chair and seated herself beside the whitewashed wooden railing.
The balcony had, of course, already been scrubbed clean of ash. Below,
Marsh was still speaking with Kelsier and Renoux. Beyond them, beyond
even the sprawling caravan, Vin could see the barren hills outside of the city,
lit by red sunlight.
Only a few months playing noblewoman, and I already find anything that
isn't cultivated to be inferior. She'd never thought of the landscape as
"barren" during the years she'd traveled with Reen. And Kelsier says the
entire land used to be even more fertile than a nobleman's garden.
Did he think to reclaim such things? Keepers could, perhaps, memorize
languages and religions, but they couldn't create seeds for plants that had
long been extinct. They couldn't make the ash stop falling or the mists go
away. Would the world really change that much if the Final Empire were
gone?
Besides, didn't the Lord Ruler have some right to his place? He'd defeated
the Deepness, or so he claimed. He'd saved the world, which—in a twisted
sort of way—made it his. What right did they have to try and take it from
him?
She wondered about such things often, though she didn't express her
worries to the others. They all seemed committed to Kelsier's plan; some
even seemed to share his vision. But Vin was more hesitant. She had learned,
as Reen had taught, to be skeptical of optimism.
And if there were ever a plan to be hesitant about, this was the one.
However, she was getting past the point where she questioned herself. She
knew the reason she stayed in the crew. It wasn't the plan; it was the people.
She liked Kelsier. She liked Dockson, Breeze, and Ham. She even liked the
strange little Spook and his crotchety uncle. This was a crew unlike any other
she'd worked with.
Is that a good enough reason to let them get you killed? Reen's voice
asked.
Vin paused. She had been hearing his whispers in her mind less frequently
lately, but they were still there. Reen's teachings, drilled into her over sixteen
years of life, could not be idly discarded.
Marsh arrived on the balcony a few moments later. He glanced at her with
those hard eyes of his, then spoke. "Kelsier apparently expects me to spend
the evening training you in Allomancy. Let us get started."
Vin nodded.
Marsh eyed her, obviously expecting more of a response. Vin sat quietly.
You're not the only one who can be terse, friend.
"Very well," Marsh said, sitting beside her, resting one arm on the balcony
railing. His voice sounded a little less annoyed when he continued."Kelsier
says that you have spent very little time training with the internal mental
abilities. Correct?"
Vin nodded again.
"I suspect that many full Mistborn neglect these powers," Marsh said.
"And that is a mistake. Bronze and copper may not be as flashy as other
metals, but they can be very powerful in the hands of someone properly
trained. The Inquisitors work through their manipulation of bronze, and the
Misting underground survives because of its reliance upon copper.
"Of the two powers, bronze is by far the more subtle. I can teach you how
to use it properly—if you practice what I show you, then you will have an
advantage that many Mistborn dismiss."
"But, don't other Mistborn know to burn copper?" Vin asked. "What is the
use of learning bronze if everyone you fight is immune to its powers?"
"I see that you already think like one of them," Marsh said. "Not everyone
is Mistborn, girl—in fact, very, very few people are. And, despite what your
kind likes to think, normal Mistings can kill people too. Knowing that the
man attacking you is a Thug rather than a Coinshot could very easily save
your life."
"All right," Vin said.
"Bronze will also help you identify Mistborn," Marsh said. "If you see
someone using Allomancy when there is no Smoker nearby, and yet don't
sense them giving off Allomantic pulses, then you know that they are
Mistborn—either that, or they're an Inquisitor. In either case, you should
run."
Vin nodded silently, the wound in her side throbbing slightly.
"There are great advantages to burning bronze, rather than just running
around with your copper on. True, you Smoke yourself by using copper—but
in a way you also blind yourself. Copper makes you immune to having your
emotions Pushed or Pulled."
"But that's a good thing."
Marsh cocked his head slightly. "Oh? And what would be the greater
advantage? Being immune to—but ignorant of—some Soother's attentions?
Or instead knowing—from your bronze—exactly which emotions he is trying
to suppress?"
Vin paused. "You can see something that specific?"
Marsh nodded. "With care and practice, you can recognize very minute
changes in your opponents' Allomantic burnings. You can identify precisely
which parts of a person's emotions a Soother or Rioter intends to influence.
You'll also be able to tell when someone is flaring their metal. If you grow
very skilled, you might even be able to tell when they're running low on
metals."
Vin paused in thought.
"You begin to see the advantage," Marsh said. "Good. Now burn bronze."
Vin did so. Immediately, she felt two rhythmic thumpings in the air. The
soundless pulses washed over her, like the beating of drums or the washings
of ocean waves. They were mixed and muddled.
"What do you sense?" Marsh asked.
"I . . . think there are two different metals being burned. One's coming
from Kelsier down below; the other is coming from you."
"Good," Marsh said appreciatively. "You've practiced."
"Not much," Vin admitted.
He cocked an eyebrow. "Not much? You can already determine pulse
origins. That takes practice."
Vin shrugged. "It seems natural to me."
Marsh was still for a moment. "Very well," he eventually said. "Are the
two pulses different?"
Vin concentrated, frowning.
"Close your eyes," Marsh said. "Remove other distractions. Focus only on
the Allomantic pulses."
Vin did so. It wasn't like hearing—not really. She had to concentrate to
distinguish anything specific about the pulses. One felt . . . like it was beating
against her. The other, in a strange sensation, felt like it was actually pulling
her toward it with each beat.
"One's a Pulling metal, isn't it?" Vin asked, opening her eyes. "That one's
Kelsier. You're Pushing."
"Very good," Marsh said. "He is burning iron, as I asked him to so that
you could practice. I—of course—am burning bronze."
"Do they all do that?" Vin asked. "Feel distinct, I mean?"
Marsh nodded. "You can tell a Pulling metal from a Pushing metal by the
Allomantic signature. Actually, that's how some of the metals were originally
divided into their categories. It isn't intuitive, for instance, that tin Pulls while
pewter Pushes. I didn't tell you to open your eyes."
Vin shut them.
"Focus on the pulses," Marsh said. "Try and distinguish their lengths. Can
you tell the difference between them?"
Vin frowned. She focused as hard as she could, but her sense of the metals
seemed . . . muddled. Fuzzy. After a few minutes, the lengths of the separate
pulses still seemed the same to her.
"I can't sense anything," she said, dejected.
"Good," Marsh said flatly. "It took me six months of practice to
distinguish pulse lengths—if you'd done it on the first try, I'd have felt
incompetent."
Vin opened her eyes. "Why ask me to do it, then?"
"Because you need to practice. If you can tell Pulling metals from Pushing
metals already . . . well, you apparently have talent. Perhaps as much talent as
Kelsier has been bragging about."
"What was I supposed to see, then?" Vin asked.
"Eventually, you'll be able to sense two different pulse lengths. Internal
metals, like bronze and copper, give off longer pulses than external metals,
like iron and steel. Practice will also let you sense the three patterns within
the pulses: one for the physical metals, one for the mental metals, and one for
the two greater metals.
"Pulse length, metal group, and Push-Pull variance—once you know these
three things, you will be able to tell exactly which metals your opponent is
burning. A long pulse that beats against you and has a quick pattern will be
pewter—the internal Pushing physical metal."
"Why the names?" Vin asked. "External and internal?"
"Metals come in groups of four—or, at least, the lower eight do. Two
external metals, two internal metals—one each that Pushes, one each that
Pulls. With iron, you Pull on something outside of yourself, with steel you
Push on something outside of yourself. With tin you Pull on something inside
of yourself, with pewter you Push on something inside of yourself."
"But, bronze and copper," Vin said. "Kelsier called them internal metals,
but it seems like they affect external things. Copper keeps people from
sensing when you use Allomancy."
Marsh shook his head. "Copper doesn't change your opponents, it changes
something within yourself that has an effect on your opponents. That's why it
is an internal metal. Brass, however, alters another person's emotions directly
—and is an external metal."
Vin nodded thoughtfully. Then she turned, glancing toward Kelsier. "You
know a lot about all the metals, but you're just a Misting, right?"
Marsh nodded. He didn't look like he intended to respond, though.
Let's try something, then, Vin thought, extinguishing her bronze. She
lightly began burning copper to mask her Allomancy. Marsh didn't react,
instead continuing to look down at Kelsier and the caravan.
I should be invisible to his senses, she thought, carefully burning both zinc
and brass. She reached, just as Breeze had been training her to do, and subtly
touched Marsh's emotions. She suppressed his suspicions and inhibitions,
while at the same time bringing out his sense of wistfulness. Theoretically,
that would make him more likely to talk.
"You must have learned somewhere?" Vin asked carefully.
He'll see what I did for sure. He's going to get angry and—
"I Snapped when I was very young," Marsh said. "I've had a long time to
practice."
"So have a lot of people," Vin said.
"I . . . had reasons. They're hard to explain."
"They always are," Vin said, slightly increasing her Allomantic pressure.
"You know how Kelsier feels about the nobility?" Marsh asked, turning
toward her, his eyes like ice.
Ironeyes, she thought. Like they said. She nodded to his question.
"Well, I feel the same way about the obligators," he said, turning away.
"I'll do anything to hurt them. They took our mother—that's when I
Snapped, and that's when I vowed to destroy them. So, I joined the rebellion
and started learning all I could about Allomancy. Inquisitors use it, so I had
to understand it—understand everything I could, be as good as I could, and
are you Soothing me?"
Vin started, abruptly extinguishing her metals. Marsh turned back toward
her again, his expression cold.
Run! Vin thought. She almost did. It was nice to know that the old instincts
were still there, if buried just a bit.
"Yes," she said meekly.
"You are good," Marsh said. "I'd have never known if I hadn't started
rambling. Stop it."
"I already have."
"Good," Marsh said. "That's the second time you've altered my emotions.
Never do it again."
Vin nodded. "Second time?"
"The first was in my shop, eight months ago."
That's right. Why don't I remember him? "I'm sorry."
Marsh shook his head, finally turning away. "You're Mistborn—that's
what you do. He does the same thing." He was looking down at Kelsier.
They sat quietly for a few moments.
"Marsh?" Vin asked. "How did you know I was Mistborn? I only knew
how to Soothe back then."
Marsh shook his head. "You knew the other metals instinctively. You were
burning pewter and tin that day—just a tiny bit, barely noticeable. You
probably got the metals from water and dining utensils. Did you ever wonder
why you survived when so many others died?"
Vin paused. I did live through a lot of beatings. A lot of days with no food,
nights spent in alleys during rain or ashfalls . . .
Marsh nodded. "Very few people, even Mistborn, are so attuned to
Allomancy that they burn metals instinctively. That's what interested me in
you—that's why I kept track of you and told Dockson where to find you.
And, are you Pushing my emotions again?"
Vin shook her head. "I promise."
Marsh frowned, studying her with one of his stony gazes.
"So stern," Vin said quietly. "Like my brother."
"Were you close?"
"I hated him," Vin whispered.
Marsh paused, then turned away. "I see."
"Do you hate Kelsier?"
Marsh shook his head. "No, I don't hate him. He's frivolous and self-
important, but he's my brother."
"And that's enough?" Vin asked.
Marsh nodded.
"I . . . have trouble understanding that," Vin said honestly, looking out
over the field of skaa, boxes, and sacks.
"Your brother didn't treat you well, I presume?"
Vin shook her head.
"What about your parents?" Marsh said. "One was a nobleman. The
other?"
"Mad," Vin said. "She heard voices. It got so bad that my brother was
afraid to leave us alone with her. But, of course, he didn't have a choice. . . ."
Marsh sat quietly, not speaking. How did this get turned back to me? Vin
thought. He's no Soother, yet he's getting as much out of me as I'm getting
out of him.
Still, it was good to speak it finally. She reached up, idly fingering her
earring. "I don't remember it," she said, "but Reen said that he came home
one day and found my mother covered in blood. She'd killed my baby sister.
Messily. Me, however, she hadn't touched—except to give me an earring.
Reen said . . . He said she was holding me on her lap, babbling and
proclaiming me a queen, my sister's corpse at our feet. He took me from my
mother, and she fled. He saved my life, probably. That's part of why I stayed
with him, I guess. Even when it was bad."
She shook her head, glancing at Marsh. "Still, you don't know how lucky
you are, having Kelsier as a brother."
"I suppose," Marsh said. "I just . . . wish he wouldn't treat people like
playthings. I've been known to kill obligators, but murdering men just
because they're noble . . ." Marsh shook his head. "It's not just that, either.
He likes people to fawn over him."
He had a point. However, Vin also detected something in his voice.
Jealousy? You're the older brother, Marsh. You were the responsible one—
you joined the rebellion instead of working with thieves. It must have hurt
that Kelsier was the one everybody liked.
"Still," Marsh said, "he's getting better. The Pits changed him. Her . . .
death changed him."
What's this? Vin thought, perking up slightly. There was definitely
something here, too. Hurt. Deep hurt, more than a man should feel for a
sister-in-law.
So that's it. It wasn't just "everyone" who liked Kelsier more, it was one
person in particular. Someone you loved.
"Anyway," Marsh said, his voice growing more firm. "The arrogance of
the past is behind him. This plan of his is insane, and I'm sure he's partially
doing it just so he can enrich himself, but . . . well, he didn't have to go to the
rebellion. He's trying to do something good—though it will probably get him
killed."
"Why go along if you're so sure he'll fail?"
"Because he's going to get me into the Ministry," Marsh said. "The
information I gather there will help the rebellion for centuries after Kelsier
and I are dead."
Vin nodded, glancing down at the courtyard. She spoke hesitantly. "Marsh,
I don't think it's all behind him. The way he's setting himself up with the
skaa . . . the way they're starting to look at him . . ."
"I know," Marsh said. "It started with that 'Eleventh Metal' scheme of his.
I don't know that we have to worry—this is just Kell playing his usual
games."
"It makes me wonder why he's leaving on this trip," Vin said. "He'll be
away from the action for a good month."
Marsh shook his head. "He'll have an entire army full of men to perform
for. Besides, he needs to get out of the city. His reputation is growing too
unwieldy, and the nobility is becoming too interested in the Survivor. If
rumors got out that a man with scars on his arms is staying with Lord Renoux
. . ."
Vin nodded, understanding.
"Right now," Marsh said, "he's playing the part of one of Renoux's distant
relatives. That man has to leave before someone connects him to the
Survivor. When Kell gets back, he'll have to keep a low profile—sneaking
into the mansion instead of walking up the steps, keeping his hood up when
he's in Luthadel."
Marsh trailed off, then stood. "Anyway, I've given you the basics. Now
you just need to practice. Whenever you're with Mistings, have them burn for
you and focus on their Allomantic pulses. If we meet again, I'll show you
more, but there's nothing else I can do until you've practiced."
Vin nodded, and Marsh walked out the door without any other farewell. A
few moments later, she saw him approach Kelsier and Renoux again.
They really don't hate each other, Vin thought, resting with both arms
crossed atop the railing. What would that be like? After some thought, she
decided that the concept of loving siblings was a little like the Allomantic
pulse lengths she was supposed to be looking for—they were just too
unfamiliar for her to understand at the moment.