my parents are on ball nights—if I don't go out and bid farewell to at least
some of the guests, I'll be nagged about it for weeks."
The younger man wished them good night, walking back toward the main
ballroom. Telden sipped his drink, eyeing Elend.
"I'm not thinking about her," Elend said testily.
"What, then?"
"The meeting tonight," Elend said. "I'm not sure if I like how it went."
"Bah," the large man said with a wave of his hand. "You're getting as bad
as Jastes. What happened to the man who attended these meetings just to
relax and enjoy time with his friends?"
"He's worried," Elend said. "Some of his friends might end up in charge of
their houses sooner than he expected, and he's worried that none of us are
ready."
Telden snorted. "Don't be so melodramatic," he said, smiling and winking
to the serving girl who came to clear away his empty cups. "I have a feeling
that this is all just going to blow over. In a few months, we'll look back and
wonder what all the fretting was about."
Kale Tekiel won't look back, Elend thought.
The conversation waned, however, and Telden eventually excused himself.
Elend sat for a while longer, opening The Dictates of Society for another read,
but he had trouble concentrating. He turned the cup of brandy in his fingers,
but didn't drink much.
I wonder if Valette's out yet. . . . He'd tried to find her once his meeting
was over, but apparently she'd been in a private gathering of her own.
That girl, he thought lazily, is far too interested in politics for her own
good. Perhaps he was just jealous—only a few months in court, and she
already seemed to be more competent than he was. She was so fearless, so
bold, so . . . interesting. She didn't fit any of the courtly stereotypes he'd been
taught to expect.
Could Jastes be right? he wondered. She certainly is different from other
women, and she did imply there were things about her I didn't know.
Elend pushed the thought out of his mind. Valette was different, true—but
she was also innocent, in a way. Eager, full of wonder and spunk.
He worried about her; she obviously didn't know how dangerous Luthadel
could be. There was so much more to politics in the city than simple parties
and petty intrigues. What would happen if someone decided to send a
Mistborn to deal with her and her uncle? Renoux was poorly connected, and
none of the court's members would blink twice at a few assassinations in
Fellise. Did Valette's uncle know how to take the proper precautions? Did he
even worry about Allomancers?
Elend sighed. He'd just have to make certain that Valette left the area. That
was the only option.
By the time his carriage reached Keep Venture, Elend had decided that he'd
drunk too much. He made his way up to his rooms, looking forward to his
bed and pillows.
The hallway to his bedroom, however, passed by his father's study. The
door was open, and light still spilled out despite the late hour. Elend tried to
walk quietly on the carpeted floor, but he'd never really been all that stealthy.
"Elend?" his father's voice called from the study. "Come in here."
Elend sighed quietly. Lord Straff Venture didn't miss much. He was a
Tineye—his senses were so keen that he'd probably heard Elend's carriage
approaching outside. If I don't deal with him now, he'll just send the servants
to pester me until I come down to speak with him. . . .
Elend turned and walked into the study. His father sat in his chair,
speaking quietly with TenSoon—the Venture Kandra. Elend still wasn't used
to the creature's most recent body, which had once belonged to a servant in
the Hasting household. Elend shivered as it noticed him. It bowed, then
quietly retreated from the room.
Elend leaned against the doorframe. Straff's chair sat in front of several
shelves of books—not a single one of which, Elend was confident, his father
had ever read. The room was lit by two lamps, their hoods mostly closed to
allow out only a bit of light.
"You attended the ball tonight," Straff said. "What did you learn?"
Elend reached up, rubbing his forehead. "That I have a tendency to drink
far too much brandy."
Straff was not amused by the comment. He was the perfect imperial
nobleman—tall, firm-shouldered, always dressed in a tailored vest and suit.
"You met with that . . . woman again?" he asked.
"Valette? Hum, yes. Not for as long as I would have liked, though."
"I forbade you from spending time with her."
"Yes," Elend said. "I remember."
Straff's expression darkened. He stood, walking over to the desk. "Oh,
Elend," he said. "When are you going to get over this childish temperament
you have? Do you think I don't realize that you act foolishly simply to spite
me?"
"Actually, I got over my 'childish temperament' some time ago, Father—it
just seems that my natural inclinations work even better to annoy you. I wish
I had known that earlier; I could have saved a great deal of effort in my
younger years."
His father snorted, then held up a letter. "I dictated this to Staxles a short
time ago. It is an acceptance of a lunch appointment with Lord Tegas
tomorrow afternoon. If a house war does come, I want to make certain we are
in a position to destroy the Hastings as quickly as possible, and Tegas could
be a strong ally. He has a daughter. I'd like you to dine with her at the
luncheon."
"I'll consider it," Elend said, tapping his head. "I'm not sure what kind of
state I'll be in tomorrow morning. Too much brandy, remember?"
"You'll be there, Elend. This is not a request."
Elend paused. A part of him wanted to snap back at his father, to make a
stand—not because he cared about where he dined, but because of something
far more important.
Hasting is the second-most-powerful house in the city. If we made an
allegiance with them, together we could keep Luthadel from chaos. We could
stop the house war, not enflame it.
That's what his books had done to him—they had changed him from
rebellious fop into would-be philosopher. Unfortunately, he'd been a fool for
so long. Was it any wonder that Straff hadn't noticed the change in his son?
Elend himself was only starting to realize it.
Straff continued to glare at him, and Elend looked away. "I'll think about
it," he said.
Straff waved his hand dismissively, turning.
Trying to salvage something of his pride, Elend continued. "You probably
don't even have to worry about the Hastings—it seems that they're making
preparations to bolt the city."
"What?" Straff asked. "Where did you hear that?"
"At the ball," Elend said lightly.
"I thought you said you didn't learn anything important."
"Now, see, I never said anything of the sort. I just didn't feel like sharing
with you."
Lord Venture frowned. "I don't know why I even care—anything you
learn is bound to be worthless. I tried to train you in politics, boy. I really did.
But now . . . well, I hope I live to see you dead, because this house is in for
dire times if you ever take control."
"I know more than you think, Father."
Straff laughed, walking back to sit in his chair. "I doubt that, boy. Why,
you can't even bed a woman properly—the last, and only, time I know about
you trying it, I had to take you to the brothel myself."
Elend flushed. Careful, he told himself. He's bringing that up on purpose.
He knows how much it bothers you.
"Get to bed, boy," Straff said with a wave of his hand. "You look terrible."
Elend stood for a moment, then finally ducked out into the hallway,
sighing quietly to himself.
That's the difference between you and them, Elend, he thought. Those
philosophers you read—they were revolutionaries. They were willing to risk
execution. You can't even stand up to your father.
He walked tiredly up to his rooms—where, oddly, he found a servant
waiting for him.
Elend frowned. "Yes?"
"Lord Elend, you have a guest," the man said.
"At this hour?"
"It's Lord Jastes Lekal, my lord."
Elend cocked his head slightly. What in the Lord Ruler's name . . .? "He's
waiting in the sitting room, I assume?"
"Yes, my lord," the servant said.
Elend turned regretfully away from his chambers, walking back down the
hallway. He found Jastes waiting impatiently.
"Jastes?" Elend said tiredly, walking into the sitting room. "I hope you
have something very important to tell me."
Jastes shuffled uncomfortably for a moment, looking even more nervous
than normal.
"What?" Elend demanded, his patience waning.
"It's about the girl."
"Valette?" Elend asked. "You came here to discuss Valette? Now?"
"You should trust your friends more," Jastes said.
Elend snorted. "Trust your knowledge of women? No offense, Jastes, but I
think not."
"I had her followed, Elend," Jastes blurted out.
Elend paused. "What?"
"I had her carriage followed. Or, at least, I had someone watch for it at the
city gates. She wasn't in it when it left the city."
"What do you mean?" Elend asked, his frown deepening.
"She wasn't in the carriage, Elend," Jastes repeated. "While her Terrisman
was producing papers for the guards, my man snuck up and peeked through
the carriage window, and there was nobody inside.
"The carriage must have dropped her off somewhere in town. She's a spy
from one of the other houses—they're trying to get at your father through
you. They created the perfect woman to attract you—dark-haired, a bit
mysterious, and outside of the regular political structure. They made her
lowborn enough that it would be a scandal for you to be interested in her,
then set her on you."
"Jastes, this is ridicu—"
"Elend," Jastes interrupted. "Tell me one more time: How did you meet her
the first time?"
Elend paused. "She was standing on the balcony."
"In your reading spot," Jastes said. "Everyone knows that's where you
usually go. Coincidence?"
Elend closed his eyes. Not Valette. She can't be part of all this. But,
immediately, another thought occurred to him. I told her about the atium!
How could I be so stupid?
It couldn't be true. He wouldn't believe that he had been duped so easily.
But . . . could he risk it? He was a bad son, true, but he was no traitor to the
house. He didn't want to see Venture fall; he wanted to lead it someday, so
that perhaps he'd be able to change things.
He bid Jastes farewell, then walked back to his rooms with a distracted step.
He felt too tired to think about house politics. However, when he finally got
into bed, he found that he couldn't sleep.
Eventually, he rose, sending for a servant.
"Tell my father I want to make a trade," Elend explained to the man. "I'll
go to his luncheon tomorrow, just as he wants." Elend paused, standing in his
evening robe by his bedroom door.
"In exchange," he finally said, "tell him I want to borrow a couple of spies
so that they can follow someone for me."
The others all think I should have had Kwaan executed for betraying me. To tell the truth, I'd
probably kill him this moment if I knew where he'd gone. At the time, however, I just couldn't do
it.
The man had become like a father to me. To this day, I don't know why he suddenly decided
that I wasn't the Hero. Why did he turn against me, denouncing me to the entire Conclave of
Worldbringers?
Would he rather that the Deepness win? Surely, even if I'm not the right one—as Kwaan now
claims—my presence at the Well of Ascension couldn't possibly be worse than what will happen
if the Deepness continues to destroy the land.
29
IT'S ALMOST OVER, VIN READ.
We can see the cavern from our camp. It will take a few more hours of hiking to reach it, but I
know that it is the right place. I can feel it somehow, feel it up there . . . pulsing, in my mind.
It's so cold. I swear that the rocks themselves are made of ice, and the snow is deep enough
in places that we have to dig our way through. The wind blows all the time. I fear for Fedik—he
hasn't been quite the same since the creature made of mist attacked him, and I worry that he will
wander off a cliffside or slip through one of the many icy rifts in the ground.
The Terrismen, however, are a wonder. It is fortunate that we brought them, for no regular
packmen would have survived the trip. The Terrismen don't seem to mind the cold—something
about their strange metabolisms gives them a supernatural ability to resist the elements. Perhaps
they have "saved up" heat from their bodies for later use?
They won't talk about their powers, however—and I am sure that Rashek is to blame. The
other packmen look to him for leadership, though I don't think he has complete control over
them. Before he was stabbed, Fedik feared that the Terrismen would abandon us up here in the
ice. I don't think that will happen, however. I am here by providence of Terris prophecies—these
men will not disobey their own religion simply because one of their number has taken a dislike
to me.
I did finally confront Rashek. He did not want to speak to me, of course, but I forced him.
Unleashed, he spoke at great length regarding his hatred of Khlennium and my people. He thinks
that we have turned his people into little more than slaves. He thinks that Terrismen deserve far
more—he keeps saying that his people should be "dominant" because of their supernatural
powers.
I fear his words, for I see some truth in them. Yesterday, one of the packmen lifted a boulder
of enormous size, then tossed it out of our way with an almost casual throw. I have not seen such
a feat of strength in all my days.
These Terrismen could be very dangerous, I think. Perhaps we have treated them unfairly.
However, men like Rashek must be contained—he irrationally believes that all people outside of
Terris have oppressed him. He is such a young man to be so angry.
It is so cold. When this is finished, I think I should like to live where it is warm all year.
Braches has told of such places, islands to the south where great mountains create fire.
What will it be like, when this is all over? I will be just a regular man again. An unimportant
man. It sounds nice—more desirable, even, than a warm sun and a windless sky. I am so tired of
being the Hero of Ages, tired of entering cities to find either armed hostility or fanatic adoration.
I am tired of being loved and hated for what a bunch of old men say I will eventually do.
I want to be forgotten. Obscurity. Yes, that would be nice.
If men read these words, let them know that power is a heavy burden. Seek not to be bound
by its chains. The Terris prophecies say that I will have the power to save the world. They hint,
however, that I will have the power to destroy it as well.
I will have the ability to fulfill any wish of my heart. "He will take upon himself authority
that no mortal should hold." Yet, the philosophers warned me that if I am self-serving with the
power, my selfishness will taint it.
Is this a burden that any man should bear? Is this a temptation any man could resist? I feel
strong now, but what will happen when I touch that power? I will save the world, certainly—but
will I try to take it as well?
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.
Vin eagerly turned the page. The back page of the booklet, however, was
empty. She turned it over, rereading the last few lines. Where was the next
entry?
Sazed must not have finished the last part yet. She stood, sighing as she
stretched. She'd finished the entire newest portion of the logbook in one
sitting, a feat that surprised even her. The gardens of Mansion Renoux
extended before her, the cultured pathways, broad-limbed trees, and quiet
stream creating her favorite reading spot. The sun was low in the sky, and it
was beginning to get chilly.
She wound her way up the path toward the mansion. Despite the chill
evening, she could barely imagine a place like the one the Lord Ruler
described. She had seen snow on some distant peaks, but she had rarely seen
it fall—and even then it was usually just an icy slush. To experience that
much snow day after day, to be in danger of having it fall upon you in great
crushing avalanches . . .
A part of her wished that she could visit such places, no matter how
dangerous. Though the logbook didn't describe the Lord Ruler's entire
journey, some of the marvels it did include—the ice fields to the north, the
great black lake, and the Terris waterfalls—sounded amazing.
If only he'd put in more detail about what things look like! she thought
with annoyance. The Lord Ruler spent far too much time worrying. Though,
admittedly, she was beginning to feel an odd sort of . . . familiarity with him
through his words. She found it hard to associate the person in her mind with
the dark creature that had caused so much death. What had occurred at the
Well of Ascension? What could have changed him so drastically? She had to
know.
She reached the mansion and went searching for Sazed. She was back to
wearing dresses—it felt odd to be seen in trousers by anyone but the
crewmembers. She smiled at Lord Renoux's interior steward as she passed,
eagerly climbing the main entryway stairs and seeking out the library.
Sazed wasn't inside. His small desk sat empty, the lamp extinguished, the
inkwell empty. Vin frowned in annoyance.
Wherever he is, he'd better be working on the translation!
She went back down the stairs, asking after Sazed, and a maid directed her
to the main kitchen. Vin frowned, making her way down the back hallway.
Getting himself a snack, perhaps?
She found Sazed standing amongst a small group of servants, pointing
toward a list on the table and speaking in a low voice. He didn't notice Vin as
she entered.
"Sazed?" Vin asked, interrupting him.
He turned. "Yes, Mistress Valette?" he asked, bowing slightly.
"What are you doing?"
"I am seeing to Lord Renoux's food stores, Mistress. Though I have been
assigned to assist you, I am still his steward, and have duties to attend to
when I am not otherwise occupied."
"Are you going to get back to the translation soon?"
Sazed cocked his head. "Translation, Mistress? It is finished."
"Where's the last part, then?"
"I gave it to you," Sazed said.
"No, you didn't," she said. "This part ends the night before they go into the
cavern."
"That is the end, Mistress. That is as far as the logbook went."
"What?" she said. "But . . ."
Sazed glanced at the other servants. "We should speak of these things in
private, I think." He gave them a few more instructions, pointing at the list,
then nodded for Vin to join him as he made his way out the back kitchen exit
and into the side gardens.
Vin stood dumbfounded for a moment, then hurried out to join him. "It
can't end like that, Saze. We don't know what happened!"
"We can surmise, I think," Sazed said, walking down the garden path. The
eastern gardens weren't as lavish as the ones Vin frequented, and were
instead made up of smooth brown grass and the occasional shrub.
"Surmise what?" Vin asked.
"Well, the Lord Ruler must have done what was necessary to save the
world, for we are still here."
"I suppose," Vin said. "But then he took the power for himself. That must
have been what happened—he couldn't resist the temptation to use the power
selfishly. But, why isn't there another entry? Why wouldn't he speak further
of his accomplishments?"
"Perhaps the power changed him too much," Sazed said. "Or, maybe he
simply didn't feel a need to record any more. He had accomplished his goal,
and had become immortal as a side benefit. Keeping a journal for one's
posterity becomes somewhat redundant when one is going to live forever, I
think."
"That's just . . ." Vin ground her teeth in frustration. "It's a very
unsatisfying end to a story, Sazed."
He smiled in amusement. "Be careful, Mistress—become too fond of
reading, and you may just turn into a scholar."
Vin shook her head. "Not if all the books I read are going to end like this
one!"
"If it is of any comfort," Sazed said, "you are not the only one who is
disappointed by the logbook's contents. It didn't contain much that Master
Kelsier could use—certainly, there was nothing about the Eleventh Metal. I
feel somewhat guilty, since I am the one who benefited most from the book."
"But, there wasn't very much about the Terris religion either."
"Not much," Sazed agreed. "But, truly and regretfully, 'not much' is far
more than we knew previously. I am only worried that I will not have an
opportunity to pass this information on. I have sent a translated copy of the
logbook to a location where my brethren and sister Keepers will know to
check—it would be a pity if this new knowledge were to die with me."
"It won't," Vin said.
"Oh? Has my lady suddenly become an optimist?"
"Has my Terrisman suddenly become a smart-mouth?" Vin retorted.
"He always has been, I think," Sazed said with a slight smile. "It is one of
the things that made him a poor steward—at least, in the eyes of most of his
masters."
"Then they must have been fools," Vin said honestly.
"So I was inclined to think, Mistress," Sazed replied. "We should return to
the mansion—we should not be seen out in the gardens when the mists arrive,
I think."
"I'm just going to go back out into them."
"There are many of the grounds staff that do not know you are Mistborn,
Mistress," Sazed said. "It would be a good secret to keep, I think."
"I know," Vin said, turning. "Let's go back then."
"A wise plan."
They walked for a few moments, enjoying the eastern garden's subtle
beauty. The grasses were kept carefully trimmed, and they had been arranged
in pleasant tiers, the occasional shrubbery giving accent. The southern garden
was far more spectacular, with its brook, trees, and exotic plants. But the
eastern garden had its own peace—the serenity of simplicity.
"Sazed?" Vin said in a quiet voice.
"Yes, Mistress?"
"It's all going to change, isn't it?"
"What specifically do you mean?"
"Everything," Vin said. "Even if we aren't all dead in a year, the
crewmembers will be off working on other projects. Ham will probably be
back with his family, Dox and Kelsier will be planning some new escapade,
Clubs will be renting his shop to another crew. . . . Even these gardens that
we've spent so much money on—they'll belong to someone else."
Sazed nodded. "What you say is likely. Though, if things go well, perhaps
the skaa rebellion will be ruling Luthadel by this time next year."
"Maybe," Vin said. "But even still . . . things will change."
"That is the nature of all life, Mistress," Sazed said. "The world must
change."
"I know," Vin said with a sigh. "I just wish . . . Well, I actually like my life
now, Sazed. I like spending time with the crew, and I like training with
Kelsier. I love going to balls with Elend on the weekends, love walking in
these gardens with you. I don't want these things to change. I don't want my
life to go back to the way it was a year ago."
"It doesn't have to, Mistress," Sazed said. "It could change for the better."
"It won't," Vin said quietly. "It's starting already—Kelsier has hinted that
my training is almost finished. When I practice in the future, I'll have to do it
alone.
"As for Elend, he doesn't even know that I'm skaa—and it's my job to try
and destroy his family. Even if House Venture doesn't fall by my hand,
others will bring it down—I know Shan Elariel is planning something, and I
haven't been able to discover anything about her schemes.
"That's only the beginning, though. We face the Final Empire. We'll
probably fail—to be honest, I don't see how things could possibly turn out
otherwise. We'll fight, we'll do some good, but we won't change much—and
those of us who survive will spend the rest of our lives running from the
Inquisitors. Everything's going to change, Sazed, and I can't stop it."
Sazed smiled fondly. "Then, Mistress," he said quietly, "simply enjoy what
you have. The future will surprise you, I think."
"Maybe," Vin said, unconvinced.
"Ah, you just need to have hope, Mistress. Perhaps you've earned a little
bit of good fortune. There were a group of people before the Ascension
known as the Astalsi. They claimed that each person was born with a certain
finite amount of ill luck. And so, when an unfortunate event happened, they
thought themselves blessed—thereafter, their lives could only get better."
Vin raised an eyebrow. "Sounds a bit simpleminded to me."
"I do not believe so," Sazed said. "Why, the Astalsi were rather advanced
—they mixed religion with science quite profoundly. They thought that
different colors were indications of different kinds of fortune, and were quite
detailed in their descriptions of light and color. Why, it's from them that we
get some of our best ideas as to what things might have looked like before the
Ascension. They had a scale of colors, and used it to describe the sky of the
deepest blue and various plants in their shades of green.
"Regardless, I find their philosophies regarding luck and fortune
enlightened. To them, a poor life was only a sign of fortune to come. It might
be a good fit for you, Mistress; you could benefit from the knowledge that
your luck cannot always be bad."
"I don't know," Vin said skeptically. "I mean, if your bad luck were
limited, wouldn't your good luck be limited too? Every time something good
happened, I'd be worried about using it all up."
"Hum," Sazed said. "I suppose that depends on your viewpoint, Mistress."
"How can you be so optimistic?" Vin asked. "You and Kelsier both."
"I don't know, Mistress," Sazed said. "Perhaps our lives have been easier
than yours. Or, perhaps we are simply more foolish."
Vin fell silent. They walked for a short time longer, weaving their way
back toward the building, but not rushing the walk. "Sazed," she finally said.
"When you saved me, that night in the rain, you used Feruchemy, didn't
you?"
Sazed nodded. "Indeed. The Inquisitor was very focused on you, and I was
able to sneak up behind him, then hit him with a stone. I had grown many
times stronger than a regular man, and my blow threw him into the wall,
breaking several of his bones, I suspect."
"Is that it?" Vin asked.
"You sound disappointed, Mistress," Sazed noted, smiling. "You expected
something more spectacular, I suppose?"
Vin nodded. "It's just . . . you've been so quiet about Feruchemy. That
makes it seem more mystical, I guess."
Sazed sighed. "There is really little to hide from you, Mistress. The truly
unique power of Feruchemy—the ability to store and recover memories—you
must surely have already guessed. The rest of the powers are not different,
really, from the powers granted to you by pewter and tin. A few of them are a
little more odd—making a Feruchemist heavier, or changing his age—but
they offer little martial application."
"Age?" Vin said, perking up. "You could make yourself younger?"
"Not really, Mistress," Sazed said. "Remember, a Feruchemist must draw
his powers from his own body. He could, for instance, spend a few weeks
with his body aged to the point that it felt and looked ten years older than he
really was. Then, he could withdraw that age to make himself seem ten years
younger for an equal amount of time. However, in Feruchemy, there must be
a balance."
Vin thought about that for a moment. "Does the metal you use matter?"
she asked. "Like in Allomancy?"
"Most certainly," Sazed said. "The metal determines what can be stored."
Vin nodded and continued to walk, thinking over what he'd said. "Sazed,
can I have a bit of your metal?" she finally asked.
"My metal, Mistress?"
"Something you've used as a Feruchemical store," Vin said. "I want to try
burning it—maybe that will let me use some of its power."
Sazed frowned curiously.
"Has anyone ever tried it before?"
"I'm sure someone must have," Sazed said. "But, I honestly can't think of
a specific example. Perhaps if I were to go search my memory copperminds .
. ."
"Why not just let me try it now?" Vin asked. "Do you have something
made from one of the basic metals? Something you haven't stored anything
too valuable in?"
Sazed paused, then reached up to one of his oversized earlobes and undid
an earring much like the one Vin wore. He handed the earring's tiny backing,
used to hold the earring in place, to Vin. "It is pure pewter, Mistress. I have
stored a moderate amount of strength in it."
Vin nodded, swallowing the tiny stud. She felt at her Allomantic reserve,
but the stud's metal didn't seem to do anything different. She tentatively
burned pewter.
"Anything?" Sazed asked.
Vin shook her head. "No, I don't . . ." She trailed off. There was something
there, something different.
"What is it, Mistress?" Sazed asked, uncharacteristic eagerness sounding in
his voice.
"I . . . can feel the power, Saze. It's faint—far beyond my grasp—but I
swear that there's another reserve within me, one that only appears when I'm
burning your metal."
Sazed frowned. "It's faint, you say? Like . . . you can see a shadow of the
reserve, but can't access the power itself?"
Vin nodded. "How do you know?"
"That's what it feels like when you try to use another Feruchemist's
metals, Mistress," Sazed said, sighing. "I should have suspected this would
be the result. You cannot access the power because it does not belong to
you."
"Oh," Vin said.
"Do not be too disappointed, Mistress. If Allomancers could steal strength
from my people, it would already be known. It was a clever thought,
however." He turned, pointing toward the mansion. "The carriage has already
arrived. We are late for the meeting, I think."
Vin nodded, and they hurried their pace toward the mansion.
Funny, Kelsier thought to himself as he slipped across the darkened courtyard
before Mansion Renoux. I have to sneak into my own house, as if I were
attacking some nobleman's keep.
There was no avoiding it, however—not with his reputation. Kelsier the
thief had been distinctive enough; Kelsier the rebellion instigator and skaa
spiritual leader was even more infamous. That didn't, of course, keep him
from spreading his nightly chaos—he just had to be more careful. More and
more families were pulling out of the city, and the powerful houses were
growing increasingly paranoid. In a way, that made manipulating them easier
—but sneaking around their keeps was getting very dangerous.
In comparison, Mansion Renoux was virtually unprotected. There were
guards, of course, but no Mistings. Renoux had to keep a low profile; too
many Allomancers would make him stand out. Kelsier kept to the shadows,
carefully making his way around to the east side of the building. Then he
Pushed off a coin and guided himself up onto Renoux's own balcony.
Kelsier landed lightly, then peeked through the glass balcony doors. The
drapes were shut, but he could pick out Dockson, Vin, Sazed, Ham, and
Breeze standing around Renoux's desk. Renoux himself sat in the far corner
of the room, staying out of the proceedings. His contract included playing the
part of Lord Renoux, but he didn't wish to be involved in the plan anymore
than he had to.
Kelsier shook his head. It would be far too easy for an assassin to get in
here. I'll have to make sure that Vin continues to sleep at Clubs' shop. He
wasn't worried about Renoux; the kandra's nature was such that he didn't
need to fear an assassin's blade.
Kelsier tapped lightly on the door, and Dockson strolled over, pulling it
open.
"And he makes his stunning entry!" Kelsier announced, sweeping into the
room, throwing back his mistcloak.
Dockson snorted, shutting the doors. "You're truly a wonder to behold,
Kell. Particularly the soot stains on your knees."
"I had to do some crawling tonight," Kelsier said, waving an indifferent
hand. "There's an unused drainage ditch that passes right under Keep Lekal's
defensive wall. You'd think they'd get that patched up."
"I doubt they need worry," Breeze said from beside the desk. "Most of you
Mistborn are probably too proud to crawl. I'm surprised you were willing to
do so yourself."
"Too proud to crawl?" Kelsier said. "Nonsense! Why, I'd say that we
Mistborn are too proud not to be humble enough to go crawling about—in a
dignified manner, of course."
Dockson frowned, approaching the desk. "Kell, that didn't make any
sense."
"We Mistborn need not make sense," Kelsier said haughtily. "What's
this?"
"From your brother," Dockson said, pointing at a large map laid across the
desk. "It arrived this afternoon in the hollow of a broken table leg that the
Canton of Orthodoxy hired Clubs to repair."
"Interesting," Kelsier said, scanning the map. "It's a list of the Soothing
stations, I assume?"
"Indeed," Breeze said. "It's quite the discovery—I've never seen such a
detailed, carefully drawn map of the city. Why, it not only shows every one
of the thirty-four Soothing stations, but also locations of Inquisitor activity, as
well as places that the different Cantons are concerned about. I haven't had
the opportunity to associate much with your brother, but I must say that the
man is obviously a genius!"
"It's almost hard to believe he's related to Kell, eh?" Dockson said with a
smile. He had a notepad before him, and was in the process of making a list
of all the Soothing stations.
Kelsier snorted. "Marsh might be the genius, but I'm the handsome one.
What are these numbers?"
"Inquisitor raids and dates," Ham said. "You'll notice that Vin's
crewhouse is listed."
Kelsier nodded. "How in the world did Marsh manage to steal a map like
this?"
"He didn't," Dockson said as he wrote. "There was a note with the map.
Apparently, high prelans gave it to him—they've been very impressed with
Marsh, and wanted him to look over the city and recommend locations for
new Soothing stations. It seems that the Ministry is a bit worried about the
house war, and they want to send out some extra Soothers to try and keep
things under control."
"We're supposed to send the map back inside the repaired table leg,"
Sazed said. "Once we are done this evening, I shall endeavor to copy it in as
short a time as possible."
And memorize it as well, thereby making it part of every Keeper's record,
Kelsier thought. The day when you'll stop memorizing and start teaching is
coming soon, Saze. I hope your people are ready.
Kelsier turned, studying the map. It was as impressive as Breeze had said.
Indeed, Marsh must have taken an extremely great risk in sending it away.
Perhaps a foolhardy risk, even—but the information it contained . . .
We'll have to get this back quickly, Kelsier thought. Tomorrow morning, if
possible.
"What is this?" Vin asked quietly, leaning across the large map and
pointing. She wore a noblewoman's dress—a pretty one-piece garment that
was only slightly less ornate than a ball gown.
Kelsier smiled. He could remember a time when Vin had looked
frighteningly awkward in a dress, but she seemed to have taken an increasing
liking to them. She still didn't move quite like a noble-born lady. She was
graceful—but it was the dexterous grace of a predator, not the deliberate
grace of a courtly lady. Still, the gowns seemed to fit Vin now—in a way that
had nothing at all to do with tailoring.
Ah, Mare, Kelsier thought. You always wanted a daughter you could teach
to walk the line between noblewoman and thief. They would have liked each
other; they both had a hidden streak of unconventionality. Perhaps if his wife
were still alive, she could have taught Vin things about pretending to be a
noblewoman that even Sazed didn't know.
Of course, if Mare were still alive, I wouldn't be doing any of this. I
wouldn't dare.
"Look!" Vin said. "One of these Inquisitor dates is new—it's marked as
yesterday!"
Dockson shot a glance at Kelsier.
We would have had to tell her eventually anyway. . . . "That was Theron's
crew," Kelsier said. "An Inquisitor hit them yesterday evening."
Vin paled.
"Should I recognize that name?" Ham asked.
"Theron's crew was part of the team that was trying to dupe the Ministry
with Camon," Vin said. "This means . . . they probably still have my trail."
The Inquisitor recognized her that night when we infiltrated the palace. He
wanted to know who her father was. It's fortunate that those inhuman things
make the nobility uncomfortable—otherwise, we'd have to worry about
sending her to balls.
"Theron's crew," Vin said. "Was . . . it like last time?"
Dockson nodded. "No survivors."
There was an uncomfortable silence, and Vin looked visibly sick.
Poor kid, Kelsier thought. There was little they could do but move on,
though. "All right. How are we going to use this map?"
"It has some Ministry notes on house defenses," Ham said. "Those will be
useful."
"There doesn't appear to be any pattern in the Inquisitor hits, however,"
Breeze said. "They probably just go where the information leads them."
"We'll want to refrain from being too active near Soothing stations," Dox
said, lowering his pen. "Fortunately, Clubs's shop isn't close to any specific
station—most of them are in the slums."
"We need to do more than just avoid the stations," Kelsier said. "We need
to be ready to take them out."
Breeze frowned. "If we do, we risk playing our hand recklessly."
"But think of the damage it would do," Kelsier said. "Marsh said there
were at least three Soothers and a Seeker at every one of these stations. That's
a hundred and thirty Ministry Mistings—they must have recruited across the
entire Central Dominance to gather those kinds of numbers. If we were to
take them all out at once . . ."
"We'd never be able to kill that many ourselves," Dockson said.
"We could if we used the rest of our army," Ham said. "We've got them
stashed throughout the slums."
"I have a better idea," Kelsier said. "We can hire other thieving crews. If
we had ten crews, each assigned to take out three stations, we could clear the
city of Ministry Soothers and Seekers in barely a few hours."
"We'd have to discuss timing, though," Dockson said. "Breeze is right—
killing that many obligators in one evening means making a major
commitment. It won't take the Inquisitors long to retaliate."
Kelsier nodded. You're right, Dox. Timing will be vital. "Would you look
into it? Find some appropriate crews, but wait until we decide on a time
before giving them the locations of the Soothing stations."
Dockson nodded.
"Good," Kelsier said. "Speaking of our soldiers, Ham, how are things
going with them?"
"Better than I expected, actually," Ham said. "They went through training
in the caves, and so they're fairly competent. And, they consider themselves
the more 'faithful' segment of the army, since they didn't follow Yeden to
battle against your will."
Breeze snorted. "That's a convenient way of looking past the fact that they
lost three-fourths of their army in a tactical blunder."
"They're good men, Breeze," Ham said firmly. "And so were those who
died. Don't speak ill of them. Regardless, I worry about hiding the army as
we are—it won't be too long before one of the teams gets discovered."
"That's why none of them know where to find the others," Kelsier said.
"I do want to mention something about the men," Breeze said, seating
himself in one of Renoux's desk chairs. "I see the importance of sending
Hammond to train the soldiers—but honestly, what is the reason for forcing
Dockson and myself to go and visit them?"
"The men need to know who their leaders are," Kelsier said. "If Ham were
to become indisposed, someone else will need to take command."
"Why not you?" Breeze asked.
"Just bear with me," Kelsier said, smiling. "It's for the best."
Breeze rolled his eyes. "Bear with you. We seem to do an awful lot of that.
. . ."
"Anyway," Kelsier said. "Vin, what news from the nobility? Have you
discovered anything useful about House Venture?"
She paused. "No."
"But the ball next week will be at Keep Venture, right?" Dockson asked.
Vin nodded.
Kelsier eyed the girl. Would she even tell us if she knew? She met his eyes,
and he couldn't read a thing in them. Blasted girl's far too experienced a liar.
"All right," he said to her. "Keep looking."
"I will," she said.
Despite his fatigue, Kelsier found sleep elusive that night. Unfortunately, he
couldn't go out and roam the hallways—only certain servants knew he was at
the mansion, and he needed to keep a low profile, now that his reputation was
building.
His reputation. He sighed as he leaned against the balcony railing,
watching the mists. In a way, the things he did worried even him. The others
didn't question him out loud, as per his request, but he could tell that they
were still bothered by his growing fame.
It's the best way. I may not need all of this . . . but, if I do, I'm going to be
glad I went to the trouble.
A soft knock came at his door. He turned, curious, as Sazed peeked his
head into the room.
"I apologize, Master Kelsier," Sazed said. "But a guard came to me and
said he could see you up on your balcony. He was worried that you'd give
yourself away."
Kelsier sighed, but backed away from the balcony, pulling the doors closed
and shutting the drapes. "I'm not meant for anonymity, Saze. For a thief, I'm
really not all that good at hiding."
Sazed smiled and began to withdraw.
"Sazed?" Kelsier asked, causing the Terrisman to pause. "I can't sleep—do
you have a new proposal for me?"
Sazed smiled deeply, walking into the room. "Of course, Master Kelsier.
Lately, I've been thinking that you should hear about the Truths of the
Bennet. They fit you quite well, I think. The Bennet were a highly developed
people who lived on the southern islands. They were brave seafarers and
brilliant cartographers; some of the maps the Final Empire still uses were
developed by Bennet explorers.
"Their religion was designed to be practiced aboard ships that were away
at sea for months at a time. The captain was also their minister, and no man
was allowed to command unless he had received theological training."
"Probably weren't very many mutinies."
Sazed smiled. "It was a good religion, Master Kelsier. It focused on
discovery and knowledge—to these people, the making of maps was a
reverent duty. They believed that once all of the world was known,
understood, and catalogued, men would finally find peace and harmony.
Many religions teach such ideals, but few actually managed to practice them
as well as the Bennet."
Kelsier frowned, leaning back against the wall beside the balcony drapes.
"Peace and harmony," he said slowly. "I'm not really looking for either right
now, Saze."
"Ah," Sazed said.
Kelsier looked up, staring at the ceiling. "Could you . . . tell me about the
Valla again?"
"Of course," Sazed said, pulling a chair over from beside Kelsier's desk
and seating himself. "What specifically would you like to know?"
Kelsier shook his head. "I'm not sure," he said. "I'm sorry, Saze. I'm in a
strange mood tonight."
"You are always in a strange mood, I think," Sazed said with a slight
smile. "However, you choose an interesting sect to ask after. The Valla lasted
longer into the Lord Ruler's dominion than any other religion."
"That's why I ask," Kelsier said. "I . . . need to understand what kept them
going for so long, Saze. What made them keep fighting?"
"They were the most determined, I think."
"But they didn't have any leaders," Kelsier said. "The Lord Ruler had
slaughtered the entire Vallan religious council as part of his first conquest."
"Oh, they had leaders, Master Kelsier," Sazed said. "Dead ones, true, but
leaders nonetheless."
"Some men would say that their devotion didn't make sense," Kelsier said.
"The loss of the Vallan leaders should have broken the people, not made
them more determined to keep going."
Sazed shook his head. "Men are more resilient than that, I think. Our belief
is often strongest when it should be weakest. That is the nature of hope."
Kelsier nodded.
"Did you want further instruction on the Valla?"
"No. Thanks, Saze. I just needed to be reminded that there were people
who fought even when things looked hopeless."
Sazed nodded, rising. "I think I understand, Master Kelsier. Good evening,
then."
Kelsier nodded distractedly, letting the Terrisman withdraw.