just east of here. But—"
"You have to get that atium, Elend. The new government is going to need
that wealth—and power—if it's going to keep from getting conquered by the
first nobleman who can raise an army."
"No, Valette," Elend said shaking his head. "I have to get you to safety."
She smiled at him, then turned to Sazed. The Terrisman nodded to her.
"Not going to tell me not to go?" she asked.
"No," he said quietly. "I fear that you are right, Mistress. If the Lord Ruler
is not defeated . . . well, I will not stop you. I will bid you, however, good
luck. I will come to help you once I see young Venture to safety."
Vin nodded, smiled at the apprehensive Elend, then looked up. Toward the
dark force waiting above, pulsing with a tired depression.
She burned copper, pushing aside the Lord Ruler's Soothing.
"Valette . . ." Elend said quietly.
She turned back to him. "Don't worry," she said. "I think I know how to
kill him."
Such are my fears as I scribble with an ice-crusted pen on the eve before the world is reborn.
Rashek watches. Hating me. The cavern lies above. Pulsing. My fingers quiver. Not from the
cold.
Tomorrow it will end.
38
VIN PUSHED HERSELF THROUGH THE air above Kredik Shaw. Spires and towers
rose around her like the shadowed tines of some phantom monster lurking
below. Dark, straight, and ominous, for some reason they made her think of
Kelsier, lying dead in the street, an obsidian-tipped spear jutting from his
chest.
The mists spun and swirled as she blew through them. They were still
thick, but tin let her see a faint glistening on the horizon. Morning was near.
Below her, a greater light was building. Vin caught hold of a thin spire,
letting her momentum spin her around the slick metal, giving her a sweeping
view of the area. Thousands of torches burned in the night, mixing and
merging like luminescent insects. They were organized in great waves,
converging on the palace.
The palace guard doesn't have a chance against such a force, she thought.
But, by fighting its way into the palace, the skaa army will seal its own doom.
She turned to the side, the mist-wetted spire cold beneath her fingers. The
last time she had jumped through the spires of Kredik Shaw, she had been
bleeding and semiconscious. Sazed had arrived to save her, but he wouldn't
be able to help this time.
A short distance away, she could see the throne tower. It wasn't difficult to
spot; a ring of blazing bonfires illuminated its outside, lighting its single
stained-glass window to those inside. She could feel Him inside. She waited
for a few moments, hoping, perhaps, that she might be able to attack after the
Inquisitors had left the room.
Kelsier believed that the Eleventh Metal was the key, she thought.
She had one idea. It would work. It had to.
"As of this moment," the Lord Ruler proclaimed in a loud voice, "the Canton
of Inquisition is granted organizational dominance of the Ministry. Inquiries
once addressed to Tevidian should now go to Kar."
The throne room fell silent, the collection of high-ranking obligators
dumbfounded by the night's events. The Lord Ruler waved a hand, indicating
that the meeting was finished.
Finally! Kar thought. He raised his head, his eye-spikes throbbing as
always, bringing him pain—but, this evening it was the pain of joy. The
Inquisitors had been waiting for two centuries, carefully politicking, subtly
encouraging corruption and dissension among the regular obligators. And
finally it had worked. The Inquisitors would no longer bow before the
dictates of inferior men.
He turned and smiled toward the group of Ministry priests, knowing full
well the discomfort the gaze of an Inquisitor could cause. He couldn't see
anymore, not as he once had, but he had been given something better. A
command of Allomancy so subtle, so detailed, that he could make out the
world around him with startling accuracy.
Almost everything had metal in it—water, stone, glass . . . even human
bodies. These metals were too diffuse to be affected by Allomancy—indeed,
most Allomancers couldn't even sense them.
With his Inquisitor's eyes, however, Kar could see the iron-lines of these
things—the blue threads were fine, nearly invisible, but they outlined the
world for him. The obligators before him were a shuffling mass of blues,
their emotions—discomfort, anger, and fear—showing in their postures.
Discomfort, anger, and fear . . . so sweet, all three. Kar's smile widened,
despite his fatigue.
He had been awake for too long. Living as an Inquisitor drained the body,
and he had to rest often. His brethren were already shuffling from the room,
heading toward their rest chambers, which lay intentionally close to the
throne room. They would sleep immediately; with the executions earlier in
the day and the excitement of the night, they would be extremely fatigued.
Kar, however, stayed behind as both Inquisitors and obligators left. Soon,
only he and the Lord Ruler remained, standing in a room lit by five massive
braziers. The external bonfires slowly went out, extinguished by servants,
leaving the glass panorama dark and black.
"You finally have what you want," the Lord Ruler said quietly. "Perhaps
now I can have peace in this matter."
"Yes, Lord Ruler," Kar said, bowing. "I think that . . ."
A strange sound snapped in the air—a soft click. Kar looked up, frowning
as a small disk of metal bounced across the floor, eventually rolling to a stop
against his foot. He picked up the coin, then looked up at the massive
window, noting the small hole broken through it.
What?
Dozens more coins zipped through the window, scattering it with holes.
Metallic clinks and tinkling glass rang in the air. Kar stepped back in
surprise.
The entire southern section of the window shattered, blasting inward, the
glass weakened by coins to the point that a soaring body could break through.
Shards of colorful glass spun in the air, spraying before a small figure clad
in a fluttering mistcloak and carrying a pair of glittering black daggers. The
girl landed in a crouch, skidding a short distance on the bits of glass, mist
billowing through the opening behind her. It curled forward, drawn by her
Allomancy, swirling around her body. She crouched for just a moment in the
mists, as if she were some herald of the night itself.
Then she sprang forward, dashing directly toward the Lord Ruler.
Vin burned the Eleventh Metal. The Lord Ruler's past-self appeared as it had
before, forming as if out of mist to stand on the dais beside the throne.
Vin ignored the Inquisitor. The creature, fortunately, reacted slowly—she
was halfway up the dais steps before it thought to chase her. The Lord Ruler,
however, sat quietly, watching her with a barely interested expression.
Two spears through the chest didn't even bother him, Vin thought as she
leapt the last bit of distance up to the top of the dais. He has nothing to fear
from my daggers.
Which was why she didn't intend to attack him with them. Instead, she
raised her weapons and plunged directly toward the past-self's heart.
Her daggers hit—and passed right through the man, as if he weren't there.
Vin stumbled forward, skidding directly through the image, nearly slipping
off the dais.
She spun, slicing at the image again. Again, her daggers passed through it
harmlessly. It didn't even waver or distort.
My gold image, she thought in frustration, I was able to touch that. Why
can't I touch this?
It obviously didn't work the same way. The shadow stood still, completely
oblivious of her attacks. She'd thought that maybe, if she killed the past
version of the Lord Ruler, his current form would die as well. Unfortunately,
the past-self appeared to be just as insubstantial as an atium shadow.
She had failed.
Kar crashed into her, his powerful Inquisitor's grip grabbing her at the
shoulders, his momentum carrying her off the dais. They tumbled down the
back steps.
Vin grunted, flaring pewter. I'm not the same powerless girl you held
prisoner just a short time ago, Kar, she thought with determination, kicking
him upward as they hit the ground behind the throne.
The Inquisitor grunted, her kick tossing him into the air and ripping his
grip free of her shoulders. Her mistcloak came off in his hands, but she
flipped to her feet and scrambled away.
"Inquisitors!" the Lord Ruler bellowed, standing. "Come to me!"
Vin cried out, the powerful voice striking pain in her tin-enhanced ears.
I have to get out of here, she thought, stumbling. I'll need to come up with
a different way to kill him. . . .
Kar tackled her again from behind. This time he got his arms wrapped
completely around her, and he squeezed. Vin cried out in pain, flaring her
pewter, pushing back, but Kar forced her to her feet. He dexterously wrapped
one arm around her throat while pinning her own arms behind her back with
his other. She fought angrily, squirming and struggling, but his grip was tight.
She tried throwing them both back with a sudden Steelpush against a
doorlatch, but the anchor was too weak, and Kar barely stumbled. His grip
held.
The Lord Ruler chuckled as he sat back down on his throne. "You'll have
little success against Kar, child. He was a soldier, many years ago. He knows
how to hold a person so that they can't break his grip, no matter how strong
they may be."
Vin continued to struggle, gasping for breath. The Lord Ruler's words
proved true, however. She tried ramming her head back against Kar's, but he
was ready for this. She could hear him in her ear, his quick breathing almost .
. . passionate as he choked her. In the reflection on the window, she could see
the door behind them open. Another Inquisitor strode into the room, his
spikes gleaming in the distorted reflection, his dark robe ruffling.
That's it, she thought in a surreal moment, watching the mists on the
ground before her, creeping through the shattered window wall, flowing
across the floor. Oddly, they didn't curl around her as they usually did—as if
something were pushing them away. To Vin, it seemed a final testament to
her defeat.
I'm sorry, Kelsier. I've failed you.
The second Inquisitor stepped up beside his companion. Then, he reached
out and grabbed something at Kar's back. There was a ripping sound.
Vin dropped immediately to the ground, gasping for breath. She rolled,
pewter allowing her to recover quickly.
Kar stood above her, teetering. Then, he toppled limply to the side,
sprawling to the ground. The second Inquisitor stood behind him, holding
what appeared to be a large metal spike—just like the ones in the Inquisitor's
eyes.
Vin glanced toward Kar's immobile body. The back of his robe had been
ripped, exposing a bloody hole right between the shoulder blades. A hole big
enough for a metal spike. Kar's scarred face was pale. Lifeless.
Another spike! Vin thought with wonder. The other Inquisitor pulled it out
of Kar's back, and he died. That's the secret!
"What?" the Lord Ruler bellowed, standing, the sudden motion tossing his
throne backwards. The stone chair toppled down the steps, chipping and
cracking the marble. "Betrayal! From one of my own!"
The new Inquisitor dashed toward the Lord Ruler. As he ran, his robe cowl
fell back, giving Vin a view of his bald head. There was something familiar
about the newcomer's face despite the spike-heads coming out the front—and
the gruesome spike-tips jutting from the back—of his skull. Despite the bald
head and the unfamiliar clothing, the man looked a little like Kelsier.
No, she realized. Not Kelsier.
Marsh!
Marsh took the dais steps in twos, moving with an Inquisitor's supernatural
speed. Vin struggled to her feet, shrugging off the effects of her near-
choking. Her surprise, however, was more difficult to dismiss. Marsh was
alive.
Marsh was an Inquisitor.
The Inquisitors weren't investigating him because they suspected him.
They intended to recruit him! And now he looked like he intended to fight the
Lord Ruler. I've got to help! Perhaps . . . perhaps he knows the secret to
killing the Lord Ruler. He figured out how to kill Inquisitors, after all!
Marsh reached the top of the dais.
"Inquisitors!" the Lord Ruler yelled. "Come to—"
The Lord Ruler froze, noticing something sitting just outside the door. A
small group of steel spikes, just like the one Marsh had pulled from Kar's
back, lay piled on the floor. There looked to be about seven of them.
Marsh smiled, the expression looking eerily like one of Kelsier's smirks.
Vin reached the bottom of the dais and Pushed herself off a coin, throwing
herself up toward the top of the platform.
The awesome, full power of the Lord Ruler's fury hit her halfway up. The
depression, the anger-fueled asphyxiation of her soul, pushed through her
copper, hitting her like a physical force. She flared copper, gasping slightly,
but wasn't completely able to push the Lord Ruler off of her emotions.
Marsh stumbled slightly, and the Lord Ruler swung a backhand much like
the one that had killed Kelsier. Fortunately, Marsh recovered in time to duck.
He spun around the Lord Ruler, reaching up to grab the back of the emperor's
black, robelike suit. Marsh yanked, ripping the cloth open along the back
seam.
Marsh froze, his spike-eyed expression unreadable. The Lord Ruler spun,
slamming his elbow into Marsh's stomach, throwing the Inquisitor across the
room. As the Lord Ruler turned, Vin could see what Marsh had seen.
Nothing. A normal, if muscular, back. Unlike the Inquisitors, the Lord
Ruler didn't have a spike driven through his spine.
Oh, Marsh . . . Vin thought with a sinking depression. It had been a clever
idea, far more clever than Vin's foolish attempt with the Eleventh Metal—
however, it had proven equally faulty.
Marsh finally hit the ground, his head cracking, then slid across the floor
until he ran into the far wall. He lay slumped against the massive window,
immobile.
"Marsh!" she cried, jumping and Pushing herself toward him. However, as
she flew, the Lord raised his hand absently.
Vin felt a powerful . . . something crash into her. It felt like a Steelpush,
slamming against the metals inside her stomach—but of course it couldn't
have been that. Kelsier had promised that no Allomancer could affect metals
that were inside of someone's body.
But he had also said that no Allomancer could affect the emotions of a
person who was burning copper.
Discarded coins shot away from the Lord Ruler, streaking across the floor.
The doors wrenched free from their mountings, shattering and breaking away
from the room. Incredibly, bits of colored glass even quivered and slid away
from the dais.
And Vin was tossed to the side, the metals in her stomach threatening to
rip free from her body. She slammed to the ground, the blow knocking her
nearly unconscious. She lay in a daze, addled, confused, able to think of only
one thing.
Such power . . .
Clicks sounded as the Lord Ruler walked down his dais. He moved quietly,
ripping off his torn suit coat and shirt, leaving himself bare from the waist up
save for the jewelry sparkling on his fingers and wrists. Several thin
bracelets, she noticed, pierced the skin of his upper arms.
Clever, she thought, struggling to her feet. Keeps them from being Pushed
or Pulled.
The Lord Ruler shook his head regretfully, his steps kicking up trails in the
cool mist that poured across the floor from the broken window. He looked so
strong, his torso erupting with muscles, his face handsome. She could feel the
power of his Allomancy snapping at her emotions, barely held back by her
copper.
"What did you think, child?" the Lord Ruler asked quietly. "To defeat me?
Am I some common Inquisitor, my powers endowed fabrications?"
Vin flared pewter. She then turned and dashed away—intending to grab
Marsh's body and break through the glass at the other side of the room.
But then, he was there, moving with a speed as if to make the fury of a
tornado's winds seem sluggish. Even within a full pewter flare, Vin couldn't
outrun him. He almost seemed casual as he reached out, grabbing her
shoulder and yanking her backward.
He flung her like a doll, tossing her toward one of the room's massive
support pillars. Vin quested desperately for an anchor, but he had blown all of
the metal out of the room. Except . . .
She Pulled on one of the Lord Ruler's own bracelets, ones that didn't
pierce his skin. He immediately whipped his arm upward, throwing off her
Pull, making her spin maladroitly in the air. He slammed her with another of
his powerful Pushes, blasting her backward. Metals in her stomach wrenched,
glass quivered, and her mother's earring ripped free of her ear.
She tried to spin and hit feet-first, but she crashed into a stone pillar at a
terrible speed, and pewter failed her. She heard a sickening snap, and a spear
of pain shot up her right leg.
She collapsed to the ground. She didn't have the will to look, but the agony
from her torso told her that her leg jutted from beneath her body, broken at an
awkward angle.
The Lord Ruler shook his head. No, Vin realized, he didn't worry about
wearing jewelry. Considering his abilities and strength, a man would have to
be foolish—as Vin had been—to try and use the Lord Ruler's jewelry as an
anchor. It had only let him control her jumps.
He stepped forward, feet clicking against broken glass. "You think this is
the first time someone has tried to kill me, child? I've survived burnings and
beheadings. I've been stabbed and sliced, crushed and dismembered. I was
even flayed once, near the beginning."
He turned toward Marsh, shaking his head. Strangely, Vin's earlier
impression of the Lord Ruler returned. He looked . . . tired. Exhausted, even.
Not his body—it was still muscular. It was just his . . . air. She tried to climb
to her feet, using the stone pillar for stability.
"I am God," he said.
So different from the humble man in the logbook.
"God cannot be killed," he said. "God cannot be overthrown. Your
rebellion—you think I haven't seen its like before? You think I haven't
destroyed entire armies on my own? What will it take before you people stop
questioning? How many centuries must I prove myself before you idiot skaa
see the truth? How many of you must I kill!"
Vin cried out as she twisted her leg the wrong way. She flared pewter, but
tears came to her eyes anyway. She was running out of metals. Her pewter
would be gone soon, and there was no way she would be able to remain
conscious without it. She slumped against the pillar, the Lord Ruler's
Allomancy pressing against her. The pain in her leg throbbed.
He's just too strong, she thought with despair. He's right. He is God. What
were we thinking?
"How dare you?" the Lord Ruler asked, picking up Marsh's limp body
with a bejeweled hand. Marsh groaned slightly, trying to lift his head.
"How dare you?" the Lord Ruler demanded again. "After what I gave you?
I made you superior to regular men! I made you dominant!"
Vin's head snapped up. Through the haze of pain and hopelessness,
something triggered a memory inside of her.
He keeps saying . . . he keeps saying that his people should be dominant. . .
.
She reached within, feeling her last little bit of Eleventh Metal reserve. She
burned it, looking through tearstained eyes as the Lord Ruler held Marsh in a
one-handed grip.
The Lord Ruler's past self appeared next to him. A man in a fur cloak and
heavy boots, a man with a full beard and strong muscles. Not an aristocrat or
a tyrant. Not a hero, or even a warrior. A man dressed for life in the cold
mountains. A herdsman.
Or, perhaps, a packman.
"Rashek," Vin whispered.
The Lord Ruler spun toward her in startlement.
"Rashek," Vin said again. "That's your name, isn't it? You aren't the man
who wrote the logbook. You're not the hero that was sent to protect the
people . . . you're his servant. The packman who hated him."
She paused for a moment. "You . . . you killed him," she whispered.
"That's what happened that night! That's why the logbook stopped so
suddenly! You killed the hero and took his place. You went into the cavern in
his stead, and you claimed the power for yourself. But . . . instead of saving
the world, you took control of it."
"You know nothing!" he bellowed, still holding Marsh's limp body in one
hand. "You know nothing of that!"
"You hated him," Vin said. "You thought that a Terrisman should have
been the hero. You couldn't stand the fact that he—a man from the country
that had oppressed yours—was fulfilling your own legends."
The Lord Ruler lifted a hand, and Vin suddenly felt an impossible weight
press against her. Allomancy, Pushing the metals in her stomach and in her
body, threatening to crush her back against the pillar. She cried out, flaring
her last bit of pewter, struggling to remain conscious. Mists curled around
her, creeping through the broken window and across the floor.
Outside, through the broken window, she could hear something ringing
faintly in the air. It sounded like . . . like cheering. Yells of joy, thousands in
chorus. It sounded almost like they were cheering her on.
What does it matter? she thought. I know the Lord Ruler's secret, but what
does it tell me? That he was a packman? A servant? A Terrisman?
A Feruchemist.
She looked through dazed eyes, and again saw the pair of bracelets
glittering on the Lord Ruler's upper arms. Bracelets made of metal, bracelets
that pierced his skin in places. So . . . so that they couldn't be affected by
Allomancy. Why do that? He supposedly wore metal as a sign of bravado. He
wasn't worried about people Pulling or Pushing against his metals.
Or, that was what he claimed. But, what if all the other metals he wore—
the rings, the bracelets, the fashion that had made its way to the nobility—
were simply a distraction?
A distraction to keep people from focusing on this one pair of bracers,
twisting around the upper arms. Could it really be that easy? she thought as
the Lord Ruler's weight threatened to crush her.
Her pewter was nearly gone. She could barely think. Yet, she burned iron.
The Lord Ruler could pierce copperclouds. She could too. They were the
same, somehow. If he could affect metals inside of a person's body, then she
could as well.
She flared the iron. Blue lines appeared pointing to the Lord Ruler's rings
and bracelets—all of them but the ones on his upper arms, piercing his skin.
Vin stoked her iron, concentrating, Pushing it as hard as she could. She
kept her pewter flared, struggling to keep from being crushed, and she knew
somehow that she was no longer breathing. The force pushing against her
was too strong. She couldn't get her chest to go up and down.
Mist spun around her, dancing because of her Allomancy. She was dying.
She knew it. She could barely even feel the pain anymore. She was being
crushed. Suffocated.
She drew upon the mists.
Two new lines appeared. She screamed, Pulling with a strength she had
never known before. She flared her iron higher and higher, the Lord Ruler's
own Push giving her the leverage she needed to Pull against his bracelets.
Anger, desperation, and agony mixed within her, and the Pull became her
only focus.
Her pewter ran out.
He killed Kelsier!
The bracelets ripped free. The Lord Ruler cried out in pain, a faint, distant
sound to Vin's ears. The weight suddenly released her, and she dropped to
the floor, gasping, her vision swimming. The bloody bracelets hit the ground,
released from her grip, skidding across the marble to land before her. She
looked up, using tin to clear her vision.
The Lord Ruler stood where he had been before, his eyes widening with
terror, his arms bloodied. He dropped Marsh to the ground, rushing toward
her and the mangled bracelets. However, with her last bit of strength—pewter
gone—Vin Pushed on the bracelets, shooting them past the Lord Ruler. He
spun in horror, watching the bracelets fly out the broken wall-window.
In the distance, the sun broke the horizon. The bracelets dropped in front of
its red light, sparkling for a moment before plunging down into the city.
"No!" the Lord Ruler screamed, stepping toward the window.
His muscles grew limp, deflating as Sazed's had. He turned back toward
Vin, angry, but his face was no longer that of a young man. He was middle-
aged, his youthful features matured.
He stepped toward the window. His hair grayed, and wrinkles formed
around his eyes like tiny webs.
His next step was feeble. He began to shake with the burden of old age, his
back stooping, his skin sagging, his hair growing limp.
Then, he collapsed to the floor.
Vin leaned back, her mind fuzzing from the pain. She lay there for . . . a
time. She couldn't think.
"Mistress!" a voice said. And then, Sazed was at her side, his brow wet
with sweat. He reached over and poured something down her throat, and she
swallowed.
Her body knew what to do. She reflexively flared pewter, strengthening
her body. She flared tin, and the sudden increase of sensitivity shocked her
awake. She gasped, looking up at Sazed's concerned face.
"Careful, Mistress," he said, inspecting her leg. "The bone is fractured,
though it appears only in one place."
"Marsh," she said, exhausted. "See to Marsh."
"Marsh?" Sazed asked. Then he saw the Inquisitor stirring slightly on the
floor a distance away.
"By the Forgotten Gods!" Sazed said, moving to Marsh's side.
Marsh groaned, sitting up. He cradled his stomach with one arm. "What . .
. is that . . .?"
Vin glanced at the withered form on the ground a short distance away. "It's
him. The Lord Ruler. He's dead."
Sazed frowned curiously, standing. He wore a brown robe, and had
brought a simple wooden spear with him. Vin shook her head at the thought
of such a pitiful weapon facing the creature that had nearly killed her and
Marsh.
Of course. In a way, we were all just as useless. We should be dead, not
the Lord Ruler.
I pulled his bracelets off. Why? Why can I do things like he can?
Why am I different?
"Mistress . . ." Sazed said slowly. "He is not dead, I think. He's . . . still
alive."
"What?" Vin asked, frowning. She could barely think at the moment.
There would be time to sort out her questions later. Sazed was right—the
aged figure wasn't dead. Actually, it was moving pitifully on the floor,
crawling toward the broken window. Toward where his bracelets had gone.
Marsh stumbled to his feet, waving away Sazed's ministrations. "I will
heal quickly. See to the girl."
"Help me up," Vin said.
"Mistress . . ." Sazed said disapprovingly.
"Please, Sazed."
He sighed, handing her the wooden spear. "Here, lean on this." She took it,
and he helped her to her feet.
Vin leaned on the shaft, hobbling with Marsh and Sazed toward the Lord
Ruler. The crawling figure reached the edge of the room, overlooking the city
through the shattered window.
Vin's footsteps crackled on broken glass. People cheered again below,
though she couldn't see them, nor see what they were cheering about.
"Listen," Sazed said. "Listen, he who would have been our god. Do you
hear them cheering? Those cheers aren't for you—this people never cheered
for you. They have found a new leader this evening, a new pride."
"My . . . obligators . . ." the Lord Ruler whispered.
"Your obligators will forget you," Marsh said. "I will see to that. The other
Inquisitors are dead, slain by my own hand. Yet, the gathered prelans saw
you transfer power to the Canton of Inquisition. I am the only Inquisitor left
in Luthadel. I rule your church now."
"No . . ." the Lord Ruler whispered.
Marsh, Vin, and Sazed stopped in a ragged group, looking down at the old
man. In the morning light below, Vin could see a massive collection of
people standing before a large podium, holding up their weapons in a sign of
respect.
The Lord Ruler cast his eyes down at the crowd, and the final realization of
his failure seemed to hit him. He looked back up at the ring of people who
had defeated him.
"You don't understand," he wheezed. "You don't know what I do for
mankind. I was your god, even if you couldn't see it. By killing me, you have
doomed yourselves. . . ."
Vin glanced at Marsh and Sazed. Slowly, each of them nodded. The Lord
Ruler had begun coughing, and he seemed to be aging even further.
Vin leaned on Sazed, her teeth gritted against the pain of her broken leg. "I
bring you a message from a friend of ours," she said quietly. "He wanted you
to know that he's not dead. He can't be killed.
"He is hope."
Then she raised the spear and rammed it directly into the Lord Ruler's
heart.
Oddly, on occasion, I sense a peacefulness within. You would think that after all I have seen—
after all I have suffered—my soul would be a twisted jumble of stress, confusion, and
melancholy. Often, it's just that.
But then, there is the peace.
I feel it sometimes, as I do now, staring out over the frozen cliffs and glass mountains in the
still of morning, watching a sunrise that is so majestic that I know that none shall ever be its
match.
If there are prophecies, if there is a Hero of Ages, then my mind whispers that there must be
something directing my path. Something is watching; something cares. These peaceful whispers
tell me a truth I wish very much to believe.
If I fail, another shall come to finish my work.
EPILOGUE
"THE ONLY THING I CAN conclude, Master Marsh," Sazed said, "is that the
Lord Ruler was both a Feruchemist and an Allomancer."
Vin frowned, sitting atop an empty building near the edge of a skaa slum.
Her broken leg—carefully splinted by Sazed—hung over the edge of the
rooftop, dangling in the air.
She'd slept most of the day—as, apparently, had Marsh, who stood beside
her. Sazed had carried a message to the rest of the crew, telling them of Vin's
survival. Apparently, there had been no major casualties among the others—
for which Vin was glad. She hadn't gone to them yet, however. Sazed had
told them that she needed to rest, and they were busy setting up Elend's new
government.
"A Feruchemist and an Allomancer," Marsh said speculatively. He had
recovered quickly indeed—though Vin still bore bruises, fractures, and cuts
from the fight, he seemed to have already healed his broken ribs. He leaned
down, resting one arm on his knee, staring out over the city with spikes
instead of eyes.
How does he even see? Vin wondered.
"Yes, Master Marsh," Sazed explained. "You see, youth is one of the
things that a Feruchemist can store. It's a fairly useless process—in order to
store up the ability to feel and look a year younger, you would have to spend
part of your life feeling and looking one year older. Often, Keepers use the
ability as a disguise, changing ages to fool others and hide. Beyond this,
however, no one has ever seen much use for the ability.
"However, if the Feruchemist were also an Allomancer, he might be able
to burn his own metal storages, releasing the energy within them tenfold.
Mistress Vin tried to burn some of my metals earlier, but couldn't access the
power. However, if you were able to make up the Feruchemical storages
yourself, then burn them for the extra power . . ."
Marsh frowned. "I don't follow you, Sazed."
"I apologize," Sazed said. "This is, perhaps, a thing that is difficult to
understand without a background in both Allomantic and Feruchemical
theory. Let me see if I can explain it better. What is the main difference
between Allomancy and Feruchemy?"
"Allomancy draws its power from metals," Marsh said. "Feruchemy draws
its powers from the person's own body."
"Exactly," Sazed said. "So, what the Lord Ruler did—I presume—was
combine these two abilities. He used one of the attributes only available to
Feruchemy—that of changing his age—but fueled it with Allomancy instead.
By burning a Feruchemical storage that he himself had made, he effectively
made a new Allomantic metal for himself—one that made him younger when
he burned it. If my guess is correct, he would have gained a limitless supply
of youth, since he was drawing most of his power from the metal itself, rather
than his own body. All he would have to do was spend the occasional bit of
time aged to give himself Feruchemical storages to burn and stay young."
"So," Marsh said, "just burning those storages would make him even
younger than when he started?"
"He would have had to place that excess youth inside of another
Feruchemical storage, I think," Sazed explained. "You see, Allomancy is
quite spectacular—its powers generally come in bursts and flares. The Lord
Ruler wouldn't have wanted all of that youth at once, so he'd have stored it
inside of a piece of metal which he could slowly drain, keeping himself
young."
"The bracelets?"
"Yes, Master Marsh. However, Feruchemy gives decreasing returns—it
takes more than the proportionate amount of strength, for instance, to make
yourself four times as strong as a regular man, as opposed to simply twice as
strong. In the Lord Ruler's case, this meant that he had to spend more and
more youth to keep from aging. When Mistress Vin stole the bracelets, he
aged incredibly quickly because his body was trying to stretch back to where
it should have been."
Vin sat in the cool evening wind, staring out toward Keep Venture. It was
bright with light; not even a single day had passed, and Elend was already
meeting with skaa and noblemen leaders, drafting a code of laws for his new
nation.
Vin sat quietly, fingering her earring. She'd found it in the throne room,
had put it back in her torn ear as it began to heal. She wasn't certain why she
kept it. Perhaps because it was a link to Reen, and the mother who had tried
to kill her. Or, perhaps, simply because it was a reminder of things she
shouldn't have been able to do.
There was much to learn, still, about Allomancy. For a thousand years, the
nobility had simply trusted what the Inquisitors and Lord Ruler told them.
What secrets had they shadowed, what metals had they hidden?
"The Lord Ruler," she finally said. "He . . . just used a trick to be
immortal, then. That means he wasn't ever really a god, right? He was just
lucky. Anyone who was both a Feruchemist and an Allomancer could have
done what he did."
"It appears that way, Mistress," Sazed said. "Perhaps that was why he
feared Keepers so much. He hunted and killed Feruchemists, for he knew that
the skill was hereditary—just as Allomancy is. If the Terris lines ever mixed
with those of the imperial nobility, the result could very well have been a
child who could challenge him."
"Hence the breeding programs," Marsh said.
Sazed nodded. "He needed to make absolutely sure that the Terrismen
weren't allowed to mix with the regular populace, lest they pass on latent
Feruchemical abilities."
Marsh shook his head. "His own people. He did such horrible things to
them just to keep hold of his power."
"But," Vin said, frowning, "if the Lord Ruler's powers came from a
mixture of Feruchemy and Allomancy, what happened at the Well of
Ascension? What was the power that the man who wrote the logbook—
whoever he was—was supposed to find?"
"I don't know, Mistress," Sazed said quietly.
"Your explanation doesn't answer everything," Vin said, shaking her head.
She hadn't spoken of her own strange abilities, but she had spoken of what
the Lord Ruler had done in the throne room. "He was so powerful, Sazed. I
could feel his Allomancy. He was able to Push on metals inside my body!
Perhaps he could enhance his Feruchemy by burning the storages, but how
did he get so strong at Allomancy?"
Sazed sighed. "I fear that the only person who could have answered these
questions died this morning."
Vin paused. The Lord Ruler had held secrets about the Terris religion that
Sazed's people had been searching for centuries to find. "I'm sorry. Maybe I
shouldn't have killed him."
Sazed shook his head. "His own aging would have killed him soon
anyway, Mistress. What you did was right. This way, I can record that the
Lord Ruler was struck down by one of the skaa he had oppressed."
Vin flushed. "Record?"
"Of course. I am still a Keeper, Mistress. I must pass these things on—
history, events, and truths."
"You won't . . . say too much about me, will you?" For some reason the
idea of other people telling stories about her made her uncomfortable.
"I wouldn't worry too much, Mistress," Sazed said with a smile. "My
brethren and I will be very busy, I think. We have so much to restore, so
much to tell the world. . . . I doubt details about you need to be passed on
with any urgent timing. I will record what happened, but I will keep it to
myself for a while, if you wish."
"Thank you," Vin said, nodding.
"That power that the Lord Ruler found in the cave," Marsh said
speculatively, "perhaps it was just Allomancy. You said that there is no
record of any Allomancers before the Ascension."
"It is indeed a possibility, Master Marsh," Sazed said. "There are very few
legends about the origins of Allomancy, and nearly all of them agree that
Allomancers first 'appeared with the mists.' "
Vin frowned. She'd always assumed that the title "Mistborn" had come
about because Allomancers tended to do their work at night. She'd never
considered that there might be a stronger connection.
Mist reacts to Allomancy. It swirls when an Allomancer uses his abilities
nearby. And . . . what did I feel at the end? It was like I drew something from
the mists.
Whatever she'd done, she hadn't been able to replicate it.
Marsh sighed and stood. He had been awake only a few hours, but he
already seemed tired. His head hung slightly, as if the weight of the spikes
were pulling it down.
"Does that . . . hurt, Marsh?" she asked. "The spikes, I mean?"
He paused. "Yes. All eleven of them . . . throb. The pain reacts to my
emotions somehow."
"Eleven?" Vin asked with shock.
Marsh nodded. "Two in the head, eight in the chest, one in the back to seal
them together. That's the only way to kill an Inquisitor—you have to separate
the top spikes from the bottom ones. Kell did it through a beheading, but it's
easier to just pull out the middle spike."
"We thought you were dead," Vin said. "When we found the body and the
blood at the Soothing station . . ."
Marsh nodded. "I was going to send word of my survival, but they watched
me fairly closely that first day. I didn't expect Kell to make his move so
quickly."
"None of us did, Master Marsh," Sazed said. "None of us expected it at
all."
"He actually did it, didn't he?" Marsh said, shaking his head in wonder.
"That bastard. There are two things I'll never forgive him for. The first is for
stealing my dream of overthrowing the Final Empire, then actually
succeeding at it."
Vin paused. "And the second?"
Marsh turned spike-heads toward her. "Getting himself killed to do it."
"If I may ask, Master Marsh," Sazed said. "Who was that corpse that
Mistress Vin and Master Kelsier discovered at the Soothing station?"
Marsh looked back over the city. "There were several corpses, actually.
The process to create a new Inquisitor is . . . messy. I'd rather not speak about
it."
"Of course," Sazed said, bowing his head.
"You, however," Marsh said, "could tell me about this creature that Kelsier
used to imitate Lord Renoux."
"The kandra?" Sazed said. "I fear even the Keepers know little of them.
They are related to mistwraiths—perhaps even the same creatures, just older.
Because of their reputation, they generally prefer to remain unseen—though
some of the noble houses hire them on occasion."
Vin frowned. "So . . . why didn't Kell just have this kandra impersonate
him and die in his stead?"
"Ah," Sazed said. "You see, Mistress, for a kandra to impersonate
someone, they first must devour that person's flesh and absorb their bones.
Kandra are like mistwraiths—they have no skeletons of their own."
Vin shivered. "Oh."
"He is back, you know," Marsh said. "The creature is no longer using my
brother's body—he has another one—but he came looking for you, Vin."
"Me?" Vin asked.
Marsh nodded. "He said something about Kelsier transferring his contract
to you before he died. I believe the beast sees you as its master, now."
Vin shivered. That . . . thing ate Kelsier's body. "I don't want it around,"
she said. "I'll send it away."
"Do not be quite so hasty, Mistress," Sazed said. "Kandra are expensive
servants—you must pay them in atium. If Kelsier bought an extended
contract for one, it would be foolish to waste its services. A kandra might
prove a very useful ally in the months to come."
Vin shook her head. "I don't care. I don't want that thing around. Not after
what it did."
The trio fell silent. Finally, Marsh stood, sighing. "Anyway, if you will
excuse me, I should go make an appearance at the keep—the new king wants
me to represent the Ministry in his negotiations."
Vin frowned. "I don't see why the Ministry deserves any say in things."
"The obligators are still quite powerful, Mistress," Sazed said. "And, they
are the most efficient and well-trained bureaucratic force in the Final Empire.
His majesty would be wise to try and bring them to his side, and recognizing
Master Marsh may help achieve this."
Marsh shrugged. "Of course, assuming I can establish control over the
Canton of Orthodoxy, the Ministry should . . . change during the next few
years. I'll move slowly and carefully, but by the time I'm done, the obligators
won't even realize what they've lost. Those other Inquisitors could present a
problem, though."
Vin nodded. "How many are there outside of Luthadel?"
"I don't know," Marsh said. "I wasn't a member of the order for very long
before I destroyed it. However, the Final Empire was a big place. Many
speak of there being around twenty Inquisitors in the empire, but I never was
able to pin anyone down on a hard number."
Vin nodded as Marsh left. However, the Inquisitors—while dangerous—
worried her far less now that she knew their secret. She was more concerned
about something else.
You don't know what I do for mankind. I was your god, even if you
couldn't see it. By killing me, you have doomed yourselves. . . .
The Lord Ruler's final words. At the time, she thought he'd been referring
to the Final Empire as the thing he did "for mankind." However, she wasn't
so certain anymore. There had been . . . fear in his eyes when he'd spoken
those words, not pride.
"Saze?" she said. "What was the Deepness? The thing that the Hero from
the logbook was supposed to defeat?"
"I wish that we knew, Mistress," Sazed said.
"But, it didn't come, right?"
"Apparently not," Sazed said. "The legends agree that had the Deepness
not been stopped, the very world would have been destroyed. Of course,
perhaps these stories have been exaggerated. Maybe the danger of the
'Deepness' was really just the Lord Ruler himself—perhaps the Hero's fight
was simply one of conscience. He had to choose to dominate the world or to
let it be free."
That didn't sound right to Vin. There was more. She remembered that fear
in the Lord Ruler's eyes. Terror.
He said "do," not "did." "What I do for mankind." That implies that he
was still doing it, whatever it was.
You have doomed yourselves. . . .
She shivered in the evening air. The sun was setting, making it even easier
to see the illuminated Keep Venture—Elend's choice of headquarters for the
moment, though he might still move to Kredik Shaw. He hadn't decided yet.
"You should go to him, Mistress," Sazed said. "He needs to see that you
are well."
Vin didn't reply immediately. She stared out over the city, watching the
bright keep in the darkening sky. "Were you there, Sazed?" she asked. "Did
you hear his speech?"
"Yes, Mistress," he said. "Once we discovered that there was no atium in
that treasury, Lord Venture insisted that we go seek help for you. I was
inclined to agree with him—neither of us were warriors, and I was still
without my Feruchemical storages."
No atium, Vin thought. After all of this, we haven't found a speck of it.
What did the Lord Ruler do with it all? Or . . . did someone else get to it
first?
"When Master Elend and I found the army," Sazed continued, "its rebels
were slaughtering the palace soldiers. Some of them tried to surrender, but
our soldiers weren't letting them. It was a . . . disturbing scene, Mistress.
Your Elend . . . he didn't like what he saw. When he stood up there before the
skaa, I thought that they would simply kill him too."
Sazed paused, cocking his head slightly. "But . . . the things he said,
Mistress . . . his dreams of a new government, his condemnation of bloodshed
and chaos . . . Well, Mistress, I fear that I cannot repeat it. I wish I'd had my
metalminds, so that I could have memorized his exact words."
He sighed, shaking his head. "Regardless, I believe that Master Breeze was
very influential in helping calm that riot. Once one group started listening to
Master Elend, the others did too, and from there . . . well, it is a good thing
that a nobleman ended up as king, I think. Master Elend brings some
legitimacy to our bid for control, and I think that we will see more support
from the nobility and the merchants with him at our head."
Vin smiled. "Kell would be angry with us, you know. He did all this work,
and we just turned around and put a nobleman on the throne."
Sazed shook his head. "Ah, but there is something more important to
consider, I think. We didn't just put a nobleman on the throne—we put a
good man on the throne."
"A good man . . ." Vin said. "Yes. I've known a few of those, now."
Vin knelt in the mists atop Keep Venture. Her splinted leg made it harder to
move around at night, but most of the effort she used was Allomantic. She
just had to make certain that her landings were particularly soft.
Night had come, and the mists surrounded her. Protecting her, hiding her,
giving her power . . .
Elend Venture sat at a desk below, beneath a skylight that still hadn't been
patched from the time Vin had thrown a body through it. He didn't notice her
crouching above. Who would? Who saw a Mistborn in her element? She was,
in a way, like one of the shadow images created by the Eleventh Metal.
Incorporeal. Really just something that could have been.
Could have been . . .
The events of the last day were difficult enough to sort through; Vin hadn't
even tried to make sense of her emotions, which were a far bigger mess. She
hadn't gone to Elend yet. She hadn't been able to.
She looked down at him, sitting in the lanternlight, reading at his desk and
making scribbled notes in his little book. His meetings earlier had apparently
gone well—everyone seemed willing to accept him as king. Marsh whispered
that there were politics behind the support, however. The nobility saw Elend
as a puppet they could control, and factions were already appearing amongst
the skaa leadership.
Still, Elend finally had an opportunity to draft the law code he'd been
dreaming of. He could try to create the perfect nation, try to apply the
philosophies he had studied for so long. There would be bumps, and Vin
suspected that he would ultimately have to settle for something far more
realistic than his idealistic dream. That didn't really matter. He would make a
good king.
Of course, compared with the Lord Ruler, a pile of soot would make a
good king. . . .
She wanted to go to Elend, to drop down into the warm room, but . . .
something kept her back. She'd been through too many recent twists in her
fortune, too many emotional strains—both Allomantic and non-Allomantic.
She wasn't certain what she wanted anymore; she wasn't certain if she were
Vin or Valette, or even which of them she wished that she were.
She felt cold in the mists, in the quiet darkness. The mist empowered,
protected, and hid . . . even when she didn't really want it to do any of the
three.
I can't do this. That person who would be with him, that's not me. That
was an illusion, a dream. I am that child who grew up in the shadows, the
girl who should be alone. I don't deserve this.
I don't deserve him.
It was over. As she had anticipated, everything was changing. In truth,
she'd never really made a very good noblewoman. It was time for her to go
back to being what she was good at. A thing of shadows, not of parties and
balls.
It was time to go.
She turned to leave, ignoring her tears, frustrated with herself. She left
him, her shoulders slumped as she hobbled across the metallic roof and
disappeared into the mist.
But then . . .
He died promising us that you had starved to death years ago.
With all the chaos, she'd nearly forgotten the Inquisitor's words about
Reen. Now, however, the memory made her pause. Mists passed her, curling,
coaxing.
Reen hadn't abandoned her. He'd been captured by the Inquisitors who
had been looking for Vin, the unlawful child of their enemy. They'd tortured
him.
And he had died protecting her.
Reen didn't betray me. He always promised that he would, but in the end,
he didn't. He had been far from a perfect brother, but he had loved her
nonetheless.
A whispered voice came from the back of her mind, speaking in Reen's
voice. Go back.
Before she could convince herself otherwise, she dashed limpingly back to
the broken skylight and dropped a coin to the floor below.
Elend turned curiously, looking at the coin, cocking his head. Vin dropped
down a second later, Pushing herself up to slow the fall, landing only on her
good leg.
"Elend Venture," she said, standing up. "There is something I've been
meaning to tell you for some time." She paused, blinking away her tears.
"You read too much. Especially in the presence of ladies."
He smiled, throwing back his chair and grabbing her in a firm embrace.
Vin closed her eyes, simply feeling the warmth of being held.
And realized that was all she had ever really wanted.
ARS ARCANUM
Find extensive author's annotations of every chapter of this book, along with
deleted scenes and expanded world information, at
www.brandonsanderson.com.
ALLOMANCY QUICK REFERENCE CHART
METAL EFFECT MISTING TITLE
Iron Pulls on Nearby Metals Lurcher
Steel Pushes on Nearby Metals Coinshot
Tin Enhances Senses Tineye
Pewter Enhances Physical Abilities Pewterarm, Thug
Zinc Riots Emotions Rioter
Brass Soothes Emotions Soother
Copper Hides Allomancy Smoker
Bronze Reveals Allomancy Seeker
(Note: External metals have been italicized. Pushing metals have been bolded.)
ALLOMANCY ALPHABETICAL REFERENCE
BRASS (EXTERNAL MENTAL PULLING METAL) A person burning brass can
Soothe another person's emotions, dampening them and making particular
emotions less powerful. A careful Allomancer can Soothe away all emotions
but a single one, essentially making a person feel exactly as they wish. Brass,
however, does not let that Allomancer read minds or even emotions. A
Misting who burns brass is known as a Soother.
BRONZE (INTERNAL MENTAL PUSHING METAL) A person burning bronze can
sense when people nearby are using Allomancy. Allomancers burning metals
nearby will give off "Allomantic pulses"—something like drumbeats that are
audible only to a person burning bronze. A Misting who can burn bronze is
known as a Seeker.
COINSHOT A Misting who can burn steel.
COPPER (INTERNAL MENTAL PULLING METAL) A person burning copper gives
off an invisible cloud that protects anyone inside of it from the senses of a
Seeker. While within one of these "copperclouds," an Allomancer can burn
any metal they wish, and not worry that someone will sense their Allomantic
pulses by burning bronze. As a side effect, the person burning copper is
themselves immune to any form of emotional Allomancy (Soothing or
Rioting). A Misting who can burn copper is known as a Smoker.
LURCHER A Misting who can burn iron.
PEWTER (INTERNAL PHYSICAL PUSHING METAL) A person burning pewter
enhances the physical attributes of their body. They become stronger, more
durable, and more dexterous. Pewter also enhances the body's sense of
balance and ability to recover from wounds. Mistings who can burn pewter
are known as both Pewterarms and Thugs.
PEWTERARM A Misting who can burn pewter.
IRON (EXTERNAL PHYSICAL PULLING METAL) A person burning iron can see
translucent blue lines pointing to nearby sources of metal. The size and
brightness of the line depends on the size and proximity of the metal source.
All types of metal are shown, not just sources of iron. The Allomancer can
then mentally yank on one of these lines to Pull that source of metal toward
them.
A Misting who can burn iron is known as a Lurcher.
RIOTER A Misting who can burn zinc.
SEEKER A Misting who can burn bronze.
SMOKER A Misting who can burn copper.
SOOTHER A Misting who can burn brass.
STEEL (EXTERNAL PHYSICAL PUSHING METAL) A person burning iron can see
translucent blue lines pointing to nearby sources of metal. The size and
brightness of the line depends on the size and proximity of the metal source.
All types of metal are shown, not just sources of steel. The Allomancer can
then mentally Push on one of these lines to send that source of metal away
from them. A Misting who can burn steel is known as a Coinshot.
TIN (INTERNAL PHYSICAL PULLING METAL) A person burning tin gains
enhanced senses. They can see farther and smell better, and their sense of
touch becomes far more acute. This has the side effect of letting them pierce
the mists, allowing them to see much farther at night than even their
enhanced senses should have let them. A Misting who can burn tin is known
as a Tineye.
TINEYE A Misting who can burn tin.
THUG A Misting who can burn pewter.
ZINC (EXTERNAL MENTAL PUSHING METAL) A person burning zinc can Riot
another person's emotions, enflaming them and making particular emotions
more powerful. It does not let one read minds or even emotions. A Misting
who burns zinc is known as a Rioter.
Turn the page for a sneak peek at Brandon Sanderson's
(0-7653-1688-9) Available now from Tom Doherty Associates
I write these words in steel, for anything not set in metal cannot be trusted.
THE ARMY CREPT LIKE A dark stain across the horizon.
King Elend Venture stood motionless upon the Luthadel city wall, looking
out at the enemy troops. Around him, ash fell from the sky in fat, lazy flakes.
It wasn't the burnt white ash that one saw in dead coals; this was a deeper,
harsher black ash. The Ashmounts had been particularly active lately.
Elend felt the ash dust his face and clothing, but he ignored it. In the
distance, the bloody red sun was close to setting. It backlit the army which
had come to take Elend's kingdom from him.
"How many?" Elend asked quietly.
"Fifty thousand, we think," Ham said, leaning against the parapet, beefy
arms folded on the stone. Like everything in the city, the wall had been
stained black by countless years of ashfalls.
"Fifty thousand soldiers . . ." Elend said, trailing off. Despite heavy
recruitment, Elend barely had twenty-thousand men under his command—
and they were peasants with under a year of training. Maintaining even that
small number was straining his resources. If they'd been able to find the Lord
Ruler's atium, perhaps things would be different. As it was, Elend's rule was
in serious danger of economic disaster.
"I don't know, El," Ham said quietly. "Kelsier was always the one with the
vision."
"But you helped him plan," Elend said. "You and the others, you were his
crew. You were the ones who came up with a strategy for overthrowing the
empire, then made it happen."
Ham fell silent, and Elend felt as if he knew what the man was thinking.
Kelsier was central to it all. He was the one who organized, the one who took
all of the wild brainstorming and turned it into a viable operation. He was
the leader. The genius.
And he'd died a year before, on the very same day that the people—as part
of his secret plan—had risen up in fury to overthrow their god emperor.
Elend had taken the throne in the ensuing chaos. Now it was looking more
and more like he would lose everything that Kelsier and his crew had worked
so hard to accomplish. Lose it to a tyrant who might be even worse than the
Lord Ruler. A petty, devious, bully in "noble" form. The man who had
marched his army on Luthadel.
Elend's own father, Straff Venture.
"Any chance you can . . . talk him out of attacking?" Ham asked.
"Maybe," Elend said hesitantly. "Assuming the Assembly doesn't just
surrender the city."
"They close?"
"I don't know, honestly. I worry that they are. That army has frightened
them, Ham." And with good reason, he thought. "Anyway, I have a proposal
for the meeting in two days. I'll try to talk them out of doing anything rash.
Dockson got back today, right?"
Ham nodded. "Just before the army's advance."
"I think we should call a meeting of the crew," Elend said. "See if we can
come up with a way out of this."
"We'll still be pretty shorthanded," Ham said, rubbing his chin. "Spook
isn't supposed to be back for another week, and the Lord Ruler only knows
where Breeze went. We haven't had a message from him in months."
Elend sighed, shaking his head. "I can't think of anything else, Ham." He
turned, staring out over the ashen landscape again. The army was lighting
campfires as the sun set. Soon, the mists would appear.
I need to get back to the palace and work on that proposal, Elend thought.
"Where'd Vin run off to?" Ham asked, turning back to Elend.
Elend paused. "You know," he said, "I'm not sure."
Vin landed softly on the damp cobblestones, watching as the mists began to
form around her. They puffed into existence as darkness fell, growing like
tangles of translucent vines, twisting and wrapping around one another.
The great city of Luthadel was still. Even now—a year after the Lord
Ruler's death and the rise of Elend's new free government, the common
people stayed in their homes at night. They feared the mists, a tradition that
went far deeper than the Lord Ruler's laws.
Vin slipped forward quietly, senses alert. Inside herself, as always, she
burned tin and pewter. Tin enhanced her senses, making it easier for her to
see in the night. Pewter made her body stronger, made her lighter on her feet.
These, along with copper—which had the power to hide her use of
Allomancy from others who were burning bronze—were metals that she left
on almost all the time.
Some called her paranoid. She thought herself prepared. Either way, the
habit had saved her life on numerous occasions.
She approached a quiet street corner and paused, peeking out. She'd never
really understood how she burned metals—she could remember doing it for
as long as she'd been alive, using Allomancy instinctively even before she
was formally trained by Kelsier. It didn't really matter to her. She wasn't like
Elend; she didn't need a logical explanation for everything. For Vin, it was
enough that when she swallowed bits of metal, she was able to draw upon
their power.
Power she appreciated, for she well knew what it was like to lack it. Even
now, she was not what one would likely envision as a warrior. Slight of
frame and barely five feet tall, with dark hair and pale skin, she knew she had
an almost frail look about her. She no longer displayed the underfed look she
had during her childhood on the streets, but she certainly wasn't someone any
man would find intimidating.
She liked that. It gave her an edge—and she needed every edge she could
get.
She also liked the night. During the day, Luthadel was cramped and
confining despite its size. But at night the mists fell like a deep cloud. They
dampened, softened, shaded. Massive keeps became shadowed mountains,
and crowded tenements melted together like a chandler's rejected wares.
Vin crouched beside her building, still watching the intersection. Carefully,
she reached within herself and burned steel—one of the other metals she'd
swallowed earlier. Immediately, a group of translucent blue lines sprung up
around her. Visible only to her eyes, the lines pointed from her chest to
nearby sources of metal—all metals, no matter what type. The thickness of
the lines was proportionate to the size of the metal pieces they met. Some
pointed to bronze door latches, others to crude iron nails holding boards
together.
She waited silently. None of the lines moved. Burning steel was an easy
way to tell if someone were moving nearby. If they were wearing bits of
metal, they would trail telltale moving lines of blue. Of course, that wasn't
the main purpose of steel. Vin reached her hand carefully into her belt pouch
and pulled out one of the many coins that sat within, muffled by cloth batting.
Like all other bits of metal, this coin had a blue line extending from its center
to Vin's chest.
She flipped the coin into the air, then mentally grabbed its line and—
burning steel—Pushed on the coin. The bit of metal shot into the air, arcing
through the mists, forced away by the Push. It plinked to the ground in the
middle of the street.
The mists continued to spin. They were thick and mysterious, even to Vin.
More dense than a simple fog and more constant than any normal weather
pattern, they churned and flowed, making rivulets around her. Her eyes could
pierce them—tin made her sight more keen. The night seemed lighter to her,
the mists less thick. Yet, they were still there.
A shadow moved in the city square, responding to her coin—which she
had Pushed out into the square as a signal. Vin crept forward, and recognized
OreSeur the kandra. He wore a different body than he had a year ago, during
the days when he had acted the part of Lord Renoux. Yet, this balding,
nondescript body had now become just as familiar to Vin.
OreSeur met up with her. "Did you find what you were looking for,
Mistress?" he asked, tone respectful—yet somehow still a little hostile. As
always.
Vin shook her head, glancing around in the darkness. "Maybe I was
wrong," she said. "Maybe I wasn't being followed." The acknowledgment
made her a bit sad. She'd been looking forward to sparring with the Watcher
again tonight. She still didn't even know who he was; the first night, she'd
mistaken him for an assassin. And, maybe he was. Yet, he seemed to display
very little interest in Elend—and a whole lot of interest in Vin.
"We should go back to the wall," Vin decided, standing up. "Elend will be
wondering where I went."
OreSeur nodded. At that moment, a burst of coins shot through the mists,
spraying toward Vin.