sent. Written at the top were some words.
My friends, you have a lot of work to do, and you must do it quickly. You must organize and
distribute the weapons in this warehouse, then you must do the same in two others like it located
in the other slums. There are horses in a side room for ease of travel.
Once you distribute the weapons, you must secure the city gates and subdue the remaining
members of the Garrison. Breeze, your team will do this—march on the Garrison first, so that
you can take the gates in peace.
There are four Great Houses that retain a strong military presence in the city. I have marked
them on the map. Ham, your team will deal with these. We don't want an armed force other than
our own inside the city.
Dockson, remain behind while the initial strikes happen. More and more skaa will come to
the warehouses once word gets out. Breeze and Ham's armies will include the troops we have
trained, as well as augmentations—I hope—from the skaa gathering in the streets. You will need
to make certain that the regular skaa get their weapons, so that Clubs can lead the assault on the
palace itself.
The Soothing stations should already be gone—Renoux delivered the proper order to our
assassin teams before he came to get you to bring you here. If you have time, send some of
Ham's Thugs to check out those stations. Breeze, your own Soothers will be needed amongst the
skaa to encourage them to bravery.
I think that's everything. It was a fun job, wasn't it? When you remember me, please
remember that. Remember to smile. Now, move quickly.
May you rule in wisdom.
The map had the city divided, with the various divisions labeled with various
crewmembers' names. Vin noticed that she, along with Sazed, were left out.
"I'll go back to that group we left by our house," Clubs said in a grumbling
voice. "Bring them here to get weapons."
He began to hobble away. "Clubs?" Ham said, turning. "No offense, but . .
. why did he include you as an army leader? What do you know of warfare?"
Clubs snorted, then lifted up his trouser leg, showing the long, twisting
scar that ran up the side of his calf and thigh—obviously the source of his
limp. "Where do you think I got this?" he said, then began to move away.
Ham turned back with wonder. "I don't believe this is happening."
Breeze shook his head. "And I assumed that I knew something about
manipulating people. This . . . this is amazing. The economy is on the verge
of collapsing, and the nobility that survive will soon be at open warfare on
the countryside. Kell showed us how to kill Inquisitors—we'll just need to
pull down the others and behead them. As for the Lord Ruler . . ."
Eyes turned on Vin. She looked down at the pouch in her hand, and pulled
it open. A smaller sack, obviously filled with atium beads, fell into her hand.
It was followed by a small bar of metal wrapped in a sheet of paper. The
Eleventh Metal.
Vin unwrapped the paper.
Vin, it read. Your original duty tonight was going to be to assassinate the
high noblemen remaining in the city. But, well, you convinced me that maybe
they should live.
I could never figure out how this blasted metal was supposed to work. It's
safe to burn—it won't kill you—but it doesn't appear to do anything useful. If
you're reading this, then I failed to figure out how to use it when I faced the
Lord Ruler. I don't think it matters. The people needed something to believe
in, and this was the only way to give it to them.
Please don't be angry at me for abandoning you. I was given an extension
on life. I should have died in Mare's place years ago. I was ready for this.
The others will need you. You're their Mistborn now—you'll have to
protect them in the months to come. The nobility will send assassins against
our fledgling kingdom's rulers.
Farewell. I'll tell Mare about you. She always wanted a daughter.
"What does it say, Vin?" Ham asked.
"It . . . says that he doesn't know how the Eleventh Metal works. He's
sorry—he wasn't certain how to defeat the Lord Ruler."
"We've got an entire city full of people to fight him," Dox said. "I
seriously doubt he can kill us all—if we can't destroy him, we'll just tie him
up and toss him in a dungeon."
The others nodded.
"All right!" Dockson said. "Breeze and Ham, you need to get to those
other warehouses and begin giving out weapons. Spook, go fetch the
apprentices—we'll need them to run messages. Let's go!"
Everyone scattered. Soon, the skaa they had seen earlier burst into the
warehouse, holding their torches high, looking in awe at the wealth of
weaponry. Dockson worked efficiently, ordering some of the newcomers to
be distributors, sending others to go gather their friends and family. Men
began to gear up, gathering weapons. Everyone was busy except for Vin.
She looked up at Sazed, who smiled at her. "Sometimes we just have to
wait long enough, Mistress," he said. "Then we find out why exactly it was
that we kept believing. There is a saying that Master Kelsier was fond of."
"There's always another secret," Vin whispered. "But Saze, everyone has
something to do except me. I was originally supposed to go assassinate
noblemen, but Kell doesn't want me to do that anymore."
"They have to be neutralized," Sazed said, "but not necessarily murdered.
Perhaps your place was simply to show Kelsier that fact?"
Vin shook her head. "No. I have to do more, Saze." She gripped the empty
pouch, frustrated. Something crinkled inside of it.
She looked down, opening the pouch and noticing a piece of paper that she
hadn't seen before. She pulled it out and unfolded it delicately. It was the
drawing that Kelsier had shown her—the picture of a flower. Mare had
always kept it with her, dreaming of a future where the sun wasn't red, where
plants were green. . . .
Vin looked up.
Bureaucrat, politician, soldier . . . there's something else that every
kingdom needs.
A good assassin.
She turned, pulling out a vial of metal and drinking its contents, using the
liquid to wash down a couple beads of atium. She walked over to the pile of
weapons, picking up a small bundle of arrows. They had stone heads. She
began breaking the heads off, leaving about a half inch of wood attached to
them, discarding the fletched shafts.
"Mistress?" Sazed asked with concern.
Vin walked past him, searching through the armaments. She found what
she wanted in a shirtlike piece of armor, constructed from large rings of
interlocking metal. She pried a handful of these free with a dagger and
pewter-enhanced fingers.
"Mistress, what are you doing?"
Vin walked over to a trunk beside the table, within which she had seen a
large collection of powdered metals. She filled her pouch with several
handfuls of pewter dust.
"I'm worried about the Lord Ruler," she said, taking a file from the box
and scraping off a few flakes of the Eleventh Metal. She paused—eyeing the
unfamiliar, silvery metal—then swallowed the flakes with a gulp from her
flask. She put a couple more flakes in one of her backup metal vials.
"Surely the rebellion can deal with him," Sazed said. "He is not so strong
without all of his servants, I think."
"You're wrong," Vin said, rising and walking toward the door. "He's
strong, Saze. Kelsier couldn't feel him, not like I can. He didn't know."
"Where are you going?" Sazed asked behind her.
Vin paused in the doorway, turning, mist curling around her. "Inside the
palace complex, there is a chamber protected by soldiers and Inquisitors.
Kelsier tried to get into it twice." She turned back toward the dark mists.
"Tonight, I'm going to find out what's inside of it."
I have decided that I am thankful for Rashek's hatred. It does me well to remember that there are
those who abhor me. My place is not to seek popularity or love; my place is to ensure mankind's
survival.
36
VIN WALKED QUIETLY TOWARD KREDIK Shaw. The sky behind her burned, the
mists reflecting and diffusing the light of a thousand torches. It was like a
radiant dome over the city.
The light was yellow, the color Kelsier had always said the sun should be.
Four nervous guards waited at the same palace doorway that she and
Kelsier had attacked before. They watched her approach. Vin stepped slowly,
quietly, on the mist-wetted stones, her mistcloak rustling solemnly.
One of the guards lowered a spear at her, and Vin stopped right in front of
him.
"I know you," she said quietly. "You endured the mills, the mines, and the
forges. You knew that someday they would kill you, and leave your families
to starve. So, you went to the Lord Ruler—guilty but determined—and joined
his guards."
The four men glanced at each other, confused.
"The light behind me comes from a massive skaa rebellion," she said. "The
entire city is rising up against the Lord Ruler. I don't blame you men for your
choices, but a time of change is coming. Those rebels could use your training
and your knowledge. Go to them—they gather in the Square of the Survivor."
"The . . . Square of the Survivor?" a soldier asked.
"The place where the Survivor of Hathsin was killed earlier today."
The four men exchanged looks, uncertain.
Vin Rioted their emotions slightly. "You don't have to live with the guilt
anymore."
Finally, one of the men stepped forward and ripped the symbol off his
uniform, then strode determinedly into the night. The other three paused, then
followed—leaving Vin with an open entrance to the palace.
Vin walked down the corridor, eventually passing the same guard chamber
as before. She strode inside—stepping past a group of chatting guards
without hurting any of them—and entered the hallway beyond. Behind her,
the guards shook off their surprise and called out in alarm. They burst into the
corridor, but Vin jumped and Pushed against the lantern brackets, hurling
herself down the hallway.
The men's voices grew distant; even running, they wouldn't be able to
keep up with her. She reached the end of the corridor, then let herself drop
lightly to the ground, enveloping cloak falling around her body. She
continued her resolute, unhurried pace. There was no reason to run. They'd
be waiting for her anyway.
She passed through the archway, stepping into the dome-roofed central
chamber. Silver murals lined the walls, braziers burned in the corners, the
floor was an ebony marble.
And two Inquisitors stood blocking her path.
Vin strode quietly through the room, approaching the building-within-a-
building that was her goal.
"We search all this time," said an Inquisitor in his grinding voice. "And
you come to us. A second time."
Vin stopped, standing about twenty feet in front of the pair. They loomed,
each of them nearly two feet taller than she, smiling and confident.
Vin burned atium, then whipped her hands from beneath her cloak, tossing
a double handful of arrowheads into the air. She flared steel, Pushing
powerfully against the rings of metal wrapped loosely around the
arrowheads' broken hafts. The missiles shot forward, ripping across the
room. The lead Inquisitor chuckled, raising a hand and Pushing disdainfully
against the missiles.
His Push ripped the unattached rings free from the hafts, shooting the bits
of metal backward. The arrowheads themselves, however, continued forward
—no longer Pushed from behind, but still carried by a deadly momentum.
The Inquisitor opened his mouth in surprise as two dozen arrowheads
struck him. Several punched completely through his flesh, continuing on to
snap against the stone wall behind him. Several others struck his companion
in the legs.
The lead Inquisitor jerked, spasming as he collapsed. The other growled,
staying on his feet, but wobbling a bit on the weakened leg. Vin dashed
forward, flaring her pewter. The remaining Inquisitor moved to block her, but
she reached inside her cloak and threw out a large handful of pewter dust.
The Inquisitor stopped, confused. To his "eyes" he would see nothing but a
mess of blue lines—each one leading to a speck of metal. With so many
sources of metal concentrated in one place, the lines would be virtually
blinding.
The Inquisitor spun, angry, as Vin dashed past him. He Pushed against the
dust, blowing it away, but as he did so, Vin whipped out a glass dagger and
flipped it toward him. In the confusing mess of blue lines and atium shadows,
he missed noticing the dagger, and it took him square in the thigh. He fell,
cursing in a crackly voice.
Good thing that worked, Vin thought, leaping over the groaning body of
the first Inquisitor. Wasn't sure about those eyes of theirs.
She threw her weight against the door, flaring pewter and tossing up
another handful of dust to keep the remaining Inquisitor from targeting any
metals on her body. She didn't turn back to fight the two further—not with
the trouble one of the creatures had given Kelsier. Her goal this infiltration
wasn't to kill, but to gather information, then run.
Vin burst into the building-within-a-building, nearly tripping on a rug
made from some exotic fur. She frowned, scanning the chamber urgently,
searching for whatever the Lord Ruler hid inside of it.
It has to be here, she thought desperately. The clue to defeating him—the
way to win this battle. She was counting on the Inquisitors being distracted
by their wounds long enough for her to search out the Lord Ruler's secret and
escape.
The room had only one exit—the entrance she'd come through—and a
hearth burned in the center of the chamber. The walls were decorated with
odd trappings; furs hung from most places, the pelts dyed in strange patterns.
There were a few old paintings, their colors faded, their canvases yellowed.
Vin searched quickly, urgently, looking for anything that could prove to be
a weapon against the Lord Ruler. Unfortunately, she saw nothing useful; the
room felt foreign, but unremarkable. In fact, it had a comfortable hominess,
like a study or den. It was packed full of strange objects and decorations—
like the horns of some foreign beast and a strange pair of shoes with very
wide, flat bottoms. It was the room of a pack rat, a place to keep memories of
the past.
She jumped as something moved near the center of the room. A pivoting
chair stood by the hearth, and it spun slowly, revealing the wizened old man
who sat in it. Bald, with liver-spotted skin, he appeared to be in his seventies.
He wore rich, dark clothing, and he frowned angrily at Vin.
That's it, Vin thought. I've failed—there's nothing here. Time to get out.
Just as she was spinning to dash away, however, rough hands grabbed her
from behind. She cursed, struggling as she glanced down at the Inquisitor's
bloodied leg. Even with pewter, he shouldn't have been able to walk on it.
She tried to twist away, but the Inquisitor had her in a powerful grasp.
"What is this?" the old man demanded, standing.
"I'm sorry, Lord Ruler," the Inquisitor said deferentially.
Lord Ruler! But . . . I saw him. He was a young man.
"Kill her," the old man said, waving his hand.
"My lord," the Inquisitor said. "This child is . . . of special interest. Might I
keep her for a time?"
"What special interest?" the Lord Ruler said, sighing as he sat again.
"We wish to petition you, Lord Ruler," said the Inquisitor. "Regarding the
Canton of Orthodoxy."
"This again?" the Lord Ruler said wearily.
"Please, my lord," said the Inquisitor. Vin continued to struggle, flaring her
pewter. The Inquisitor pinned her arms to her sides, however, and her
backward kicking did very little good. He's so strong! she thought with
frustration.
And then, she remembered it. The Eleventh Metal, its power sitting within
her, forming an unfamiliar reserve. She looked up, glaring at the old man.
This had better work. She burned the Eleventh Metal.
Nothing happened.
Vin struggled in frustration, her heart sinking. And then she saw him.
Another man, standing right beside the Lord Ruler. Where had he come
from? She hadn't seen him enter.
He had a full beard and wore a thick, woolen outfit with a fur-lined cloak.
It wasn't rich clothing, but it was well constructed. He stood quietly, seeming
. . . content. He smiled happily.
Vin cocked her head. There was something familiar about the man. His
features looked very similar to those of the man who had killed Kelsier.
However, this man was older and . . . more alive.
Vin turned to the side. There was another unfamiliar man beside her, a
young nobleman. He was a merchant, from the looks of his suit—and a very
wealthy one at that.
What is going on?
The Eleventh Metal burned out. Both newcomers vanished like ghosts.
"Very well," said the elderly Lord Ruler, sighing. "I agree to your request.
We will meet in several hours' time—Tevidian has already requested a
gathering to discuss matters outside the palace."
"Ah," said the second Inquisitor. "Yes . . . it will be good for him to be
there. Good indeed."
Vin continued to squirm as the Inquisitor pushed her to the ground, then
lifted his hand, gripping something she couldn't see. He swung, and pain
flashed through her head.
Despite her pewter, all went black.
Elend found his father in the north entryway—a smaller, less daunting
entrance to Keep Venture, though only when compared with the majestic
grand hall.
"What's going on?" Elend demanded, pulling on his suit coat, his hair
disheveled from sleep. Lord Venture stood with his guard captains and
canalmasters. Soldiers and servants scattered through the white-and-brown
hallway, rushing about with an air of apprehensive fright.
Lord Venture ignored Elend's question, calling for a messenger to ride for
the east river docks.
"Father, what's happening?" Elend repeated.
"Skaa rebellion," Lord Venture snapped.
What? Elend thought as Lord Venture waved for another group of soldiers
to approach. Impossible. A skaa rebellion in Luthadel itself . . . it was
unthinkable. They didn't have the disposition to try such a bold move, they
were just . . .
Valette is skaa, he thought. You have to stop thinking like other noblemen,
Elend. You have to open your eyes.
The Garrison was gone, off to slaughter a different group of rebels. The
skaa had been forced to watch those gruesome executions weeks ago, not to
mention the slaughter that had come this day. They had been stressed to the
point of breaking.
Temadre predicted this, Elend realized. So did half a dozen other political
theorists. They said that the Final Empire couldn't last forever. God at its
head or not, the people would someday rise up. . . . It's finally happening. I'm
living through it!
And . . . I'm on the wrong side.
"Why the canalmasters?" Elend asked.
"We're leaving the city," Lord Venture said tersely.
"Abandon the keep?" Elend asked. "Where's the honor in that?"
Lord Venture snorted. "This isn't about bravery, boy. It's about survival.
Those skaa are attacking the main gates, slaughtering the remnants of the
Garrison. I have no intention of waiting until they come for noble heads."
"But . . ."
Lord Venture shook his head. "We were leaving anyway. Something . . .
happened at the Pits a few days ago. The Lord Ruler isn't going to be happy
when he discovers it." He stepped back, waving over his lead narrowboat
captain.
Skaa rebellion, Elend thought, still a little numb. What was it that Temadre
warned in his writings? That, when a real rebellion finally came, the skaa
would slaughter wantonly . . . that every nobleman's life would be forfeit.
He predicted that the rebellion would die out quickly, but that it would
leave piles of corpses in its wake. Thousands of deaths. Tens of thousands.
"Well, boy?" Lord Venture demanded. "Go and organize your things."
"I'm not going," Elend surprised himself by saying.
Lord Venture frowned. "What?"
Elend looked up. "I'm not going, Father."
"Oh, you're going," Lord Venture said, eyeing Elend with one of his
glares.
Elend looked into those eyes—eyes that were angry not because they cared
for Elend's safety, but because Elend dared defy them. And, strangely, Elend
didn't feel the least bit cowed. Someone has to stop this. The rebellion could
do some good, but only if the skaa don't insist on slaughtering their allies.
And, that's what the nobility should be—their allies against the Lord Ruler.
He's our enemy too.
"Father, I'm serious," Elend said. "I'm going to stay."
"Bloody hell, boy! Must you insist on mocking me?"
"This isn't about balls or luncheons, father. It's about something more
important."
Lord Venture paused. "No flippant comments? No buffoonery?"
Elend shook his head.
Suddenly, Lord Venture smiled. "Stay then, boy. That's a good idea.
Someone should maintain our presence here while I go rally our forces. Yes .
. . a very good idea."
Elend paused, frowning slightly at the smile in his father's eyes. The atium
—Father is setting me up to fall in his place! And . . . even if the Lord Ruler
doesn't kill me, Father assumes I'll die in the rebellion. Either way, he's rid
of me.
I'm really not very good at this, am I?
Lord Venture laughed to himself, turning.
"At least leave me some soldiers," Elend said.
"You can have most of them," Lord Venture said. "It will be hard enough
to get one boat out in this mess. Good luck, boy. Say hello to the Lord Ruler
in my absence." He laughed again, moving toward his stallion, which was
saddled and readied outside.
Elend stood in the hall, and suddenly he was the focus of attention.
Nervous guards and servants, realizing that they'd been abandoned, turned to
Elend with desperate eyes.
I'm . . . in charge, Elend thought with shock. Now what? Outside, he could
see the mists flaring with the light of burning fires. Several of the guards
were yelling about an approaching mob of skaa.
Elend walked to the open doorway, staring out into the chaos. The hall
grew quiet behind him, terrified people realizing the extent of their danger.
Elend stood for a long moment. Then he spun. "Captain!" he said. "Gather
your forces and the remaining servants—don't leave anyone behind—then
march to Keep Lekal."
"Keep . . . Lekal, my lord?"
"It's more defensible," Elend said. "Plus, both of us have too few soldiers
—separated, we'll be destroyed. Together, we might be able to stand. We'll
offer our men to the Lekal in exchange for protecting our people."
"But . . . my lord," the soldier said. "The Lekal are your enemies."
Elend nodded. "Yes, but someone needs to make the first overture. Now,
get moving!"
The man saluted, then rushed into motion.
"Oh, and Captain?" Elend said.
The soldier paused.
"Pick out five of your best soldiers to be my honor guard. I'll be leaving
you in charge—those five and I have another mission."
"My lord?" the captain asked with confusion. "What mission?"
Elend turned back toward the mists. "We're going to go turn ourselves in."
Vin awoke to wetness. She coughed, then groaned, feeling a sharp pain in the
back of her skull. She opened dizzy eyes—blinking away the water that had
been thrown on her—and immediately burned pewter and tin, bringing
herself completely awake.
A pair of rough hands hoisted her into the air. She coughed as the
Inquisitor shoved something into her mouth.
"Swallow," he ordered, twisting her arm.
Vin cried out, trying without success to resist the pain. Eventually, she
gave in and swallowed the bit of metal.
"Now burn it," the Inquisitor ordered, twisting harder.
Vin resisted nonetheless, sensing the unfamiliar metal reserve within her.
The Inquisitor could be trying to get her to burn a useless metal, one that
would make her sick—or, worse, kill her.
But, there are easier ways to kill a captive, she thought in agony. Her arm
hurt so much that it felt like it would twist free. Finally, Vin relented, burning
the metal.
Immediately, all of her other metal reserves vanished.
"Good," the Inquisitor said, dropping her to the ground. The stones were
wet, pooled with a bucketful of water. The Inquisitor turned, leaving the cell
and slamming its barred door; then he disappeared through a doorway on the
other side of the room.
Vin crawled to her knees, massaging her arm, trying to sort out what was
going on. My metals! She searched desperately inside, but she found nothing.
She couldn't feel any metals, not even the one she had ingested moments
before.
What was it? A twelfth metal? Perhaps Allomancy wasn't as limited as
Kelsier and the others had always assured her.
She took a few deep breaths, climbing to her knees, calming herself. There
was something . . . Pushing against her. The Lord Ruler's presence. She
could feel it, though it wasn't as powerful as it had been earlier, when he had
killed Kelsier. Still, she didn't have copper to burn—she had no way to hide
from the Lord Ruler's powerful, almost omnipotent, hand. She felt depression
twisting her, telling her to just lie down, to give up. . . .
No! she thought. I have to get out. I have to stay strong!
She forced herself to stand and inspect her surroundings. Her prison was
more like a cage than a cell. It had bars running along three of the four sides,
and it contained no furniture—not even a sleeping mat. There were two other
cell-cages in the room, one to either side of her.
She had been stripped, they had only left her with her undergarments. The
move was probably to make certain that she didn't have any hidden metals.
She glanced around the room. It was long and thin, and had stark stone walls.
A stool sat in one corner, but the room was otherwise empty.
If I could find just a bit of metal . . .
She began to search. Instinctively, she tried to burn iron, expecting the blue
lines to appear—but, of course, she had no iron to burn. She shook her head
at the foolish move, but it was simply a sign of how much she'd come to rely
on her Allomancy. She felt . . . blinded. She couldn't burn tin to listen for
voices. She couldn't burn pewter to strengthen her against the pain of her
hurting arm and head. She couldn't burn bronze to search for nearby
Allomancers.
Nothing. She had nothing.
You functioned without Allomancy before, she told herself sternly. You can
do it now.
Even so, she searched the bare floor of her cell, hoping for the chance
existence of a discarded pin or nail. She found nothing, so she turned her
attention to the bars. However, she couldn't think of a way to get off even a
flake of the iron.
So much metal here, she thought with frustration. And I can't use any of it!
She sat back on the ground, huddling up against the stone wall, shivering
quietly in her damp clothing. It was still dark outside; the room's window
casually allowed in a few trails of mist. What had happened with the
rebellion? What about her friends? She thought that the mists outside looked
a bit brighter than usual. Torchlight in the night? Without tin, her senses were
too weak to tell.
What was I thinking? she thought with despair. Did I presume to succeed
where Kelsier had failed? He knew that the Eleventh Metal was useless.
It had done something, true—but it certainly hadn't killed the Lord Ruler.
She sat, thinking, trying to figure out what had happened. There had been an
odd familiarity about the things the Eleventh Metal had shown her. Not
because of the way the visions had appeared, but because of the way Vin had
felt when burning the metal.
Gold. The moment when I burned the Eleventh Metal felt like that time
when Kelsier had me burn gold.
Could it be that the Eleventh Metal wasn't really "eleventh" at all? Gold
and atium had always seemed oddly paired to Vin. All of the other metals
came in pairs that were similar—a base metal, then its alloy, each doing
opposite things. Iron Pulled, steel Pushed. Zinc Pulled, brass Pushed. It made
sense. All except for atium and gold.
What if the Eleventh Metal was really an alloy of atium or of gold? It
would mean . . . that gold and atium aren't paired. They do two different
things. Similar, but different. They're like . . .
Like the other metals, which were grouped into larger bases of four. There
were the physical metals: iron, steel, tin, and pewter. The mental metals:
bronze, copper, zinc, and brass. And . . . there were the time-affecting metals:
gold and its alloy, and atium and its alloy.
That means there's another metal. One that hasn't been discovered—
probably because atium and gold are too valuable to forge into different
alloys.
But, what good was the knowledge? Her "Eleventh Metal" was probably
just a paired opposite of gold—the metal Kelsier had told her was the most
useless of them all. Gold had shown Vin herself—or, at least, a different
version of her that had felt real enough to touch. But, it had simply been a
vision of what she could have become, had the past been different.
The Eleventh Metal had done something similar: Instead of showing Vin's
own past, it had shown her similar images from other people. And that told
her . . . nothing. What difference did it make what the Lord Ruler could have
been? It was the current man, the tyrant that ruled the Final Empire, that she
had to defeat.
A figure appeared in the doorway—an Inquisitor dressed in a black robe,
the hood up. His face was shadowed, but his spike-heads jutted from the front
of the cowl.
"It is time," he said. Another Inquisitor waited in the doorway as the first
creature pulled out a set of keys and moved to open Vin's door.
Vin tensed. The door clicked, and she sprang to her feet, scrambling
forward.
Have I always been this slow without pewter? she thought with horror. The
Inquisitor snatched her arm as she passed, his motions unconcerned, almost
casual—and she could see why. His hands moved supernaturally quickly,
making her seem even more sluggish by comparison.
The Inquisitor pulled her up, twisting her and easily holding her. He smiled
with an evil grin, his face pocked with scars. Scars that looked like . . .
Arrowhead wounds, she thought with shock. But . . . healed already? How
can it be?
She struggled, but her weak, pewterless body was no match for the
Inquisitor's strength. The creature carried her toward the doorway, and the
second Inquisitor stepped back, regarding her with spikes that peeked out
from beneath its cowl. Though the Inquisitor who carried her was smiling,
this second one had a flat line of a mouth.
Vin spat at the second Inquisitor as she passed, her spittle smacking it right
on one of its spike-heads. Her captor carried her out of the chamber and
through a narrow hallway. She cried out for help, knowing that her screams
—in the middle of Kredik Shaw itself—would be useless. At least she
succeeded in annoying the Inquisitor, for he twisted her arm.
"Quiet," he said as she grunted in pain.
Vin fell silent, instead focusing on their location. They were probably in
one of the lower sections of the palace; the hallways were too long to be in a
tower or spire. The decorations were lavish, but the rooms looked . . . unused.
The carpets were pristine, the furniture unmarked by scuff or scratch. She had
the feeling that the murals were rarely seen, even by those who often passed
through the chambers.
Eventually, the Inquisitors entered a stairwell and began to climb. One of
the spires, she thought.
With each climbing step, Vin could feel the Lord Ruler getting closer. His
mere presence dampened her emotions, stealing her willpower, making her
numb to everything but lonely depression. She sagged in the Inquisitor's grip,
no longer struggling. It took all of her energy to simply resist the Lord
Ruler's pressure on her soul.
After a short time in the tunnel-like stairwell, the Inquisitors carried her out
into a large, circular room. And, despite the power of the Lord Ruler's
Soothing, despite her visits to noble keeps, Vin took just a brief moment to
stare at her surroundings. They were majestic like none she'd ever seen.
The room was shaped like a massive, stocky cylinder. The wall—there was
only one, running in a wide circle—was made entirely of glass. Lit by fires
from behind, the room glowed with spectral light. The glass was colored,
though it didn't depict any specific scene. Instead, it seemed crafted from a
single sheet, the colors blown and melded together in long, thin trails. Like . .
.
Like mist, she thought with wonder. Colorful streams of mist, running in a
circle around the entire room.
The Lord Ruler sat in an elevated throne in the very center of the room. He
wasn't the old Lord Ruler—this was the younger version, the handsome man
who had killed Kelsier.
Some kind of impostor? No, I can feel him—just as I could feel the one
before. They're the same man. Can he change how he looks, then? Appearing
young when he wishes to put forth a pretty face?
A small group of gray-robed, eye-tattooed obligators stood conversing on
the far side of the room. Seven Inquisitors stood waiting, like a row of
shadows with iron eyes. That made nine of them in all, counting the two that
had escorted Vin. Her scar-faced captor delivered her to one of the others,
who held her with a similarly inescapable grip.
"Let us be on with this," said the Lord Ruler.
A regular obligator stepped forward, bowing. With a chill, she realized that
she recognized him.
Lord Prelan Tevidian, she thought, eyeing the thin balding man. My . . .
father.
"My lord," Tevidian said, "forgive me, but I do not understand. We have
already discussed this matter!"
"The Inquisitors say they have more to add," the Lord Ruler said in a tired
voice.
Tevidian eyed Vin, frowning in confusion. He doesn't know who I am, she
thought. He never knew he was a father.
"My lord," Tevidian said, turning away from her. "Look outside your
window! Do we not have better things to discuss? The entire city is in
rebellion! Skaa torches light up the night, and they dare go out into the mists.
They blaspheme in riots, attacking the keeps of the nobility!"
"Let them," the Lord Ruler said in an uncaring voice. He seemed so . . .
worn. He sat strongly on his throne, but there was still a weariness to his
posture and his voice.
"But my lord!" Tevidian said. "The Great Houses are falling!"
The Lord Ruler waved a dismissive hand. "It is good for them to get
purged every century or so. It fosters instability, keeps the aristocracy from
growing too confident. Usually, I let them kill each other in one of their
foolish wars, but these riots will work."
"And . . . if the skaa come to the palace?"
"Then I will deal with them," the Lord Ruler said softly. "You will not
question this further."
"Yes, my lord," Tevidian said, bowing and backing away.
"Now," the Lord Ruler said, turning to the Inquisitors. "What is it you
wished to present?"
The scarred Inquisitor stepped forward. "Lord Ruler, we wish to petition
that leadership of your Ministry be taken from these . . . men and granted to
the Inquisitors instead."
"We have discussed this," the Lord Ruler said. "You and your brothers are
needed for more important tasks. You are too valuable to waste on simple
administration."
"But," the Inquisitor said, "by allowing common men to rule your
Ministry, you have unwittingly allowed corruption and vice to enter the very
heart of your holy palace!"
"Idle claims!" Tevidian spat. "You say such things often, Kar, but you
never offer any proof."
Kar turned slowly, his eerie smile lit by the twisting, colored windowlight.
Vin shivered. That smile was nearly as unsettling as the Lord Ruler's
Soothing.
"Proof?" Kar asked. "Why, tell me, Lord Prelan. Do you recognize that
girl?"
"Bah, of course not!" Tevidian said with a wave of his hand. "What does a
skaa girl have to do with the government of the Ministry?"
"Everything," Kar said, turning to Vin. "Oh, yes . . . everything. Tell the
Lord Ruler who your father is, child."
Vin tried to squirm, but the Lord Ruler's Allomancy was so oppressive, the
Inquisitor's hands were so strong. "I don't know," she managed to say
through gritted teeth.
The Lord Ruler perked up slightly, turning toward her, leaning forward.
"You cannot lie to the Lord Ruler, child," Kar said in a quiet, rasping
voice. "He has lived for centuries, and has learned to use Allomancy like no
mortal man. He can see things in the way your heart beats, and can read your
emotions in your eyes. He can sense the moment when you lie. He knows . . .
oh, yes. He knows."
"I never knew my father," Vin said stubbornly. If the Inquisitor wanted to
know something, then keeping it a secret seemed like a good idea. "I'm just a
street urchin."
"A Mistborn street urchin?" Kar asked. "Why, that's interesting. Isn't it,
Tevidian?"
The lord prelan paused, his frown deepening. The Lord Ruler stood slowly,
walking down the steps of his dais toward Vin.
"Yes, my lord," Kar said. "You felt her Allomancy earlier. You know that
she is a full Mistborn—an amazingly powerful one. Yet, she claims to have
grown up on the street. What noble house would have abandoned such a
child? Why, for her to have such strength, she must be of an extremely pure
line. At least . . . one of her parents must have been from a very pure line."
"What are you implying?" Tevidian demanded, paling.
The Lord Ruler ignored them both. He strode through the streaming colors
of the reflective floor, then stopped right in front of Vin.
So close, she thought. His Soothing was so strong that she couldn't even
feel terror—all she felt was the deep, overpowering, horrible sorrow.
The Lord Ruler reached out with delicate hands, taking her by the cheeks,
tilting her face up to look into his eyes. "Who is your father, girl?" he asked
quietly.
"I . . ." Despair twisted inside of her. Grief, pain, a desire to die.
The Lord Ruler held her face close to his own, looking into her eyes. In
that moment, she knew the truth. She could see a piece of him; she could
sense his power. His . . . godlike power.
He wasn't worried about the skaa rebellion. Why would he have to worry?
If he wished, he could slaughter every person in the city by himself. Vin
knew it to be the truth. It might take him time, but he could kill forever,
tirelessly. He need fear no rebellion.
He'd never needed to. Kelsier had made a terrible, terrible mistake.
"Your father, child," the Lord Ruler prompted, his demand like a physical
weight upon her soul.
Vin spoke despite herself. "My . . . brother told me that my father was that
man over there. The lord prelan." Tears rolled down her cheeks, though when
the Lord Ruler turned from her, she couldn't quite remember why she had
been crying.
"It's a lie, my lord!" Tevidian said, backing away. "What does she know?
She's just a silly child."
"Tell me truthfully, Tevidian," the Lord Ruler said, walking slowly toward
the obligator. "Have you ever bedded a skaa woman?"
The obligator paused. "I followed the law! Each time, I had them slain
afterward."
"You . . . lie," the Lord Ruler said, as if surprised. "You're uncertain."
Tevidian was visibly shaking. "I . . . I think I got them all, my lord. There .
. . there was one I may have been too lax with. I didn't know she was skaa at
first. The soldier I sent to kill her was too lenient, and he let her go. But I
found her, eventually."
"Tell me," the Lord Ruler said. "Did this woman bear any children?"
The room fell silent.
"Yes, my lord," the high prelan said.
The Lord Ruler closed his eyes, sighing. He turned back toward his throne.
"He is yours," he said to the Inquisitors.
Immediately, six Inquisitors dashed across the room, howling in joy,
pulling obsidian knives from sheaths beneath their robes. Tevidian raised his
arms, crying out as the Inquisitors fell on him, exulting in their brutality.
Blood flew as they plunged their daggers over and over again into the dying
man. The other obligators backed away, looking on in horror.
Kar remained behind, smiling as he watched the massacre, as did the
Inquisitor who was Vin's captor. One other Inquisitor remained back as well,
though Vin didn't know why.
"Your point is proven, Kar," the Lord Ruler said, sitting wearily on his
throne. "It seems that I have trusted too much in the . . . obedience of
mankind. I did not make a mistake. I have never made a mistake. However, it
is time for a change. Gather the high prelans and bring them here—rouse
them from their beds, if need be. They will witness as I grant the Canton of
Inquisition command and authority over the Ministry."
Kar's smile deepened.
"The half-breed child will be destroyed."
"Of course, my lord," Kar said. "Though . . . there are some questions I
wish to ask her first. She was part of a team of skaa Mistings. If she can help
us locate the others . . ."
"Very well," the Lord Ruler said. "That is your duty, after all."
Is there anything more beautiful than the sun? I often watch it rise, for my restless sleep usually
awakens me before dawn.
Each time I see its calm yellow light peeking above the horizon, I grow a little more
determined, a little more hopeful. In a way, it is the thing that has kept me going all this time.
37
KELSIER, YOU CURSED LUNATIC, Dockson thought, scribbling notes on the table
map, why do you always just saunter away, leaving me to handle your
messes? However, he knew his frustration wasn't real—it was simply a way
of keeping himself from focusing on Kell's death. It worked.
Kelsier's part in the plan—the vision, the charismatic leadership—was
finished. Now it was Dockson's turn. He took Kelsier's original strategy and
modified it. He was careful to keep the chaos at a manageable level, rationing
the best equipment to the men who seemed the most stable. He sent
contingents to capture points of interest—food and water deposits—before
general rioting could steal them.
In short, he did what he always did: He made Kelsier's dreams become
reality.
A disturbance came from the front of the room, and Dockson looked up as
a messenger rushed in. The man immediately sought out Dockson at the
center of the warehouse.
"What news?" Dockson asked as the man approached.
The messenger shook his head. He was a young man, in an imperial
uniform, though he had removed the jacket to make himself look less
obtrusive. "I'm sorry, sir," the man said quietly. "None of the guards have
seen her come out, and . . . well, one claimed he saw her being carried toward
the palace dungeons."
"Can you get her out?" Dockson asked.
The soldier—Goradel—paled. Until just a short time before, Goradel had
been one of the Lord Ruler's own men. In truth, Dockson wasn't even certain
how much he trusted the man. Yet, the soldier—as a former palace
guardsman—could get into places that other skaa could not. His former allies
didn't know he'd switched sides.
Assuming he really has switched sides, Dockson thought. But . . . well,
things were moving too quickly now for self-doubt. Dockson had decided to
use this man. He'd have to trust his initial instincts.
"Well?" Dockson repeated.
Goradel shook his head. "There was an Inquisitor holding her captive, sir. I
couldn't free her—I wouldn't have the authority. I don't . . . I . . ."
Dockson sighed. Damn fool girl! he thought. She should have had better
sense than this. Kelsier must have rubbed off on her.
He waved the soldier away, then looked up as Hammond walked in, a large
sword with a broken hilt resting on his shoulder.
"It's done," Ham said. "Keep Elariel just fell. Looks like Lekal is still
holding, however."
Dockson nodded. "We'll need your men at the palace soon." The sooner
we break in there, the better chance we have of saving Vin. However, his
instincts told him that they'd be too late to help her. The main forces would
take hours to gather and organize; he wanted to attack the palace with all of
their armies in tandem. The truth was he just couldn't afford to spare men on
a rescue operation at the moment. Kelsier would probably have gone after
her, but Dockson wouldn't let himself do something that brash.
As he always said—someone on the crew needed to be realistic. The palace
was not a place to attack without substantial preparation; Vin's failure proved
that much. She'd just have to look after herself for the moment.
"I'll get my men ready," Ham said, nodding as he tossed his sword aside.
"I'm going to need a new sword, though."
Dockson sighed. "You Thugs. Always breaking things. Go see what you
can find, then."
Ham moved off.
"If you see Sazed," Dockson called, "tell him that . . ."
Dockson paused, his attention drawn by a group of skaa rebels who
marched into the room, pulling a bound prisoner with a cloth sack on his
head.
"What is this?" Dockson demanded.
One of the rebels elbowed his captive. "I think he's someone important,
m'lord. Came to us unarmed, asked to be brought to you. Promised us gold if
we did it."
Dockson raised an eyebrow. The grunt pulled off the hood, revealing Elend
Venture.
Dockson blinked in surprise. "You?"
Elend looked around. He was apprehensive, obviously, but held himself
well, all things considered. "Have we met?"
"Not exactly," Dockson said. Blast. I don't have time for captives right
now. Still, the son of the Ventures . . . Dockson was going to need leverage
with the powerful nobility when the fighting was over.
"I've come to offer you a truce," Elend Venture said.
" . . . excuse me?" Dockson asked.
"House Venture will not resist you," Elend said. "And I can probably talk
the rest of the nobility into listening as well. They're frightened—there's no
need to slaughter them."
Dockson snorted. "I can't exactly leave hostile armed forces in the city."
"If you destroy the nobility, you won't be able to hold on for very long,"
Elend said. "We control the economy—the empire will collapse without us."
"That is kind of the point of this all," Dockson said. "Look, I don't have
time—"
"You must hear me out," Elend Venture said desperately. "If you start your
rebellion with chaos and bloodshed, you'll lose it. I've studied these things; I
know what I'm talking about! When the momentum of your initial conflict
runs out, the people will start looking for other things to destroy. They'll turn
on themselves. You must keep control of your armies."
Dockson paused. Elend Venture was supposed to be a fool and a fop, but
now he just seemed . . . earnest.
"I'll help you," Elend said. "Leave the noblemen's keeps alone and focus
your efforts on the Ministry and the Lord Ruler—they're your real enemies."
"Look," Dockson said, "I'll pull our armies away from Keep Venture.
There's probably no need to fight them now that—"
"I sent my soldiers to Keep Lekal," Elend said. "Pull your men away from
all the nobility. They're not going to attack your flanks—they'll just hole up
in their mansions and worry."
He's probably right about that. "We'll consider . . ." Dockson trailed off,
noticing that Elend wasn't paying attention to him anymore. Blasted hard
man to have a conversation with.
Elend was staring at Hammond, who had returned with a new sword.
Elend frowned, then his eyes opened wide. "I know you! You were the one
who rescued Lord Renoux's servants from the executions!"
Elend turned back to Dockson, suddenly eager. "Do you know Valette,
then? She'll tell you to listen to me."
Dockson shared a look with Ham.
"What?" Elend asked.
"Vin . . ." Dockson said. "Valette . . . she went into the palace a few hours
back. I'm sorry, lad. She's probably in the Lord Ruler's dungeons right now
—assuming she's even still alive."
Kar tossed Vin back into her cell. She hit the ground hard and rolled, her
loose undershirt twisting around her, her head knocking against the cell's
back wall.
The Inquisitor smiled, slamming the door. "Thank you very much," he said
through the bars. "You just helped us achieve something that has been a long
time in coming."
Vin glared up at him, the effects of the Lord Ruler's Soothing weaker now.
"It is unfortunate that Bendal isn't here," Kar said. "He chased your
brother for years, swearing that Tevidian had fathered a skaa half-breed. Poor
Bendal . . . If only the Lord Ruler had left the Survivor to us, so that we could
have had revenge."
He looked over at her, shaking his spike-eyed head. "Ah, well. He was
vindicated in the end. The rest of us believed your brother, but Bendal . . .
even then he wasn't convinced—and he found you in the end."
"My brother?" Vin said, scrambling to her feet. "He sold me out?"
"Sold you out?" Kar said. "He died promising us that you had starved to
death years ago! He screamed it night and day beneath the hands of Ministry
torturers. It is very hard to hold out against the pains of an Inquisitor's torture
. . . something you shall soon discover." He smiled. "But, first, let me show
you something."
A group of guards dragged a naked, bound figure into the room. Bruised
and bleeding, the man stumbled to the stone floor as they pushed him into the
cell beside Vin's.
"Sazed?" Vin cried, rushing to the bars.
The Terrisman lay groggily as the soldiers tied his hands and feet to a
small metal ring set into the stone floor. He had been beaten so severely that
he barely seemed conscious, and he was completely naked. Vin turned away
from his nudity, but not before she saw the place between his legs—a simple,
empty scar where his manhood should have been.
All Terrisman stewards are eunuchs, he had told her. That wound wasn't
new—but the bruises, cuts, and scrapes were fresh.
"We found him sneaking into the palace after you," Kar said. "Apparently,
he feared for your safety."
"What have you done to him?" she asked quietly.
"Oh, very little . . . so far," Kar said. "Now, you may wonder why I spoke
to you of your brother. Perhaps you think me a fool for admitting that your
brother's mind snapped before we drew out his secret. But, you see, I am not
so much a fool that I will not admit a mistake. We should have drawn out
your brother's torture . . . made him suffer longer. That was an error indeed."
He smiled wickedly, nodding to Sazed. "We won't make that mistake
again, child. No—this time, we're going to try a different tactic. We're going
to let you watch us torture the Terrisman. We're going to be very careful,
making certain his pain is lasting, and quite vibrant. When you tell us what
we want to know, we'll stop."
Vin shivered in horror. "No . . . please . . ."
"Oh, yes," Kar said. "Why don't you take some time to think about what
we're going to do to him? The Lord Ruler has commanded my presence—I
need to go and receive formal leadership of the Ministry. We'll begin when I
return."
He turned, black robe sweeping the ground. The guards followed, likely
taking positions in the guard chamber just outside the room.
"Oh, Sazed," Vin said, sinking to her knees beside the bars of her cage.
"Now, Mistress," Sazed said in a surprisingly lucid voice. "What did we
tell you about running around in your undergarments? Why, if Master
Dockson were here, he would scold you for certain."
Vin looked up, shocked. Sazed was smiling at her.
"Sazed!" she said quietly, glancing in the direction the guards had gone.
"You're awake?"
"Very awake," he said. His calm, strong voice was a stark contrast to his
bruised body.
"I'm sorry, Sazed," she said. "Why did you follow me? You should have
stayed back and let me be stupid on my own!"
He turned a bruised head toward her, one eye swollen, but the other
looking into her eyes. "Mistress," he said solemnly, "I vowed to Master
Kelsier that I would see to your safety. The oath of a Terrisman is not
something given lightly."
"But . . . you should have known you'd be captured," she said, looking
down in shame.
"Of course I knew, Mistress," he said. "Why, how else was I going to get
them to bring me to you?"
Vin looked up. "Bring you . . . to me?"
"Yes, Mistress. There is one thing that the Ministry and my own people
have in common, I think. They both underestimate the things that we can
accomplish."
He closed his eyes. And then, his body changed. It seemed to . . . deflate,
the muscles growing weak and scrawny, the flesh hanging loosely on his
bones.
"Sazed!" Vin cried out, pushing herself against the bars, trying to reach
him.
"It is all right, Mistress," he said in a faint, frighteningly weak voice. "I
just need a moment to . . . gather my strength."
Gather my strength. Vin paused, lowering her hand, watching Sazed for a
few minutes. Could it be . . .
He looked so weak—as if his strength, his very muscles, were being drawn
away. And perhaps . . . stored somewhere?
Sazed's eyes snapped open. His body returned to normal; then his muscles
continued to grow, becoming large and powerful, growing bigger, even, than
Ham's.
Sazed smiled at her from a head sitting atop a beefy, muscular neck; then
he easily snapped his bindings. He stood, a massive, inhumanly muscular
man—so different from the lanky, quiet scholar she had known.
The Lord Ruler spoke of their strength in his logbook, she thought with
wonder. He said the man Rashek lifted a boulder by himself and threw it out
of their way.
"But, they took all of your jewelry!" Vin said. "Where did you hide the
metal?"
Sazed smiled, grabbing the bars separating their cages. "I took a hint from
you, Mistress. I swallowed it." With that, he ripped the bars free.
She ran into the cage, embracing him. "Thank you."
"Of course," he said, gently pushing her aside, then slamming a massive
palm against the door to his cell, breaking the lock, sending the door crashing
open.
"Quickly now, Mistress," Sazed said. "We must get you to safety."
The two guards who had thrown Sazed into the chamber appeared in the
doorway a second later. They froze, staring up at the massive beast who stood
in place of the weak man they had beaten.
Sazed jumped forward, holding one of the bars from Vin's cage. His
Feruchemy, however, had obviously given him strength only, no speed. He
stepped with a lumbering gait, and the guards dashed away, crying for help.
"Come now, Mistress," Sazed said, tossing aside the bar. "My strength will
not last long—the metal I swallowed wasn't large enough to hold much of a
Feruchemical charge."
Even as he spoke, he began to shrink. Vin moved past him, scrambling out
of the room. The guard chamber beyond was quite small, set with only a pair
of chairs. Beneath one, however, she found a cloak rolled around one of the
guards' evening meals. Vin shook the cloak free, tossing it to Sazed.
"Thank you, Mistress," he said.
She nodded, moving to the doorway and peeking out. The larger room
outside was empty, and had two hallways leading off of it—one going right,
one extending into the distance across from her. The wall to her left was lined
with wooden trunks, and the center of the room held a large table. Vin
shivered as she saw the dried blood and the set of sharp instruments lying in a
row on the table's side. This is where we'll both end up if we don't move
quickly, she thought, waving Sazed forward.
She froze mid-step as a group of soldiers appeared in the far hallway, led
by one of the guards from before. Vin cursed quietly—she would have heard
them earlier if she'd had tin.
Vin glanced backward. Sazed was hobbling through the guard chamber.
His Feruchemical strength was gone, and the soldiers had obviously beaten
him soundly before tossing him into the cell. He could barely walk.
"Go, Mistress!" he said, waving her forward. "Run!"
You still have some things to learn about friendship, Vin, Kelsier's voice
whispered in her mind. I hope someday you realize what they are. . . .
I can't leave him. I won't.
Vin dashed toward the soldiers. She swiped a pair of torturing knives from
the table, their bright, polished steel glistening between her fingers. She
jumped atop the table, then leapt off of it toward the oncoming soldiers.
She had no Allomancy, but she flew true anyway, her months of practice
helping despite her lack of metals. She slammed a knife into a surprised
soldier's neck as she fell. She hit the ground harder than she had expected,
but managed to scramble away from a second soldier, who cursed and swung
at her.
The sword clanged against the stone behind her. Vin spun, slashing another
soldier across the thighs. He stumbled back in pain.
Too many, she thought. There were at least two dozen of them. She tried to
jump for a third soldier, but another man swung his quarterstaff, slamming
the weapon into Vin's side.
She grunted in pain, dropping her knife as she was thrown to the side. No
pewter strengthened her against the fall, and she hit the hard stones with a
crack, rolling to a dazed stop beside the wall.
She struggled, unsuccessfully, to rise. To her side, she could barely make
out Sazed collapsing as his body grew suddenly weak. He was trying to store
up strength again. He wouldn't have enough time. The soldiers would be on
him soon.
At least I tried, she thought as she heard another group of soldiers charging
down the rightmost hallway. At least I didn't abandon him. I think . . . think
that's what Kelsier meant.
"Valette!" a familiar voice cried.
Vin looked up with shock as Elend and six soldiers burst into the room.
Elend wore a nobleman's suit, a little ill-fitting, and carried a dueling cane.
"Elend?" Vin asked, dumbfounded.
"Are you all right?" he said with concern, stepping toward her. Then he
noticed the Ministry soldiers. They seemed a bit confused to be confronted by
a nobleman, but they still had superior numbers.
"I'm taking the girl with me!" Elend said. His words were brave, but he
was obviously no soldier. He carried only a nobleman's dueling cane as a
weapon, and he wore no armor. Five of the men with him wore Venture red
—men from Elend's keep. One, however—the one who had been leading
them as they charged into the room—wore a palace guard's uniform. Vin
realized that she recognized him just vaguely. His uniform jacket was
missing the symbol on its shoulder. The man from before, she thought,
stupefied. The one I convinced to change sides . . .
The lead Ministry soldier apparently made his decision. He waved curtly,
ignoring Elend's command, and the soldiers began to edge around the room,
moving to surround Elend's band.
"Valette, you have to go!" Elend said urgently, raising his dueling cane.
"Come, Mistress," Sazed said, reaching her side, moving to lift her to her
feet.
"We can't abandon them!" Vin said.
"We have to."
"But you came for me. We have to do the same for Elend!"
Sazed shook his head. "That was different, child. I knew I had a chance to
save you. You cannot help here—there is beauty in compassion, but one must
learn wisdom too."
She allowed herself to be pulled to her feet, Elend's soldiers obediently
moving to block off the Ministry soldiers. Elend stood at their front,
obviously determined to fight.
There has to be another way! Vin thought with despair. There has to . . .
And then she saw it sitting discarded in one of the trunks along the wall. A
familiar strip of gray cloth, one single tassel, hanging over the trunk's side.
She pulled free of Sazed as the Ministry soldiers attacked. Elend cried out
behind her, and weapons rang.
Vin threw the top pieces of cloth—her trousers and shirt—out of the trunk.
And there, at the bottom, lay her mistcloak. She closed her eyes and reached
into the side cloak pocket.
Her fingers found a single glass vial, cork still in place.
She pulled the vial out, spinning toward the battle. The Ministry soldiers
had retreated slightly. Two of their members lay wounded on the floor—but
three of Elend's men were down. The small size of the room had, fortunately,
kept Elend's men from being surrounded at first.
Elend stood sweating, a cut in his arm, his dueling cane cracked and
splintered. He grabbed the sword from the man he had felled, holding the
weapon in unpracticed hands, staring down a much larger force.
"I was wrong about that one, Mistress," Sazed said softly. "I . . .
apologize."
Vin smiled. Then she flipped the cork free from her vial and downed the
metals in one gulp.
Wells of power exploded within her. Fires blazed, metals raging, and
strength returned to her weakened, tired body like a dawning sun. Pains
became trivial, dizziness disappeared, the room became brighter, the stones
more real beneath her toes.
The soldiers attacked again, and Elend raised his sword in a determined,
but unhopeful, posture. He seemed utterly shocked when Vin flew through
the air over his head.
She landed amid the soldiers, blasting outward with a Steelpush. The
soldiers on either side of her smashed into the walls. One man swung a
quarterstaff at her, and she slapped it away with a disdainful hand, then
smashed a fist into his face, spinning his head back with a crack.
She caught the quarterstaff as it fell, spinning, slamming it into the head of
the soldier attacking Elend. The staff exploded, and she let it drop with the
corpse. The soldiers at the back began to yell, turning and dashing away as
she Pushed two more groups of men into the walls. The final soldier left in
the room turned, surprised, as Vin Pulled his metal cap to her hands. She
Pushed it back at him, smashing it into his chest and anchoring herself from
behind. The soldier flew down the hallway toward his fleeing companions,
crashing into them.
Vin breathed out in excitement, standing with tense muscles amidst the
groaning men. I can . . . see how Kelsier would get addicted to this.
"Valette?" Elend asked, stupefied.
Vin jumped up, grabbing him in a joyful embrace, hanging onto him
tightly and burying her face into his shoulder. "You came back," she
whispered. "You came back, you came back, you came back. . . ."
"Um, yes. And . . . I see that you're a Mistborn. That's rather interesting.
You know, it's generally common courtesy to tell one's friends about things
like that."
"Sorry," she mumbled, still holding on to him.
"Well, yes," he said, sounding very distracted. "Um, Valette? What
happened to your clothes?"
"They're on the floor over there," she said, looking up at him. "Elend, how
did you find me?"
"Your friend, one Master Dockson, told me that you'd been captured in the
palace. And well, this fine gentleman here—Captain Goradel, I believe his
name is—happens to be a palace soldier, and he knew the way here. With his
help—and as a nobleman of some rank—I was able to get into the building
without much problem, and then we heard screaming down this hallway. . . .
And, um, yes. Valette? Do you think you could go put your clothes on? This
is . . . kind of distracting."
She smiled up at him. "You found me."
"For all the good it did," he said wryly. "It doesn't look like you needed
our help very much. . . ."
"That doesn't matter," she said. "You came back. No one's ever come
back before."
Elend looked down at her, frowning slightly.
Sazed approached, carrying Vin's clothing and cloak. "Mistress, we need
to leave."
Elend nodded. "It's not safe anywhere in the city. The skaa are rebelling!"
He paused, looking at her. "But, uh, you probably already know that."
Vin nodded, finally letting go of him. "I helped start it. But, you're right
about the danger. Go with Sazed—he's known by many of the rebel leaders.
They won't hurt you as long as he vouches for you."
Elend and Sazed both frowned as Vin pulled on her trousers. In the pocket,
she found her mother's earring. She put it back on.
"Go with Sazed?" Elend asked. "But, what about you?"
Vin pulled on her loose overshirt. Then she glanced upward . . . sensing
through the stone, feeling him up above. He was there. Too powerful. Now,
having faced him directly, she was certain of his strength. The skaa rebellion
was doomed as long as he lived.
"I have another task, Elend," she said, taking the mistcloak from Sazed.
"You think you can defeat him, Mistress?" Sazed said.
"I have to try," she said. "The Eleventh Metal worked, Saze. I saw . . .
something. Kelsier was convinced it would provide the secret."
"But . . . the Lord Ruler, Mistress . . ."
"Kelsier died to start this rebellion," Vin said firmly. "I have to see that it
succeeds. This is my part, Sazed. Kelsier didn't know what it was, but I do. I
have to stop the Lord Ruler."
"The Lord Ruler?" Elend asked with shock. "No, Valette. He's immortal!"
Vin reached over, grabbing Elend's head and pulling him down to kiss her.
"Elend, your family delivered the atium to the Lord Ruler. Do you know
where he keeps it?"
"Yes," he said with confusion. "He keeps the beads in a treasury building