Ministry's teachings do not suit you, then I would be pleased to offer you an
alternative."
"What alternative?"
Sazed smiled. "That depends. The right belief is like a good cloak, I think.
If it fits you well, it keeps you warm and safe. The wrong fit, however, can
suffocate."
Vin paused, frowning slightly, but Sazed just smiled. Eventually, she
turned her attention back to her meal. After a short wait, the side door
opened, and Kelsier and Renoux returned.
"Now," Renoux said as he and Kelsier seated themselves, a group of
servants bringing another plate of food for Kelsier, "let us discuss this child.
The man you were going to have play my heir will not do, you say?"
"Unfortunately," Kelsier said, making quick work of his food.
"That complicates things greatly," Renoux said.
Kelsier shrugged. "We'll just have Vin be your heir."
Renoux shook his head. "A girl her age could inherit, but it would be
suspicious for me to pick her. There are any number of legitimate male
cousins in the Renoux line who would be far more suitable choices. It was
going to be difficult enough to get a middle-aged man past courtly scrutiny.
A young girl . . . no, too many people would investigate her background. Our
forged family lines will survive passing scrutiny, but if someone were to
actually send messengers to search out her holdings . . ."
Kelsier frowned.
"Besides," Renoux added. "There is another issue. If I were to name a
young, unmarried girl as my heir, hers would instantly become one of the
most sought-after hands in Luthadel. It would be very difficult for her to spy
if she were to receive that much attention."
Vin flushed at the thought. Surprisingly, she found her heart sinking as the
old imposter spoke. This was the only part Kelsier gave me in the plan. If I
can't do it, what good am I to the crew?
"So, what do you suggest?" Kelsier asked.
"Well, she doesn't have to be my heir," Renoux said. "What if, instead, she
were simply a young scion I brought with me to Luthadel? Perhaps I
promised her parents—distant but favored cousins—that I would introduce
their daughter to the court? Everyone would assume that my ulterior motive
is to marry her off to a high noble family, thereby gaining myself another
connection to those in power. However, she wouldn't draw much attention—
she would be of low status, not to mention somewhat rural."
"Which would explain why she's a bit less refined than other court
members," Kelsier said. "No offense, Vin."
Vin looked up from hiding a piece of napkin-wrapped bread in her shirt
pocket. "Why would I be offended?"
Kelsier smiled. "Never mind."
Renoux nodded to himself. "Yes, this will work much better. Everyone
assumes that House Renoux will eventually join the high nobility, so they'll
accept Vin into their ranks out of courtesy. However, she herself will be
unimportant enough that most people will ignore her. That is the ideal
situation for what we will want her to do."
"I like it," Kelsier said. "Few people expect a man of your age and
mercantile concerns to bother himself with balls and parties, but having a
young socialite to send instead of a rejection note will serve as an advantage
to your reputation."
"Indeed," Renoux said. "She'll need some refinement, however—and not
just in appearance."
Vin squirmed a bit beneath their scrutiny. It looked as if her part in the
plan would go forward, and she suddenly realized what that meant. Being
around Renoux made her uncomfortable—and he was a fake nobleman. How
would she react to an entire room full of real ones?
"I'm afraid I'll have to borrow Sazed from you for a while," Kelsier said.
"Quite all right," Renoux said. "He's really not my steward, but yours."
"Actually," Kelsier said, "I don't think he's anybody's steward anymore,
eh Saze?"
Sazed cocked his head. "A Terrisman without a master is like a soldier
with no weapon, Master Kelsier. I have enjoyed my time attending to Lord
Renoux, as I am certain that I shall enjoy returning to your service."
"Oh, you won't be returning to my service," Kelsier said.
Sazed raised an eyebrow.
Kelsier nodded toward Vin. "Renoux is right, Saze. Vin needs some
coaching, and I know plenty of high noblemen who are less refined than
yourself. Do you think you could help the girl prepare?"
"I am certain that I could offer the young lady some aid," Sazed said.
"Good," Kelsier said, popping one last cake in his mouth, then rising. "I'm
glad that's settled, because I'm starting to feel tired—and poor Vin looks like
she's about to nod off in the middle of her fruit plate."
"I'm fine," Vin said immediately, the assertion weakened slightly by a
stifled yawn.
"Sazed," Renoux said, "would you show them to the appropriate guest
chambers?"
"Of course, Master Renoux," Sazed said, rising from his seat in a smooth
motion.
Vin and Kelsier trailed the tall Terrisman from the room as a group of
servants took away the remnants of the meal. I left food behind, Vin noticed,
feeling a bit drowsy. She wasn't certain what to think of the occurrence.
As they crested the stairs and turned into a side hallway, Kelsier fell into
place beside Vin. "I'm sorry for excluding you back there, Vin."
She shrugged. "There's no reason for me to know all of your plans."
"Nonsense," Kelsier said. "Your decision tonight makes you as much a
part of this team as anyone else. Renoux's words in private, however, were of
a personal nature. He is a marvelous actor, but he feels very uncomfortable
with people knowing the specifics of how he took Lord Renoux's place. I
promise you, nothing we discussed has any bearing on your part in the plan."
Vin continued walking. "I . . . believe you."
"Good," Kelsier said with a smile, clapping her on the shoulder. "Saze, I
know my way to the men's guest quarters—I was, after all, the one who
bought this place. I can make my way from here."
"Very well, Master Kelsier," Sazed said with a respectful nod. Kelsier shot
Vin a smile, then turned down a hallway, walking with his characteristically
lively step.
Vin watched him go, then followed Sazed down a different side passage,
pondering the Allomancy training, her discussion with Kelsier in the carriage,
and finally Kelsier's promise just a few moments before. The three thousand
boxings—a fortune in coins—was a strange weight tied to her belt.
Eventually, Sazed opened a particular door for her, walking in to light the
lanterns. "The linens are fresh, and I will send maids to prepare you a bath in
the morning." He turned, handing her his candle. "Will you require anything
else?"
Vin shook her head. Sazed smiled, bid her good evening, then walked back
out in the hallway. Vin stood quietly for a short moment, studying the room.
Then she turned, glancing once again in the direction Kelsier had gone.
"Sazed?" she said, peeking back out into the hallway.
The steward paused, turning back. "Yes, Mistress Vin?"
"Kelsier," Vin said quietly. "He's a good man, isn't he?"
Sazed smiled. "A very good man, Mistress. One of the best I've known."
Vin nodded slightly. "A good man . . ." she said softly. "I don't think I've
ever known one of those before."
Sazed smiled, then bowed his head respectfully and turned to leave.
Vin let the door swing shut.
THE END OF PART ONE
PART TWO
REBELS BENEATH
A SKY OF ASH
In the end, I worry that my arrogance shall destroy us all.
9
VIN PUSHED AGAINST THE COIN and threw herself up into the mist. She flew
away from earth and stone, soaring through the dark currents of the sky, wind
fluttering her cloak.
This is freedom, she thought, breathing deeply of the cool, damp air. She
closed her eyes, feeling the passing wind. This was what I was always
missing, yet never knew it.
She opened her eyes as she began to descend. She waited until the last
moment, then flicked a coin. It hit the cobblestones, and she Pushed against it
lightly, slowing her descent. She burned pewter with a flash and hit the
ground running, dashing along Fellise's quiet streets. The late-autumn air was
cool, but winters were generally mild in the Central Dominance. Some years
passed without even a flake of snow.
She tossed a coin backward, then used it to Push herself slightly up and to
the right. She landed on a low stone wall, barely breaking stride as she ran
spryly along the wall's top. Burning pewter enhanced more than muscles—it
increased all the body's physical abilities. Keeping pewter at a low burn gave
her a sense of balance that any night burglar would have envied.
The wall turned north, and Vin paused at the corner. She fell into a crouch,
bare feet and sensitive fingers gripping the chill stone. Her copper on to hide
her Allomancy, she flared tin to strain her senses.
Stillness. Aspens made insubstantial ranks in the mist, like emaciated skaa
standing in their work lines. Estates rolled in the distance—each one walled,
manicured, and well guarded. There were far fewer dots of light in the city
than there were in Luthadel. Many of the homes were only part-time
residences, their masters away visiting some other sliver of the Final Empire.
Blue lines suddenly appeared before her—one end of each pointing at her
chest, the other disappearing into the mists. Vin immediately jumped to the
side, dodging as a pair of coins shot past in the night air, leaving trails in the
mist. She flared pewter, landing on the cobbled street beside the wall. Her tin-
enhanced ears picked out a scraping sound; then a dark form shot into the
sky, a few blue lines pointing to his coin pouch.
Vin dropped a coin and threw herself into the air after her opponent. They
soared for a moment, flying over the grounds of some unsuspecting
nobleman. Vin's opponent suddenly changed course in the air, jerking toward
the mansion itself. Vin followed, letting go of the coin below her, instead
burning iron and Pulling on one of the mansion's window latches.
Her opponent hit first, and she heard a thud as he ran into the side of the
building. He was off a second later.
A light brightened, and a confused head poked out of a window as Vin
spun in the air, landing feet-first against the mansion. She immediately
kicked off of the vertical surface, angling herself slightly and Pushing against
the same window latch. Glass cracked, and she shot away into the night
before gravity could reclaim her.
Vin flew through the mists, eyes straining to keep track of her quarry. He
shot a couple of coins back at her, but she Pushed them away with a
dismissive thought. A hazy blue line fell downward—a dropped coin—and
her opponent moved to the side again.
Vin dropped her own coin and Pushed. However, her coin suddenly jerked
backward along the ground—the result of a Push from her opponent. The
sudden move changed the trajectory of Vin's jump, throwing her sideways.
She cursed, flicking another coin to the side, using it to Push herself back on
track. By then, she'd lost her quarry.
All right . . . she thought, hitting the soft ground just inside the wall. She
emptied a few coins into her hand, then tossed the mostly full pouch into the
air, giving it a strong Push in the direction she had seen her quarry disappear.
The pouch disappeared into the mists, trailing a faint blue Allomantic line.
A scattering of coins suddenly shot from the bushes ahead, streaking
toward her bag. Vin smiled. Her opponent had assumed that the flying pouch
was Vin herself. He was too far away to see the coins in her hand, just as he
had been too far away for her to see the coins he carried.
A dark figure jumped out of the bushes, hopping up onto the stone wall.
Vin waited quietly as the figure ran along the wall and slipped down onto the
other side.
Vin launched herself straight up into the air, then threw her handful of
coins at the figure passing below. He immediately Pushed, sending the coins
streaking away—but they were only a distraction. Vin landed on the ground
before him, twin glass knives whipping from her sheathes. She lunged,
slashing, but her opponent jumped backward.
Something's wrong. Vin ducked and threw herself to the side as a handful
of glittering coins—her coins, the ones her opponent had Pushed away—shot
back down from the sky into her opponent's hand. He turned and sprayed
them in her direction.
Vin dropped her daggers with a quiet yelp, thrusting her hands forward and
Pushing on the coins. Immediately, she was thrown backward as her Push
was matched by her opponent.
One of the coins lurched in the air, hanging directly between the two of
them. The rest of the coins disappeared into the mists, pushed sideways by
conflicting forces.
Vin flared her steel as she flew, and heard her opponent grunt as he was
Pushed backward as well. Her opponent hit the wall. Vin slammed into a tree,
but she flared pewter and ignored the pain. She used the wood to brace
herself, continuing to Push.
The coin quivered in the air, trapped between the amplified strength of two
Allomancers. The pressure increased. Vin gritted her teeth, feeling the small
aspen bend behind her.
Her opponent's Pushing was relentless.
Will . . . not . . . be beaten! Vin thought, flaring both steel and pewter,
grunting slightly as she threw the entire force of her strength at the coin.
There was a moment of silence. Then Vin lurched backward, the tree
cracking with a loud snap in the night air.
Vin hit the ground in a tumble, splinters of wood scattering around her.
Even tin and pewter weren't enough to keep her mind clear as she rolled
across the cobblestones, eventually coming to a dizzy rest. A dark figure
approached, mistcloak ribbons billowing around him. Vin lurched to her feet,
grasping for knives she'd forgotten that she'd dropped.
Kelsier put down his hood and held her knives toward her. One was
broken. "I know it's instinctual, Vin, but you don't have to put your hands
forward when you Push—nor do you have to drop what you're holding."
Vin grimaced in the darkness, rubbing her shoulder and nodding as she
accepted the daggers.
"Nice job with the pouch," Kelsier said. "You had me for a moment."
"For all the good it did," Vin grumbled.
"You've only been doing this for a few months, Vin," he said lightly. "All
things considered, your progress is fantastic. I would, however, recommend
that you avoid Push-matches with people who weigh more than you." He
paused, eyeing Vin's short figure and thin frame. "Which probably means
avoiding them with pretty much everybody."
Vin sighed, stretching slightly. She'd have more bruises. At least they
won't be visible. Now that the bruises Camon had given her face were finally
gone, Sazed had warned her to be careful. Makeup could only cover so much,
and she would have to look like a "proper" young noblewoman if she were
going to infiltrate the court.
"Here," Kelsier said, handing her something. "A souvenir."
Vin held up the object—the coin they had Pushed between them. It was
bent and flattened from the pressure.
"I'll see you back at the mansion," Kelsier said.
Vin nodded, and Kelsier disappeared into the night. He's right, she
thought. I'm smaller, I weigh less, and I have a shorter reach than anyone
I'm likely to fight. If I attack someone head on, I'll lose.
The alternative had always been her method anyway—to struggle quietly,
to stay unseen. She had to learn to use Allomancy the same way. Kelsier kept
saying that she was developing amazingly fast as an Allomancer. He seemed
to think it was his teaching, but Vin felt it was something else. The mists . . .
the night prowling . . . it all felt right to her. She was not worried about
mastering Allomancy in time to help Kelsier against other Mistborn.
It was her other part in the plan that worried her.
Sighing, Vin hopped over the wall to search for her coin pouch. Up at the
mansion—not Renoux's home, but one owned by some other nobleman—
lights were on and people milled about. None of them ventured deeply into
the night. The skaa would fear mistwraiths; the nobility would have guessed
that Mistborn had caused the disturbance. Neither one was something a sane
person would want to confront.
Vin eventually traced her pouch by steel-line to the upper branches of a
tree. She Pulled it slightly, tugging it down into her hand, then made her way
back out to the street. Kelsier probably would have left the pouch behind—
the two dozen or so clips it contained wouldn't have been worth his time.
However, for most of her life Vin had scrounged and starved. She just
couldn't force herself to be wasteful. Even tossing coins to jump with made
her uncomfortable.
So, she used her coins sparingly as she traveled back toward Renoux's
mansion, instead Pushing and Pulling off of buildings and discarded bits of
metal. The half-jumping, half-running gait of a Mistborn came naturally to
her now, and she didn't have to think much about her movements.
How would she fare, trying to pretend to be a noblewoman? She couldn't
hide her apprehensions, not from herself. Camon had been good at imitating
noblemen because of his self-confidence, and that was one attribute Vin
knew she didn't have. Her success with Allomancy only proved that her place
was in corners and shadows, not striding around in pretty dresses at courtly
balls.
Kelsier, however, refused to let her back out. Vin landed in a crouch just
outside Mansion Renoux, puffing slightly from exertion. She regarded the
lights with a slight feeling of apprehension.
You've got to learn to do this, Vin, Kelsier kept telling her. You're a
talented Allomancer, but you'll need more than Steel-pushes to succeed
against the nobility. Until you can move in their society as easily as you do in
the mists, you'll be at a disadvantage.
Letting out a quiet sigh, Vin rose from her crouch, then took off her
mistcloak and stuffed it away for later retrieval. Then she walked up the steps
and into the building. When she asked after Sazed, the mansion servants
directed her to the kitchens, so she made her way into the closed-off, hidden
section of the mansion that was the servants' quarters.
Even these parts of the building were kept immaculately clean. Vin was
beginning to understand why Renoux made such a convincing impostor: He
didn't allow for imperfection. If he maintained his impersonation half as well
as he maintained order in his mansion, then Vin doubted anyone would ever
discover the ruse.
But, she thought, he must have some flaw. Back in the meeting two months
ago, Kelsier said that Renoux wouldn't be able to withstand scrutiny by an
Inquisitor. Perhaps they'd be able to sense something about his emotions,
something that gives him away?
It was a small item, but Vin had not forgotten it. Despite Kelsier's words
about honesty and trust, he still had his secrets. Everyone did.
Sazed was, indeed, to be found in the kitchens. He stood with a middle-
aged servant. She was tall for a skaa woman—though standing next to Sazed
made her look diminutive. Vin recognized her as a member of the mansion
staff; Cosahn was her name. Vin had made an effort to memorize all of the
names of the local staff, if only to keep tabs on them.
Sazed looked over as Vin entered. "Ah, Mistress Vin. Your return is quite
timely." He gestured to his companion. "This is Cosahn."
Cosahn studied Vin with a businesslike air. Vin longed to return to the
mists, where people couldn't look at her like that.
"It is long enough now, I think," Sazed said.
"Probably," Cosahn said. "But I cannot perform miracles, Master Vaht."
Sazed nodded. "Vaht" was, apparently, the proper title for a Terrisman
steward. Not quite skaa, but definitely not noblemen, the Terrismen held a
very strange place in imperial society.
Vin studied the two of them suspiciously.
"Your hair, Mistress," Sazed said with a calm tone. "Cosahn is going to cut
it for you."
"Oh," Vin said, reaching up. Her hair was getting a bit long for her taste—
though somehow she doubted that Sazed was going to let her have it cropped
boyishly short.
Cosahn waved to a chair, and Vin reluctantly seated herself. She found it
unnerving to sit docilely while someone worked with shears so close to her
head, but there was no getting around it.
After a few moments of running her hands through Vin's hair, "tisk"ing
quietly, Cosahn began to snip. "Such beautiful hair," she said, almost as if to
herself, "thick, with a nice deep black color. It's a shame to see it cared for so
poorly, Master Vaht. Many courtly women would die for hair like this—it
has just enough body to lie full, but is straight enough to work with easily."
Sazed smiled. "We'll have to see that it receives better care in the future,"
he said.
Cosahn continued her work, nodding to herself. Eventually, Sazed walked
over and took a seat just a few feet in front of Vin.
"Kelsier hasn't returned yet, I assume?" Vin asked.
Sazed shook his head, and Vin sighed. Kelsier didn't think she was
practiced enough go with him on his nightly raids, many of which he went on
directly following his training sessions with Vin. During the last two months,
Kelsier had put in appearances on the properties of a dozen different noble
houses, both in Luthadel and in Fellise. He varied his disguises and apparent
motives, trying to create an air of confusion among the Great Houses.
"What?" Vin asked, eyeing Sazed, who was regarding her with a curious
look.
The Terrisman nodded his head slightly with respect. "I was wondering if
you might be willing to listen to another proposal."
Vin sighed, rolling her eyes. "Fine." It isn't like I can do anything else but
sit here.
"I think I have the perfect religion for you," Sazed said, his normally stoic
face revealing a glimmer of eagerness. "It is called 'Trelagism,' after the god
Trell. Trell was worshipped by a group known as the Nelazan, a people who
lived far to the north. In their land, the day and night cycle was very odd.
During some months of the year, it was dark for most of the day. During the
summer, however, it only grew dark for a few hours at a time.
"The Nelazan believed that there was beauty in darkness, and that the
daylight was more profane. They saw the stars as the Thousand Eyes of Trell
watching them. The sun was the single, jealous eye of Trell's brother, Nalt.
Since Nalt only had one eye, he made it blaze brightly to outshine his brother.
The Nelazan, however, were not impressed, and preferred to worship the
quiet Trell, who watched over them even when Nalt obscured the sky."
Sazed fell silent. Vin wasn't sure how to respond, so she didn't say
anything.
"It really is a good religion, Mistress Vin," Sazed said. "Very gentle, yet
very powerful. The Nelazan were not an advanced people, but they were
quite determined. They mapped the entire night sky, counting and placing
every major star. Their ways suit you—especially their preference of the
night. I can tell you more, if you wish."
Vin shook her head. "That's all right, Sazed."
"Not a good fit, then?" Sazed said, frowning slightly. "Ah, well. I shall
have to consider it some more. Thank you, Mistress—you are very patient
with me, I think."
"Consider it some more?" Vin asked. "That's the fifth religion you've tried
to convert me to, Saze. How many more can there be?"
"Five hundred and sixty two," Sazed said. "Or, at least, that is the number
of belief systems I know. There are, likely and unfortunately, others that have
passed from this world without leaving traces for my people to collect."
Vin paused. "And you have all of these religions memorized?"
"As much as is possible," Sazed said. "Their prayers, their beliefs, their
mythologies. Many are very similar—breakoffs or sects of one another."
"Even still, how can you remember all of that?"
"I have . . . methods," Sazed said.
"But, what's the point?"
Sazed frowned. "The answer should be obvious, I think. People are
valuable, Mistress Vin, and so—therefore—are their beliefs. Since the
Ascension a thousand years ago, so many beliefs have disappeared. The Steel
Ministry forbids the worship of anyone but the Lord Ruler, and the
Inquisitors have quite diligently destroyed hundreds of religions. If someone
doesn't remember them, then they will simply disappear."
"You mean," Vin said incredulously, "you're trying to get me to believe in
religions that have been dead for a thousand years?"
Sazed nodded.
Is everyone involved with Kelsier insane?
"The Final Empire cannot last forever," Sazed said quietly. "I do not know
if Master Kelsier will be the one who finally brings its end, but that end will
come. And when it does—when the Steel Ministry no longer holds sway—
men will wish to return to the beliefs of their fathers. On that day they will
look to the Keepers, and on that day we shall return to mankind his forgotten
truths."
"Keepers?" Vin asked as Cosahn moved around to begin snipping at her
bangs. "There are more like you?"
"Not many," Sazed said. "But some. Enough to pass the truths on to the
next generation."
Vin sat thoughtfully, resisting the urge to squirm beneath Cosahn's
ministrations. The woman certainly was taking her time—when Reen had cut
Vin's hair, he had been finished after just a few quick hacks.
"Shall we go over your lessons while we wait, Mistress Vin?" Sazed
asked.
Vin eyed the Terrisman, and he smiled just slightly. He knew that he had
her captive; she couldn't hide, or even sit at the window, staring out into the
mists. All she could do was sit and listen. "Fine."
"Can you name all ten Great Houses of Luthadel in order of power?"
"Venture, Hasting, Elariel, Tekiel, Lekal, Erikeller, Erikell, Haught,
Urbain, and Buvidas."
"Good," Sazed said. "And you are?"
"I am the Lady Valette Renoux, fourth cousin to Lord Teven Renoux, who
owns this mansion. My parents—Lord Hadren and Lady Fellette Renoux—
live in Chakath, a city in the Western Dominance. Major export, wool. My
family works in trading dyes, specifically blushdip red, from the snails that
are common there, and callowfield yellow, made from tree bark. As part of a
trade agreement with their distant cousin, my parents sent me down here to
Luthadel, so I can spend some time at court."
Sazed nodded. "And how do you feel about this opportunity?"
"I am amazed and a little overwhelmed," Vin said. "People will pay
attention to me because they wish to curry favor with Lord Renoux. Since
I'm not familiar with the ways of court, I will be flattered by their attention. I
will ingratiate myself to the court community, but I will stay quiet and out of
trouble."
"Your memorization skills are admirable, Mistress," Sazed said. "This
humble attendant wonders how much more successful might you be if you
dedicated yourself to learning, rather than dedicating yourself to avoiding our
lessons."
Vin eyed him. "Do all Terrisman 'humble attendants' give their masters as
much lip as you do?"
"Only the successful ones."
Vin eyed him for a moment, then sighed. "I'm sorry, Saze. I don't mean to
avoid your lessons. I just . . . the mists . . . I get distracted sometimes."
"Well, fortunately and honestly, you are very quick to learn. However, the
people of the court have had their entire lives to study etiquette. Even as a
rural noblewoman, there are certain things you would know."
"I know," Vin said. "I don't want to stand out."
"Oh, you can't avoid that, Mistress. A newcomer, from a distant part of the
empire? Yes, they will notice you. We just don't want to make them
suspicious. You must be considered, then dismissed. If you act too much like
a fool, that will be suspect in and of itself."
Great.
Sazed paused, cocking his head slightly. A few seconds later, Vin heard
footsteps in the hallway outside. Kelsier sauntered into the room, bearing a
self-satisfied smile. He pulled off his mistcloak, then paused as he saw Vin.
"What?" she asked, sinking a little further into the chair.
"The haircut looks good," Kelsier said. "Nice job, Cosahn."
"It was nothing, Master Kelsier." Vin could hear the blush in her voice. "I
just work with what I have."
"Mirror," Vin said, holding out her hand.
Cosahn handed her one. Vin held it up, and what she saw gave her pause.
She looked . . . like a girl.
Cosahn had done a remarkable job of evening out the hair, and she had
managed to get rid of the snags. Vin had always found that if her hair got too
long, it had a tendency to stand up. Cosahn had done something about this
too. Vin's hair still wasn't very long—it barely hung down over her ears—
but at least it lay flat.
You don't want them to think of you as a girl, Reen's voice warned. Yet,
for once, she found herself wanting to ignore that voice.
"We might actually turn you into a lady, Vin!" Kelsier said with a laugh,
earning him a glare from Vin.
"First we'll have to persuade her not to scowl so often, Master Kelsier,"
Sazed noted.
"That's going to be hard," Kelsier said. "She's quite fond of making faces.
Anyway, well done, Cosahn."
"I've still got a little bit of trimming to do, Master Kelsier," the woman
said.
"By all means, continue," Kelsier said. "But I'm going to filch Sazed for a
moment."
Kelsier winked at Vin, smiled at Cosahn, then he and Sazed retreated from
the room—once again leaving Vin where she couldn't eavesdrop.
Kelsier peeked into the kitchen, watching Vin sit sullenly in her chair. The
haircut really was good. However, his compliments had an ulterior motive—
he suspected that Vin had spent far too much of her life being told that she
was worthless. Perhaps if she had a bit more self-confidence, she wouldn't
try to hide so much.
He let the door slide shut, turning to Sazed. The Terrisman waited, as
always, with restful patience.
"How is the training going?" Kelsier asked.
"Very well, Master Kelsier," Sazed said. "She already knew some things
from training she received at her brother's hands. Above that, however, she is
an extremely intelligent girl—perceptive and quick to memorize. I didn't
expect such skill from one who grew up in her circumstances."
"A lot of the street children are clever," Kelsier said. "The ones who aren't
dead."
Sazed nodded solemnly. "She is extremely reserved, and I sense that she
doesn't see the full value in my lessons. She is very obedient, but is quick to
exploit mistakes or misunderstandings. If I don't tell her exactly when and
where to meet, I often have to search the entire mansion for her."
Kelsier nodded. "I think it's her way of maintaining a bit of control in her
life. Anyway, what I really wanted to know is whether she's ready or not."
"I'm not sure, Master Kelsier," Sazed replied. "Pure knowledge is not the
equivalent of skill. I'm not certain if she has the . . . poise to imitate a
noblewoman, even a young and inexperienced one. We've done practice
dinners, gone over conversational etiquette, and memorized gossip. She
seems skilled at it all, in a controlled situation. She's even done well sitting in
on tea meetings when Renoux entertains noble guests. However, we won't
really be able to tell if she can do this until we put her alone in a party full of
aristocrats."
"I wish she could practice some more," Kelsier said with a shake of his
head. "But every week we spend preparing increases the chances that the
Ministry will discover our budding army in the caves."
"It is a test of balance, then," Sazed said. "We must wait long enough to
gather the men we need, yet move soon enough to avoid discovery."
Kelsier nodded. "We can't pause for one crewmember—we'll have to find
someone else to be our mole if Vin does badly. Poor girl—I wish I had time
to train her better in Allomancy. We've barely covered the first four metals. I
just don't have enough time!"
"If I might make a suggestion . . ."
"Of course, Saze."
"Send the child with some of the Misting crewmembers," Sazed said. "I
hear that the man Breeze is a very accomplished Soother, and surely the
others are equally skilled. Let them show Mistress Vin how to use her
abilities."
Kelsier paused thoughtfully. "That's a good idea, Saze."
"But?"
Kelsier glanced back toward the door, beyond which Vin was still
petulantly getting her haircut. "I'm not sure. Today, when we were training,
we got into a Steelpush shoving match. The kid has to weigh less than half
what I do, but she gave me a decent pummeling anyway."
"Different people have different strengths in Allomancy," Sazed said.
"Yes, but the variance isn't usually this great," Kelsier said. "Plus, it took
me months and months to learn how to manipulate my Pushes and Pulls. It's
not as easy as it sounds—even something as simple as Pushing yourself up
onto a rooftop requires an understanding of weight, balance, and trajectory.
"But Vin . . . she seems to know all these things instinctively. True, she
can only use the first four metals with any skill, but the progress she's made
is amazing."
"She is a special girl."
Kelsier nodded. "She deserves more time to learn about her powers. I feel
a little guilty about pulling her into our plans. She'll probably end up at a
Ministry execution ceremony with the rest of us."
"But that guilt won't stop you from using her to spy on the aristocracy."
Kelsier shook his head. "No," he said quietly. "It won't. We'll need every
advantage we can get. Just . . . watch over her, Saze. From now on, you'll act
as Vin's steward and guardian at the functions she attends—it won't be odd
for her to bring a Terrisman servant with her."
"Not at all," Sazed agreed. "In fact, it would be strange to send a girl her
age to courtly functions without an escort."
Kelsier nodded. "Protect her, Saze. She might be a powerful Allomancer,
but she's inexperienced. I'll feel a lot less guilty about sending her into those
aristocratic dens if I know you're with her."
"I will protect her with my life, Master Kelsier. I promise you this."
Kelsier smiled, resting a thankful hand on Sazed's shoulder. "I feel pity for
the man who gets in your way."
Sazed bowed his head humbly. He looked innocuous, but Kelsier knew the
strength that Sazed hid. Few men, Allomancers or not, would fare well in a
fight with a Keeper whose anger had been roused. That was probably why the
Ministry had hunted the sect virtually to extinction.
"All right," Kelsier said. "Get back to your teaching. Lord Venture is
throwing a ball at the end of the week, and—ready or not—Vin is going to be
there."
It amazes me how many nations have united behind our purpose. There are still dissenters, of
course—and some kingdoms, regrettably, have fallen to wars that I could not stop.
Still, this general unity is glorious, even humbling, to contemplate. I wish that the nations of
mankind hadn't required such a dire threat to make them see the value of peace and
cooperation.
10
VIN WALKED ALONG A STREET in the Cracks—one of Luthadel's many skaa
slums—with her hood up. For some reason, she found the muffled heat of a
hood preferable to the oppressive red sunlight.
She walked with a slouch, eyes down, sticking near to the side of the street.
The skaa she passed had similar airs of dejection. No one looked up; no one
walked with a straight back or an optimistic smile. In the slums, those things
would make one look suspicious.
She'd almost forgotten how oppressive Luthadel could be. Her weeks in
Fellise had accustomed her to trees and washed stone. Here, there was
nothing white—no creeping aspens, no whitewashed granite. All was black.
Buildings were stained by countless, repetitive ashfalls. Air curled with
smoke from the infamous Luthadel smithies and a thousand separate noble
kitchens. Cobblestones, doorways, and corners were clogged with soot—the
slums were rarely swept clean.
It's like . . . things are actually brighter at night than they are during the
day, Vin thought, pulling her patched skaa cloak close, turning a corner. She
passed beggars, huddled on corners, hands outstretched and hoping for an
offering, their pleadings falling vainly on the ears of people who were
themselves starving. She passed workers, walking with heads and shoulders
bowed, caps or hoods pulled down to keep ash out of their eyes.
Occasionally, she passed squads of Garrison town guards, walking with full
armor—breastplate, cap, and black cloak—trying to look as intimidating as
possible.
This last group moved through the slums, acting as the Lord Ruler's hands
in an area most obligators found too distasteful to visit. The Garrisoners
kicked at beggars to make certain they were truly invalids, stopped
wandering workers to harass them about being on the streets instead of
working, and made a general nuisance of themselves. Vin ducked down as a
group passed, pulling her hood close. She was old enough that she should
have been either bearing children or working in a mill, but her size often
made her look younger in profile.
Either the ruse worked, or this particular squad wasn't interested in looking
for ditchers, for they let her pass with barely a glance. She ducked around a
corner, walking down an ash-drifted alley, and approached the soup kitchen
at the end of the small street.
Like most of its kind, the kitchen was dingy and poorly maintained. In an
economy where workers were rarely, if ever, given direct pay, kitchens had to
be supported by the nobility. Some local lords—probably the owners of the
mills and forges in the area—paid the kitchen owner to provide food for the
local skaa. The workers would be given meal tokens for their time, and would
be allowed a short break at midday to go eat. The central kitchen would allow
the smaller businesses to avoid the costs of providing on-site meals.
Of course, since the kitchen owner was paid directly, he could pocket
whatever he could save on ingredients. In Vin's experience, kitchen food was
about as tasty as ashwater.
Fortunately, she hadn't come to eat. She joined the line at the door, waiting
quietly as workers presented their meal chips. When her turn came, she
pulled out a small wooden disk and passed it to the skaa man at the door. He
accepted the chip with a smooth motion, nodding almost imperceptibly to his
right.
Vin walked in the indicated direction, passing through a filthy dining
room, floor scattered with tracked-in ash. As she approached the far wall, she
could see a splintery wooden door set in the room's corner. A man seated by
the door caught her eyes, nodded slightly, and pushed the door open. Vin
passed quickly into the small room beyond.
"Vin, my dear!" Breeze said, lounging at a table near the center of the
room. "Welcome! How was Fellise?"
Vin shrugged, taking a seat at the table.
"Ah," Breeze said. "I'd almost forgotten what a fascinating
conversationalist you are. Wine?"
Vin shook her head.
"Well, I would certainly like some." Breeze wore one of his extravagant
suits, dueling cane resting across his lap. The chamber was only lit by a
single lantern, but it was far cleaner than the room outside. Of the four other
men in the room, Vin recognized only one—an apprentice from Clubs's shop.
The two by the door were obviously guards. The last man appeared to be a
regular skaa worker—complete with blackened jacket and ashen face. His
self-confident air, however, proved that he was a member of the
underground. Probably one of Yeden's rebels.
Breeze held up his cup, tapping its side with his fingernail. The rebel
regarded it darkly.
"Right now," Breeze said, "you're wondering if I'm using Allomancy on
you. Perhaps I am, perhaps I am not. Does it matter? I'm here by your
leader's invitation, and he ordered you to see that I was made comfortable.
And, I assure you, a cup of wine in my hand is absolutely necessary for my
comfort."
The skaa man waited for a moment, then snatched the cup and stalked
away, grumbling under his breath about foolish costs and wasted resources.
Breeze raised an eyebrow, turning to Vin. He seemed quite pleased with
himself.
"So, did you Push him?" she asked.
Breeze shook his head. "Waste of brass. Did Kelsier tell you why he asked
you to come here today?"
"He told me to watch you," Vin said, a bit annoyed at being handed off to
Breeze. "He said he didn't have time to train me in all the metals."
"Well," Breeze said, "let us begin, then. First, you must understand that
Soothing is about more than just Allomancy. It's about the delicate and noble
art of manipulation."
"Noble indeed," Vin said.
"Ah, you sound like one of them," Breeze said.
"Them who?"
"Them everyone else," Breeze said. "You saw how that skaa gentleman
treated me? People don't like us, my dear. The idea of someone who can play
with their emotions, who can 'mystically' get them to do certain things,
makes them uncomfortable. What they do not realize—and what you must
realize—is that manipulating others is something that all people do. In fact,
manipulation is at the core of our social interaction."
He settled back, raising his dueling cane and gesturing with it slightly as he
spoke. "Think about it. What is a man doing when he seeks the affection of a
young lady? Why, he is trying to manipulate her to regard him favorably.
What happens when old two friends sit down for a drink? They tell stories,
trying to impress each other. Life as a human being is about posturing and
influence. This isn't a bad thing—in fact, we depend upon it. These
interactions teach us how to respond to others."
He paused, pointing at Vin with the cane. "The difference between
Soothers and regular people is that we are aware of what we're doing. We
also have a slight . . . advantage. But, is it really that much more 'powerful'
than having a charismatic personality or a fine set of teeth? I think not."
Vin paused.
"Besides," Breeze added, "as I mentioned, a good Soother must be skilled
far beyond his ability to use Allomancy. Allomancy can't let you read minds
or even emotions—in a way, you're as blind as anyone else. You fire off
pulses of emotions, targeted at a single person or in an area, and your subjects
will have their emotions altered—hopefully producing the effect that you
wished. However, great Soothers are those who can successfully use their
eyes and instincts to know how a person is feeling before they get Soothed."
"What does it matter how they're feeling?" Vin said, trying to cover her
annoyance. "You're just going to Soothe them anyway, right? So, when
you're done, they'll feel how you want them to."
Breeze sighed, shaking his head. "What would you say if you knew I'd
Soothed you on three separate occasions during our conversation?"
Vin paused. "When?" she demanded.
"Does it matter?" Breeze asked. "This is the lesson you must learn, my
dear. If you can't read how someone is feeling, then you'll never have a
subtle touch with emotional Allomancy. Push someone too hard, and even the
most blind of skaa will realize that they're being manipulated somehow.
Touch too softly, and you won't produce a noticeable effect—other, more
powerful emotions will still rule your subject."
Breeze shook his head. "It's all about understanding people," he continued.
"You have to read how someone is feeling, change that feeling by nudging it
in the proper direction, then channel their newfound emotional state to your
advantage. That, my dear, is the challenge in what we do! It is difficult, but
for those who can do it well . . ."
The door opened, and the sullen skaa man returned, bearing an entire bottle
of wine. He put it and a cup on the table before Breeze, then went over to
stand on the other side of the room, beside peepholes looking into the dining
room.
"There are vast rewards," Breeze said with a quiet smile. He winked at her,
then poured some wine.
Vin wasn't certain what to think. Breeze's opinion seemed cruel. Yet,
Reen had trained her well. If she didn't have power over this thing, others
would gain power over her through it. She started burning copper—as Kelsier
had taught her—to shield herself from further manipulations on Breeze's
part.
The door opened again, and a familiar vest-wearing form tromped in.
"Hey, Vin," Ham said with a friendly wave. He walked over to the table,
eyeing the wine. "Breeze, you know that the rebellion doesn't have the
money for that kind of thing."
"Kelsier will reimburse them," Breeze said with a dismissive wave. "I
simply cannot work with a dry throat. How is the area?"
"Secure," Ham said. "But I've got Tineyes on the corners just in case.
Your bolt-exit is behind that hatch in the corner."
Breeze nodded, and Ham turned, looking at Clubs's apprentice. "You
Smoking back there, Cobble?"
The boy nodded.
"Good lad," Ham said. "That's everything, then. Now we just have to wait
for Kell's speech."
Breeze checked his pocket watch. "He's not scheduled for another few
minutes. Shall I have someone fetch you a cup?"
"I'll pass," Ham said.
Breeze shrugged, sipping his wine.
There was a moment of silence. Finally, Ham spoke. "So . . ."
"No," Breeze interrupted.
"But—"
"Whatever it is, we don't want to hear about it."
Ham gave the Soother a flat stare. "You can't Push me into complacence,
Breeze."
Breeze rolled his eyes, taking a drink.
"What?" Vin asked. "What were you going to say?"
"Don't encourage him, my dear," Breeze said.
Vin frowned. She glanced at Ham, who smiled.
Breeze sighed. "Just leave me out of it. I'm not in the mood for one of
Ham's inane debates."
"Ignore him," Ham said eagerly, pulling his chair a little bit closer to Vin.
"So, I've been wondering. By overthrowing the Final Empire are we doing
something good, or are we doing something bad?"
Vin paused. "Does it matter?"
Ham looked taken aback, but Breeze chuckled. "Well answered," the
Soother said.
Ham glared at Breeze, then turned back to Vin. "Of course it matters."
"Well," Vin said, "I guess we're doing something good. The Final Empire
has oppressed the skaa for centuries."
"Right," Ham said. "But, there's a problem. The Lord Ruler is God, right?"
Vin shrugged. "Does it matter?"
Ham glared at her.
She rolled her eyes. "All right. The Ministry claims that he is God."
"Actually," Breeze noted, "the Lord Ruler is only a piece of God. He is the
Sliver of Infinity—not omniscient or omnipresent, but an independent section
of a consciousness that is."
Ham sighed. "I thought you didn't want to be involved."
"Just making certain everyone has their facts correct," Breeze said lightly.
"Anyway," Ham said. "God is the creator of all things, right? He is the
force that dictates the laws of the universe, and is therefore the ultimate
source of ethics. He is absolute morality."
Vin blinked.
"You see the dilemma?" Ham asked.
"I see an idiot," Breeze mumbled.
"I'm confused," Vin said. "What's the problem?"
"We claim to be doing good," Ham said. "But, the Lord Ruler—as God
—defines what is good. So, by opposing him we're actually evil. But, since
he's doing the wrong thing, does evil actually count as good in this case?"
Vin frowned.
"Well?" Ham asked.
"I think you gave me a headache," Vin said.
"I warned you," Breeze noted.
Ham sighed. "But, don't you think it's worth thinking about?"
"I'm not sure."
"I am," Breeze said.
Ham shook his head. "No one around here likes to have decent, intelligent
discussions."
The skaa rebel in the corner suddenly perked up. "Kelsier's here!"
Ham raised an eyebrow, then stood. "I should go watch the perimeter.
Think about that question, Vin."
"All right . . ." Vin said as Ham left.
"Over here, Vin," Breeze said, rising. "There are peepholes on the wall for
us. Be a dear and bring my chair over, would you?"
Breeze didn't look back to see if she did as requested. She paused,
uncertain. With her copper on, he couldn't Soothe her, but . . . Eventually,
she sighed and carried both chairs over to the side of the room. Breeze slid
back a long, thin slat in the wall, revealing a view of the dining room.
A group of dirtied skaa men sat around tables, wearing brown work coats
or ragged cloaks. They were a dark group, with ash-stained skin and slumped
postures. However, their presence at the meeting meant that they were willing
to listen. Yeden sat at a table near the front of the room, wearing his usual
patched worker's coat, his curly hair cut short during Vin's absence.
Vin had expected some kind of grand entrance from Kelsier. Instead,
however, he simply walked quietly out of the kitchen. He paused by Yeden's
table, smiling and speaking quietly with the man for a moment, then he
stepped up before the seated workers.
Vin had never seen him in such mundane clothing before. He wore a
brown skaa coat and tan trousers, like many of the audience. Kelsier's outfit,
however, was clean. No soot stained the cloth, and while it was of the same
rough material that skaa commonly used, it bore no patches or tears. The
difference was stark enough, Vin decided—if he'd come in a suit, it would
have been too much.
He put his arms behind his back, and slowly the crowd of workers quieted.
Vin frowned, watching through the peep slit, wondering at Kelsier's ability to
quiet a room of hungry men by simply standing before them. Was he using
Allomancy, perhaps? Yet, even with her copper on, she felt a . . . presence
from him.
Once the room fell quiet, Kelsier began to speak. "You've probably all
heard of me, by now," he said. "And, you wouldn't be here if you weren't at
least a little bit sympathetic to my cause."
Beside Vin, Breeze sipped his drink. "Soothing and Rioting aren't like
other kinds of Allomancy," he said quietly. "With most metals, Pushing and
Pulling have opposite effects. With emotions, however, you can often
produce the same result regardless of whether you Soothe or Riot.
"This doesn't hold for extreme emotional states—complete
emotionlessness or utter passion. However, in most cases, it doesn't matter
which power you use. People are not like solid bricks of metal—at any given
time, they will have a dozen different emotions churning within them. An
experienced Soother can dampen everything but the emotion he wants to
remain dominant."
Breeze turned slightly. "Rudd, send in the blue server, please."
One of the guards nodded, cracking the door and whispering something to
the man outside. A moment later, Vin saw a serving girl wearing a faded blue
dress move through the crowd, filling drinks.
"My Soothers are mixed with the crowd," Breeze said, his voice growing
distracted. "The serving girls are a sign, telling my men which emotions to
Soothe away. They will work, just as I do. . . ." He trailed off, concentrating
as he looked into the crowd.
"Fatigue . . ." he whispered. "That's not a necessary emotion right now.
Hunger . . . distracting. Suspicion . . . definitely not helpful. Yes, and as the
Soothers work, the Rioters enflame the emotions we want the crowd to be
feeling. Curiosity . . . that's what they need now. Yes, listen to Kelsier.
You've heard legends and stories. See the man for yourself, and be
impressed."
"I know why you came today," Kelsier said quietly. He spoke without
much of the flamboyance Vin associated with the man, his tone quiet, but
direct. "Twelve-hour days in a mill, mine, or forge. Beatings, lack of pay,
poor food. And, for what? So that you can return to your tenements at the
day's end to find another tragedy? A friend, slain by an uncaring taskmaster.
A daughter, taken to be some nobleman's plaything. A brother, dead at the
hand of a passing lord who was having an unpleasant day."
"Yes," Breeze whispered. "Good. Red, Rudd. Send in the girl in light red."
Another serving girl entered the room.
"Passion and anger," Breeze said, his voice almost a mumble. "But just a
bit. Just a nudge—a reminder."
Curious, Vin extinguished her copper for a moment, burning bronze
instead, trying to sense Breeze's use of Allomancy. No pulses came from
him.
Of course, she thought. I forgot about Clubs's apprentice—he'd keep me
from sensing any Allomantic pulses. She turned her copper back on.
Kelsier continued to speak. "My friends, you're not alone in your tragedy.
There are millions, just like you. And they need you. I've not come to beg—
we've had enough of that in our lives. I simply ask you to think. Where
would you rather your energy be spent? On forging the Lord Ruler's
weapons? Or, on something more valuable?"
He's not mentioning our troops, Vin thought. Or even what those who join
with him are going to do. He doesn't want the workers to know details.
Probably a good idea—those he recruits can be sent to the army, and the rest
won't be able to give away specific information.
"You know why I am here," Kelsier said. "You know my friend, Yeden,
and what he represents. Every skaa in the city knows about the rebellion.
Perhaps you've considered joining it. Most of you will not—most of you will
go back to your soot-stained mills, to your burning forges, to your dying
homes. You'll go because this terrible life is familiar. But some of you . . .
some of you will come with me. And those are the men who will be
remembered in the years to come. Remembered for having done something
grand."
Many of the workers shared glances, though some just stared at their half-
empty soup bowls. Finally, someone near the back of the room spoke.
"You're a fool," the man said. "The Lord Ruler will kill you. You don't rebel
against God in his own city."
The room fell silent. Tense. Vin sat up as Breeze whispered to himself.
In the room, Kelsier stood quietly for a moment. Finally, he reached up
and pulled back the sleeves on his jacket, revealing the crisscrossed scars on
his arms. "The Lord Ruler is not our god," he said quietly. "And he cannot
kill me. He tried, but he failed. For I am the thing that he can never kill."
With that, Kelsier turned, walking from the room the way he had come.
"Hum," Breeze said, "well, that was a little dramatic. Rudd, bring back the
red and send out the brown."
A serving woman in brown walked into the crowd.
"Amazement," Breeze said. "And, yes, pride. Soothe the anger, for now. . .
."
The crowd sat quietly for a moment, the dining room eerily motionless.
Finally, Yeden stood up to speak and give some further encouragement, as
well as an explanation of what the men should do, should they wish to hear
more. As he talked, the men returned to their meals.
"Green, Rudd," Breeze said. "Hum, yes. Let's make you all thoughtful,
and give you a nudge of loyalty. We wouldn't want anyone to run to the
obligators, would we? Kell's covered his tracks quite well, but the less the
authorities hear, the better, eh? Oh, and what about you, Yeden? You're a bit
too nervous. Let's Soothe that, take away your worries. Leave only that
passion of yours—hopefully, it will be enough to cover up that stupid tone in
your voice."
Vin continued to watch. Now that Kelsier had gone, she found it easier to
focus on the crowd's reactions, and on Breeze's work. As Yeden spoke, the
workers outside seemed to react exactly according to Breeze's mumbled
instructions. Yeden, too, showed effects of the Soothing: He grew more
comfortable, his voice more confident, as he spoke.
Curious, Vin let her copper drop again. She concentrated, seeing if she
could sense Breeze's touch on her emotions; she would be included in his
general Allomantic projections. He didn't have time to pick and choose
individuals, except maybe Yeden. It was very, very difficult to sense. Yet, as
Breeze sat mumbling to himself, she began to feel the exact emotions he
described.
Vin couldn't help but be impressed. The few times that Kelsier had used
Allomancy on her emotions, his touch has been like a sudden, blunt punch to
the face. He had strength, but very little subtlety.
Breeze's touch was incredibly delicate. He Soothed certain emotions,
dampening them while leaving others unaffected. Vin thought she could
sense his men Rioting on her emotions, too, but these touches weren't nearly
as subtle as Breeze's. She left her copper off, watching for touches on her
emotions as Yeden continued his speech. He explained that the men who
joined with them would have to leave family and friends for a time—as long
as a year—but would be fed well during that time.
Vin felt her respect for Breeze continue to rise. Suddenly, she didn't feel so
annoyed with Kelsier for handing her off. Breeze could only do one thing, but
he obviously had a great deal of practice at it. Kelsier, as a Mistborn, had to
learn all of the Allomantic skills; it made sense that he wouldn't be as
focused in any one power.
I need to make certain he sends me to learn from the others, Vin thought.
They'll be masters at their own powers.
Vin turned her attention back to the dining room as Yeden wrapped up.
"You heard Kelsier, the Survivor of Hathsin," he said. "The rumors about
him are true—he's given up his thieving ways, and turned his considerable
attention toward working for the skaa rebellion! Men, we are preparing for
something grand. Something that may, indeed, end up being our last struggle
against the Final Empire. Join with us. Join with your brothers. Join with the
Survivor himself!"
The dining room fell silent.
"Bright red," Breeze said. "I want those men to leave feeling passionate
about what they've heard."
"The emotions will fade, won't they?" Vin said as a red-clothed serving
girl entered the crowd.
"Yes," Breeze said, sitting back and sliding the panel closed. "But
memories stay. If people associate strong emotion with an event, they'll
remember it better."
A few moments later, Ham entered through the back door. "That went
well. The men are leaving invigorated, and a number of them are staying
behind. We'll have a good set of volunteers to send off to the caves."
Breeze shook his head. "It's not enough. Dox takes a few days to organize
each of these meetings, and we only get about twenty men from each one. At
this rate, we'll never hit ten thousand in time."
"You think we need more meetings?" Ham asked. "That's going to be
tough—we have to be very careful with these things, so only those who can
be reasonably trusted are invited."
Breeze sat for a moment. Finally, he downed the rest of his wine. "I don't
know—but we'll have to think of something. For now, let's return to the
shop. I believe Kelsier wishes to hold a progress meeting this evening."
Kelsier looked to the west. The afternoon sun was a poisonous red, shining
angrily through a sky of smoke. Just below it, Kelsier could see the
silhouetted tip of a dark peak. Tyrian, closest of the Ashmounts.
He stood atop Clubs's flat-roofed shop, listening to workers returning
home on the streets below. A flat roof meant having to shovel off ash
occasionally, which was why most skaa buildings were peaked, but in
Kelsier's opinion the view was often worth a bit of trouble.
Below him, the skaa workers trudged in despondent ranks, their passing
kicking up a small cloud of ash. Kelsier turned away from them, looking
toward the northern horizon . . . toward the Pits of Hathsin.
Where does it go? he thought. The atium reaches the city, but then
disappears. It isn't the Ministry—we've watched them—and no skaa hands
touch the metal. We assume it goes into the treasury. We hope it does, at
least.
While burning atium, a Mistborn was virtually unstoppable, which was
part of why it was so valuable. But, his plan was about more than just wealth.
He knew how much atium was harvested at the pits, and Dockson had
researched the amounts that the Lord Ruler doled out—at exorbitant prices—
to the nobility. Barely a tenth of what was mined eventually found its way
into noble hands.
Ninety percent of the atium produced in the world had been stockpiled,
year after year, for a thousand years. With that much of the metal, Kelsier's
team could intimidate even the most powerful of the noble houses. Yeden's
plan to hold the palace probably seemed futile to many—indeed, on its own,
it was doomed to fail. However, Kelsier's other plans . . .
Kelsier glanced down at the small, whitish bar in his hand. The Eleventh
Metal. He knew the rumors about it—he'd started them. Now, he just had to
make good on them.
He sighed, turning eyes east, toward Kredik Shaw, the Lord Ruler's palace.
The name was Terris; it meant "The Hill of a Thousand Spires." Appropriate,
since the imperial palace resembled a patch of enormous black spears thrust
into the ground. Some of the spires twisted, others were straight. Some were
thick towers, others were thin and needlelike. They varied in height, but each
one was tall. And each one ended in a point.
Kredik Shaw. That's where it had ended three years before. And he needed
to go back.
The trapdoor opened, and a figure climbed onto the roof. Kelsier turned
with a raised eyebrow as Sazed brushed off his robe, then approached in his
characteristically respectful posture. Even a rebellious Terrisman maintained
the form of his training.
"Master Kelsier," Sazed said with a bow.
Kelsier nodded, and Sazed stepped up beside him, looking toward the
imperial palace. "Ah," he said to himself, as if understanding Kelsier's
thoughts.
Kelsier smiled. Sazed had been a valuable find indeed. Keepers were
necessarily secretive, for the Lord Ruler had hunted them practically since the
Day of Ascension itself. Some legends claimed that the Ruler's complete
subjugation of the Terris people—including the breeding and stewardship
programs—was simply an outgrowth of his hatred for Keepers.
"I wonder what he would think if he knew a Keeper was in Luthadel,"
Kelsier said, "barely a short walk from the palace itself."
"Let us hope we never find out, Master Kelsier," Sazed said.
"I appreciate your willingness to come here to the city, Saze. I know it's a
risk."
"This is a good work," Sazed said. "And this plan is dangerous for all
involved. Indeed, simply living is dangerous for me, I think. It is not healthy
to belong to a sect that the Lord Ruler himself fears."
"Fears?" Kelsier asked, turning to look up at Sazed. Despite Kelsier's
above-average height, the Terrisman was still a good head taller. "I'm not
sure if he fears anything, Saze."
"He fears the Keepers," Sazed said. "Definitely and inexplicably. Perhaps
it is because of our powers. We are not Allomancers, but . . . something else.
Something unknown to him."
Kelsier nodded, turning back toward the city. He had so many plans, so
much work to do—and at the core of it all were the skaa. The poor, humble,
defeated skaa.
"Tell me about another one, Saze," Kelsier said. "One with power."
"Power?" Sazed asked. "That is a relative term when applied to religion, I
think. Perhaps you would like to hear of Jaism. Its followers were quite
faithful and devout."
"Tell me about them."
"Jaism was founded by a single man," Sazed said. "His true name is lost,
though his followers simply called him 'the Ja.' He was murdered by a local
king for preaching discord—something he was apparently very good at—but
that only made his following larger.
"The Jaists thought that they earned happiness proportional to their overt
devotion, and were known for frequent and fervent professions of faith.
Apparently, speaking with a Jaist could be frustrating, since they tended to
end nearly every sentence with 'Praise the Ja.' "
"That's nice, Saze," Kelsier said. "But power is more than just words."
"Oh, quite indeed," Sazed agreed. "The Jaists were strong in their faith.
Legends say that the Ministry had to wipe them out completely, since not one
Jaist would accept the Lord Ruler as God. They didn't last long past the
Ascension, but only because they were so blatant that they were easy to hunt
down and kill."
Kelsier nodded, then he smiled, eyeing Sazed. "You didn't ask me if I
wanted to convert."
"My apologies, Master Kelsier," Sazed said, "but the religion does not suit
you, I think. It has a level of brashness that you might find appealing, but you
would find the theology simplistic."
"You're getting to know me too well," Kelsier said, still regarding the city.
"In the end, after kingdoms and armies had fallen, the religions were still
fighting, weren't they?"
"Indeed," Sazed said. "Some of the more resilient religions lasted all the
way until the fifth century."
"What made them so strong?" Kelsier said. "How did they do it, Saze?
What gave these theologies such power over people?"
"It wasn't any one thing, I think," Sazed said. "Some were strong through
honest faith, others because of the hope they promised. Others were
coercive."
"But they all had passion," Kelsier said.
"Yes, Master Kelsier," Sazed said with a nod. "That is a quite true
statement."
"That's what we've lost," Kelsier said, looking over the city with its
hundreds of thousands, barely a handful of whom would dare fight. "They
don't have faith in the Lord Ruler, they simply fear him. They don't have
anything left to believe in."
"What do you believe in, if I may ask, Master Kelsier?"
Kelsier raised an eyebrow. "I'm not exactly sure yet," he admitted. "But
overthrowing the Final Empire seems like a good start. Are there any
religions on your list that include the slaughter of noblemen as a holy duty?"
Sazed frowned disapprovingly. "I do not believe so, Master Kelsier."
"Maybe I should found one," Kelsier said with an idle smile. "Anyway,
have Breeze and Vin returned yet?"
"They arrived just before I came up here."
"Good," Kelsier said with a nod. "Tell them I'll be down in a moment."
Vin sat in her overstuffed chair in the conference room, legs tucked beneath
her, trying to study Marsh out of the corner of her eye.
He looked so much like Kelsier. He was just . . . stern. He wasn't angry,
nor was he grumpy like Clubs. He just wasn't happy. He sat in his chair, a
neutral expression on his face.
The others had all arrived except for Kelsier, and they were chatting
quietly amongst themselves. Vin caught Lestibournes's eye and waved him
over. The teenage boy approached and crouched beside her chair.
"Marsh," Vin whispered beneath the general hum of the room. "Is that a
nickname?"
"Notting without the call of his parents."
Vin paused, trying to decipher the boy's eastern dialect. "Not a nickname,
then?"
Lestibournes shook his head. "He wasing one though."
"What was it?"
"Ironeyes. Others stopped using it. Too calling close to an iron in the real
eyes, eh? Inquisitor."
Vin glanced at Marsh again. His expression was hard, his eyes
unwavering, almost like they were made of iron. She could see why people
would stop using the nickname; even referring to a Steel Inquisitor made her
shiver.
"Thanks."
Lestibournes smiled. He was an earnest boy. Strange, intense, and jumpy
—but earnest. He retreated to his stool as Kelsier finally arrived.
"All right, crew," he said. "What've we got?"
"Besides the bad news?" Breeze asked.
"Let's hear it."
"It's been twelve weeks, and we've gathered under two thousand men,"
Ham said. "Even with the numbers the rebellion already has, we're going to
fall short."
"Dox?" Kelsier asked. "Can we get more meetings?"
"Probably," Dockson said from his seat beside a table stacked with ledgers.
"Are you sure you want to take that risk, Kelsier?" Yeden asked. His
attitude had improved during the last few weeks—especially once Kelsier's
recruits had begun to file in. As Reen had always said, results made quick
friends.
"We're already in danger," Yeden continued. "Rumors are all over the
underground. If we make any more of a stir, the Ministry is going to realize
that something major is happening."
"He's probably right, Kell," Dockson said. "Besides, there are only so
many skaa willing to listen. Luthadel is big, true, but our movement here is
limited."
"All right," Kelsier said. "So, we'll start working the other towns in the
area. Breeze, can you split your crew into two effective groups?"
"I suppose," Breeze said hesitantly.
"We can have one team work in Luthadel and the other work in
surrounding towns. I can probably make it to all of the meetings, assuming
we organize them so they don't happen at the same time."
"That many meetings will expose us even more," Yeden said.
"And that, by the way, brings up another problem," Ham said. "Weren't
we supposed to be working on infiltrating the Ministry's ranks?"
"Well?" Kelsier asked, turning to Marsh.
Marsh shook his head. "The Ministry is tight—I need more time."
"It's not going to happen," Clubs grumbled. "Rebellion's already tried it."
Yeden nodded. "We've tried to get spies into the Inner Ministries a dozen
times. It's impossible."
The room fell silent.
"I have an idea," Vin said quietly.
Kelsier raised an eyebrow.
"Camon," she said. "He was working on a job before you recruited me.
Actually, it was the job that got us spotted by the obligators. The core of that
plan was organized by another thief, a crewleader named Theron. He was
setting up a fake canal convoy to carry Ministry funds to Luthadel."
"And?" Breeze asked.
"Those same canal boats would have brought new Ministry acolytes to
Luthadel for the final part of their training. Theron has a contact along the
route, a lesser obligator who was open to bribes. Maybe we could get him to
add an 'acolyte' to the group from his local chapter."
Kelsier nodded thoughtfully. "It's worth looking into."
Dockson scribbled something on a sheet with his fountain pen. "I'll contact
Theron and see if his informant is still viable."
"How are our resources coming?" Kelsier asked.
Dockson shrugged. "Ham found us two ex-soldier instructors. The
weapons, however . . . well, Renoux and I are making contacts and initiating
deals, but we can't move very quickly. Fortunately, when the weapons come,
they should come in bulk."
Kelsier nodded. "That's everything, right?"
Breeze cleared his throat. "I've . . . been hearing a lot of rumors on the
streets, Kelsier," he said. "The people are talking about this Eleventh Metal
of yours."
"Good," Kelsier said.
"Aren't you worried that the Lord Ruler will hear? If he has forewarning of
what you're going to do, it will be much more difficult to . . . resist him."
He didn't say "kill," Vin thought. They don't think that Kelsier can do it.
Kelsier just smiled. "Don't worry about the Lord Ruler—I've got things
under control. In fact, I intend to pay the Lord Ruler a personal visit
sometime during the next few days."
"Visit?" Yeden asked uncomfortably. "You're going to visit the Lord
Ruler? Are you insa . . ." Yeden trailed off, then glanced at the rest of the
room. "Right. I forgot."
"He's catching on," Dockson noted.
Heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway, and one of Ham's guards entered
a moment later. He made his way to Ham's chair and whispered a brief
message.
Ham frowned.
"What?" Kelsier asked.
"An incident," Ham said.
"Incident?" Dockson asked. "What kind of incident?"
"You know that lair we met in a few weeks back?" Ham said. "The one
where Kell first introduced his plan?"
Camon's lair, Vin thought, growing apprehensive.
"Well," Ham said, "apparently the Ministry found it."
It seems Rashek represents a growing faction in Terris culture. A large number of the youths
think that their unusual powers should be used for more than just fieldwork, husbandry, and
stonecarving. They are rowdy, even violent—far different from the quiet, discerning Terris
philosophers and holy men that I have known.
They will have to be watched carefully, these Terrismen. They could be very dangerous, if
given the opportunity and the motivation.
11
KELSIER PAUSED IN THE DOORWAY, blocking Vin's view. She stooped down,
trying to peek past him into the lair, but too many people were in the way.
She could only tell that the door hung at an angle, splintered, the upper hinge
torn free.
Kelsier stood for a long moment. Finally, he turned, looking past Dockson
toward her. "Ham is right, Vin. You may not want to see this."
Vin stood where she was, looking at him resolutely. Finally, Kelsier
sighed, stepping into the room. Dockson followed, and Vin could finally see
what they had been blocking.
The floor was scattered with corpses, their twisted limbs shadowed and
haunting in the light of Dockson's solitary lantern. They weren't rotting yet
—the attack had happened only that morning—but there was still a smell of
death about the room. The scent of blood drying slowly, the scent of misery
and of terror.
Vin remained in the doorway. She'd seen death before—seen it often, on
the streets. Knifings in alleys. Beatings in lairs. Children dead of starvation.
She had once seen an old woman's neck snapped by the backhand of an
annoyed lord. The body had lain in the street for three days before a skaa
corpse crew had finally come for it.
Yet, none of those incidents had the same air of intentional butchery that
she saw in Camon's lair. These men hadn't simply been killed, they had been
torn apart. Limbs lay separated from torsos. Broken chairs and tables impaled
chests. There were only a few patches of floor that were not covered in
sticky, dark blood.
Kelsier glanced at her, obviously expecting some sort of reaction. She
stood, looking over the death, feeling . . . numb. What should her reaction be?
These were the men who had mistreated her, stolen from her, beaten her. And
yet, these were the men who had sheltered her, included her, and fed her
when others might have simply given her to the whoremasters.
Reen probably would have berated her for the traitorous sadness she felt at
the sight. Of course, he had always been angry when—as a child—she'd
cried as they left one town for another, not wanting to leave the people she'd
grown to know, no matter how cruel or indifferent they were. Apparently, she
hadn't quite gotten over that weakness. She stepped into the room, not
shedding any tears for these men, yet at the same time wishing that they had
not come to such an end.
In addition, the gore itself was disturbing. She tried to force herself to
maintain a stiff face in front of the others, but she found herself cringing
occasionally, glancing away from mangled corpses. The ones who had
performed the attack had been quite . . . thorough.
This seems extreme, even for the Ministry, she thought. What kind of
person would do something like this?
"Inquisitor," Dockson said quietly, kneeling by a corpse.
Kelsier nodded. Behind Vin, Sazed stepped into the room, careful to keep
his robes clear of the blood. Vin turned toward the Terrisman, letting his
actions distract her from a particularly grisly corpse. Kelsier was a Mistborn,
and Dockson was supposedly a capable warrior. Ham and his men were
securing the area. However, others—Breeze, Yeden, and Clubs—had stayed
behind. The area was too dangerous. Kelsier had even resisted Vin's desire to
come.
Yet, he had brought Sazed without apparent hesitation. The move, subtle
though it was, made Vin regard the steward with a new curiosity. Why would
it be too dangerous for Mistings, yet safe enough for a Terrisman steward?
Was Sazed a warrior? How would he have learned to fight? Terrismen were
supposedly raised from birth by very careful trainers.
Sazed's smooth step and calm face gave her few clues. He didn't appear
shocked by the carnage, however.
Interesting, Vin thought, picking her way through shattered furniture,
stepping clear of blood pools, making her way to Kelsier's side. He crouched
beside a pair of corpses. One, Vin noticed in a moment of shock, had been
Ulef. The boy's face was contorted and pained, the front of his chest a mass
of broken bones and ripped flesh—as if someone had forcibly torn the rib
cage apart with his hands. Vin shivered, looking away.
"This isn't good," Kelsier said quietly. "Steel Inquisitors don't generally
bother with simple thieving crews. Usually, the obligators would just come
down with their troops and take everyone captive, then use them to make a
good show on an execution day. An Inquisitor would only get involved if it
had a special interest in the crew."
"You think . . ." Vin said. "You think it might be the same one as before?"
Kelsier nodded. "There are only about twenty Steel Inquisitors in the
whole of the Final Empire, and half of them are out of Luthadel at any given
time. I find it too much of a coincidence that you would catch one's interest,
escape, and then have your old lair get hit."
Vin stood quietly, forcing herself to look down at Ulef's body and confront
her sorrow. He had betrayed her in the end, but for a time he had almost been
a friend.
"So," she said quietly, "the Inquisitor still has my scent?"
Kelsier nodded, standing.
"Then this is my fault," Vin said. "Ulef and the others . . ."
"It was Camon's fault," Kelsier said firmly. "He's the one who tried to
scam an obligator." He paused, then looked over at her. "You going to be all
right?"
Vin looked up from Ulef's mangled corpse, trying to remain strong. She
shrugged. "None of them were my friends."
"That's kind of coldhearted, Vin."
"I know," she said with a quiet nod.
Kelsier regarded her for a moment, then crossed the room to speak with
Dockson.
Vin looked back at Ulef's wounds. They looked like the work of some
crazed animal, not a single man.
The Inquisitor must have had help, Vin told herself. There is no way one
person, even an Inquisitor, could have done all this. There was a pileup of
bodies near the bolt exit, but a quick count told her that most—if not all—of
the crew was accounted for. One man couldn't have gotten to all of them
quickly enough . . . could he have?
There are a lot of things we don't know about the Inquisitors, Kelsier had
told her. They don't quite follow the normal rules.
Vin shivered again.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Vin grew tense, crouching and
preparing to run.
Ham's familiar figure appeared in the stairwell. "Area's secure," he said,
holding up a second lantern. "No sign of obligators or Garrisoners."
"That's their style," Kelsier said. "They want the massacre to be
discovered—they left the dead as a sign."
The room fell silent save for a low mumbling from Sazed, who stood at the
far left side of the room. Vin picked her way over to him, listening to the
rhythmic cadence of his voice. Eventually, he stopped speaking, then bowed
his head and closed his eyes.
"What was that?" Vin asked as he looked up again.
"A prayer," Sazed said. "A death chant of the Cazzi. It is meant to awaken
the spirits of the dead and entice them free from their flesh so that they may
return to the mountain of souls." He glanced at her. "I can teach you of the
religion, if you wish, Mistress. The Cazzi were an interesting people—very
familiar with death."
Vin shook her head. "Not right now. You said their prayer—is this the
religion you believe in, then?"
"I believe in them all."
Vin frowned. "None of them contradict each other?"
Sazed smiled. "Oh, often and frequently they do. But, I respect the truths
behind them all—and I believe in the need for each one to be remembered."
"Then, how did you decide which religion's prayer to use?" Vin asked.