The Well of Ascension

28

“LET ME SEE IF I understand this correctly,” Tindwyl said, calm and polite, yet somehow still stern and disapproving. “There is a clause in the kingdom’s legal code that lets the Assembly overthrow their king?”

Elend wilted slightly. “Yes.”

“And you wrote the law yourself?” Tindwyl demanded.

“Most of it,” Elend admitted.

“You wrote into your own law a way that you could be deposed?” Tindwyl repeated. Their group – expanded from those who had met in the carriages to include Clubs, Tindwyl, and Captain Demoux – sat in Elend’s study. The group’s size was such that they’d run out of chairs, and Vin sat quietly at the side, on a stack of Elend’s books, having quickly changed to trousers and shirt. Tindwyl and Elend were standing, but the rest were seated – Breeze prim, Ham relaxed, and Spook trying to balance his chair as he leaned back on two legs.

“I put in that clause intentionally,” Elend said. He stood at the front of the room, leaning with one arm against the glass of his massive stained-glass window, looking up at its dark shards. “This land wilted beneath the hand of an oppressive ruler for a thousand years. During that time, philosophers and thinkers dreamed of a government where a bad ruler could be ousted without bloodshed. I took this throne through an unpredictable and unique series of events, and I didn’t think it right to unilaterally impose my will – or the will of my descendants – upon the people. I wanted to start a government whose monarchs would be responsible to their subjects.”

Sometimes, he talks like those books he reads, Vin thought. Not like a normal man at all… but like words on a page.

Zane’s words came back to her, seeming to whisper in her mind. You aren’t like him. She pushed the thought out.

“With respect, Your Majesty,” Tindwyl said, “this has to be one of the most foolish things I’ve ever seen a leader do.”

“It was for the good of the kingdom,” Elend said.

“It was sheer idiocy,” Tindwyl snapped. “A king doesn’t subject himself to the whims of another ruling body. He is valuable to his people because he is an absolute authority!”

Vin had rarely seen Elend so sorrowful, and she cringed a bit at the sadness in his eyes. However, a different piece of her was rebelliously happy. He wasn’t king anymore. Now maybe people wouldn’t work so hard to kill him. Maybe he could just be Elend again, and they could leave. Go somewhere. A place where things weren’t so complicated.

“Regardless,” Dockson said to the quiet room, “something must be done. Discussing the prudence of decisions already past has little current relevance.”

“Agreed,” Ham said. “So, the Assembly tried to kick you out. What are we going to do about it?”

“We obviously can’t let them have their way,” Breeze said. “Why, the people overthrew a government just last year! This is a bad habit to be getting into, I should think.”

“We need to prepare a response, Your Majesty,” Dockson said. “Something decrying this deceitful maneuver, performed while you were negotiating for the very safety of the city. Now that I look back, it’s obvious that they arranged this meeting so that you couldn’t be present and defend yourself.”

Elend nodded, still staring up at the dark glass. “There’s probably no need to call me Your Majesty anymore, Dox.”

“Nonsense,” Tindwyl said, arms folded as she stood beside a bookcase. “You are still king.”

“I’ve lost the mandate of the people,” Elend said.

“Yes,” Clubs said, “but you’ve still got the mandate of my armies. That makes you king no matter what the Assembly says.”

“Exactly,” Tindwyl said. “Foolish laws aside, you’re still in a position of power. We need to tighten martial law, restrict movement within the city. Seize control of key points, and sequester the members of the Assembly so that your enemies can’t raise a resistance against you.”

“I’ll have my men on the streets before light,” Clubs said.

“No,” Elend said quietly.

There was a pause.

“Your Majesty?” Dockson asked. “It really is the best move. We can’t let this faction against you gain momentum.”

“It’s not a faction, Dox,” Elend said. “It’s the elected representatives of the Assembly.”

“An Assembly you formed, my dear man,” Breeze said. “They have power because you gave it to them.”

“The law gives them their power, Breeze,” Elend said. “And we are all subject to it.”

“Nonsense,” Tindwyl said. “As king, you are the law. Once we secure the city, you can call in the Assembly and explain to its members that you need their support. Those who disagree can be held until the crisis is over.”

“No,” Elend said, a little more firm. “We will do none of that.”

“That’s it, then?” Ham asked. “You’re giving up?”

“I’m not giving up, Ham,” Elend said, finally turning to regard the group. “But I’m not going to use the city’s armies to pressure the Assembly.”

“You’ll lose your throne,” Breeze said.

“See reason, Elend,” Ham said with a nod.

“I will not be an exception to my own laws!” Elend said.

“Don’t be a fool,” Tindwyl said. “You should–”

“Tindwyl,” Elend said, “respond to my ideas as you wish, but do not call me a fool again. I will not be belittled because I express my opinion!”

Tindwyl paused, mouth partially open. Then she pressed her lips together and took her seat. Vin felt a quiet surge of satisfaction. You trained him, Tindwyl, she thought with a smile. Can you really complain if he stands up to you?

Elend walked forward, placing his hands on the table as he regarded the group. “Yes, we will respond. Dox, you write a letter informing the Assembly of our disappointment and feelings of betrayal – inform them of our success with Straff, and lay on the guilt as thickly as possible.

“The rest of us will begin planning. We’ll get the throne back. As has been stated, I know the law. I wrote it. There are ways to deal with this. Those ways do not, however, include sending our armies to secure the city. I will not be like the tyrants who would take Luthadel from us! I will not force the people to do my will, even if I know it is best for them.”

“Your Majesty,” Tindwyl said carefully, “there is nothing immoral about securing your power during a time of chaos. People react irrationally during such times. That is one of the reasons why they need strong leadership. They need you.”

“Only if they want me, Tindwyl,” Elend said.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” Tindwyl said, “but that statement seems somewhat naive to me.”

Elend smiled. “Perhaps it is. You can change my clothing and my bearing, but you can’t change the soul of who I am. I’ll do what I think is right – and that includes letting the Assembly depose me, if that is their choice.”

Tindwyl frowned. “And if you can’t get your throne back through lawful means?”

“Then I accept that fact,” Elend said. “And do my best to help the kingdom anyway.”

So much for running away, Vin thought. However, she couldn’t help smiling. Part of what she loved about Elend was his sincerity. His simple love for the people of Luthadel – his determination to do what was right for them – was what separated him from Kelsier. Even in martyrdom, Kelsier had displayed a hint of arrogance. He’d made certain that he would be remembered like few men who had ever lived.

But Elend – to him, ruling the Central Dominance wasn’t about fame or glory. For the first time, completely and honestly, she decided something. Elend was a far better king than Kelsier would ever have been.

“I’m… not certain what I think of this experience, Mistress,” a voice whispered beside her. Vin paused, looking down as she realized that she had begun idly scratching OreSeur’s ears.

She pulled her hand back with a start. “Sorry,” she said.

OreSeur shrugged, resting his head back on his paws.

“So, you said there’s a legal way to get the throne back,” Ham said. “How do we go about it?”

“The Assembly has one month to choose a new king,” Elend said. “Nothing in the law says that the new king can’t be the same as the old one. And, if they can’t come up with a majority decision by that deadline, the throne reverts to me for a minimum of one year.”

“Complicated,” Ham said, rubbing his chin.

“What did you expect?” Breeze said. “It’s the law.”

“I didn’t mean the law itself,” Ham said. “I meant getting the Assembly to either choose Elend or not choose anyone. They wouldn’t have deposed him in the first place unless they had another person in mind for the throne.”

“Not necessarily,” Dockson said. “Perhaps they simply meant this as a warning.”

“Perhaps,” Elend said. “Gentlemen, I think this is a sign. I’ve been ignoring the Assembly – we thought that they were taken care of, since I got them to sign that proposal giving me right of parlay. However, we never realized that an easy way for them to get around that proposal was to choose a new king, then have him do as they wished.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “I have to admit, I’ve never been very good at handling the Assembly. They don’t see me as a king, but as a colleague – and because of that, they can easily see themselves taking my place. I’ll bet one of the Assemblymen has convinced the others to put him on the throne instead.”

“So, we just make him disappear,” Ham said. “I’m sure Vin could…”

Elend frowned.

“I’m joking, El,” Ham said.

“You know, Ham,” Breeze noted. “The only funny thing about your jokes is how often they lack any humor whatsoever.”

“You’re only saying that because they usually involve you in the punch line.”

Breeze rolled his eyes.

“You know,” OreSeur muttered quietly, obviously counting on her tin to let Vin hear him, “it seems that these meetings would be more productive if someone forgot to invite those two.”

Vin smiled. “They’re not that bad,” she whispered.

OreSeur raised an eyebrow.

“Okay,” Vin said. “They do distract us a little bit.”

“I could always eat one of them, if you wish,” OreSeur said. “That might speed things up.”

Vin paused.

OreSeur, however, had a strange little smile on his lips. “Kandra humor, Mistress. I apologize. We can be a bit grim.”

Vin smiled. “They probably wouldn’t taste very good anyway. Ham’s far too stringy, and you don’t want to know the kinds of things that Breeze spends his time eating…”

“I’m not sure,” OreSeur said. “One is, after all, named ‘Ham.’ As for the other…” He nodded to the cup of wine in Breeze’s hand. “He does seem quite fond of marinating himself.”

Elend was picking through his stacks of books, pulling out several relevant volumes on law – including the book of Luthadel law that he himself had written.

“Your Majesty,” Tindwyl said, emphasizing the term. “You have two armies on your doorstep, and a group of koloss making their way into the Central Dominance. Do you honestly think that you have time for a protracted legal battle now?”

Elend set down the books and pulled his chair to the table. “Tindwyl,” he said. “I have two armies on my doorstep, koloss coming to pressure them, and I myself am the main obstacle keeping the leaders of this city from handing the kingdom over to one of the invaders. Do you honestly think that it’s a coincidence that I get deposed now?”

Several members of the crew perked up at this, and Vin cocked her head.

“You think one of the invaders might be behind this?” Ham asked, rubbing his chin.

“What would you do, if you were them?” Elend said, opening a book. “You can’t attack the city, because it will cost you too many troops. The siege has already lasted weeks, your troops are getting cold, and the men Dockson hired have been attacking your canal supply barges, threatening your food supply. Add on top of that, you know that a large force of koloss are marching this way… and, well, it makes sense. If Straff and Cett’s spies are any good, they’ll know that the Assembly just about capitulated and gave the city away when that army first arrived. Assassins have failed to kill me, but if there were another way to remove me…”

“Yes,” Breeze said. “This does sound like something Cett would do. Turn the Assembly against you, put a sympathizer on the throne, then get him to open the gates.”

Elend nodded. “And my father seemed hesitant to side with me this evening, as if he felt he had some other way to get the city. I can’t be certain if either monarch is behind this move, Tindwyl, but we certainly can’t ignore the possibility. This isn’t a distraction – this is very much part of the same siege tactics we’ve been fighting since those armies arrived. If I can put myself back on the throne, then Straff and Cett will know that I’m the only one they can work with – and that will, hopefully, make them more likely to side with me in desperation, particularly as those koloss draw near.”

With that, Elend began riffling through a stack of books. His depression seemed to be abating in face of this new academic problem. “There might be a few other clauses of relevance in the law,” he half mumbled. “I need to do some studying. Spook, did you invite Sazed to this meeting?”

Spook shrugged. “I couldn’t get him to wake up.”

“He’s recovering from his trip here,” Tindwyl said, turning away from her study of Elend and his books. “It’s an issue of the Keepers.”

“Needs to refill one of his metalminds?” Ham asked.

Tindwyl paused, her expression darkening. “He explained that to you, then?”

Ham and Breeze nodded.

“I see,” Tindwyl said. “Regardless, he could not help with this problem, Your Majesty. I give you some small aid in the area of government because it is my duty to train leaders in knowledge of the past. However, traveling Keepers such as Sazed do not take sides in political matters.”

“Political matters?” Breeze asked lightly. “You mean, perhaps, like overthrowing the Final Empire?”

Tindwyl closed her mouth, lips growing thin. “You should not encourage him to break his vows,” she finally said. “If you were his friends, you would see that to be true, I think.”

“Oh?” Breeze asked, pointing at her with his cup of wine. “Personally, I think you’re just embarrassed that he disobeyed you all, but then actually ended up freeing your people.”

Tindwyl gave Breeze a flat stare, her eyes narrow, her posture stiff. They sat that way for a long moment. “Push on my emotions all you wish, Soother,” Tindwyl said. “My feelings are my own. You will have no success here.”

Breeze finally turned back to his drink, muttering something about “damn Terrismen.”

Elend, however, wasn’t paying attention to the argument. He already had four books open on the table before him, and was flipping through a fifth. Vin smiled, remembering the days – not so long ago – when his courtship of her had often involved him plopping himself down in a nearby chair and opening a book.

He is the same man, she thought. And that soul, that man, is the one who loved me before he knew I was Mistborn. He loved me even after he discovered I was a thief, and thought I was trying to rob him. I need to remember that.

“Come on,” she whispered to OreSeur, standing as Breeze and Ham got into another argument. She needed time to think, and the mists were still fresh.

This would be a lot easier if I weren’t so skilled, Elend thought with amusement, poking through his books. I set up the law too well.

He followed a particular passage with his finger, rereading it as the crew slowly trailed away. He couldn’t remember if he’d dismissed them or not. Tindwyl would probably chastise him for that.

Here, he thought, tapping the page. I might have grounds to argue for a revote if any of the members of the Assembly arrived late to the meeting, or made their votes in absentia. The vote to depose had to be unanimous – save, of course, for the king being deposed.

He paused, noticing movement. Tindwyl was the only one still in the room with him. He looked up from his books with resignation. I probably have this coming…

“I apologize for treating you with disrespect, Your Majesty,” she said.

Elend frowned. Wasn’t expecting that.

“I have a habit of treating people like children,” Tindwyl said. “It is not something that I should be proud of, I think.”

“It’s–” Elend paused. Tindwyl had taught him never to excuse people’s failings. He could accept people with failings – even forgive them – but if he glossed over the problems, then they would never change. “I accept your apology,” he said.

“You’ve learned quickly, Your Majesty.”

“I haven’t had much choice,” Elend said with a smile. “Of course, I didn’t change fast enough for the Assembly.”

“How did you let this happen?” she asked quietly. “Even considering our disagreement over how a government should be run, I should think that these Assemblymen would be supporters of yours. You gave them their power.”

“I ignored them, Tindwyl. Powerful men, friends or not, never like being ignored.”

She nodded. “Though, perhaps we should pause to take note of your successes, rather than simply focusing on your failings. Vin tells me that your meeting with your father went well.”

Elend smiled. “We scared him into submission. It felt very good to do something like that to Straff. But, I think I might have offended Vin somehow.”

Tindwyl raised an eyebrow.

Elend set down his book, leaning forward with his arms on the desk. “She was in an odd mood on the way back. I could barely get her to talk to me. I’m not sure what it was.”

“Perhaps she was just tired.”

“I’m not convinced that Vin gets tired,” Elend said. “She’s always moving, always doing something. Sometimes, I worry that she thinks I’m lazy. Maybe that’s why…” He trailed off, then shook his head.

“She doesn’t think that you are lazy, Your Majesty,” Tindwyl said. “She refused to marry you because she doesn’t think that she is worthy of you.”

“Nonsense,” Elend said. “Vin’s Mistborn, Tindwyl. She knows she’s worth ten men like me.”

Tindwyl raised an eyebrow. “You understand very little about women, Elend Venture – especially young women. To them, their competence has a surprisingly small amount to do with how they feel about themselves. Vin is insecure. She doesn’t believe that she deserves to be with you – it is less that she doesn’t think she deserves you personally, and more that she isn’t convinced that she deserves to be happy at all. She has led a very confusing, difficult life.”

“How sure are you about this?”

“I’ve raised a number of daughters, Your Majesty,” Tindwyl said. “I understand the things of which I speak.”

“Daughters?” Elend asked. “You have children?”

“Of course.”

“I just…” The Terrismen he’d known were eunuchs, like Sazed. The same couldn’t be true for a woman like Tindwyl, of course, but he’d assumed that the Lord Ruler’s breeding programs would have affected her somehow.

“Regardless,” Tindwyl said curtly, “you must make some decisions, Your Majesty. Your relationship with Vin is going to be difficult. She has certain issues that will provide more problems than you would find in a more conventional woman.”

“We’ve already discussed this,” Elend said. “I’m not looking for a more ‘conventional’ woman. I love Vin.”

“I’m not implying that you shouldn’t,” Tindwyl said calmly. “I am simply giving you instruction, as I have been asked to do. You need to decide how much you’re going to let the girl, and your relationship with her, distract you.”

“What makes you think I’m distracted?”

Tindwyl raised an eyebrow. “I asked you about your success with Lord Venture this evening, and all you wanted to talk about was how Vin felt during the ride home.”

Elend hesitated.

“Which is more important to you, Your Majesty?” Tindwyl asked. “This girl’s love, or the good of your people?”

“I’m not going to answer a question like that,” Elend said.

“Eventually, you may not have a choice,” Tindwyl said. “It is a question most kings face eventually, I fear.”

“No,” Elend said. “There’s no reason that I can’t both love Vin and protect my people. I’ve studied too many hypothetical dilemmas to be caught in a trap like that.”

Tindwyl shrugged, standing. “Believe as you wish, Your Majesty. However, I already see a dilemma, and I find it not at all hypothetical.” She bowed her head slightly in deference, then withdrew from the room, leaving him with his books.

29

“TELL ME, MISTRESS,” ORESEUR SAID, lying lazily, head on paws. “I have been around humans for a goodly number of years. I was under the impression that they needed regular sleep. I guess I was mistaken.”

Vin sat on a wall-top stone ledge, one leg up against her chest, the other dangling over the side of the wall. Keep Hasting’s towers were dark shadows in the mists to her right and to her left. “I sleep,” she said.

“Occasionally.” OreSeur yawned a deep, tongue-stretching yawn. Was he adopting more canine mannerisms?

Vin turned away from the kandra, looking east, over the slumbering city of Luthadel. There was a fire in the distance, a growing light that was too large to be of man’s touch. Dawn had arrived. Another night had passed, making it nearly a week since she and Elend had visited Straff’s army. Zane had yet to appear.

“You’re burning pewter, aren’t you?” OreSeur asked. “To stay awake?”

Vin nodded. Beneath a light burn of pewter, her fatigue was only a mild annoyance. She could feel it deep within her, if she looked hard, but it had no power over her. Her senses were keen, her body strong. Even the night’s cold wasn’t as bothersome. The moment she extinguished her pewter, however, she’d feel the exhaustion in force.

“That cannot be healthy, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “You sleep barely three or four hours a day. Nobody – Mistborn, man, or kandra – can survive on a schedule like that for long.”

Vin looked down. How could she explain her strange insomnia? She should be over that; she no longer had to be frightened of the other crewmembers around her. And yet, no matter how exhausted she grew, she was finding sleep more and more difficult to claim. How could she sleep, with that quiet thumping in the distance?

It seemed to be getting closer, for some reason. Or simply stronger? I hear the thumping sounds from above, the pulsings from the mountains… Words from the logbook.

How could she sleep, knowing that the spirit watched her from the mist, ominous and hateful? How could she sleep when armies threatened to slaughter her friends, when Elend’s kingdom had been taken from him, when everything she thought she’d known and loved was getting muddled and obscure?

…when I finally lie down, I find sleep elusive. The same thoughts that trouble me during the day are only compounded by the stillness of night…

OreSeur yawned again. “He’s not coming, Mistress.”

Vin turned, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“This is the last place you sparred with Zane,” OreSeur said. “You’re waiting for him to come.”

Vin paused. “I could use a spar,” she finally said.

Light continued to grow in the east, slowly brightening the mists. The mists persisted, however, reticent to give way before the sun.

“You shouldn’t let that man influence you so, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “I do not think he is the person you believe him to be.”

Vin frowned. “He’s my enemy. What else would I believe?”

“You do not treat him like an enemy, Mistress.”

“Well, he hasn’t attacked Elend,” Vin said. “Maybe Zane isn’t fully under Straff’s control.”

OreSeur sat quietly, head on paws. Then he turned away.

“What?” Vin asked.

“Nothing, Mistress. I will believe as I’m told.”

“Oh, no,” Vin said, turning on the ledge to look at him. “You’re not going back to that excuse. What were you thinking?”

OreSeur sighed. “I was thinking, Mistress, that your fixation with Zane is disconcerting.”

“Fixation?” Vin said. “I’m just keeping an eye on him. I don’t like having another Mistborn – enemy or not – running around in my city. Who knows what he could be up to?”

OreSeur frowned, but said nothing.

“OreSeur,” Vin said, “if you have things to say, speak!”

“I apologize, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “I’m not accustomed to chatting with my masters – especially not candidly.”

“It’s all right. Just speak your mind.”

“Well, Mistress,” OreSeur said, raising his head off his paws, “I do not like this Zane.”

“What do you know of him?”

“Nothing more than you,” OreSeur admitted. “However, most kandra are very good judges of character. When you practice imitation for as long as I have, you learn to see to the hearts of men. I do not like what I have seen of Zane. He seems too pleased with himself. He seems too deliberate in the way he has befriended you. He makes me uncomfortable.”

Vin sat on the ledge, legs parted, hands before her with palms down, resting on the cool stone. He might be right.

But, OreSeur hadn’t flown with Zane, hadn’t sparred in the mists. Through no fault of his own, OreSeur was like Elend. Not an Allomancer. Neither of them could understand what it was to soar on a Push of steel, to flare tin and experience the sudden shock of five heightened senses. They couldn’t know. They couldn’t understand.

Vin leaned back. Then, she regarded the wolfhound in the growing light. There was something she’d been meaning to mention, and now seemed as good a time as any. “OreSeur, you can switch bodies, if you want.”

The wolfhound raised an eyebrow.

“We have those bones that we found in the palace,” Vin said. “You can use those, if you’re tired of being a dog.”

“I couldn’t use them,” OreSeur said. “I haven’t digested their body – I wouldn’t know the proper arrangement of muscles and organs to make the person look correct.”

“Well, then,” Vin said. “We could get you a criminal.”

“I thought you liked these bones on me,” OreSeur said.

“I do,” Vin said. “But, I don’t want you to stay in a body that makes you unhappy.”

OreSeur snorted. “My happiness is not an issue.”

“It is to me,” Vin said. “We could–”

“Mistress,” OreSeur interrupted.

“Yes?”

“I shall keep these bones. I’ve grown accustomed to them. It is very frustrating to change forms often.”

Vin hesitated. “All right,” she finally said.

OreSeur nodded. “Though,” he continued, “speaking of bodies, Mistress, are we ever planning to return to the palace? Not all of us have the constitution of a Mistborn – some people need sleep and food on occasion.”

He certainly complains a lot more now, Vin thought. However, she found the attitude to be a good sign; it meant OreSeur was growing more comfortable with her. Comfortable enough to tell her when he thought she was being stupid.

Why do I even bother with Zane? she thought, rising and turning eyes northward. The mist was still moderately strong, and she could barely make out Straff’s army, still holding the northern canal, maintaining the siege. It sat like a spider, waiting for the right time to spring.

Elend, she thought. I should be more focused on Elend. His motions to dismiss the Assembly’s decision, or to force a revote, had all failed. And, stubbornly lawful as always, Elend continued to accept his failures. He still thought he had a chance to persuade the Assembly to choose him as king – or at least not vote anybody else to the position.

So he worked on speeches and planned with Breeze and Dockson. This left him little time for Vin, and rightly so. The last thing he needed was her distracting him. This was something she couldn’t help him with – something she couldn’t fight or scare away.

His world is of papers, books, laws, and philosophies, she thought. He rides the words of his theories like I ride the mists. I always worry that he can’t understand me… but can I really even understand him?

OreSeur stood, stretched, and placed his forepaws on the wall’s railing to raise himself and look north, like Vin.

Vin shook her head. “Sometimes, I wish Elend weren’t so… well, noble. The city doesn’t need this confusion right now.”

“He did the right thing, Mistress.”

“You think so?”

“Of course,” OreSeur said. “He made a contract. It is his duty to keep that contract, no matter what. He must serve his master – in his case, that would be the city – even if that master makes him do something very distasteful.”

“That’s a very kandralike way of seeing things,” Vin said.

OreSeur looked up at her, raising a canine eyebrow, as if to ask Well, what did you expect? She smiled; she had to suppress a chuckle every time she saw that expression on his dog face.

“Come on,” Vin said. “Let’s get back to the palace.”

“Excellent,” OreSeur said, dropping down to all fours. “That meat I set out should be perfect by now.”

“Unless the maids found it again,” Vin said with a smile.

OreSeur’s expression darkened. “I thought you were going to warn them.”

“What would I say?” Vin asked with amusement. “Please don’t throw away this rancid meat – my dog likes to eat it?”

“Why not?” OreSeur asked. “When I imitate a human, I almost never get to have a good meal, but dogs eat aged meat sometimes, don’t they?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Vin said.

“Aged meat is delicious.”

“You mean ‘rotten’ meat.”

“Aged,” OreSeur said insistently as she picked him up, preparing to carry him down from the wall. The top of Keep Hasting was a good hundred feet tall – far too high up for OreSeur to jump, and the only path down would be through the inside of the abandoned keep. Better to carry him.

“Aged meat is like aged wine or aged cheese,” OreSeur continued. “It tastes better when it’s a few weeks old.”

I suppose that’s one of the side effects of being related to scavengers, Vin thought. She hopped up on the lip of the wall, dropping a few coins. However, as she prepared to jump – OreSeur a large bulk in her arms – she hesitated. She turned one last time, looking out at Straff’s army. It was fully visible now; the sun had risen completely above the horizon. Yet, a few insistent swirls of mist wavered in the air, as if trying to defy the sun, to continue to cloak the city, to stave off the light of day…

Lord Ruler! Vin thought, struck by a sudden insight. She’d been working on this problem so long, it had begun to frustrate her. And now, when she’d been ignoring it, the answer had come to her. As if her subconscious had still been picking it apart.

“Mistress?” OreSeur asked. “Is everything all right?”

Vin opened her mouth slightly, cocking her head. “I think I just realized what the Deepness was.”

30

I write this record now, Sazed read, pounding it into a metal slab, because I am afraid. Afraid for myself, yes – I admit to being human. If Alendi does return from the Well of Ascension, I am certain that my death will be one of his first objectives. He is not an evil man, but he is a ruthless one. That is, I think, a product of what he has been through.

I am also afraid, however, that all I have known – that my story – will be forgotten. I am afraid for the world that is to come. Afraid that Alendi will fail. Afraid of a doom brought by the Deepness.

It all comes back to poor Alendi. I feel bad for him, and for all the things he has been forced to endure. For what he has been forced to become.

But, let me begin at the beginning. I met Alendi first in Khlennium; he was a young lad then, and had not yet been warped by a decade spent leading armies.

Alendi’s height struck me the first time I saw him. Here was a man who was small of stature, but who seemed to tower over others, a man who demanded respect.

Oddly, it was Alendi’s simple ingenuousness that first led me to befriend him. I employed him as an assistant during his first months in the grand city.

It wasn’t until years later that I became convinced that Alendi was the Hero of Ages. Hero of Ages: the one called Rabzeen in Khlennium, the Anamnesor.

Savior.

When I finally had the realization – finally connected all of the signs of the Anticipation to him – I was so excited. Yet, when I announced my discovery to the other Worldbringers, I was met with scorn. Oh, how I wish that I had listened to them.

And yet, any who know me will realize that there was no chance I would give up so easily. Once I find something to investigate, I become dogged in my pursuit. I had determined that Alendi was the Hero of Ages, and I intended to prove it. I should have bowed before the will of the others; I shouldn’t have insisted on traveling with Alendi to witness his journeys. It was inevitable that Alendi himself would find out what I believed him to be.

Yes, he was the one who fueled the rumors after that. I could never have done what he himself did, convincing and persuading the world that he was indeed the Hero. I don’t know if he himself believed it, but he made others think that he must be the one.

If only the Terris religion, and belief in the Anticipation, hadn’t spread beyond our people. If only the Deepness hadn’t come, providing a threat that drove men to desperation both in action and belief. If only I had passed over Alendi when looking for an assistant, all those years ago.

Sazed sat back from his work of transcribing the rubbing. There was still a great deal to do – it was amazing how much writing this Kwaan had managed to cram onto the relatively small sheet of steel.

Sazed looked over his work. He’d spent his entire trip north anticipating the time when he could finally begin work on the rubbing. A part of him had been worried. Would the dead man’s words seem as important sitting in a well-lit room as they had when in the dungeons of the Conventical of Seran?

He scanned to another part of the document, reading a few choice paragraphs. Ones of particular importance to him.

As the one who found Alendi, however, I became someone important. Foremost amongst the Worldbringers.

There was a place for me, in the lore of the Anticipation – I thought myself the Announcer, the prophet foretold to discover the Hero of Ages. Renouncing Alendi then would have been to renounce my new position, my acceptance, by the others.

And so I did not.

But I do so now. Let it be known that I, Kwaan, Worldbringer of Terris, am a fraud.

Sazed closed his eyes. Worldbringer. The term was known to him; the order of the Keepers had been founded upon memories and hopes from Terris legends. The Worldbringers had been teachers, Feruchemists who had traveled the lands bearing knowledge. They had been a prime inspiration for the secret order of Keepers.

And now he had a document made by a Worldbringer’s own hand.

Tindwyl is going to be very annoyed with me, Sazed thought, opening his eyes. He’d read the entire rubbing, but he would need to spend time studying it. Memorizing it. Cross-referencing it with other documents. This one bit of writing – perhaps twenty pages total – could easily keep him busy for months, even years.

His window shutters rattled. Sazed looked up. He was in his quarters at the palace – a tasteful collection of well-decorated rooms that were far too lavish for one who had spent his life as a servant. He rose, walked over to the window, undid the latch, and pulled open the shutters. He smiled as he found Vin crouching on the ledge outside.

“Um… hi,” Vin said. She wore her mistcloak over gray shirt and black trousers. Despite the onset of morning, she obviously hadn’t yet gone to bed after her nightly prowling. “You should leave your window unlatched. I can’t get in if it’s locked. Elend got mad at me for breaking too many latches.”

“I shall try to remember that, Lady Vin,” Sazed said, and gesturing for her to enter.

Vin hopped spryly through the window, mistcloak rustling. “Try to remember?” she asked. “You never forget anything. Not even the things you don’t have stuck in a metalmind.”

She’s grown so much more bold, he thought as she walked over to his writing desk, peering over his work. Even in the months I’ve been away.

“What’s this?” Vin asked, still looking at the desk.

“I found it at the Conventical of Seran, Lady Vin,” Sazed said, walking forward. It felt so good to be wearing clean robes again, to have a quiet and comfortable place in which to study. Was he a bad man for preferring this to travel?

One month, he thought. I will give myself one month of study. Then I will turn the project over to someone else.

“What is it?” Vin asked, holding up the rubbing.

“If you please, Lady Vin,” Sazed said apprehensively. “That is quite fragile. The rubbing could be smudged…”

Vin nodded, putting it down and scanning his transcription. There had been a time when she would have avoided anything that smelled of stuffy writing, but now she looked intrigued. “This mentions the Deepness!” she said with excitement.

“Among other things,” Sazed said, joining her at the desk. He sat down, and Vin walked over to one of the room’s low-backed, plush chairs. However, she didn’t sit on it as an ordinary person would; instead, she hopped up and sat down on the top of the chair’s back, her feet resting on the seat cushion.

“What?” she asked, apparently noticing Sazed’s smile.

“Just amused at a proclivity of Mistborn, Lady Vin,” he said. “Your kind has trouble simply sitting – it seems you always want to perch instead. That is what comes from having such an incredible sense of balance, I think.”

Vin frowned, but passed over the comment. “Sazed,” she said, “what was the Deepness?”

He laced his fingers before himself, regarding the young woman as he mused. “The Deepness, Lady Vin? That is a subject of much debate, I think. It was supposedly something great and powerful, though some scholars have dismissed the entire legend as a fabrication concocted by the Lord Ruler. There is some reason to believe this theory, I think, for the only real records of those times are the ones sanctioned by the Steel Ministry.”

“But, the logbook mentions the Deepness,” Vin said. “And so does that thing you’re translating now.”

“Indeed, Lady Vin,” Sazed said. “But, even among those who assume the Deepness was real, there is a great deal of debate. Some hold to the Lord Ruler’s official story, that the Deepness was a horrible, supernatural beast – a dark god, if you will. Others disagree with this extreme interpretation. They think the Deepness was more mundane – an army of some sort, perhaps invaders from another land. The Farmost Dominance, during pre-Ascension times, was apparently populated with several breeds of men who were quite primitive and warlike.”

Vin was smiling. He looked at her questioningly, and she just shrugged. “I asked Elend this same question,” she explained, “and I got barely a sentence-long response.”

“His Majesty has different areas of scholarship; pre-Ascension history may be too stuffy a topic even for him. Besides, anyone who asks a Keeper about the past should be prepared for an extended conversation, I think.”

“I’m not complaining,” Vin said. “Continue.”

“There isn’t much more to say – or, rather, there is a great deal more to say, but I doubt much of it has relevance. Was the Deepness an army? Was it, perhaps, the first attack from koloss, as some theorize? That would explain much – most stories agree that the Lord Ruler gained some power to defeat the Deepness at the Well of Ascension. Perhaps he gained the support of the koloss, and then used them as his armies.”

“Sazed,” Vin said. “I don’t think the Deepness was the koloss.”

“Oh?”

“I think it was the mist.”

“That theory has been proposed,” Sazed said with a nod.

“It has?” Vin asked, sounding a bit disappointed.

“Of course, Lady Vin. During the thousand-year reign of the Final Empire, there are few possibilities that haven’t been discussed, I think. The mist theory has been advanced before, but there are several large problems with it.”

“Such as?”

“Well,” Sazed said, “for one thing, the Lord Ruler is said to have defeated the Deepness. However, the mist is obviously still here. Also, if the Deepness was simply mist, why call it by such an obscure name? Of course, others point out that much of what we know or have heard of the Deepness comes from oral lore, and something very common can take on mystical properties when transferred verbally through generations. The ‘Deepness’ therefore could mean not just the mist, but the event of its coming or alteration.

“The larger problem with the mist theory, however, is one of malignance. If we trust the accounts – and we have little else to go on – the Deepness was terrible and destructive. The mist seems to display none of this danger.”

“But it kills people now.”

Sazed paused. “Yes, Lady Vin. It apparently does.”

“And what if it did so before, but the Lord Ruler stopped it somehow? You yourself said that you think we did something – something that changed the mist – when we killed the Lord Ruler.”

Sazed nodded. “The problems I have been investigating are quite terrible, to be certain. However, I do not see that they could be a threat on the same level as the Deepness. Certain people have been killed by the mists, but many are elderly or otherwise lacking in constitution. It leaves many people alone.”

He paused, tapping his thumbs together. “But, I would be remiss if I didn’t admit some merit to the suggestion, Lady Vin. Perhaps even a few deaths would be enough to cause a panic. The danger could have been exaggerated by retelling – and, perhaps the killings were more widespread before. I haven’t been able to collect enough information to be certain of anything yet.”

Vin didn’t respond. Oh, dear, Sazed thought, sighing to himself. I’ve bored her. I really do need to be more careful, watching my vocabulary and my language. One would think that after all my travels among the skaa, I would have learned–

“Sazed?” Vin said, sounding thoughtful. “What if we’re looking at it wrong? What if these random deaths in the mists aren’t the problem at all?”

“What do you mean, Lady Vin?”

She sat quietly for a moment, one foot tapping back idly against the chair’s back cushion. She finally looked up, meeting his eyes. “What would happen if the mists came during the day permanently?”

Sazed mused on that for a moment.

“There would be no light,” Vin continued. “Plants would die, people would starve. There would be death… chaos.”

“I suppose,” Sazed said. “Perhaps that theory has merit.”

“It’s not a theory,” Vin said, hopping down from her chair. “It’s what happened.”

“You’re so certain, already?” Sazed asked with amusement.

Vin nodded curtly, joining him at the desk. “I’m right,” she said with her characteristic bluntness. “I know it.” She pulled something out of a trouser pocket, then drew over a stool to sit beside him. She unfolded the wrinkled sheet and flattened it on the desk.

“These are quotes from the logbook,” Vin said. She pointed at a paragraph. “Here the Lord Ruler talks about how armies were useless against the Deepness. At first, I thought this meant that the armies hadn’t been able to defeat it – but look at the wording. He says ‘The swords of my armies are useless.’ What’s more useless than trying to swing a sword at mist?”

She pointed at another paragraph. “It left destruction in its wake, right? Countless thousands died because of it. But, he never says that the Deepness actually attacked them. He says that they ‘died because of it.’ Maybe we’ve just been looking at this the wrong way all along. Those people weren’t crushed or eaten. They starved to death because their land was slowly being swallowed by the mists.”

Sazed studied her paper. She seemed so certain. Did she know nothing of proper research techniques? Of questioning, of studying, of postulating and devising answers?

Of course she doesn’t, Sazed chastised himself. She grew up on the streets – she doesn’t use research techniques.

She just uses instinct. And she’s usually right.

He smoothed the paper again, reading its passages. “Lady Vin? Did you write this yourself?”

She flushed. “Why is everybody so surprised about that?”

“It just doesn’t seem in your nature, Lady Vin.”

“You people have corrupted me,” she said. “Look, there isn’t a single comment on this sheet that contradicts the idea that the Deepness was mist.”

“Not contradicting a point and proving it are different things, Lady Vin.”

She waved indifferently. “I’m right, Sazed. I know I am.”

“What about this point, then?” Sazed asked, pointing to a line. “The Hero implies that he can sense a sentience to the Deepness. The mist isn’t alive.”

“Well, it does swirl around someone using Allomancy.”

“That isn’t the same thing, I think,” Sazed said. “He says that the Deepness was mad… destructively insane. Evil.”

Vin paused. “There is something, Sazed,” she admitted.

He frowned.

She pointed at another section of notes. “Do you recognize these paragraphs?”

It isn’t a shadow, the words read.

This dark thing that follows me, the thing that only I can see – it isn’t really a shadow. It is blackish and translucent, but it doesn’t have a shadowlike solid outline. It’s insubstantial – wispy and formless. Like it’s made out of a dark fog.

Or mist, perhaps.

“Yes, Lady Vin,” Sazed said. “The Hero saw a creature following him. It attacked one of his companions, I think.”

Vin looked in his eyes. “I’ve seen it, Sazed.”

He felt a chill.

“It’s out there,” she said. “Every night, in the mists. Watching me. I can feel it, with Allomancy. And, if I get close enough, I can see it. As if formed from the mist itself. Insubstantial, yet somehow still there.”

Sazed sat quietly for a moment, not certain what to think.

“You think me mad,” Vin accused.

“No, Lady Vin,” he said quietly. “I don’t think any of us are in a position to call such things madness, not considering what is happening. Just… are you certain?”

She nodded firmly.

“But,” Sazed said. “Even if this is true, it does not answer my question. The logbook author saw that same creature, and he didn’t refer to it as the Deepness. It was not the Deepness, then. The Deepness was something else – something dangerous, something he could feel as evil.”

“That’s the secret, then,” Vin said. “We have to figure out why he spoke of the mists that way. Then we’ll know…”

“Know what, Lady Vin?” Sazed asked.

Vin paused, then looked away. She didn’t answer, instead turning to a different topic. “Sazed, the Hero never did what he was supposed to. Rashek killed him. And, when Rashek took the power at the Well, he didn’t give it up like he was supposed to – he kept it for himself.”

“True,” Sazed said.

Vin paused again. “And the mists have started killing people. They’ve started coming during the day. It’s… like things are repeating again. So… maybe that means that the Hero of Ages will have to come again.”

She glanced back at him, looking a bit… embarrassed? Ah… Sazed thought, sensing her implication. She saw things in the mists. The previous Hero had seen the same things. “I am not certain that is a valid statement, Lady Vin.”

She snorted. “Why can’t you just come out and say ‘you’re wrong,’ like regular people?”

“I apologize, Lady Vin. I have had much training as a servant, and we are taught to be nonconfrontational. Nevertheless, I do not think that you are wrong. However, I also think that, perhaps, you haven’t fully considered your position.”

Vin shrugged.

“What makes you think that the Hero of Ages will return?”

“I don’t know. Things that happen; things I feel. The mists are coming again, and someone needs to stop them.”

Sazed ran his fingers across his translated section of the rubbing, looking over its words.

“You don’t believe me,” Vin said.

“It isn’t that, Lady Vin,” Sazed said. “It’s just that I am not prone to rushing to decisions.”

“But, you’ve thought about the Hero of Ages, haven’t you?” Vin said. “He was part of your religion – the lost religion of Terris, the thing you Keepers were founded to try and discover.”

“That is true,” Sazed admitted. “However, we do not know much about the prophecies that our ancestors used to find their Hero. Besides, the reading I’ve been doing lately suggests that there was something wrong with their interpretations. If the greatest theologians of pre-Ascension Terris were unable to properly identify their Hero, how are we supposed to do so?”

Vin sat quietly. “I shouldn’t have brought it up,” she finally said.

“No, Lady Vin, please don’t think that. I apologize – your theories have great merit. I simply have a scholar’s mind, and must question and consider information when I am given it. I am far too fond of arguing, I think.”

Vin looked up, smiling slightly. “Another reason you never made a good Terris steward?”

“Undoubtedly,” he said with a sigh. “My attitude also tends to cause conflicts with the others of my order.”

“Like Tindwyl?” Vin asked. “She didn’t sound happy when she heard that you’d told us about Feruchemy.”

Sazed nodded. “For a group dedicated to knowledge, the Keepers can be rather stingy with information about their powers. When the Lord Ruler still lived – when Keepers were hunted – the caution was warranted, I think. But, now that we are free from that, my brethren and sisters seem to have found the habit of secrecy a difficult one to break.”

Vin nodded. “Tindwyl doesn’t seem to like you very much. She says that she came because of your suggestion, but every time someone mentions you, she seems to get… cold.”

Sazed sighed. Did Tindwyl dislike him? He thought, perhaps, that her inability to do so was a large part of the problem. “She is simply disappointed in me, Lady Vin. I’m not sure how much you know of my history, but I had been working against the Lord Ruler for some ten years before Kelsier recruited me. The other Keepers thought that I endangered my copperminds, and the very order itself. They believed that the Keepers should remain quiet – waiting for the day when the Lord Ruler fell, but not seeking to make it happen.”

“Seems a bit cowardly to me,” Vin said.

“Ah, but it was a very prudent course. You see, Lady Vin, had I been captured, there are many things I could have revealed. The names of other Keepers, the location of our safe houses, the means by which we managed to hide ourselves in Terris culture. My brethren worked for many decades to make the Lord Ruler think that Feruchemy had finally been exterminated. By revealing myself, I could have undone all of that.”

“That would only have been bad had we failed,” Vin said. “We didn’t.”

“We could have.”

“We didn’t.”

Sazed paused, then smiled. Sometimes, in a world of debate, questions, and self-doubt, Vin’s simple bluntness was refreshing. “Regardless,” he continued, “Tindwyl is a member of the Synod – a group of Keeper elders who guide our sect. I have been in rebellion against the Synod a number of times during my past. And, by returning to Luthadel, I am defying them once again. She has good reason to be displeased with me.”

“Well, I think you’re doing the right thing,” Vin said. “We need you.”

“Thank you, Lady Vin.”

“I don’t think you have to listen to Tindwyl,” she said. “She’s the type who acts like she knows more than she does.”

“She is very wise.”

“She’s hard on Elend.”

“Then she probably does so because it is best for him,” Sazed said. “Do not judge her too harshly, child. If she seems off-putting, it is only because she has lived a very hard life.”

“Hard life?” Vin asked, tucking her notes back into her pocket.

“Yes, Lady Vin,” Sazed said. “You see, Tindwyl spent most of her life as a Terris mother.”

Vin hesitated, hand in pocket, looking surprised. “You mean… she was a Breeder?”

Sazed nodded. The Lord Ruler’s breeding program included selecting a few, special individuals to use for birthing new children – with the goal being to breed Feruchemy out of the population.

“Tindwyl had, at last count, birthed over twenty children,” he said. “Each with a different father. Tindwyl had her first child when she was fourteen, and spent her entire life being taken repeatedly by strange men until she became pregnant. And, because of the fertility drugs the Breeding masters forced upon her, she often bore twins or triplets.”

“I… see,” Vin said softly.

“You are not the only one who knew a terrible childhood, Lady Vin. Tindwyl is perhaps the strongest woman I know.”

“How did she bear it?” Vin asked quietly. “I think… I think I would probably have just killed myself.”

“She is a Keeper,” Sazed said. “She suffered the indignity because she knew that she did a great service for her people. You see, Feruchemy is hereditary. Tindwyl’s position as a mother ensured future generations of Feruchemists among our people. Ironically, she is exactly the sort of person that the Breeding masters were supposed to avoid letting reproduce.”

“But, how did such a thing happen?”

“The breeders assumed they’d already cut Feruchemy out of the population,” Sazed said. “They started looking to create other traits in the Terris – docility, temperance. They bred us like fine horses, and it was a great stroke when the Synod managed to get Tindwyl chosen for their program.

“Of course, Tindwyl has very little training in Feruchemy. She did, fortunately, receive some of the copperminds that we Keepers carry. So, during her many years locked away, she was able to study and read biographies. It was only during the last decade – her childbearing years through – that she was able to join and gain fellowship with the other Keepers.”

Sazed paused, then shook his head. “By comparison, the rest of us have known a life of freedom, I think.”

“Great,” Vin mumbled, standing and yawning. “Another reason for you to feel guilty.”

“You should sleep, Lady Vin,” Sazed noted.

“For a few hours,” Vin said, walking toward the door, leaving him alone again with his studies.

31

PHILEN FRANDEU WAS NOT SKAA. He had never been skaa. Skaa made things or grew things. Philen sold things. There was an enormous difference between the two.

Oh, some people had called him skaa. Even now, he could see that word in the eyes of some of the other Assemblymen. They regarded Philen and his fellow merchants with the same disdain that they gave the eight skaa workers on the Assembly. Couldn’t they see that the two groups were completely different?

Philen shifted a bit on the bench. Shouldn’t the Assembly hall at least have comfortable seating? They were waiting on just a few members; the tall clock in the corner said that fifteen minutes still remained until the meeting began. Oddly, one of those who had yet to arrive was Venture himself. King Elend was usually early.

Not king anymore, Philen thought with a smile. Just plain old Elend Venture. It was a poor name – not as good as Philen’s own. Of course, he had been just “Lin” until a year and a half ago. Philen Frandeu was what he had dubbed himself after the Collapse. It delighted him to no end that the others had taken to calling him the name without pause. But, why shouldn’t he have a grand name? A lord’s name? Was Philen not as good as any of the “noblemen” sitting aloofly in their places?

Oh, he was just as good. Better, even. Yes, they had called him skaa – but during those years, they had come to him out of need, and so their arrogant sneers had lacked power. He’d seen their insecurity. They’d needed him. A man they called skaa. But he’d also been a merchant. A merchant who wasn’t noble. Something that wasn’t supposed to have existed in the Lord Ruler’s perfect little empire.

But, noblemen merchants had to work with the obligators. And, where there had been obligators, nothing illegal could occur. Hence Philen. He’d been… an intermediary, of sorts. A man capable of arranging deals between interested parties who, for various reasons, wanted to avoid the watchful eyes of the Lord Ruler’s obligators. Philen hadn’t been part of a thieving crew – no, that was far too dangerous. And far too mundane.

He had been born with an eye for finances and trades. Give him two rocks, and he’d have a quarry by the end of the week. Give him a spoke, and he’d change it to a fine horse-drawn carriage. Two bits of corn, and he’d eventually have a massive shipment of grain sailing to the Farmost Dominance markets. Actual noblemen had done the trades, of course, but Philen had been behind it all. A vast empire of his own.

And still, they couldn’t see. He wore a suit as fine as theirs; now that he could trade openly, he had become one of the wealthiest men in Luthadel. Yet, the noblemen ignored him, just because he lacked a valid pedigree.

Well, they would see. After today’s meeting… yes, they would see. Philen looked out into the crowd, looking anxiously for the person he had hidden there. Reassured, he looked toward the noblemen of the Assembly, who sat chatting a short distance away. One of their last members – Lord Ferson Penrod – had just arrived. The older man walked up onto the Assembly’s dais, passing by the members, greeting each in turn.

“Philen,” Penrod said, noticing him. “A new suit, I see. The red vest suits you.”

“Lord Penrod! Why, you’re looking well. You got over the other night’s ailment, then?”

“Yes, it passed quickly,” the lord said, nodding a head topped with silver hair. “Just a touch of stomach ills.”

Pity, Philen thought, smiling. “Well, we’d best be seated. I see that young Venture isn’t here, though…”

“Yes,” Penrod said, frowning. He’d been most difficult to convince to vote against Venture; he had something of a fondness for the boy. He had come around in the end. They all had.

Penrod moved on, joining the other noblemen. The old fool probably thought he was going to end up as king. Well, Philen had other plans for that throne. It wasn’t Philen’s own posterior that would sit in it, of course; he had no interest in running a country. Seemed like a terrible way to make money. Selling things. That was a much better way. More stable, less likely to lose one his head.

Oh, but Philen had plans. He’d always had those. He had to keep himself from glancing at the audience again.

Philen turned, instead, to study the Assembly. They had all arrived except Venture. Seven noblemen, eight merchants, and eight skaa workers: twenty-four men, with Venture. The three-way division was supposed to give the commoners the most power, since they ostensibly outnumbered the noblemen. Even Venture hadn’t understood that merchants weren’t skaa.

Philen wrinkled his nose. Even though the skaa Assemblymen usually cleaned up before coming to the meetings, he could smell the stink of forges, mills, and shops on them. Men who made things. Philen would have to be certain they were put back in their place, once this was over. An Assembly was an interesting idea, but it should be filled only with those who deserved the station. Men like Philen.

Lord Philen, he thought. Not long now.

Hopefully, Elend would be late. Then, maybe they could avoid his speech. Philen could imagine how it would go anyway.

Um… now, see, this wasn’t fair. I should be king. Here, let me read you a book about why. Now, um, can you all please give some more money to the skaa?

Philen smiled.

The man next to him, Getrue, nudged him. “You think he’s going to show up?” he whispered.

“Probably not. He must know that we don’t want him. We kicked him out, didn’t we?”

Getrue shrugged. He’d gained weight since the Collapse – a lot of it. “I don’t know, Lin. I mean… we didn’t mean. He was just… the armies… We have to have a strong king, right? Someone who will keep the city from falling?”

“Of course,” Philen said. “And my name isn’t Lin.”

Getrue flushed. “Sorry.”

“We did the right thing,” Philen continued. “Venture is a weak man. A fool.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Getrue said. “He has good ideas…” Getrue glanced downward uncomfortably.

Philen snorted, glancing at the clock. It was time, though he couldn’t hear the chimes over the crowd. The Assembly meetings had become busy since Venture’s fall. Benches fanned out before the stage, benches crowded with people, mostly skaa. Philen wasn’t sure why they were allowed to attend. They couldn’t vote or anything.

More Venture foolishness, he thought, shaking his head. At the very back of the room – behind the crowd, opposite the stage – sat two large, broad doors letting in the red sunlight. Philen nodded toward some men, and they pushed the doors shut. The crowds hushed.

Philen stood to address the Assembly. “Well, since–”

The Assembly hall doors burst back open. A man in white stood with a small crowd of people, backlit by red sunlight. Elend Venture. Philen cocked his head, frowning.

The former king strode forward, white cape fluttering behind him. His Mistborn was at his side, as usual, but she was wearing a dress. From the few times Philen had spoken with her, he would have expected her to look awkward in a noblewoman’s gown. And yet, she seemed to wear it well, walking gracefully. She actually looked rather fetching.

At least, until Philen met her eyes. She did not have a warm look for the Assembly members, and Philen glanced away. Venture had brought all of his Allomancers with him – the former thugs of the Survivor’s crew. Elend apparently wanted to remind everyone who his friends were. Powerful men. Frightening men.

Men who killed gods.

And Elend had not one, but two Terrismen with him. One was only a woman – Philen had never seen a Terriswoman before – but still, it was impressive. Everyone had heard how the stewards had left their masters after the Collapse; they refused to work as servants anymore. Where had Venture found not one, but two of the colorful-robed stewards to serve him?

The crowd sat quietly, watching Venture. Some seemed uncomfortable. How were they to treat this man? Others seemed… awed? Was that right? Who would be awed by Elend Venture – even if the Elend Venture in question was clean-shaven, had styled hair, wore new clothing and…? Philen frowned. Was that a dueling cane the king was wearing? And a wolfhound at his side?

He’s not king anymore! Philen reminded himself again.

Venture strode up onto the Assembly stage. He turned, waving for his people – all eight of them – to sit with the guards. Venture then turned and glanced at Philen. “Philen, did you want to say something?”

Philen realized he was still standing. “I… was just–”

“Are you Assembly chancellor?” Elend asked.

Philen paused. “Chancellor?”

“The king presides at Assembly meetings,” Elend said. “We now have no king – and so, by law, the Assembly should have elected a chancellor to call speakers, adjudicate time allotments, and break tie votes.” He paused, eyeing Philen. “Someone needs to lead. Otherwise there is chaos.”

Despite himself, Philen grew nervous. Did Venture know that Philen had organized the vote against him? No, no he didn’t, he couldn’t. He was looking at each of the Assembly members in turn, meeting their eyes. There was none of the jovial, dismissible boy that had attended these meetings before. Standing in the militaristic suit, firm instead of hesitant… he almost seemed like a different person.

You found a coach, it appears, Philen thought. A little too late. Just wait…

Philen sat down. “Actually, we didn’t get a chance to choose a chancellor,” he said. “We were just getting to that.”

Elend nodded, a dozen different instructions rattling in his head. Keep eye contact. Use subtle, but firm, expressions. Never appear hurried, but don’t seem hesitant. Sit down without wiggling, don’t shuffle, use a straight posture, don’t form your hands into fists when you’re nervous…

He shot a quick glance at Tindwyl. She gave him a nod.

Get back to it, El, he told himself. Let them sense the differences in you.

He walked over to take his seat, nodding to the other seven noblemen on the Assembly. “Very well,” he said, taking the lead. “Then, might I nominate a chancellor?”

“Yourself?” asked Dridel, one of the noblemen; his sneer seemed permanent, as far as Elend could tell. It was a passably appropriate expression for one with such a sharp face and dark hair.

“No,” Elend said. “I’m hardly an unbiased party in today’s proceedings. Therefore, I nominate Lord Penrod. He’s as honorable a man as we’re likely to find, and I believe he can be trusted to mediate our discussions.”

The group was quiet for a moment.

“That seems logical,” Hettel, a forge worker, finally said.

“All in favor?” Elend said, raising his hand. He got a good eighteen hands – all of the skaa, most of the nobility, only one of the merchants. It was a majority, however.

Elend turned to Lord Penrod. “I believe that means that you are in charge, Ferson.”

The stately man nodded appreciatively, then rose to formally open the meeting, something Elend had once done. Penrod’s mannerisms were polished, his posture strong as he stood in his well-cut suit. Elend couldn’t help but feel a little jealous, watching Penrod act so naturally in the things that Elend was struggling to learn.

Maybe he would make a better king than I, Elend thought. Perhaps…

No, he thought firmly. I have to be confident. Penrod is a decent man and an impeccable noble, but those things do not make a leader. He hasn’t read what I’ve read, and doesn’t understand legislative theory as I do. He’s a good man, but he’s still a product of his society – he doesn’t consider skaa animals, but he’ll never be able to think of them as equals.

Penrod finished the introductions, then turned to Elend. “Lord Venture, you called this meeting. I believe that the law grants you first opportunity to address the Assembly.”

Elend nodded thankfully, rising.

“Will twenty minutes be enough time?” Penrod asked.

“It should be,” Elend said, passing Penrod as they traded places. Elend stood up at the lectern. To his right, the floor of the hall was packed with shuffling, coughing, whispering people. There was a tension to the room – this was the first time Elend had confronted the group that had betrayed him.

“As many of you know,” Elend said to the twenty-three Assembly members, “I recently returned from a meeting with Straff Venture – the warlord who is, unfortunately, my father. I would like to give a report of this encounter. Realize that because this is an open meeting, I will adjust my report to avoid mentioning sensitive matters of national security.”

He paused just slightly, and saw the looks of confusion he had expected. Finally, Philen the merchant cleared his throat.

“Yes, Philen?” Elend asked.

“This is all well and good, Elend,” Philen said. “But aren’t you going to address the matter that brought us here?”

“The reason we meet together, Philen,” Elend said, “is so that we can discuss how to keep Luthadel safe and prosperous. I think the people are most worried about the armies – and we should, primarily, seek to address their concerns. Matters of leadership in the Assembly can wait.”

“I… see,” Philen said, obviously confused.

“The time is yours, Lord Venture,” Penrod said. “Proceed as you wish.”

“Thank you, Chancellor,” Elend said. “I wish to make it very clear that my father is not going to attack this city. I can understand why people would be concerned, particularly because of last week’s preliminary assault on our walls. That, however, was simply a test – Straff fears attacking too much to commit all of his resources.

“During our meeting, Straff told me that he had made an alliance with Cett. However, I believe this to have been a bluff – if, unfortunately, a bluff with teeth. I suspect that he was, indeed, planning to risk attacking us, despite Cett’s presence. That attack has been halted.”

“Why?” asked one of the worker representatives. “Because you’re his son?”

“No, actually,” Elend said. “Straff is not one to let familial relationships hamper his determination.” Elend paused, glancing at Vin. He was beginning to realize that she didn’t like being the one who held the knife at Straff’s throat, but she had given him permission to speak of her in his speech.

Still…

She said it was all right, he told himself. I’m not choosing duty over her!

“Come now, Elend,” Philen said. “Stop with the theatrics. What did you promise Straff to keep his armies out of the city?”

“I threatened him,” Elend said. “My fellow Assemblymen, when facing down my father in parlay, I realized that we – as a group – have generally ignored one of our greatest resources. We think of ourselves as an honorable body, created by the mandate of the people. However, we are not here because of anything we ourselves did. There is only one reason we have the positions we do – and that reason is the Survivor of Hathsin.”

Elend looked the members of the Assembly in the eyes as he continued. “I have, at times, felt as I suspect that many of you do. The Survivor is a legend already, one we cannot hope to emulate. He has power over this people – a power stronger than our own, even though he is dead. We’re jealous. Insecure, even. These are natural, human feelings. Leaders feel them just as acutely as other people – perhaps even more so.

“Gentlemen, we cannot afford to continue thinking like this. The Survivor’s legacy doesn’t belong to one group, or even to this city alone. He is our progenitor – the father of everyone who is free in this land. Whether or not you accept his religious authority, you must admit that without his bravery and sacrifice, we would not now enjoy our current freedom.”

“What does this have to do with Straff?” Philen snapped.

“Everything,” Elend said. “For, though the Survivor is gone, his legacy remains. Specifically, in the form of his apprentice.” Elend nodded toward Vin. “She is the most powerful Mistborn alive – something Straff now knows for himself. Gentlemen, I know my father’s temperament. He will not attack this city while he fears retribution from a source he cannot stop. He now realizes that if he attacks, he will incur the wrath of the Survivor’s heir – a wrath not even the Lord Ruler himself could withstand.”

Elend fell silent, listening to the whispered conversations move through the crowd. News of what he’d just said would reach the populace, and bring them strength. Perhaps, even, news would reach Straff’s army through the spies Elend knew must be in the audience. He’d noticed his father’s Allomancer sitting in the crowd, the one named Zane.

And when news reached Straff’s army, the men there might think twice about obeying any orders to attack. Who would want to face the very force that had destroyed the Lord Ruler? It was a weak hope – the men of Straff’s army probably didn’t believe all of the stories out of Luthadel – but every little bit of weakened morale would help.

It also wouldn’t hurt for Elend to associate himself a little more strongly with the Survivor. He was just going to have to get over his insecurity; Kelsier had been a great man, but he was gone. Elend would just have to do his best to see that the Survivor’s legacy lived on.

For that was what would be best for his people.

Vin sat with a twisted stomach, listening to Elend’s speech.

“You okay with this?” Ham whispered, leaning over to her as Elend gave a more detailed account of his visit with Straff.

Vin shrugged. “Whatever helps the kingdom.”

“You were never comfortable with the way that Kell set himself up with the skaa – none of us were.”

“It’s what Elend needs,” Vin said.

Tindwyl, who sat just before them, turned and gave her a flat look. Vin expected some recrimination for whispering during the Assembly proceedings, but apparently the Terriswoman had a different kind of castigation in mind.

“The king–” She still referred to Elend that way. “– needs this link with the Survivor. Elend has very little of his own authority to rely upon, and Kelsier is currently the most well loved, most celebrated man in the Central Dominance. By implying that the government was founded by the Survivor, the king will make the people think twice about meddling with it.”

Ham nodded thoughtfully. Vin glanced downward, however. What’s the problem? Just earlier, I was beginning to wonder if I were the Hero of Ages, and now I’m worried about the notoriety Elend is giving me?

She sat uncomfortably, burning bronze, feeling the pulsing from far away. It was growing even louder…

Stop it! she told herself. Sazed doesn’t think the Hero would return, and he knows the histories better than anyone. It was foolish, anyway. I need to focus on what’s happening here.

After all, Zane was in the audience.

Vin sought out his face near the back of the room, a light burn of tin – not enough to blind her – letting her study his features. He wasn’t looking at her, but watching the Assembly. Was he working at Straff’s command, or was this visit his own? Straff and Cett both undoubtedly had spies in the audience – and, of course, Ham had guards mixed with the people as well. Zane unnerved her, however. Why didn’t he turn toward her? Wasn’t–

Zane met her eyes. He smiled slightly, then turned back to his study of Elend.

Vin felt a shiver despite herself. So, did this mean he wasn’t avoiding her? Focus! She told herself. You need to pay attention to what Elend is saying.

He was almost done, however. He wrapped up his speech with a few comments on how he thought they could keep Straff off-balance. Again, he couldn’t be too detailed – not without giving away secrets. He glanced at the large clock in the corner; done three minutes early, he moved to leave the lectern.

Lord Penrod cleared his throat. “Elend, aren’t you forgetting something?”

Elend hesitated, then looked back at the Assembly. “What is it that you all want me to say?”

“Don’t you have a reaction?” one of the skaa workers said. “About… what happened at the last meeting?”

“You received my missive,” Elend said. “You know how I feel about the matter. However, this public forum is not a place for accusations or denunciations. The Assembly is too noble a body for that kind of thing. I wish that a time of danger were not when the Assembly had chosen to voice its concerns, but we cannot alter what has happened.”

He moved to sit again.

“That’s it?” asked one of the skaa. “You’re not even going to argue for yourself, try and persuade us to reinstate you?”

Elend paused again. “No,” he said. “No, I don’t think that I will. You have made your opinions known to me, and I am disappointed. However, you are the representatives chosen by the people. I believe in the power that you have been given.

“If you have questions, or challenges, I will be happy to defend myself. However, I am not going to stand and preach my virtues. You all know me. You know what I can do, and what I intend to do, for this city and the surrounding populace. Let that stand as my argument.”

He returned to his seat. Vin could see hints of a frown on Tindwyl’s face. Elend hadn’t given the speech that she and he had prepared, a speech giving the very arguments the Assembly was obviously expecting.

Why the change? Vin wondered. Tindwyl obviously didn’t think it was a good idea. And yet, oddly, Vin found herself trusting Elend’s instincts more than she did Tindwyl’s.

“Well,” Lord Penrod said, approaching the lectern again. “Thank you for that report, Lord Venture. I’m not certain if we have other items of business…”

“Lord Penrod?” Elend asked.

“Yes?”

“Perhaps you should hold the nominations?”

Lord Penrod frowned.

“The nominations for king, Penrod,” Philen snapped.

Vin paused, eyeing the merchant. He certainly seems up on things, she noted.

“Yes,” Elend said, eyeing Philen as well. “In order for the Assembly to choose a new king, nominations must be held at least three days before the actual voting. I suggest we hold the nominations now, so that we can hold the vote as soon as possible. The city suffers each day it is without a leader.”

Elend paused, then smiled. “Unless, of course, you intend to let the month lapse without choosing a new king…”

Good to confirm that he still wants the crown, Vin thought.

“Thank you, Lord Venture,” Penrod said. “We’ll do that now, then… And, how exactly do we proceed?”

“Each member of the Assembly may make one nomination, if he wishes,” Elend said. “So that we don’t become overburdened with options, I would recommend that we all exercise restraint – only choose someone that you honestly and sincerely think would make the finest king. If you have a nomination to make, you may stand and announce it to the rest of the group.”

Penrod nodded, returning to his seat. Almost as soon as he sat, however, one of the skaa stood. “I nominate Lord Penrod.”

Elend had to expect that, Vin thought. After nominating Penrod to be chancellor. Why give such authority to the man that he knew would be his greatest contender for the throne?

The answer was simple. Because Elend knew that Lord Penrod was the best choice for chancellor. Sometimes, he’s a little too honorable, Vin thought, not for the first time. She turned to study the skaa Assemblyman who had nominated Penrod. Why were the skaa so quick to unify behind a nobleman?

She suspected that it was still too soon. The skaa were accustomed to being led by noblemen, and even with their freedom, they were traditional beings – more traditional, even, than the noblemen. A lord like Penrod – calm, commanding – seemed inherently better suited to the title of king than a skaa.

They’ll have to get over that, eventually, Vin thought. At least, they will if they’re ever going to be the people that Elend wants them to be.

The room remained quiet, no other nominations being made. A few people coughed in the audience, even the whispers now dead. Finally, Lord Penrod himself stood.

“I nominate Elend Venture,” he said.

“Ah…” someone whispered behind her.

Vin turned, glancing at Breeze. “What?” she whispered.

“Brilliant,” Breeze said. “Don’t you see? Penrod is an honorable man. Or, at least, as honorable as noblemen get – which means that he insists on being seen as honorable. Elend nominated Penrod for chancellor…”

Hoping, in turn, that Penrod would feel obligated to nominate Elend for king, Vin realized. She glanced at Elend, noting a slight smile on his lips. Had he really crafted the exchange? It seemed a move subtle enough for Breeze himself.

Breeze shook his head appreciatively. “Not only did Elend not have to nominate himself – which would have made him look desperate – but now everyone on the Assembly thinks that the man they respect, the man they would probably choose as king, would rather have Elend hold the title. Brilliant.”

Penrod sat, and the room remained quiet. Vin suspected that he also had made the nomination so that he wouldn’t go uncontested to the throne. The entire Assembly probably thought that Elend deserved a chance to reclaim his place; Penrod was just the one who was honorable enough to voice the feeling.

But, what about the merchants? Vin thought. They’ve got to have their own plan. Elend thought that it was probably Philen who had organized the vote against him. They’d want to put one of their own on the throne, one who could open the city gates to whichever of the kings was manipulating them – or whichever one paid the best.

She studied the group of eight men, in their suits that seemed – somehow – even more fine than those of the noblemen. They all seemed to be waiting on the whims of a single man. What was Philen planning?

One of the merchants moved as if to stand, but Philen shot him a harsh glance. The merchant did not rise. Philen sat quietly, a nobleman’s dueling cane across his lap. Finally, when most of the room had noticed the merchant’s focus on him, he slowly rose to his feet.

“I have a nomination of my own,” he said.

There was a snort from the skaa section. “Now who’s being melodramatic, Philen?” one of the Assemblymen there said. “Just go ahead and do it – nominate yourself.”

Philen raised an eyebrow. “Actually, I’m not going to nominate myself.”

Vin frowned, and she saw confusion in Elend’s eyes.

“Though I appreciate the sentiment,” Philen continued, “I am but a simple merchant. No, I think that the title of king should go to someone whose skills are a little more specialized. Tell me, Lord Venture, must our nominations be for people on the Assembly?”

“No,” Elend said. “The king doesn’t have to be an Assemblyman – I accepted this position after the fact. The king’s primary duty is that of creating, then enforcing, the law. The Assembly is only an advisory council with some measure of counterbalancing power. The king himself can be anyone – actually, the title was intended to be hereditary. I didn’t expect… certain clauses to be invoked quite so quickly.”

“Ah, yes,” Philen said. “Well, then. I think the title should go to someone who has a little practice with it. Someone who has shown skill with leadership. Therefore, I nominate Lord Ashweather Cett to be our king!”

What? Vin thought with shock as Philen turned, gesturing toward the audience. A man sitting there removed his skaa cloak, pulling down the hood, revealing a suit and a face with a bristling beard.

“Oh dear…” Breeze said.

“It’s actually him?” Vin asked incredulously as the whispers began in the audience.

Breeze nodded. “Oh, that’s him. Lord Cett himself.” He paused, then eyed her. “I think we might be in trouble.”

32

VIN SAT QUIETLY, TENSELY, SCANNING the crowd. Cett wouldn’t have come alone, she thought.

And then she saw them, now that she knew what she was looking for. Soldiers in the crowd, dressed like skaa, forming a small protective buffer around Cett’s seat. The king did not rise, though a young man at his side did.

Maybe thirty guards, Vin thought. He may not be foolish enough to come alone… but entering the very city you’re besieging? It was a bold move – one that bordered on stupidity. Of course, many had said the same about Elend’s visit to Straff’s army.

But Cett wasn’t in the same position as Elend. He wasn’t desperate, wasn’t in danger of losing everything. Except… he had a smaller army than Straff, and the koloss were coming. And if Straff did secure the supposed atium supply, Cett’s days as leader in the West would certainly be numbered. Coming into Luthadel might not have been an act of desperation, but it also wasn’t the act of a man who held the upper hand. Cett was gambling.

And he seemed to be enjoying it.

Cett smiled as the room waited in silence, Assemblymen and audience alike too shocked to speak. Finally, Cett waved to a few of his disguised soldiers, and the men picked up Cett’s chair and carried it to the stage. Assemblymen whispered and commented, turning to aides or companions, seeking confirmation of Cett’s identity. Most of the noblemen sat quietly – which should have been enough of a confirmation, in Vin’s mind.

“He’s not what I expected,” Vin whispered to Breeze as the soldiers climbed up on the dais.

“Nobody told you he was crippled?” Breeze asked.

“Not just that,” Vin said. “He’s not wearing a suit.” He had on a pair of trousers and a shirt, but instead of a nobleman’s suit coat, he was wearing a worn black jacket. “Plus, that beard. He couldn’t have grown a beast like that in one year – he must have had it before the Collapse.”

“You only knew noblemen in Luthadel, Vin,” Ham said. “The Final Empire was a big place, with a lot of different societies. Not everybody dresses like they do here.”

Breeze nodded. “Cett was the most powerful nobleman in his area, so he needn’t worry about tradition and propriety. He did what he wished, and the local nobility pandered. There were a hundred different courts with a hundred different little ‘Lord Rulers’ in the empire, each region having its own political dynamic.”

Vin turned back to the stage front. Cett sat in his chair, having yet to speak. Finally, Lord Penrod stood. “This is most unexpected, Lord Cett.”

“Good!” Cett said. “That was, after all, the point!”

“Do you wish to address the Assembly?”

“I thought I already was.”

Penrod cleared his throat, and Vin’s tin-enhanced ears heard a disparaging mutter from the noblemen’s section regarding “Western noblemen.”

“You have ten minutes, Lord Cett,” Penrod said, sitting.

“Good,” Cett said. “Because – unlike the boy over there – I intend to tell you exactly why you should make me king.”

“And that is?” one of the merchant Assemblymen asked.

“Because I’ve got an army on your damn doorstep!” Cett said with a laugh.

The Assembly looked taken aback.

“A threat, Cett?” Elend asked calmly.

“No, Venture,” Cett replied. “Just honesty – something you Central noblemen seem to avoid at all cost. A threat is only a promise turned around. What was it you told these people? That your mistress had her knife at Straff’s throat? So, were you implying that if you weren’t elected, you’d have your Mistborn withdraw, and let the city be destroyed?”

Elend flushed. “Of course not.”

“Of course not,” Cett repeated. He had a loud voice – unapologetic, forceful. “Well, I don’t pretend, and I don’t hide. My army is here, and my intention is to take this city. However, I’d much rather that you just give it to me.”

“You, sir, are a tyrant,” Penrod said flatly.

“So?” Cett asked. “I’m a tyrant with forty thousand soldiers. That’s twice what you’ve got guarding these walls.”

“What’s to stop us from simply taking you hostage?” asked one of the other noblemen. “You seem to have delivered yourself to us quite neatly.”

Cett bellowed a laugh. “If I don’t return to my camp this evening, my army has orders to attack and raze the city immediately – no matter what! They’ll probably get destroyed by Venture afterward – but it won’t matter to me, or to you, at that point! We’ll all be dead.”

The room fell silent.

“See, Venture?” Cett asked. “Threats work wonderfully.”

“You honestly expect us to make you our king?” Elend asked.

“Actually, I do,” Cett said. “Look, with your twenty thousand added to my forty, we could easily hold these walls against Straff – we could even stop that army of koloss.”

Whispers began immediately, and Cett raised a bushy eyebrow, turning to Elend. “You didn’t tell them about the koloss, did you?”

Elend didn’t respond.

“Well, they’ll know soon enough,” Cett said. “Regardless, I don’t see that you have any other option but to elect me.”

“You’re not an honorable man,” Elend said simply. “The people expect more from their leaders.”

“I’m not an honorable man?” Cett asked with amusement. “And you are? Let me ask you a direct question, Venture. During the proceedings of this meeting, have any of your Allomancers over there been Soothing members of the Assembly?”

Elend paused. His eyes glanced to the side, finding Breeze. Vin closed her eyes. No, Elend, don’t–

“Yes, they have,” Elend admitted.

Vin heard Tindwyl groan quietly.

“And,” Cett continued, “can you honestly say that you’ve never doubted yourself? Never wondered if you were a good king?”

“I think every leader wonders these things,” Elend said.

“Well, I haven’t,” Cett said. “I’ve always known I was meant to be in charge – and I’ve always done the best job of making certain that I stayed in power. I know how to make myself strong, and that means I know how to make those who associate with me strong as well.

“Here’s the deal. You give me the crown, and I’ll take charge here. You all get to keep your titles – and those of the Assembly who don’t have titles will get them. In addition, you’ll get to keep your heads – which is a far better deal than Straff would offer, I assure you.

“The people get to keep working, and I’ll make certain that they’re fed this winter. Everything goes back to normal, the way it was before this insanity began a year back. The skaa work, the nobility administrates.”

“You think they’d go back to that?” Elend asked. “After all we fought for, you think I will simply let you force the people back into slavery?”

Cett smiled beneath his large beard. “I wasn’t under the impression that the decision was yours, Elend Venture.”

Elend fell silent.

“I want to meet with each of you,” Cett said to the Assemblymen. “If you’ll allow, I wish to move into Luthadel with some of my men. Say, a force of five thousand – enough to make me feel safe, but not to be of any real danger to you. I’ll take up residence in one of the abandoned keeps, and wait until your decision next week. During that time, I’ll meet with each of you in turn and explain the… benefits that would come from choosing me as your king.”

“Bribes,” Elend spat.

“Of course,” Cett said. “Bribes for all of the people of this city – the foremost bribe being that of peace! You’re so fond of name-calling, Venture. ‘Slaves,’ ‘threats,’ ‘honorable.’ ‘Bribe’ is just a word. Looked at another way, a bribe is just a promise, turned on its head.” Cett smiled.

The group of Assemblymen was silent. “Shall we vote, then, on whether to let him enter the city?” Penrod asked.

“Five thousand is way too many,” one of the skaa Assemblymen said.

“Agreed,” Elend said. “There’s no way we can let that many foreign troops into Luthadel.”

“I don’t like it at all,” another said.

“What?” said Philen. “A monarch inside our city will be less dangerous than one outside, wouldn’t you say? And besides, Cett has promised us all titles.”

This gave the group something to think about.

“Why not just give me the crown now?” Cett said. “Open your gates to my army.”

“You can’t,” Elend said immediately. “Not until there is a king – or unless you can get a unanimous vote right now.”

Vin smiled. Unanimous wouldn’t happen in that case as long as Elend was on the Assembly.

“Bah,” Cett said, but he obviously was smooth enough not to insult the legislative body further. “Let me take up residence in the city, then.”

Penrod nodded. “All in favor of allowing Lord Cett to take up residence inside with… say… a thousand troops?”

A full nineteen of the Assemblymen raised their hands. Elend was not one of them.

“It is done, then,” Penrod said. “We adjourn for two weeks.”

This can’t be happening, Elend thought. I thought maybe Penrod would provide a challenge, Philen a lesser one. But… one of the very tyrants who is threatening the city? How could they? How could they even consider his suggestion?

Elend stood, catching Penrod’s arm as he turned to walk off the dais. “Ferson,” Elend said quietly, “this is insanity.”

“We have to consider the option, Elend.”

“Consider selling out the people of this city to a tyrant?”

Penrod’s face grew cold, and he shook Elend’s arm free. “Listen, lad,” he said quietly. “You are a good man, but you’ve always been an idealist. You’ve spent time in books and philosophy – I’ve spent my life fighting politics with the members of the court. You know theories; I know people.”

He turned, nodding to the audience. “Look at them, lad. They’re terrified. What good do your dreams do them when they’re starving? You talk of freedom and justice when two armies are preparing to slaughter their families.”

Penrod turned back to Elend, staring him in the eyes. “The Lord Ruler’s system wasn’t perfect, but it kept these people safe. We don’t even have that anymore. Your ideals can’t face down armies. Cett might be a tyrant, but given the choice between him and Straff, I’d have to choose Cett. We’d probably have given him the city weeks ago, if you hadn’t stopped us.”

Penrod nodded to Elend, then turned and joined a few of the noblemen who were leaving. Elend stood quietly for a moment.

We have seen a curious phenomenon associated with rebel groups that break off of the Final Empire and attempt to seek autonomy, he thought, recalling a passage from Ytves’s book Studies in Revolution. In almost all cases, the Lord Ruler didn’t need to send his armies to reconquer the rebels. By the time his agents arrived, the groups had overthrown themselves.

It seems that the rebels found the chaos of transition more difficult to accept than the tyranny they had known before. They joyfully welcomed back authority – even oppressive authority – for it was less painful for them than uncertainty.

Vin and the others joined him on the stage, and he put his arm around her shoulders, standing quietly as he watched people trail from the building. Cett sat surrounded by a small group of Assemblymen, arranging meetings with them.

“Well,” Vin said quietly. “We know he’s Mistborn.”

Elend turned toward her. “You sensed Allomancy from him?”

Vin shook her head. “No.”

“Then, how do you know?” Elend asked.

“Well, look at him,” Vin said with a wave of her hand. “He acts like he can’t walk – that has to be covering up something. What would be more innocent than a cripple? Can you think of a better way to hide the fact that you’re a Mistborn?”

“Vin, my dear,” Breeze said, “Cett has been crippled since childhood, when a disease rendered his legs useless. He’s not Mistborn.”

Vin raised an eyebrow. “That has to be one of the best cover stories I’ve ever heard.”

Breeze rolled his eyes, but Elend just smiled.

“What now, Elend?” Ham asked. “We obviously can’t deal with things the same way now that Cett has entered the city.”

Elend nodded. “We have to plan. Let’s…” He trailed off as a young man left Cett’s group, walking toward Elend. It was the same man who had been sitting next to Cett.

“Cett’s son,” Breeze whispered. “Gneorndin.”

“Lord Venture,” Gneorndin said, bowing slightly. He was, perhaps, about Spook’s age. “My father wishes to know when you would like to meet with him.”

Elend raised an eyebrow. “I have no intention of joining the line of Assemblymen waiting upon Cett’s bribes, lad. Tell your father that he and I have nothing to discuss.”

“You don’t?” Gneorndin asked. “And what about my sister? The one you kidnapped?”

Elend frowned. “You know that isn’t true.”

“My father would still like to discuss the event,” Gneorndin said, shooting a hostile glance at Breeze. “Besides, he thinks that a conversation between you two might be in the city’s best interests. You met with Straff in his camp – don’t tell me that you aren’t willing to do the same for Cett inside your own city?”

Elend paused. Forget your biases, he told himself. You need to talk to this man, if only for the information the meeting might provide.

“All right,” Elend said. “I’ll meet with him.”

“Dinner, in one week?” Gneorndin asked.

Elend nodded curtly.

33

VIN LAY ON HER STOMACH, arms folded, head resting on them as she studied a sheet of paper on the floor in front of her. Considering the last few days of chaos, it was surprising to her that she found returning to her studies to be a relief.

A small one, however, for her studies held their own problems. The Deepness has returned, she thought. Even if the mists only kill infrequently, they’ve begun to turn hostile again. That means the Hero of Ages needs to come again too, doesn’t it?

Did she honestly think that might be her? It sounded ridiculous, when she considered it. Yet, she heard the thumping in her head, saw the spirit in the mists…

And what of that night, over a year gone, when she’d confronted the Lord Ruler? That night when somehow, she’d drawn the mists into herself, burning them as if they were metal?

That’s not enough, she told herself. One freak event – one I’ve never been able to replicate – doesn’t mean I’m some mythological savior. She didn’t even really know most of the prophecies about the Hero. The logbook mentioned that he was supposed to come from humble origins – but that pretty much described every skaa in the Final Empire. He was supposed to have hidden royal bloodlines, but that made every half-breed in the city a candidate. In fact, she’d be willing to bet that most skaa had one or another hidden nobleman progenitor.

She sighed, shaking her head.

“Mistress?” OreSeur asked, turning. He stood on a chair, his forepaws up against the window as he looked out at the city.

“Prophecies, legends, foretellings,” Vin said, slapping her hand down on her sheet of notes. “What’s the point? Why did the Terris even believe in these things? Shouldn’t a religion teach something practical?”

OreSeur settled down on his haunches upon the chair. “What would be more practical than gaining knowledge of the future?”

“If these actually said something useful, I’d agree. But even the logbook acknowledges that the Terris prophecies could be understood many different ways. What good are promises that could be interpreted so liberally?”

“Do not dismiss someone’s beliefs because you do not understand them, Mistress.”

Vin snorted. “You sound like Sazed. A part of me is tempted to think that all these prophecies and legends were devised by priests who wanted to make a living.”

“Only a part of you?” OreSeur asked, sounding amused.

Vin paused, then nodded. “The part that grew up on the streets, the part that always expects a scam.” That part didn’t want to acknowledge the other things she felt.

The thumpings were getting stronger and stronger.

“Prophecies do not have to be a scam, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “Or even, really, a promise for the future. They can simply be an expression of hope.”

“What do you know of such things?” Vin said dismissively, setting aside her sheet.

There was a moment of silence. “Nothing, of course, Mistress,” OreSeur eventually said.

Vin turned toward the dog. “I’m sorry, OreSeur. I didn’t mean… Well, I’ve just been feeling distracted lately.”

Thump. Thump. Thump…

“You need not apologize to me, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “I am only kandra.”

“Still a person,” Vin said. “If one with dog breath.”

OreSeur smiled. “You chose these bones for me, Mistress. You must deal with the consequences.”

“The bones might have something to do with it,” Vin said, rising. “But I don’t think that carrion you eat is helping. Honestly, we have to get you some mint leaves to chew.”

OreSeur raised a canine eyebrow. “And you don’t think a dog with sweet breath would attract attention?”

“Only from anyone you happen to kiss in the near future,” Vin said, returning her stacks of paper to her desk.

OreSeur chuckled softly in his canine way, turning back to study the city.

“Is the procession finished yet?” Vin asked.

“Yes, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “It is difficult to see, even from a height. But, it does look like Lord Cett has finished moving in. He certainly did bring a lot of carts.”

“He’s Allrianne’s father,” Vin said. “Despite how much that girl complains about accommodations in the army, I’d bet that Cett likes to travel in comfort.”

OreSeur nodded. Vin turned, leaning against the desk, watching him and thinking of what he’d said earlier. Expression of hope…

“The kandra have a religion, don’t they?” Vin guessed.

OreSeur turned sharply. That was enough of a confirmation.

“Do the Keepers know of it?” Vin asked.

OreSeur stood on his hind legs, paws against the windowsill. “I should not have spoken.”

“You needn’t be afraid,” Vin said. “I won’t give away your secret. But, I don’t see why it has to be secret anymore.”

“It is a kandra thing, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “It wouldn’t be of any interest to anyone else.”

“Of course it would,” Vin said. “Don’t you see, OreSeur? The Keepers believe that the last independent religion was destroyed by the Lord Ruler centuries ago. If the kandra managed to keep one, that suggests that the Lord Ruler’s theological control of the Final Empire wasn’t absolute. That has to mean something.”

OreSeur paused, cocking his head, as if he hadn’t considered such things.

His theological control wasn’t absolute? Vin thought, a bit surprised at the words. Lord Ruler – I’m starting to sound like Sazed and Elend. I’ve been studying too much lately.

“Regardless, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “I’d rather you didn’t mention this to your Keeper friends. They would probably begin asking discomforting questions.”

“They’re like that,” Vin said with a nod. “What is it your people have prophecies about, anyway?”

“I don’t think you want to know, Mistress.”

Vin smiled. “They talk about overthrowing us, don’t they?”

OreSeur sat down, and she could almost see a flush on his canine face. “My… people have dealt with the Contract for a great long time, Mistress. I know it is difficult for you to understand why we would live under this burden, but we find it necessary. Yet, we do dream of a day when it may not be.”

“When all the humans are subject to you?” Vin asked.

OreSeur looked away. “When they’re all dead, actually.”

“Wow.”

“The prophecies are not literal, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “They’re metaphors – expressions of hope. Or, at least, that is how I have always seen them. Perhaps your Terris prophecies are the same? Expressions of a belief that if the people were in danger, their gods would send a Hero to protect them? In this case, the vagueness would be intentional – and rational. The prophecies were never meant to mean someone specific, but more to speak of a general feeling. A general hope.”

If the prophecies weren’t specific, why could only she sense the drumming beats?

Stop it, she told herself. You’re jumping to conclusions. “All the humans dead,” she said. “How do we die off? The kandra kill us?”

“Of course not,” OreSeur said. “We honor our Contract, even in religion. The stories say that you’ll kill yourselves off. You’re of Ruin, after all, while the kandra are of Preservation. You’re… actually supposed to destroy the world, I believe. Using the koloss as your pawns.”

“You actually sound sorry for them,” Vin noted with amusement.

“The kandra actually tend to think well of the koloss, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “There is a bond between us; we both understand what it is to be slaves, we both are outsiders to the culture of the Final Empire, we both–”

He paused.

“What?” Vin asked.

“Might I speak no further?” OreSeur asked. “I have said too much already. You put me off balance, Mistress.”

Vin shrugged. “We all need secrets.” She glanced toward the door. “Though there’s one I still need to figure out.”

OreSeur hopped down from his chair, joining her as she strode out the door.

There was still a spy somewhere in the palace. She’d been forced to ignore that fact for far too long.

Elend looked deeply into the well. The dark pit – widemouthed to accommodate the comings and goings of numerous skaa – seemed a large mouth opening up, stone lips spread and preparing to swallow him down. Elend glanced to the side, where Ham stood speaking with a group of healers.

“We first noticed when so many people came to us complaining of diarrhea and abdominal pains,” the healer said. “The symptoms were unusually strong, my lord. We’ve… already lost several to the malady.”

Ham glanced at Elend, frowning.

“Everyone who grew sick lived in this area,” the healer continued. “And drew their water from this well or another in the next square.”

“Have you brought this to the attention of Lord Penrod and the Assembly?” Elend asked.

“Um, no, my lord. We figured that you…”

I’m not king anymore, Elend thought. However, he couldn’t say the words. Not to this man, looking for help.

“I’ll take care of it,” Elend said, sighing. “You may return to your patients.”

“They are filling our clinic, my lord,” he said.

“Then appropriate one of the empty noble mansions,” Elend said. “There are plenty of those. Ham, send him with some of my guard to help move the sick and prepare the building.”

Ham nodded, waving over a soldier, telling him to gather twenty on-duty men from the palace to meet with the healer. The healer smiled, looking relieved, and bowed to Elend as he left.

Ham walked up, joining Elend beside the well. “Coincidence?”

“Hardly,” Elend said, gripping the edge if the well with frustrated fingers. “The question is, which one poisoned it?”

“Cett just came into the city,” Ham said, rubbing his chin. “Would have been easy to send out some soldiers to covertly drop in the poison.”

“Seems more like something my father would do,” Elend said. “Something to increase our tension, to get back at us for playing him for a fool in his camp. Plus, he’s got that Mistborn who could have easily placed the poison.”

Of course, Cett had had this same thing happen to him – Breeze poisoning his water supply back before he reached the city. Elend ground his teeth. There was really no way to know which one was behind the attack.

Either way, the poisoned wells meant trouble. There were others in the city, of course, but they were just as vulnerable. The people might have to start relying on the river for their water, and it was far less healthy, its waters muddy and polluted by waste from both the army camps and the city itself.

“Set guards around these wells,” Elend said, waving a hand. “Board them up, post warnings, and then tell the healers to watch with particular care for other outbreaks.”

We just keep getting wound tighter and tighter, he thought as Ham nodded. At this rate, we’ll snap long before winter ends.

After a detour for a late dinner – where some talk about servants getting sick left her concerned – Vin went in and checked on Elend, who had just returned from walking the city with Ham. After that, Vin and OreSeur continued their original quest: that of finding Dockson.

They located him in the palace library. The room had once been Straff’s personal study; Elend seemed to find the room’s new purpose amusing for some reason.

Personally, Vin didn’t find the library’s location nearly as amusing as its contents. Or, rather, lack thereof. Though the room was lined with shelves, nearly all of them showed signs of having been pillaged by Elend. The rows of books lay pocked by forlorn empty spots, their companions taken away one by one, as if Elend were a predator, slowly whittling down a herd.

Vin smiled. It probably wouldn’t be too long before Elend had stolen every book in the small library, carrying the tomes up to his study, then forgetfully placing them in one of his piles – ostensibly for return. Still, there were a large number of volumes left – ledgers, books of figures, and notebooks on finances; things that Elend usually found of little interest.

Dockson sat at the library’s desk now, writing in a ledger. He noticed her arrival, and glanced over with a smile, but then turned back to his notations – apparently not wanting to lose his place. Vin waited for him to finish, OreSeur at her side.

Of all the members of the crew, Dockson seemed to have changed the most during the last year. She remembered her first impressions of him, back in Camon’s lair. Dockson had been Kelsier’s right-hand man, and the more “realistic” of the pair. And yet, there had always been an edge of humor to Dockson – a sense that he enjoyed his role as the straight man. He hadn’t foiled Kelsier so much as complemented him.

Kelsier was dead. Where did that leave Dockson? He wore a nobleman’s suit, as he always had – and of all the crewmembers, the suits seemed to fit him the best. If he shaved off the half beard, he could pass for a nobleman – not a rich high courtier, but a lord in early middle age who had lived his entire life trading goods beneath a great house master.

He wrote in his ledgers, but he had always done that. He still played the role of the responsible one in the crew. So, what was different? He was the same person, did the same things. He just felt different. The laughter was gone; the quiet enjoyment of the eccentricity in those around him. Without Kelsier, Dockson had somehow changed from temperate to… boring.

And that was what made her suspicious.

This has to be done, she thought, smiling at Dockson as he set down his pen and waved her to take a seat.

Vin sat down, OreSeur padding over to stand beside her chair. Dockson eyed the dog, shaking his head slightly. “That’s such a remarkably well-trained beast, Vin,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one quite like it…”

Does he know? Vin wondered with alarm. Would one kandra be able to recognize another in a dog’s body? No, that couldn’t be. Otherwise OreSeur could find the impostor for her. So, she simply smiled again, patting OreSeur’s head. “There is a trainer in the market. He teaches wolfhounds to be protective – to stay with young children and keep them out of danger.”

Dockson nodded. “So, any purpose to this visit?”

Vin shrugged. “We never chat anymore, Dox.”

Dockson sat back in his chair. “This might not be the best time for chatting. I have to prepare the royal finances to be taken over by someone else, should the vote go against Elend.”

Would a kandra be able to do the ledgers? Vin wondered. Yes. They’d have known – they’d have been prepared.

“I’m sorry,” Vin said. “I don’t mean to bother you, but Elend has been so busy lately, and Sazed has his project…”

“It’s all right,” Dockson said. “I can spare a few minutes. What’s on your mind?”

“Well, do you remember that conversation we had, back before the Collapse?”

Dockson frowned. “Which one?”

“You know… The one about your childhood.”

“Oh,” Dockson said, nodding. “Yes, what about it?”

“Well, do you still think the same way?”

Dockson paused thoughtfully, fingers slowly tapping on the desktop. Vin waited, trying not to show her tension. The conversation in question had been between the two of them, and during it, Dockson had first spoken to her of how much he’d hated the nobility.

“I suppose I don’t,” Dockson said. “Not anymore. Kell always said that you gave the nobility too much credit, Vin. But you started to change even him there at the end. No, I don’t think that noble society needs to be completely destroyed. They aren’t all monsters as once presumed.”

Vin relaxed. He not only knew the conversation, he knew the details of the tangents they’d discussed. She had been the only one there with him. That had to mean that he wasn’t the kandra, right?

“This is about Elend, isn’t it?” Dockson asked.

Vin shrugged. “I suppose.”

“I know that you wish he and I could get along better, Vin. But, all things considered, I think we’re doing pretty well. He is a decent man; I can acknowledge that. He has some faults as a leader: he lacks boldness, lacks presence.”

Not like Kelsier.

“But,” Dockson continued, “I don’t want to see him lose his throne. He has treated the skaa fairly, for a nobleman.”

“He’s a good person, Dox,” Vin said quietly.

Dockson looked away. “I know that. But… well, every time I talk to him, I see Kelsier standing over his shoulder, shaking his head at me. Do you know how long Kell and I dreamed of toppling the Lord Ruler? The other crewmembers, they thought Kelsier’s plan was a newfound passion – something that came to him in the Pits. But it was older than that, Vin. Far older.

“We always hated the nobility, Kell and I. When we were youths, planning our first jobs, we wanted to be rich – but we also wanted to hurt them. Hurt them for taking from us things they had no right to. My love… Kelsier’s mother… Every coin we stole, every nobleman we left dead in an alleyway – this was our way of waging war. Our way of punishing them.”

Vin sat quietly. It was these kinds of stories, these memories of a haunted past, that had always made her just a little uncomfortable with Kelsier – and with the person he had been training her to become. It was this sentiment that gave her pause, even when her instincts whispered that she should go and exact retribution on Straff and Cett with knives in the night.

Dockson held some of that same hardness. Kell and Dox weren’t evil men, but there was an edge of vengefulness to them. Oppression had changed them in ways that no amount of peace, reformation, or recompense could redeem.

Dockson shook his head. “And we put one of them on the throne. I can’t help but think that Kell would be angry with me for letting Elend rule, no matter how good a man he is.”

“Kelsier changed at the end,” Vin said quietly. “You said it yourself, Dox. Did you know that he saved Elend’s life?”

Dockson turned, frowning. “When?”

“On that last day,” Vin said. “During the fight with the Inquisitor. Kell protected Elend, who came looking for me.”

“Must have thought he was one of the prisoners.”

Vin shook her head. “He knew who Elend was, and knew that I loved him. In the end, Kelsier was willing to admit that a good man was worth protecting, no matter who his parents were.”

“I find that hard to accept, Vin.”

“Why?”

Dockson met her eyes. “Because if I accept that Elend bears no guilt for what his people did to mine, then I must admit to being a monster for the things that I did to them.”

Vin shivered. In those eyes, she saw the truth behind Dockson’s transformation. She saw the death of his laughter. She saw the guilt. The murders.

This man is no impostor.

“I can find little joy in this government, Vin,” Dockson said quietly. “Because I know what we did to create it. The thing is, I’d do it all again. I tell myself it’s because I believe in skaa freedom. I still lie awake at nights, however, quietly satisfied for what we’ve done to our former rulers. Their society undermined, their god dead. Now they know.”

Vin nodded. Dockson looked down, as if ashamed, an emotion she’d rarely seen in him. There didn’t seem to be anything else to say. Dockson sat quietly as she withdrew, his pen and ledger forgotten on the desktop.

“It’s not him,” Vin said, walking down an empty palace hallway, trying to shake the haunting sound of Dockson’s voice from her mind.

“You are certain, Mistress?” OreSeur asked.

Vin nodded. “He knew about a private conversation that Dockson and I had before the Collapse.”

OreSeur was silent for a moment. “Mistress,” he finally said, “my brethren can be very thorough.”

“Yes, but how could he have known about such an event?”

“We often interview people before we take their bones, Mistress,” OreSeur explained. “We’ll meet them several times, in different settings, and find ways to talk about their lives. We’ll also talk to their friends and acquaintances. Did you ever tell anyone about this conversation you had with Dockson?”

Vin stopped to lean against the side of the stone hallway. “Maybe Elend,” she admitted. “I think I mentioned it to Sazed too, just after it happened. That was almost two years ago.”

“That could have been enough, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “We cannot learn everything about a person, but we try our best to discover items like this – private conversations, secrets, confidential information – so that we can mention them at appropriate times and reinforce our illusion.”

Vin frowned.

“There are… other things as well, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “I hesitate because I do not wish you to imagine your friends in pain. However, it is common for our master – the one who actually does the killing – to torture their victim for information.”

Vin closed her eyes. Dockson felt so real… his guilt, his reactions… that couldn’t be faked, could it?

“Damn,” she whispered quietly, opening her eyes. She turned, sighing as she pushed open the shutters of a hallway window. It was dark out, and the mists curled before her as she leaned against the stone windowsill and looked out at the courtyard two stories below.

“Dox isn’t an Allomancer,” she said. “How can I find out for certain if he’s the impostor or not?”

“I do not know, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “This is never an easy task.”

Vin stood quietly. Absently, she pulled out her bronze earring – her mother’s earring – and worked it between her fingers, watching it reflect light. It had once been gilded with silver, but that had worn off in most places.

“I hate this,” she finally whispered.

“What, Mistress?”

“This… distrust,” she said. “I hate being suspicious of my friends. I thought I was through mistrusting those around me. I feel like a knife is twisting inside of me, and it cuts deeper every time I confront one of the crew.”

OreSeur sat on his haunches beside her, and he cocked his head. “But, Mistress. You’ve managed to eliminate several of them as impostors.”

“Yes,” Vin said. “But that only narrows the field – brings me one step closer to knowing which one of them is dead.”

“And that knowledge isn’t a good thing?”

Vin shook her head. “I don’t want it to be any of them, OreSeur. I don’t want to distrust them, don’t want to find out that we’re right…”

OreSeur didn’t respond at first, leaving her to stare out the window, mists slowly streaming to the floor around her.

“You are sincere,” OreSeur finally said.

She turned. “Of course I am.”

“I’m sorry, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “I did not wish to be insulting. I just… Well, I have been kandra to many masters. So many of them are suspicious and hateful of everyone around them, I had begun to think that your kind lacked the capacity for trust.”

“That’s silly,” Vin said, turning back to the window.

“I know it is,” OreSeur said. “But people often believe silly things, if given enough proof. Either way, I apologize. I do not know which of your friends is dead, but I am sorry that one of my kind brought you this pain.”

“Whoever he is, he’s just following his Contract.”

“Yes, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “The Contract.”

Vin frowned. “Is there a way that you could find out which kandra has a Contract in Luthadel?”

“I’m sorry, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “That is not possible.”

“I figured as much,” she said. “Are you likely to know him, whoever he is?”

“The kandra are a close-knit group, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “And our numbers are small. There is a good chance that I know him quite well.”

Vin tapped her finger against the windowsill, frowning as she tried to decide if the information was useful.

“I still don’t think it’s Dockson,” she finally said, replacing the earring. “We’ll ignore him for now. If I can’t get any other leads, we’ll come back…” She trailed off as something caught her attention. A figure walking in the courtyard, bearing no light.

Ham, she thought. But the walk wasn’t right.

She Pushed on the shield of the lamp hanging on the wall a short distance away. It snapped closed, the lamp shaking as the hallway fell into darkness.

“Mistress?” OreSeur asked as Vin climbed up into the window, flaring her tin as she squinted into the night.

Definitely not Ham, she thought.

Her first thought was of Elend – a sudden terror that assassins had come while she was talking to Dockson. But, it was early in the night, and Elend would still be speaking with his counselors. It was an unlikely time for an assassination.

And only one man? Not Zane, not judging from the height.

Probably just a guard, Vin thought. Why do I have to be so paranoid all the time?

And yet… she watched the figure walking into the courtyard, and her instincts kicked in. He seemed to be moving suspiciously, as if he were uncomfortable – as if he didn’t want to be seen.

“In my arms,” she said to OreSeur, tossing a padded coin out the window.

He hopped up obligingly, and she leaped out the window, fell twenty-five feet, and landed with the coin. She released OreSeur and nodded into the mists. He followed closely as she moved into the darkness, stooping and hiding, trying to get a good look at the lone figure. The man walked briskly, moving toward the side of the palace, where the servants’ entrances were. As he passed, she finally saw his face.

Captain Demoux? she thought.

She sat back, crouching with OreSeur beside a small stack of wooden supply boxes. What did she really know of Demoux? He was one of the skaa rebels recruited by Kelsier almost two years before. He’d taken to command, and had been promoted quickly. He was one of the loyal men who had stayed behind when the rest of the army had followed Yeden to their doom.

After the Collapse, he’d stayed in with the crew, eventually becoming Ham’s second. He had received no small amount of training from Ham – which might explain why he’d go out at night without a torch or lantern. But, even so…

If I were going to replace someone on the crew, Vin thought, I wouldn’t pick an Allomancer – that would make the impostor too easy to spot. I’d pick someone ordinary, someone who wouldn’t have to make decisions or attract notice.

Someone close to the crew, but not necessarily on it. Someone who is always near important meetings, but someone that others don’t really know that well…

She felt a small thrill. If the impostor were Demoux, it would mean that one of her good friends hadn’t been killed. And it would mean that the kandra’s master was even smarter than she’d given him credit for being.

He rounded the keep, and she followed quietly. However, whatever he’d been doing this night, it was already completed – for he moved in through one of the entrances on the side of the building, greeting the guards posted there to watch.

Vin sat back in the shadows. He’d spoken to the guards, so he hadn’t snuck out of the palace. And yet… she recognized the stooped posture, the nervous movements. He’d been nervous about something.

That’s him, she thought. The spy.

But now, what should she do about it?

34

“THAT WON’T WORK,” ELEND SAID, shaking his head. “We need a unanimous decision – minus the person being ousted, of course – in order to depose a member of the Assembly. We’d never manage to vote out all eight merchants.”

Ham looked a bit deflated. Elend knew that Ham liked to consider himself a philosopher; indeed, Ham had a good mind for abstract thinking. However, he wasn’t a scholar. He liked to think up questions and answers, but he didn’t have experience studying a text in detail, searching out its meaning and implications.

Elend glanced at Sazed, who sat with a book open on the table before him. The Keeper had at least a dozen volumes stacked around him – though, amusingly, his stacks were neatly arranged, spines pointing the same direction, covers flush. Elend’s own stacks were characteristically haphazard, pages of notes sticking out at odd angles.

It was amazing how many books one could fit into a room, assuming one didn’t want to move around very much. Ham sat on the floor, a small pile of books beside him, though he spent most of his time voicing one random idea or another. Tindwyl had a chair, and did not study. The Terriswoman found it perfectly acceptable to train Elend as a king; however, she refused to research and give suggestions about keeping his throne. This seemed, in her eyes, to cross some unseen line between being an educator and a political force.

Good thing Sazed isn’t like that, Elend thought. If he were, the Lord Ruler might still be in charge. In fact, Vin and I would probably both be dead – Sazed was the one who actually rescued her when she was imprisoned by the Inquisitors. It wasn’t me.

He didn’t like to think about that event. His bungled attempt at rescuing Vin now seemed a metaphor for all he had done wrong in his life. He’d always been well-intentioned, but he’d rarely been able to deliver. That was going to change.

“What about this, Your Majesty?” The one who spoke was the only other person in the room, a scholar named Noorden. Elend tried to ignore the intricate tattoos around the man’s eyes, indications of Noorden’s former life as an obligator. He wore large spectacles to try to hide the tattoos, but he had once been relatively well placed in the Steel Ministry. He could renounce his beliefs, but the tattoos would always remain.

“What have you found?” Elend asked.

“Some information on Lord Cett, Your Majesty,” Noorden said. “I found it in one of the ledgers you took from the Lord Ruler’s palace. It seems Cett isn’t as indifferent to Luthadel politics as he’d like us to think.” Noorden chuckled to himself at the thought.

Elend had never met a cheerful obligator before. Perhaps that was why Noorden hadn’t left the city like most of his kind; he certainly didn’t seem to fit into their ranks. He was only one of several men that Elend had been able to find to act as scribes and bureaucrats in his new kingdom.

Elend scanned Noorden’s page. Though the page was filled with numbers rather than words, his scholar’s mind easily parsed the information. Cett had done a lot of trading with Luthadel. Most of his work had been done using lesser houses as fronts. That might have fooled noblemen, but not the obligators, who had to be informed of the terms of any deal.

Noorden passed the ledger over to Sazed, who scanned the numbers.

“So,” Noorden said, “Lord Cett wanted to appear unconnected to Luthadel – the beard and the attitude only serving to reinforce that impression. Yet, he always had a very quiet hand in things here.”

Elend nodded. “Maybe he realized that you can’t avoid politics by pretending you’re not part of them. There’s no way he would have been able to grab as much power as he did without some solid political connections.”

“So, what does this tell us?” Sazed asked.

“That Cett is far more accomplished at the game than he wants people to believe,” Elend said, standing, then stepping over a pile of books as he made his way back to his chair. “But, I think that much was obvious by the way he manipulated me and the Assembly yesterday.”

Noorden chuckled. “You should have seen the way you all looked, Your Majesty. When Cett revealed himself, a few of the noble Assemblymen actually jumped in their seats! I think the rest of you were too shocked to–”

“Noorden?” Elend said.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Please focus on the task at hand.”

“Um, yes, Your Majesty.”

“Sazed?” Elend asked. “What do you think?”

Sazed looked up from his book – a codified and annotated version of the city’s charter, as written by Elend himself. The Terrisman shook his head. “You did a very good job with this, I think. I can see very few methods of preventing Lord Cett’s appointment, should the Assembly choose him.”

“Too competent for your own good?” Noorden said.

“A problem which, unfortunately, I’ve rarely had,” Elend said, sitting and rubbing his eyes.

Is this how Vin feels all the time? he wondered. She got less sleep than he, and she was always moving about, running, fighting, spying. Yet, she always seemed fresh. Elend was beginning to droop after just a couple of days of hard study.

Focus, he told himself. You have to know your enemies so that you can fight them. There has to be a way out of this.

Dockson was still composing letters to the other Assemblymen. Elend wanted to meet with those who were willing. Unfortunately, he had a feeling that number would be small. They had voted him out, and now they had been presented with an option that seemed an easy way out of their problems.

“Your Majesty…” Noorden said slowly. “Do you think, maybe, that we should just let Cett take the throne? I mean, how bad could he be?”

Elend stopped. One of the reasons he employed the former obligator was because of Noorden’s different view-point. He wasn’t a skaa, nor was he a high nobleman. He wasn’t a thief. He was just a scholarly little man who had joined the Ministry because it had offered an option other than becoming a merchant.

To him, the Lord Ruler’s death had been a catastrophe that had destroyed his entire way of life. He wasn’t a bad man, but he had no real understanding of the plight of the skaa.

“What do you think of the laws I’ve made, Noorden?” Elend asked.

“They’re brilliant, Your Majesty,” Noorden said. “Keen representations of the ideals spoken of by old philosophers, along with a strong element of modern realism.”

“Will Cett respect these laws?” Elend asked.

“I don’t know. I haven’t ever really met the man.”

“What do your instincts tell you?”

Noorden hesitated. “No,” he finally said. “He isn’t the type of man who rules by law. He just does what he wants.”

“He would bring only chaos,” Elend said. “Look at the information we have from his homeland and the places he’s conquered. They are in turmoil. He’s left a patchwork of half alliances and promises – threats of invasion acting as the thread that – barely – holds it all together. Giving him rule of Luthadel would just set us up for another collapse.”

Noorden scratched his cheek, then nodded thoughtfully and turned back to his reading.

I can convince him, Elend thought. If only I could do the same for the Assemblymen.

But Noorden was a scholar; he thought the way Elend did. Logical facts were enough for him, and a promise of stability was more powerful than one of wealth. The Assembly was a different beast entirely. The noblemen wanted a return to what they’d known before; the merchants saw an opportunity to grab the titles they’d always envied; and the skaa were simply worried about a brutal slaughter.

And yet, even those were generalizations. Lord Penrod saw himself as the city’s patriarch – the ranking nobleman, the one who needed to bring a measure of conservative temperance to their problems. Kinaler, one of the steel-workers, was worried that the Central Dominance needed a kinship with the kingdoms around it, and saw an alliance with Cett as the best way to protect Luthadel in the long run.

Each of the twenty-three Assemblymen had their own thoughts, goals, and problems. That was what Elend had intended; ideas proliferated in such an environment. He just hadn’t expected so many of their ideas to contradict his own.

“You were right, Ham,” Elend said, turning.

Ham looked up, raising an eyebrow.

“At the beginning of this all, you and the others wanted to make an alliance with one of the armies – give them the city in exchange for keeping it safe from the other armies.”

“I remember,” Ham said.

“Well, that’s what the people want,” Elend said. “With or without my consent, it appears they’re going to give the city to Cett. We should have just gone with your plan.”

“Your Majesty?” Sazed asked quietly.

“Yes?”

“My apologies, but it is not your duty to do what the people want.”

Elend blinked. “You sound like Tindwyl.”

“I have known few people as wise as she, Your Majesty,” Sazed said, glancing at her.

“Well, I disagree with both of you,” Elend said. “A ruler should only lead by the consent of the people he rules.”

“I do not disagree with that, Your Majesty,” Sazed said. “Or, at least, I do believe in the theory of it. Regardless, I still do not believe that your duty is to do as the people wish. Your duty is to lead as best you can, following the dictates of your conscience. You must be true, Your Majesty, to the man you wish to become. If that man is not whom the people wish to have lead them, then they will choose someone else.”

Elend paused. Well, of course. If I shouldn’t be an exception to my own laws, I shouldn’t be an exception to my own ethics, either. Sazed’s words were really just a rephrasing of things Tindwyl had said about trusting oneself, but Sazed’s explanation seemed a better one. A more honest one.

“Trying to guess what people wish of you will only lead to chaos, I think,” Sazed said. “You cannot please them all, Elend Venture.”

The study’s small ventilation window bumped open, and Vin squeezed through, pulling in a puff of mist behind her. She closed the window, then surveyed the room.

“More?” she asked incredulously. “You found more books?”

“Of course,” Elend said.

“How many of those things have people written?” she asked with exasperation.

Elend opened his mouth, then paused as he saw the twinkle in her eye. Finally, he just sighed. “You’re hopeless,” he said, turning back to his letters.

He heard rustling from behind, and a moment later Vin landed on one of his stacks of books, somehow managing to balance atop it. Her mistcloak tassels hung down around her, smudging the ink on his letter.

Elend sighed.

“Oops,” Vin said, pulling back the mistcloak. “Sorry.”

“Is it really necessary to leap around like that all the time, Vin?” Elend asked.

Vin jumped down. “Sorry,” she repeated, biting her lip. “Sazed says it’s because Mistborn like to be up high, so we can see everything that’s going on.”

Elend nodded, continuing the letter. He preferred them to be in his own hand, but he’d need to have a scribe rewrite this one. He shook his head. So much to do…

Vin watched Elend scribble. Sazed sat reading, as did one of Elend’s scribes – the obligator. She eyed the man, and he shrank down a little in his seat. He knew that she’d never trusted him. Priests shouldn’t be cheerful.

She was excited to tell Elend what she’d discovered about Demoux, but she hesitated. There were too many people around, and she didn’t really have any evidence – just her instincts. So, she held herself back, looking over the stacks of books.

There was a dull quiet in the room. Tindwyl sat with her eyes slightly glazed; she was probably studying some ancient biography in her mind. Even Ham was reading, though he flipped from book to book, hopping topics. Vin felt as if she should be studying something, too. She thought of the notes she’d been making about the Deepness and the Hero of Ages, but couldn’t bring herself to get them out.

She couldn’t tell him about Demoux, yet, but there was something else she’d discovered.

“Elend,” she said quietly. “I have something to tell you.”

“Humm?”

“I heard the servants talking when OreSeur and I got dinner earlier,” Vin said. “Some people they know have been sick lately – a lot of them. I think that someone might be fiddling with our supplies.”

“Yes,” Elend said, still writing. “I know. Several wells in the city have been poisoned.”

“They have?”

He nodded. “Didn’t I tell you when you checked on me earlier? That’s where Ham and I were.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“I thought I did,” Elend said, frowning.

Vin shook her head.

“I apologize,” he said, leaned up and kissed her, then turned back to his scribbling.

And a kiss is supposed to make it all right? she thought sullenly, sitting back on a stack of books.

It was a silly thing; there was really no reason that Elend should have told her so quickly. And yet, the exchange left her feeling odd. Before, he would have asked her to do something about the problem. Now, he’d apparently handled it all on his own.

Sazed sighed, closing his tome. “Your Majesty, I can find no holes. I have read your laws over six times now.”

Elend nodded. “I feared as much. The only advantage we could gain from the law is to misinterpret it intentionally – which I will not do.”

“You are a good man, Your Majesty,” Sazed said. “If you had seen a hole in the law, you would have fixed it. Even if you hadn’t caught the flaws, one of us would have, when you asked for our opinions.”

He lets them call him “Your Majesty,” Vin thought. He tried to get them to stop that. Why let them use it now?

Odd, that Elend would finally start to think of himself as king after the throne had been taken from him.

“Wait,” Tindwyl said, eyes unglazing. “You read over this law before it was ratified, Sazed?”

Sazed flushed.

“He did,” Elend said. “In fact, Sazed’s suggestions and ideas were instrumental in helping me craft the current code.”

“I see,” Tindwyl said through tight lips.

Elend frowned. “Tindwyl, you were not invited to this meeting. You are suffered at it. Your advice has been well appreciated, but I will not allow you to insult a friend and guest of my household, even if those insults are indirect.”

“I apologize, Your Majesty.”

“You will not apologize to me,” Elend said. “You will apologize to Sazed, or you will leave this conference.”

Tindwyl sat for a moment; then she stood and left the room. Elend didn’t appear offended. He simply turned back to writing his letters.

“You didn’t need to do that, Your Majesty,” Sazed said. “Tindwyl’s opinions of me are well founded, I think.”

“I will do as I see fit, Sazed,” Elend said, still writing. “No offense, my friend, but you have a history of letting people treat you poorly. I won’t stand for it in my house – by insulting your help with my laws, she insulted me as well.”

Sazed nodded, then reached over to pick up a new volume.

Vin sat quietly. He’s changing so quickly. How long has it been since Tindwyl arrived? Two months? None of the things Elend said were that different from what he would have said before – but the way he said them was completely different. He was firm, demanding in a way that implied he expected respect.

It’s the collapse of his throne, the danger of the armies, Vin thought. The pressures are forcing him to change, to either step up and lead or get crushed. He’d known about the wells. What other things had he discovered, and not told her?

“Elend?” Vin asked. “I’ve thought more about the Deepness.”

“That’s wonderful, Vin,” Elend said, smiling at her. “But, I really don’t have time right now…”

Vin nodded, and smiled at him. However, her thoughts were more troubled. He’s not uncertain, like he once was. He doesn’t have to rely on people as much for support.

He doesn’t need me anymore.

It was a foolish thought. Elend loved her; she knew that. His aptitude wouldn’t make her less valuable to him. And yet, she couldn’t stamp out her worries. He’d left her once before, when he’d been trying to juggle the needs of his house with his love for her, and the action had nearly crushed her.

What would happen if he abandoned her now?

He won’t, she told herself. He’s a better man than that.

But, good men had failed relationships, didn’t they? People grew apart – particularly people who were so different to begin with. Despite herself – despite her self-assurances – she heard a small voice pop up in the back of her mind.

It was a voice she’d thought banished, a voice she hadn’t ever expected to hear again.

Leave him first, Reen, her brother, seemed to whisper in her head. It will hurt less.

Vin heard a rustling outside. She perked up slightly, but it had been too soft for the others to hear. She stood, walking over to the ventilation window.

“Going back on patrol?” Elend asked.

She turned, then nodded.

“You might want to scout out Cett’s defenses at Keep Hasting,” Elend said.

Vin nodded again. Elend smiled at her, then turned back to his letters. Vin pulled open the window and stepped out into the night. Zane stood in the mists, feet barely resting against the stone lip running beneath the window. He stood at a skewed angle, feet against the wall, body jutting out into the night.

Vin glanced to the side, noting the bit of metal that Zane was Pulling against to hold himself stationary. Another feat of prowess. He smiled at her in the night.

“Zane?” she whispered.

Zane glanced upward, and Vin nodded. A second later, they both landed atop Keep Venture’s metal roof.

Vin turned to Zane. “Where have you been?”

He attacked.

Vin jumped back in surprise as Zane spun forward, a swirling form in black, knives twinkling. She came down with her feet half off the rooftop, tense. A spar, then? she thought.

Zane struck, his knife coming dangerously close to her neck as she dodged to the side. There was something different about his attacks this time. Something more dangerous.

Vin cursed and pulled out her own daggers, jumping back from another attack. As she moved, Zane sliced through the air, cutting the tip off one of her mistcloak tassels.

She turned to face him. He walked forward, but held no combat posture. He seemed confident, yet unconcerned, as if he were strolling up to an old friend, not entering a fight.

All right then, she thought, jumping forward, swiping with her daggers.

Zane stepped forward casually, turning just slightly to the side, easily dodging one knife. He reached out, grabbing her other hand with an effortless motion, stopping its blow.

Vin froze. Nobody was that good. Zane looked down at her, eyes dark. Unconcerned. Unworried.

He was burning atium.

Vin pulled free of his grip, jumping backward. He let her go, watching as she fell into a crouch, sweat beading on her brow. She felt a sudden, sharp stab of terror – a guttural, primal feeling. She had feared this day from the moment she’d learned of atium. It was the terror of knowing she was powerless, despite all of her skills and abilities.

It was the terror of knowing she was going to die.

She turned to jump away, but Zane leaped forward before she even began to move. He knew what she would do before she did herself. He grabbed her shoulder from behind, pulling her backward, throwing her down to the rooftop.

Vin slammed against the metal roofing, gasping in pain. Zane stood above her, looking down, as if waiting.

I won’t be beaten this way! Vin thought with desperation. I won’t be killed like a trapped rat!

She reached and swung a knife at his leg, but it was useless. He pulled the leg back slightly – just enough – so that her swing didn’t even nick the cloth of his trousers. She was like a child, being held at a distance by a much larger, more powerful foe. This was what it must be like, being a normal person, trying to fight her.

Zane stood in the darkness.

“What?” she finally demanded.

“You really don’t have it,” he said quietly. “The Lord Ruler’s atium stash.”

“No,” she said.

“You don’t have any at all,” he said flatly.

“I used the last bead the day I fought Cett’s assassins.”

He stood for a moment; then he turned, stepping away from her. Vin sat up, heart thumping, hands shaking just a bit. She forced herself to her feet, then stooped and retrieved her fallen daggers. One had cracked against the roof’s copper top.

Zane turned back toward her, quiet in the mists.

Zane watched her in the darkness, saw her fear – yet also her determination.

“My father wants me to kill you,” Zane said.

She stood, watching him, eyes still afraid. She was strong, and she repressed the fear well. The news from their spy, the words Vin had spoken while visiting Straff’s tent, were all true. There was no atium to be had in this city.

“Is that why you stayed away?” she asked.

He nodded, turning away from her.

“So?” she asked. “Why let me live?”

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I may still kill you. But… I don’t have to. Not to fulfill his order. I could just take you away – that would have the same effect.”

He turned back toward her. She was frowning, a small, quiet figure in the mists.

“Come with me,” he said. “Both of us could leave – Straff would lose his Mistborn, and Elend would lose his. We could deny them both their tools. And we could be free.”

She didn’t respond immediately. Finally, she shook her head. “This… thing between us, Zane. It isn’t what you think.”

“What do you mean?” he said, stepping forward.

She looked up at him. “I love Elend, Zane. I really do.”

And you think that means you can’t feel anything for me? Zane thought. What of that look I’ve seen in your eyes, that longing? No, it isn’t as easy as you imply, is it?

It never is.

And yet, what else had he expected? He turned away. “It makes sense. That’s the way it has always been.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” she demanded.

Elend…

“Kill him,” God whispered.

Zane squeezed his eyes shut. She would not be fooled; not a woman who had grown up on the streets, a woman who was friends with thieves and scammers. This was the difficult part. She would need to see things that terrified Zane.

She would need truth.

“Zane?” Vin asked. She still seemed a bit shaken by his attack, but she was the type who recovered quickly.

“Can’t you see the resemblance?” Zane asked, turning. “The same nose, the same slant of the face? I cut my hair shorter than he, but it has the same curl. Is it so hard to see?”

Her breath caught in her throat.

“Who else would Straff Venture trust as his Mistborn?” Zane asked. “Why else would he let me get so close, why else would he feel so comfortable letting me in on his plans?”

“You’re his son,” Vin whispered. “Elend’s brother.”

Zane nodded.

“Elend…”

“Doesn’t know of me,” Zane said. “Ask him about our father’s sexual habits sometime.”

“He’s told me,” Vin said. “Straff likes mistresses.”

“For more than one reason,” Zane said. “More women means more children. More children means more Allomancers. More Allomancers means more chances at having a Mistborn son to be your assassin.”

Breeze-blown mist washed over them. In the distance, a soldier’s armor clinked as he patrolled.

“While the Lord Ruler lived, I could never inherit,” Zane said. “You know how strict the obligators were. I grew up in the shadows, ignored. You lived on the streets – I assume that was terrible. But, think of what it would be like to be a scavenger in your own home, unacknowledged by your father, treated like a beggar. Think of watching your brother, a boy your same age, growing up privileged. Think of watching his disdain for the things you longed to have. Comfort, idleness, love…”

“You must hate him,” Vin whispered.

“Hate?” Zane asked. “No. Why hate a man for what he is? Elend has done nothing to me, not directly. Besides, Straff found a reason to need me, eventually – after I Snapped, and he finally got what he’d been gambling to get for the last twenty years No, I don’t hate Elend. Sometimes, however, I do envy him. He has everything. And still… it seems to me like he doesn’t appreciate it.”

Vin stood quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Zane shook his head sharply. “Don’t pity me, woman. If I were Elend, I wouldn’t be Mistborn. I wouldn’t understand the mists, nor would I know what it was like to grow up alone and hated.” He turned, looking into her eyes. “Don’t you think a man better appreciates love when he has been forced for so long to go without?”

“I…”

Zane turned away. “Anyway,” he said, “I didn’t come here tonight to lament my childhood. I came with a warning.”

Vin grew tense.

“A short time ago,” Zane said, “my father let several hundred refugees through his barricade to approach the city. You know of the koloss army?”

Vin nodded.

“It attacked and pillaged the city of Suisna earlier.”

Vin felt a start of fright. Suisna was only a day away from Luthadel. The koloss were close.

“The refugees came to my father for help,” Zane said. “He sent them on to you.”

“To make the people of the city more afraid,” Vin said. “And to provide a further drain on our resources.”

Zane nodded. “I wanted to give you warning. Both of the refugees, and of my orders. Think about my offer, Vin. Think about this man who claims to love you. You know he doesn’t understand you. If you leave, it will be better for both of you.”

Vin frowned. Zane bowed his head slightly to her, then jumped into the night, Pushing against the metal rooftop. She still didn’t believe him about Elend. He could see that in her eyes.

Well, proof was coming. She’d soon see. She’d soon understand what Elend Venture truly thought of her.

35

IT FELT LIKE SHE WAS going to a ball again.

The beautiful maroon gown would have fit in perfectly at one of the parties she had attended during the months before the Collapse. The dress was untraditional, but not unfashionable. The changes simply made the dress seem distinctive.

The alterations left her freer to move; let her walk more gracefully, turn more naturally. That, in turn, made her feel even more beautiful. Standing before her mirror, Vin thought of what it might have been like to wear the dress to a real ball. To be herself – not Valette, the uncomfortable country noblewoman. Not even Vin, the skaa thief. To be herself.

Or, at least, as she could imagine herself. Confident because she accepted her place as a Mistborn. Confident because she accepted her place as the one who had struck down the Lord Ruler. Confident because she knew that the king loved her.

Maybe I could be both, Vin thought, running her hands down the sides of the dress, feeling the soft satin.

“You look beautiful, child,” Tindwyl said.

Vin turned, smiling hesitantly. “I don’t have any jewelry. I gave the last of it to Elend to help feed the refugees. It was the wrong color to go with this dress anyway.”

“Many women use jewelry to try and hide their own plainness,” Tindwyl said. “You don’t have that need.”

The Terriswoman stood with her usual posture, hands clasped before her, rings and earrings sparkling. None of her jewelry, however, had gemstones; in fact, most of it was made from simple materials. Iron, copper, pewter. Feruchemical metals.

“You haven’t been in to see Elend lately,” Vin said, turning back to the mirror and using a few wooden barrettes to hold her hair back.

“The king is quickly approaching the point where he no longer needs my instruction.”

“He’s that close then?” Vin asked. “To being like the men from your biographies?”

Tindwyl laughed. “Goodness, no, child. He’s quite far from that.”

“But–”

“I said he would no longer need my instruction,” Tindwyl said. “He is learning that he can rely only so much upon the words of others, and has reached the point where he will have to learn more for himself. You would be surprised, child, how much about being a good leader simply comes from experience.”

“He seems very different to me,” Vin said quietly.

“He is,” Tindwyl said, walking forward to lay a hand on Vin’s shoulder. “He is becoming the man that he always knew he would have to be – he just didn’t know the path. Though I am hard on him, I think he would have found his way, even if I hadn’t come. A man can only stumble for so long before he either falls or stands up straight.”

Vin looked at her mirror self, pretty in its maroon dressings. “This is what I have to become. For him.”

“For him,” Tindwyl agreed. “And for yourself. This is where you were heading, before you got distracted.”

Vin turned. “Are you going to come with us tonight?”

Tindwyl shook her head. “That is not my place. Now, go meet your king.”

This time, Elend did not intend to enter his enemy’s lair without a proper escort. Two hundred soldiers stood in the courtyard, waiting to accompany him to Cett’s dinner, and Ham – fully armed – was playing personal bodyguard. Spook would act as Elend’s coachman. That only left Breeze, who – understandably – was a bit nervous about the idea of going to the dinner.

“You don’t have to come,” Elend told the portly man as they assembled in the Venture courtyard.

“I don’t?” Breeze said. “Well then, I shall remain here. Enjoy the dinner!”

Elend paused, frowning.

Ham clapped Elend on the shoulder. “You should know better than to give that one any wiggle room, Elend!”

“Well, I meant my words,” Elend said. “We could really use a Soother, but he doesn’t have to come if he doesn’t want to.”

Breeze looked relieved.

“You don’t even feel a bit guilty, do you?” Ham asked.

“Guilty?” Breeze asked, hand resting on his cane. “My dear Hammond, have you ever known me to express such a dreary and uninspired emotion? Besides, I have a feeling Cett will be more amiable without me around.”

He’s probably right, Elend thought as his coach pulled up.

“Elend,” Ham said. “Don’t you think bringing two hundred soldiers with us is… well, a little obvious?”

“Cett is the one who said we should be honest with our threats,” Elend said. “Well, I’d say two hundred men is on the conservative side of how well I trust the man. He’ll still have us outnumbered five to one.”

“But you’ll have a Mistborn sitting a few seats from him,” a soft voice said from behind.

Elend turned, smiling at Vin. “How can you possibly move so quietly in a dress like that?”

“I’ve been practicing,” she said, taking his arm.

Thing is, she probably has, he thought, inhaling her perfume, imagining Vin creeping through the palace hallways in a massive ball gown.

“Well, we should get moving,” Ham said. He gestured for Vin and Elend to enter the carriage, and they left Breeze behind on the palace steps.

After a year of passing Keep Hasting in the night, its windows darkened, it felt right to see them glowing again.

“You know,” Elend said from beside her, “we never did get to attend a ball together.”

Vin turned from her contemplation of the approaching keep. Around her, the carriage bounced along to the sound of several hundred tromping feet, the evening just beginning to grow dark.

“We met up several times at the balls,” Elend continued, “but we never officially attended one together. I never got the chance to pick you up in my carriage.”

“Is that really so important?” Vin asked.

Elend shrugged. “It’s all part of the experience. Or, it was. There was a comfortable formality to it all; the gentleman arriving to accompany the lady, then everyone watching you enter and evaluating how you look together. I did it dozens of times with dozens of women, but never with the one that would have made the experience special.”

Vin smiled. “Do you think we’ll ever have balls again?”

“I don’t know, Vin. Even if we survive all of this… well, could you dance while so many people starved?” He was probably thinking about the hundreds of refugees, wearied from their travels, stripped of all food and equipment by Straff’s soldiers, huddled together in the warehouse Elend had found for them.

You danced before, she thought. People starved then, too. But that was a different time; Elend hadn’t been king then. In fact, as she thought about it, he had never actually danced at those balls. He had studied and met with his friends, planning how he could make a better place out of the Final Empire.

“There has to be a way to have both,” Vin said. “Maybe we could throw balls, and ask the nobility who came to donate money to help feed the people.”

Elend smiled. “We’d probably spend twice as much on the party as we got in donations.”

“And the money we spent would go to skaa merchants.”

Elend paused thoughtfully, and Vin smirked to herself. Odd that I would end up with the only frugal nobleman in the city. What a pair they were – a Mistborn who felt guilty wasting coins to jump and a nobleman who thought balls were too expensive. It was a wonder that Dockson could pry enough money out of them to keep the city running.

“We’ll worry about that later,” Elend said as the Hasting gates opened, revealing a field of soldiers at attention.

You can bring your soldiers if you want, the display seemed to say. I’ve got more. In reality, they were entering a strange allegory of Luthadel itself. Elend’s two hundred were now surrounded by Cett’s thousand – which, in turn, were surrounded by Luthadel’s twenty thousand. The city, of course, was then surrounded by nearly a hundred thousand troops on the outside. Layer upon layer of soldiers, all tensely waiting for a fight. Thoughts of balls and parties fled her mind.

Cett did not greet them at the door. That duty was performed by a soldier in a simple uniform.

“Your soldiers can remain here,” the man said as they entered the main entryway. Once, the large, pillared room had been draped in fine rugs and wall hangings, but Elend had taken those to fund his government. Cett, obviously, hadn’t brought replacements, and that left the inside of the keep feeling austere. Like a battlefront fortress, rather than a mansion.

Elend turned, waving to Demoux, and the captain ordered his men to wait indoors. Vin stood for a moment, consciously keeping herself from shooting a glare at Demoux. If he was the kandra, as her instincts warned, then it was dangerous to have him too close. Part of her itched to simply throw him in a dungeon.

And yet, a kandra couldn’t hurt humans, so he wasn’t a direct threat. He was simply there to relay information. Plus, he’d already know their most sensitive secrets; there was little point in striking now, playing her hand so quickly. If she waited, saw where he went when he slipped out of the city, then maybe she could find out which army – or sect in the city – he was reporting to. Learn what information he had betrayed.

And so, she stayed her hand, waiting. The time to strike would come.

Ham and Demoux arranged their men, and then a smaller honor guard – including Ham, Spook, and Demoux – gathered to stay with Vin and Elend. Elend nodded to Cett’s man, and the soldier led them down a side passageway.

We’re not heading toward the lifts, Vin thought. The Hasting ballroom was at the very top of the keep’s central tower; the times she had attended balls in the structure, she had been taken to the top on one of four human-drawn lifts. Either Hasting didn’t want to waste the manpower, or…

He picked the tallest keep in the city, Vin thought. The one with the fewest windows as well. If Cett pulled all the lifts to the top, it would be very difficult for an invading force to claim the keep.

Fortunately, it didn’t appear that they would have to go all the way to the top this evening. After they climbed two flights in a twisting stone stairwell – Vin having to pull her dress in at the sides to keep from brushing against the stones – their guide led them out into a large, circular room with stained-glass windows running around the entire perimeter, broken only by columns to support the ceiling. The single room was nearly as wide around as the tower itself.

A secondary ballroom, perhaps? Vin wondered, taking in the beauty. The glass wasn’t lit, though she suspected that there were clefts for limelights on the outside. Cett didn’t appear to care about such things. He had set up a large table in the very center of the room, and sat at its head. He was already eating.

“You’re late,” he called out to Elend, “so I started without you.”

Elend frowned. To this, Cett laughed a full bellow, holding up a drumstick. “You seem more aghast at my breach of etiquette than you do about the fact that I brought an army to conquer you, boy! But, I suppose that’s Luthadel. Sit down before I eat this all myself.”

Elend held out an arm for Vin, leading her to the table. Spook took up position near the stairwell, his Tineye’s ears listening for danger. Ham led their ten men to a position from which they could watch the only entrances to the room – the entry from the stairs and the door the serving staff used.

Cett ignored the soldiers. He had a group of his own bodyguards standing near the wall on the other side of the room, but he seemed unconcerned that Ham’s troop had them slightly outnumbered. His son – the young man who had attended him at the Assembly meeting – stood at his side, waiting quietly.

One of the two has to be Mistborn, Vin thought. And I still think it is Cett.

Elend seated her, then took a chair next to her, both of them sitting directly across from Cett. He barely paused in his eating as the servers brought Vin’s and Elend’s dishes.

Drumsticks, Vin thought, and vegetables in gravy. He wants this to be a messy meal – he wants to make Elend uncomfortable.

Elend didn’t start on his food immediately. He sat, watching Cett, his expression thoughtful.

“Damn,” Cett said. “This is good food. You have no idea how hard it is to get proper meals when traveling!”

“Why did you want to speak with me?” Elend asked. “You know I won’t be convinced to vote for you.”

Cett shrugged. “I thought it might be interesting.”

“Is this about your daughter?” Elend asked.

“Lord Ruler, no!” Cett said with a laugh. “Keep the silly thing, if you want. The day she ran off was one of the few joys I’ve had this last month.”

“And if I threaten to harm her?” Elend asked.

“You won’t,” Cett said.

“You’re certain?”

Cett smiled through his thick beard, leaning toward Elend. “I know you, Venture. I’d been watching you, studying you, for months. And then, you were kind enough to send one of your friends to spy on me. I learned a lot about you from him!”

Elend looked troubled.

Cett laughed. “Honestly, you didn’t think I’d recognize one of the Survivor’s own crewmembers? You Luthadel noblemen must assume that everyone outside the city is a damn fool!”

“And yet, you listened to Breeze,” Elend said. “You let him join you, listened to his advice. And then, you only chased him away when you found him being intimate with your daughter – the one you claim to have no affection for.”

“Is that why he told you he left the camp?” Cett asked, laughing. “Because I caught him with Allrianne? Goodness, what do I care if the girl seduced him?”

“You think she seduced him?” Vin asked.

“Of course,” Cett said. “Honestly, I only spent a few weeks with him, and even I know how useless he is with women.”

Elend was taking all this in stride. He watched Cett with narrow, discerning eyes. “So why did you chase him away?”

Cett leaned back. “I tried to turn him. He refused. I figured killing him would be preferable to letting him return to you. But, he’s remarkably agile for a man his size.”

If Cett really is Mistborn, there’s no way Breeze got away without Cett letting him, Vin thought.

“So you see, Venture,” Cett said. “I know you. I know you better, perhaps, than you know yourself – for I know what your friends think of you. It takes a pretty extraordinary man to earn the loyalty of a weasel like Breeze.”

“So you think I won’t harm your daughter,” Elend said.

“I know you won’t,” Cett said. “You’re honest – I happen to like that about you. Unfortunately, honesty is very easy to exploit – I knew, for instance, that you’d admit Breeze was Soothing that crowd.” Cett shook his head. “Honest men weren’t meant to be kings, lad. It’s a damn shame, but it’s true. That’s why I have to take the throne from you.”

Elend was silent for a moment. Finally, he looked to Vin. She took his plate, sniffing it with an Allomancer’s senses.

Cett laughed. “Think I’d poison you?”

“No, actually,” Elend said as Vin set the plate down. She wasn’t as good as some, but she’d leaned the obvious scents.

“You wouldn’t use poison,” Elend said. “That isn’t your way. You seem to be a rather honest man yourself.”

“I’m just blunt,” Cett said. “There’s a difference.”

“I haven’t heard you tell a lie yet.”

“That’s because you don’t know me well enough to discern the lies,” Cett said. He held up several grease-stained fingers. “I’ve already told you three lies tonight, lad. Good luck guessing which ones they were.”

Elend paused, studying Cett. “You’re playing with me.”

“Of course I am!” Cett said. “Don’t you see, boy? This is why you shouldn’t be king. Leave the job to men who understand their own corruption; don’t let it destroy you.”

“Why do you care?” Elend asked.

“Because I’d rather not kill you,” Cett said.

“Then don’t.”

Cett shook his head. “That isn’t how all this works, lad. If there is an opportunity to stabilize your power, or to get more power, you’d damn well better take it. And I will.”

The table fell silent again. Cett eyed Vin. “No comments from the Mistborn?”

“You swear a lot,” Vin said. “You’re not supposed to do that in front of ladies.”

Cett laughed. “That’s the funny thing about Luthadel, lass. They’re all so concerned about doing what is ‘proper’ when people can see them – but, at the same time, they find nothing wrong with going and raping a couple skaa women when the party is through. At least I swear to your face.”

Elend still hadn’t touched his food. “What will happen if you win the vote for the throne?”

Cett shrugged. “Honest answer?”

“Always.”

“First thing, I’d have you assassinated,” Cett said. “Can’t have old kings sticking around.”

“And if I step down?” Elend said. “Withdraw from the vote?”

“Step down,” Cett said, “vote for me, and then leave town, and I’ll let you live.”

“And the Assembly?” Elend asked.

“Dissolved,” Cett said. “They’re a liability. Any time you give a committee power, you just end up with confusion.”

“The Assembly gives the people power,” Elend said. “That’s what a government should provide.”

Surprisingly, Cett didn’t laugh at that comment. Instead, he leaned in again, setting one arm on the table, discarding a half-eaten drumstick. “That’s the thing, boy. Letting the people rule themselves is fine when everything is bright and happy, but what about when you have two armies facing you? What about when there’s a band of insane koloss destroying villages on your frontier? Those aren’t the times when you can afford to have an Assembly around to depose you.” Cett shook his head. “The price is too high. When you can’t have both freedom and safety, boy, which do you choose?”

Elend was silent. “I make my own choice,” he finally said. “And I leave the others to make their own as well.”

Cett smiled, as if he’d expected such a reply. He started in on another drumstick.

“Let’s say I leave,” Elend said. “And let’s say you do get the throne, protect the city, and dissolve the Assembly. What then? What of the people?”

“Why do you care?”

“You need ask?” Elend said. “I thought you ‘understood’ me.”

Cett smiled. “I put the skaa back to work, in the way the Lord Ruler did. No pay, no emancipated peasant class.”

“I can’t accept that,” Elend said.

“Why not?” Cett said. “It’s what they want. You gave them a choice – and they chose to throw you out. Now they’re going to choose to put me on the throne. They know that the Lord Ruler’s way was the best. One group must rule, and another must serve. Someone has to grow the food and work the forges, boy.”

“Perhaps,” Elend said. “But you’re wrong about one thing.”

“And what is that?”

“They’re not going to vote for you,” Elend said, standing. “They’re going to choose me. Faced with the choice between freedom and slavery, they will choose freedom. The men of the Assembly are the finest of this city, and they will make the best choice for its people.”

Cett paused, then he laughed. “The best thing about you, lad, is that you can say that and sound serious!”

“I’m leaving, Cett,” Elend said, nodding to Vin.

“Oh, sit down, Venture,” Cett said, waving toward Elend’s chair. “Don’t act indignant because I’m being honest with you. We still have things to discuss.”

“Such as?” Elend asked.

“Atium,” Cett said.

Elend stood for a moment, apparently forcing down his annoyance. When Cett didn’t speak immediately, Elend finally sat and began to eat. Vin just picked quietly at her food. As she did, however, she studied the faces of Cett’s soldiers and servants. There were bound to be Allomancers mixed among them – finding out how many could give Elend an advantage.

“Your people are starving,” Cett said. “And, if my spies are worth their coin, you just got another influx of mouths. You can’t last much longer under this siege.”

“And?” Elend asked.

“I have food,” Cett said. “A lot of it – more than my army needs. Canned goods, packed with the new method the Lord Ruler developed. Long-lasting, no spoilage. Really a marvel of technology. I’d be willing to trade you some of them…”

Elend paused, fork halfway to his lips. Then he lowered it and laughed. “You still think I have the Lord Ruler’s atium?”

“Of course you have it,” Cett said, frowning. “Where else would it be?”

Elend shook his head, taking a bite of gravy-drenched potato. “Not here, for certain.”

“But… the rumors…” Cett said.

“Breeze spread those rumors,” Elend said. “I thought you’d figured out why he joined your group. He wanted you to come to Luthadel so that you’d stop Straff from taking the city.”

“But, Breeze did everything he could to keep me from coming here,” Cett said. “He downplayed the rumors, he tried to distract me, he…” Cett trailed off, then he bellowed a laugh. “I thought he was just there to spy! It seems we both underestimated each other.”

“My people could still use that food,” Elend said.

“And they’ll have it – assuming I become king.”

“They’re starving now,” Elend said.

“And their suffering will be your burden,” Cett said, his face growing hard. “I can see that you have judged me, Elend Venture. You think me a good man. You’re wrong. Honesty does not make a man less of a tyrant. I slaughtered thousands to secure my rule. I put burdens on the skaa that make even the Lord Ruler’s hand seem pleasant. I made certain that I stayed in power. I will do the same here.”

The men fell silent. Elend ate, but Vin only mixed her food around. If she had missed a poison, she wanted one of them to remain alert. She still wanted to find those Allomancers, and there was only one way to be certain. She turned off her copper, then burned bronze.

There was no Coppercloud burning; Cett apparently didn’t care if someone recognized his men as Allomancers. Two of his men were burning pewter. Neither, however, were soldiers; both were pretending to be members of the serving staff who were bringing meals. There was also a Tineye pulsing in the other room, listening.

Why hide Thugs as servants, then use no copper to hide their pulses? In addition, there were no Soothers or Rioters. Nobody was trying to influence Elend’s emotions. Neither Cett nor his youthful attendant were burning any metals. Either they weren’t actually Allomancers, or they feared exposing themselves. Just to be certain, Vin flared her bronze, seeking to pierce any hidden copperclouds that might be nearby. She could see Cett putting out some obvious Allomancers as a distraction, then hiding the others inside a cloud.

She found nothing. Finally satisfied, she returned to picking at her meal. How many times has this ability of mine – the ability to pierce copperclouds – proven useful? She’d forgotten what it was like to be blocked from sensing Allomantic pulses. This one little ability – simple though it seemed – provided an enormous advantage. And the Lord Ruler and his Inquisitors had probably been able to do it from the beginning. What other tricks was she missing, what other secrets had died with the Lord Ruler?

He knew the truth about the Deepness, Vin thought. He must have. He tried to warn us, at the end…

Elend and Cett were talking again. Why couldn’t she focus on the problems of the city?

“So you don’t have any atium at all?” Cett said.

“None that we’re willing to sell,” Elend said.

“You’ve searched the city?” Cett asked.

“A dozen times.”

“The statues,” Cett said. “Perhaps the Lord Ruler hid the metal by melting it down, then building things out of it.”

Elend shook his head. “We thought of that. The statues aren’t atium, and they aren’t hollow either – that would have been a good place to hide metal from Allomancer eyes. We thought maybe that it would be hidden in the palace somewhere, but even the spires are simple iron.”

“Caves, tunnels…”

“None that we can find,” Elend said. “We’ve had Allomancers patrol, searching for large sources of metals. We’ve done everything we can think of, Cett, short of tearing holes in the ground. Trust me. We’ve been working on this problem for a while.”

Cett nodded, sighing. “So, I suppose holding you for ransom would be pointless?”

Elend smiled. “I’m not even king, Cett. The only thing you’d do is make the Assembly less likely to vote for you.”

Cett laughed. “Suppose I’ll have to let you go, then.”

36

ONCE THIS WAREHOUSE HAD HELD swords and armor, scattered across its floor in heaps, like some mythical treasure. Sazed remembered walking through it, marveling at the preparations Kelsier had made without alerting any of his crewmembers. Those weapons had armed the rebellion on the eve of the Survivor’s own death, letting it take the city.

Those weapons were now stored in lockers and armories. In their place, a desperate, beaten people huddled in what blankets they could find. There were very few men, none of fighting quality; Straff had pressed those into his army. These others – the weak, the sickly, the wounded – he had allowed to Luthadel, knowing that Elend wouldn’t turn them away.

Sazed moved among them, offering what comfort he could. They had no furniture, and even changes of clothing were becoming scarce in the city. The merchants, realizing that warmth would be a premium for the upcoming winter, had begun raising prices on all their wares, not just foodstuffs.

Sazed knelt beside a crying woman. “Peace, Genedere,” he said, his coppermind reminding him of her name.

She shook her head. She had lost three children in the koloss attack, two more in the flight to Luthadel. Now the final one – the babe she had carried the entire way – was sick. Sazed took the child from her arms, carefully studying his symptoms. Little had changed from the day before.

“Is there hope, Master Terrisman?” Genedere asked.

Sazed glanced down at the thin, glassy-eyed baby. The chances were not good. How could he tell her such a thing?

“As long as he breathes, there is hope, dear woman,” Sazed said. “I will ask the king to increase your portion of food – you need strength to give suck. You must keep him warm. Stay near the fires, and use a damp cloth to drip water in his mouth even when he is not eating. He has great need of liquids.”

Genedere nodded dully, taking back the baby. How Sazed wished he could give her more. A dozen different religions passed through his mind. He had spent his entire life trying to encourage people to believe in something other than the Lord Ruler. Yet, for some reason, at this moment he found it difficult to preach one of them to Genedere.

It had been different before the Collapse. Each time he’d spoken of a religion, Sazed had felt a subtle sense of rebellion. Even if people hadn’t accepted the things he taught – and they rarely had – his words had reminded them that there had once been beliefs other than the doctrines of the Steel Ministry.

Now there was nothing to rebel against. In the face of the terrible grief he saw in Genedere’s eyes, he found it difficult to speak of religions long dead, gods long forgotten. Esoterica would not ease this woman’s pain.

Sazed stood, moving on to the next group of people.

“Sazed?”

Sazed turned. He hadn’t noticed Tindwyl entering the warehouse. The doors of the large structure were closed against approaching night, and the firepits gave an inconsistent light. Holes had been knocked in the roof to let out the smoke; if one looked up, trails of mist could be seen creeping into the room, though they evaporated before they reached halfway to the floor.

The refugees didn’t often look up.

“You’ve been here nearly all day,” Tindwyl said. The room was remarkably quiet, considering its occupancy. Fires crackled, and people lay silent in their pain or numbness.

“There are many wounded here,” Sazed said. “I am the best one to look after them, I think. I am not alone – the king has sent others and Lord Breeze is here, Soothing the people’s despair.”

Sazed nodded to the side, where Breeze sat in a chair, ostensibly reading a book. He looked terribly out of place in the room, wearing his fine three-piece suit. Yet, his mere presence said something remarkable, in Sazed’s estimation.

These poor people, Sazed thought. Their lives were terrible under the Lord Ruler. Now even what little they had has been taken from them. And they were only a tiny number – four hundred compared with the hundreds of thousands who still lived in Luthadel.

What would happen when the final stores of food ran out? Rumors were already abroad regarding the poisoned wells, and Sazed had just heard that some of their stored food had been sabotaged as well. What would happen to these people? How long could the siege continue?

In fact, what would happen when the siege ended? What would happen when the armies finally began to attack and pillage? What destruction, what grief, would the soldiers cause in searching for hidden atium?

“You do care for them,” Tindwyl said quietly, stepping up.

Sazed turned toward her. Then he looked down. “Not as much as I should, perhaps.”

“No,” Tindwyl said. “I can see it. You confuse me, Sazed.”

“I seem to have a talent in that area.”

“You look tired. Where is your bronzemind?”

Suddenly, Sazed felt the fatigue. He’d been ignoring it, but her words seemed to bring it in like a wave, rolling over him.

He sighed. “I used most of my wakefulness in my run to Luthadel. I was so eager to get here…” His studies had languished recently. With the problems in the city, and the arrival of the refugees, he hadn’t had much time. Besides, he had already transcribed the rubbing. Further work would require detailed cross-referencing to other works, searching for clues. He probably wouldn’t even have time to…

He frowned, noting the odd look in Tindwyl’s eyes.

“All right,” she said, sighing. “Show me.”

“Show you?”

“Whatever it was you found,” she said. “The discovery that prompted you to run across two dominances. Show it to me.”

Suddenly, everything seemed to lighten. His fatigue, his worry, even his sorrow. “I would love to,” he said quietly.

Another job well done, Breeze thought, congratulating himself as he watched the two Terrismen leave the warehouse.

Most people, even noblemen, misunderstood Soothing. They thought of it as some kind of mind control, and even those who knew more presumed that Soothing was an invasive, terrible thing.

Breeze had never seen it that way. Soothing wasn’t invasive. If it was, then ordinary interaction with another person was comparably invasive. Soothing, when done right, was no more a violation of another person than it was for a woman to wear a low-cut gown or speak in a commanding voice. All three produced common, understandable, and – most important – natural reactions in people.

Take Sazed, for example. Was it “invasive” to make the man less fatigued, so he could better go about his ministrations? Was it wrong to Soothe away his pain – just a bit – thereby making him better able to cope with the suffering?

Tindwyl was an even better example. Perhaps some would call Breeze a meddler for Soothing her sense of responsibility, and her disappointment, when she saw Sazed. But, Breeze had not created the emotions that the disappointment had been overshadowing. Emotions like curiosity. Respect. Love.

No, if Soothing were simple “mind control,” Tindwyl would have turned away from Sazed as soon as the two left Breeze’s area of influence. But Breeze knew that she wouldn’t. A crucial decision had been made, and Breeze had not made that decision for her. The moment had been building for weeks; it would have occurred with or without Breeze.

He had just helped it happen sooner.

Smiling to himself, Breeze checked his pocket watch. He still had a few more minutes, and he settled back in his chair, sending out a general Soothing wave, lessening people’s grief and pain. Focusing on so many at once, he couldn’t be very specific; some would find themselves made a little emotionally numb as he Pushed too strongly against them. But, it would be good for the group as a whole.

He didn’t read his book; in truth, he couldn’t understand how Elend and the rest spent so much time with them. Dreadfully boring things. Breeze could only see himself reading if there were no people around. Instead, he went back to what he’d been doing before Sazed had drawn his attention. He studied the refugees, trying to decide what each one was feeling.

This was the other great misunderstanding about Soothing. Allomancy wasn’t nearly as important as observational talent. True, having a subtle touch certainly helped. However, Soothing didn’t give an Allomancer the ability to know someone’s feelings. Those, Breeze had to guess on his own.

It all came back to what was natural. Even the most inexperienced skaa would realize they were being Soothed if unexpected emotions began bouncing around inside of them. True subtlety in Soothing was about encouraging natural emotions, all done by carefully making the right other emotions less powerful. People were a patchwork of feelings; usually, what they thought they were “feeling” at the moment only related to which emotions were currently most dominant within them.

The careful Soother saw what was beneath the surface. He understood what a man was feeling, even when that man himself didn’t understand – or acknowledge – those emotions. Such was the case with Sazed and Tindwyl.

Odd pair, that one, Breeze thought to himself, idly Soothing one of the skaa to make him more relaxed as he tried to sleep. The rest of the crew is convinced that those two are enemies. But, hatred rarely creates that measure of bitterness and frustration. No, those two emotions come from an entirely different set of problems.

Of course, isn’t Sazed supposed to be a eunuch? I wonder how this all came about…

His speculations trailed off as the warehouse doors opened. Elend walked in – Ham, unfortunately, accompanying him. Elend was wearing one of his white uniforms, complete with white gloves and a sword. The white was an important symbol; with all of the ash and soot in the city, a man in white was quite striking. Elend’s uniforms had to been crafted of special fabrics designed to be resistant to ash, and they still had to be scrubbed every day. The effect was worth the effort.

Breeze immediately picked at Elend’s emotions, making the man less tired, less uncertain – though the second was becoming almost unnecessary. That was partially the Terriswoman’s doing; Breeze had been impressed with her ability to change how people felt, considering her lack of Allomancy.

Breeze left Elend’s emotions of disgust and pity; both were appropriate considering the environment. He did, however, give Ham a nudge to make him less argumentative; Breeze wasn’t in a mood to deal with the man’s prattlings at the moment.

He stood as the two men approached. People perked up as they saw Elend, his presence somehow bringing them a hope that Breeze couldn’t emulate with Allomancy. They whispered, calling Elend King.

“Breeze,” Elend said, nodding. “Is Sazed here?”

“He just left, I’m afraid,” Breeze said.

Elend seemed distracted. “Ah, well,” he said. “I’ll find him later.” Elend looked around the room, lips downturned. “Ham, tomorrow, I want you to round up the clothing merchants on Kenton Street and bring them here to see this.”

“They might not like that, Elend,” Ham said.

“I hope they don’t,” Elend said. “But we’ll see how they feel about their prices once they visit this room. I can understand food’s expense, considering its scarcity. However, there is no reason but greed to deny the people clothing.”

Ham nodded, but Breeze could see the reticence in his posture. Did the others realize how strangely nonconfrontational Ham was? He liked to argue with friends, but he rarely actually came to any conclusions in his philosophizing. Plus, he absolutely hated fighting with strangers; Breeze had always found that an odd attribute in one who was hired, essentially, to hit people. He gave Ham a bit of a Soothing to make him less worried about confronting the merchants.

“You aren’t going to stay here all night, are you, Breeze?” Elend asked.

“Lord Ruler, no!” Breeze said. “My dear man, you’re lucky you managed to get me to come at all. Honestly, this is no place for a gentleman. The dirt, the depressing atmosphere – and that’s not even making mention of the smell!”

Ham frowned. “Breeze, someday you’re going to have to learn to think about other people.”

“As long as I can think about them from a distance, Hammond, I shall be happy to engage in the activity.”

Ham shook his head. “You’re hopeless.”

“Are you heading back to the palace then?” Elend asked.

“Yes, actually,” Breeze said, checking his pocket watch.

“Do you need a ride?”

“I brought my own carriage,” Breeze said.

Elend nodded, then turned to Ham, and the two retreated the way they had come, talking about Elend’s next meeting with one of the other Assemblymen.

Breeze wandered into the palace a short time later. He nodded to the door guards, Soothing away their mental fatigue. They perked up in response, watching the mists with renewed vigilance. It wouldn’t last long, but little touches like that were second nature to Breeze.

It was getting late, and few people were in the hallways. He made his way through the kitchens, Nudging the scullery maids to make them more chatty. It would make their cleaning pass more quickly. Beyond the kitchens he found a small stone room, lit by a couple of plain lamps, set with a small table. It was one of the palace’s boothlike, solitary dining rooms.

Clubs sat in one corner of the booth, gimped leg stretched out on the bench. He eyed Breeze with a scowl. “You’re late.”

“You’re early,” Breeze said, sliding into the bench across from Clubs.

“Same thing,” Clubs grumbled.

There was a second cup on the table, along with a bottle of wine. Breeze unbuttoned his vest, sighed quietly, and poured himself a cup as he leaned back with his legs up on his bench.

Clubs sipped his wine.

“You have your cloud up?” Breeze asked.

“Around you?” Clubs said. “Always.”

Breeze smiled, taking a sip, and relaxed. Though he rarely had opportunities to use his powers anymore, Clubs was a Smoker. When he was burning copper, every Allomancer’s abilities were invisible to those burning bronze. But more important – at least to Breeze – burning copper made Clubs immune to any form of emotional Allomancy.

“Don’t see why that makes you so happy,” Clubs said. “I thought you liked playing with emotions.”

“I do,” Breeze said.

“Then why come drink with me every night?” Clubs asked.

“You mind the company?”

Clubs didn’t answer. That was pretty much his way of saying he didn’t mind. Breeze eyed the grumpy general. Most of the other crewmembers stayed away from Clubs; Kelsier had brought him in at the last moment, since the Coppercloud they usually used had died.

“Do you know what it’s like, Clubs?” Breeze asked. “Being a Soother?”

“No.”

“It gives you remarkable control. It’s a wonderful feeling, being able to influence those around you, always feeling like you have a handle on how people will react.”

“Sounds delightful,” Clubs said flatly.

“And yet, it does things to you. I spend most of my time watching people – tweaking, Nudging, and Soothing. That’s changed me. I don’t… look at people the same way. It’s hard to just be friends with someone when you see them as something to be influenced and changed.”

Clubs grunted. “So that’s why we never used to see you with women.”

Breeze nodded. “I can’t help it anymore. I always touch the emotions of everyone around me. And so, when a woman comes to love me…” He liked to think he wasn’t invasive. Yet, how could he trust anyone who said they loved him? Was it he, or his Allomancy, that they responded to?

Clubs filled his cup. “You’re a lot sillier than you act.”

Breeze smiled. Clubs was one of the few people who was completely immune to his touch. Emotional Allomancy wouldn’t work on him, and he was always completely forthcoming with his emotions: everything made him grumpy. Manipulating him through non-Allomantic means had proven to be a fruitless waste of time.

Breeze regarded his wine. “The amusing thing is, you almost didn’t join the crew because of me.”

“Damn Soothers,” Clubs muttered.

“But you’re immune to us.”

“To your Allomancy, maybe,” Clubs said. “But that isn’t the only way you people do things. A man always has to watch himself around Soothers.”

“Then why let me join you every evening for wine?”

Clubs was silent for a moment, and Breeze almost thought he wasn’t going to respond. Finally, Clubs muttered, “You’re not as bad as most.”

Breeze took a gulp of wine. “That is as honest a compliment as I think I’ve ever received.”

“Don’t let it ruin you,” Clubs said.

“Oh, I think I’m too late for ruining,” Breeze said, topping off his cup. “This crew… Kell’s plan… has already done a thorough job of that.”

Clubs nodded in agreement.

“What happened to us, Clubs?” Breeze asked. “I joined Kell for the challenge. I never did know why you joined.”

“Money.”

Breeze nodded. “His plan fell apart, his army got destroyed, and we stayed. Then he died, and we still stayed. This blasted kingdom of Elend’s is doomed, you know.”

“We won’t last another month,” Clubs said. It wasn’t idle pessimism; Breeze knew people well enough to tell when they were serious.

“And yet, here we are,” Breeze said. “I spent all day making skaa feel better about the fact that their families had been slaughtered. You spent all day training soldiers that – with or without your help – will barely last a few heartbeats against a determined foe. We follow a boy of a king who doesn’t seem to have a shade of a clue just how bad his predicament is. Why?”

Clubs shook his head. “Kelsier. Gave us a city, made us think we were responsible for protecting it.”

“But we aren’t that kind of people,” Breeze said. “We’re thieves and scammers. We shouldn’t care. I mean… I’ve gotten so bad that I Soothe scullery maids so that they’ll have a happier time at work! I might as well start dressing in pink and carrying around flowers. I could probably make quite a bundle at weddings.”

Clubs snorted. Then he raised his cup. “To the Survivor,” he said. “May he be damned for knowing us better than we knew ourselves.”

Breeze raised his own cup. “Damn him,” he agreed quietly.

The two fell silent. Talking to Clubs tended to turn into… well, not talking. However, Breeze felt a simple contentment. Soothing was wonderful; it made him who he was. But it was also work. Even birds couldn’t fly all the time.

“There you are.”

Breeze snapped his eyes open. Allrianne stood at the entrance to the room, just at the edge of the table. She wore light blue; where had she gotten so many dresses? Her makeup was, of course, immaculate – and there was a bow in her hair. That long blond hair – common in the West but almost unheard of in the Central Dominance – and that perky, inviting figure.

Desire immediately blossomed inside of him. No! Breeze thought. She’s half your age. You’re a dirty old man. Dirty! “Allrianne,” he said uncomfortably, “shouldn’t you be in bed or something?”

She rolled her eyes, shooing his legs out of the way so she could sit on the bench beside him. “It’s only nine o’clock, Breeze. I’m eighteen, not ten.”

You might as well be, he thought, looking away from her, trying to focus on something else. He knew that he should be stronger, shouldn’t let the girl get near him, but he did nothing as she slid up to him and took a drink from his cup.

He sighed, putting his arm around her shoulders. Clubs just shook his head, the hint of a smile on his lips.

“Well,” Vin said quietly, “that answers one question.”

“Mistress?” OreSeur said, sitting across the table from her in the dark room. With her Allomancer’s ears, she could hear exactly what was going on in the next boothlike room over.

“Allrianne is an Allomancer,” Vin said.

“Really?”

Vin nodded. “She’s been Rioting Breeze’s emotions ever since she arrived, making him more attracted to her.”

“One would think that he’d notice,” OreSeur said.

“You’d think,” Vin said. She probably shouldn’t feel as amused as she did. The girl could be a Mistborn – though the idea of that puff flying through the mists seemed ridiculous.

Which is probably exactly how she wants me to think, Vin thought. I have to remember Kliss and Shan – neither one of them turned out to be the person I thought they were.

“Breeze probably just doesn’t think his emotions are unnatural,” Vin said. “He must be attracted to her already.”

OreSeur closed his mouth and cocked his head – his dog’s version of a frown.

“I know,” Vin agreed. “But, at least we know he isn’t the one using Allomancy to seduce her. Either way, that’s irrelevant. Clubs isn’t the kandra.”

“How could you possibly know that, Mistress?”

Vin paused. Clubs always turned his copper on around Breeze; it was one of the few times he used it. However, it was difficult to tell if someone was burning copper. After all, if they turned on their metal, they hid themselves by default.

But Vin could pierce copperclouds. She could sense Allrianne’s Rioting; she could even sense a faint thumping coming from Clubs himself, copper’s own Allomantic pulse, something that Vin suspected few people beyond herself and the Lord Ruler had ever heard.

“I just know,” Vin said.

“If you say so, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “But… didn’t you already decide the spy was Demoux?”

“I wanted to check Clubs anyway,” she said. “Before I did anything drastic.”

“Drastic?”

Vin sat quietly for a moment. She didn’t have much proof, but she did have her instincts – and those instincts told her Demoux was the spy. That sneaking way he’d gone out the other night… the obvious logic of choosing him… it all fit.

She stood. Things were getting too dangerous, too sensitive. She couldn’t ignore it any longer. “Come on,” she said, leaving the booth behind. “It’s time to put Demoux in prison.”

“What do you mean you lost him?” Vin asked, standing outside the door to Demoux’s room.

The servant flushed. “My lady, I’m sorry. I watched him, like you told me – but he went out on patrol. Should I have followed? I mean, don’t you think that would have looked suspicious?”

Vin cursed quietly to herself. She knew that she didn’t have much right to be angry, however. I should have told Ham straight off, she thought with frustration.

“My lady, he only left a few minutes ago,” the servant said.

Vin glanced at OreSeur, then took off down the corridor. As soon as they reached a window, Vin leaped out into the dark night, OreSeur following behind her, dropping the short distance to the courtyard.

Last time, I saw him come back in through the gates to the palace grounds, she thought, running through the mist. She found a couple of soldiers there, guarding.

“Did Captain Demoux come this way?” she demanded, bursting into their ring of torchlight.

They perked up, at first shocked, then confused.

“Lady Heir?” one of them said. “Yes, he just went out, on patrol just a minute or two ago.”

“By himself?” Vin asked.

They nodded.

“Isn’t that a little odd?”

They shrugged. “He goes by himself sometimes,” one said. “We don’t question. He’s our superior, after all.”

“Which way?” Vin demanded.

One pointed, and Vin took off, OreSeur at her side. I should have watched better. I should have hired real spies to keep an eye on him. I should have–

She froze. Up ahead, walking down a quite street in the mists, was a figure, walking into the city. Demoux.

Vin dropped a coin and threw herself into the air, passing far over his head, landing on top of a building. He continued, oblivious. Demoux or kandra, neither would have Allomantic powers.

Vin paused, daggers out, ready to spring. But… she still didn’t have any real proof. The part of her that Kelsier had transformed, the part that had come to trust, thought of the Demoux she knew.

Do I really believe he’s the kandra? she thought. Or do I just want him to be the kandra, so that I don’t have to suspect my real friends?

He continued to walk below, her tin-enhanced ears easily picking out his footfalls. Behind, OreSeur scrambled up onto the top of the roof, then padded over and sat down beside her.

I can’t just attack, she thought. I need to at least watch, see where he’s going. Get proof. Perhaps learn something in the process.

She waved to OreSeur, and they quietly followed along the rooftops, trailing Demoux. Soon, Vin noticed something odd – a flicker of firelight illuminating the mists a few streets over, making haunted shadows of buildings. Vin glanced at Demoux, trailing him with her eyes as he wandered down an alleyway, moving toward the illumination.

What…?

Vin threw herself off the roof. It took only three bounds for her to reach the source of the light. A modest bonfire crackled in the center of a small square. Skaa huddled around it for warmth, looking a little frightened in the mists. Vin was surprised to see them. She hadn’t seen skaa go out in the mists since the night of the Collapse.

Demoux approached down a side street, greeting several of the others. In the firelight she could confirm for certain that it was him – or, at least, a kandra with his face.

There were, perhaps, two hundred people in the square. Demoux moved as if to sit on the cobblestones, but someone quickly approached with a chair. A young woman brought him a mug of something steaming, which he received gratefully.

Vin leaped to a rooftop, staying low to keep from being exposed by the firelight. More skaa arrived, mostly in groups, but some brave individuals came alone.

A sound came from behind her, and Vin turned as OreSeur – apparently having barely made the jump – scrambled the last few feet over the edge onto the roof. He glanced down at the street below, shook his head, then padded over to join her. She raised a finger to her lips, nodding down at the growing group of people. OreSeur cocked his head at the sight, but said nothing.

Finally, Demoux stood, holding the still steaming cup in his hands. People gathered around, sitting on the cold cobblestones, huddled beneath blankets or cloaks.

“We shouldn’t fear the mists, my friends,” Demoux said. His wasn’t the voice of a strong leader or forceful battle commander – it was the voice of hardened youth, a little hesitant, but compelling nonetheless.

“The Survivor taught us of this,” he continued. “I know it’s very hard to think of the mists without remembering stories of mistwraiths or other horrors. But, the Survivor gave the mists to us. We should try and remember him, through them.”

Lord Ruler… Vin thought with shock. He’s one of them – a member of the Church of the Survivor! She wavered, uncertain what to think. Was he the kandra or wasn’t he? Why would the kandra meet with a group of people like this? But… why would Demoux himself do it?

“I know it’s hard,” Demoux said below, “without the Survivor. I know you’re afraid of the armies. Trust me, I know. I see them too. I know you suffer beneath this siege. I… don’t know if I can even tell you not to worry. The Survivor himself knew great hardship – the death of his wife, his imprisonment in the Pits of Hathsin. But he survived. That’s the point, isn’t it? We have to live on, no matter how hard this all gets. We’ll win, in the end. Just like he did.”

He stood with his mug in his hands, looking nothing like the skaa preachers Vin had seen. Kelsier had chosen a passionate man to found his religion – or, more precisely, to found the revolution the religion had come from. Kelsier had needed leaders who could enflame supporters, whip them up into a destructive upheaval.

Demoux was something different. He didn’t shout, but spoke calmly. Yet, people paid attention. They sat on the stones around him, looking up with hopeful – even worshipful – eyes.

“The Lady Heir,” one of them whispered. “What of her?”

“Lady Vin bears a great responsibility,” Demoux said. “You can see the weight bowing her down, and how frustrated she is with the problems in the city. She is a straightforward woman, and I don’t think she likes the Assembly’s politicking.”

“But, she’ll protect us, right?” one asked.

“Yes,” Demoux said. “Yes, I believe she will. Sometimes, I think that she’s even more powerful than the Survivor was. You know that he only had two years to practice as a Mistborn? She’s barely had that much time herself.”

Vin turned away. It comes back to that, she thought. They sound rational until they talk about me, and then…

“She’ll bring us peace, someday,” Demoux said. “The heir will bring back the sun, stop the ash from falling. But we have to survive until then. And we have to fight. The Survivor’s entire work was to see the Lord Ruler dead and make us free. What gratitude do we show if we run now that armies have come?

“Go and tell your Assemblymen that you don’t want Lord Cett, or even Lord Penrod, to be your king. The vote happens in one day, and we need to make certain the right man is made king. The Survivor chose Elend Venture, and that is whom we must follow.”

That’s new, Vin thought.

“Lord Elend is weak,” one of the people said. “He won’t defend us.”

“Lady Vin loves him,” Demoux said. “She wouldn’t love a weak man. Penrod and Cett treat you like the skaa used to be treated, and that’s why you think they’re strong. But that’s not strength – it’s oppression. We have to be better than that! We have to trust the Survivor’s judgment!”

Vin relaxed against the lip of the roof, tension melting a bit. If Demoux really was the spy, then he wasn’t going to give her any evidence this night. So, she put her knives away, then rested with her arms folded on the rooftop’s edge. The fire crackled in the cool winter evening, sending billows of smoke to mix with the mists, and Demoux continued to speak in his quiet, reassuring voice, teaching the people about Kelsier.

It’s not even really a religion, Vin thought as she listened. The theology is so simple – not at all like the complex beliefs that Sazed speaks about.

Demoux taught basic concepts. He held up Kelsier as a model, talking about survival, and about enduring hardships. Vin could see why the direct words would appeal to the skaa. The people really only had two choices: to struggle on, or to give up. Demoux’s teachings gave them an excuse to keep living.

The skaa didn’t need rituals, prayers, or codes. Not yet. They were too inexperienced with religion in general, too frightened of it, to want such things. But, the more she listened, the more Vin understood the Church of the Survivor. It was what they needed; it took what the skaa already knew – a life filled with hardship – and elevated it to a higher, more optimistic plane.

And the teachings were still evolving. The deification of Kelsier she had expected; even the reverence for her was understandable. But, where did Demoux get the promises that Vin would stop the ash and bring back the sun? How did he know to preach of green grasses and blue skies, describing the world as it was known only in some of the world’s most obscure texts?

He described a strange world of colors and beauty – a place foreign and difficult to conceive, but somehow wonderful all the same. Flowers and green plants were strange, alien things to these people; even Vin had trouble visualizing them, and she had heard Sazed’s descriptions.

Demoux was giving the skaa a paradise. It had to be something completely removed from normal experience, for the mundane world was not a place of hope. Not with a foodless winter approaching, not with armies threatening and the government in turmoil.

Vin pulled back as Demoux finally ended the meeting. She lay for a moment, trying to decide how she felt. She’d been near certain about Demoux, but now her suspicions seemed unfounded. He’d gone out at night, true, but she saw now what he was doing. Plus, he’d acted so suspiciously when sneaking out. It seemed to her, as she reflected, that a kandra would know how to go about things in a much more natural way.

It’s not him, she thought. Or, if it is, he’s not going to be as easy to unmask as I thought. She frowned in frustration. Finally, she just sighed, rising, and walked to the other side of the roof. OreSeur followed, and Vin glanced at him. “When Kelsier told you to take his body,” she said, “what did he want you to preach to these people?”

“Mistress?” OreSeur asked.

“He had you appear, as if you were him returned from the grave.”

“Yes.”

“Well, what did he have you say?”

OreSeur shrugged. “Very simple things, Mistress. I told them that the time for rebellion had arrived. I told them that I – Kelsier – had returned to give them hope for victory.”

I represent that thing you’ve never been able to kill, no matter how hard you try. They had been Kelsier’s final words, spoken face-to-face with the Lord Ruler. I am hope.

I am hope.

Was it any wonder that this concept would become central to the church that sprang up around him? “Did he have you teach things like we just heard Demoux say?” Vin asked. “About the ash no longer falling, and the sun turning yellow?”

“No, Mistress.”

“That’s what I thought,” Vin said as she heard rustling on the stones below. She glanced over the side of the building, and saw Demoux returning to the palace.

Vin dropped to the alleyway floor behind him. To the man’s credit, he heard her, and he spun, hand on dueling cane.

“Peace, Captain,” she said, rising.

“Lady Vin?” he asked with surprise.

She nodded, approaching closer so that he’d be able to see her better in the night. Fading torchlight still lit the air from behind, swirls of mist playing with shadows.

“I didn’t know you were a member of the Church of the Survivor,” she said softly.

He looked down. Though he was easily two hands taller than she, he seemed to shrink a bit before her. “I… I know it makes you uncomfortable. I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” she said. “You do a good thing for the people. Elend will appreciate hearing of your loyalty.”

Demoux looked up. “Do you have to tell him?”

“He needs to know what the people believe, Captain. Why would you want me to keep it quiet?”

Demoux sighed. “I just… I don’t want the crew to think I’m out here pandering to the people. Ham thinks preaching about the Survivor is silly, and Lord Breeze says the only reason to encourage the church is to make people more pliant.”

Vin regarded him in the darkness. “You really believe, don’t you?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“But you knew Kelsier,” she said. “You were with us from near the beginning. You know he’s no god.”

Demoux looked up, a bit of a challenge in his eyes. “He died to overthrow the Lord Ruler.”

“That doesn’t make him divine.”

“He taught us how to survive, to have hope.”

“You survived before,” Vin said. “People had hope before Kelsier got thrown in those pits.”

“Not like we do now,” Demoux said. “Besides… he had power, my lady. I felt it.”

Vin paused. She knew the story; Kelsier had used Demoux as an example to the rest of the army in a fight with a skeptic, directing his blows with Allomancy, making Demoux seem as if he had supernatural powers.

“Oh, I know about Allomancy now,” Demoux said. “But… I felt him Pushing on my sword that day. I felt him use me, making me more than I was. I think I can still feel him, sometimes. Strengthening my arm, guiding my blade…”

Vin frowned. “Do you remember the first time we met?”

Demoux nodded. “Yes. You came to the caverns where we were hiding on the day when the army was destroyed. I was on guard duty. You know, my lady – even then, I knew that Kelsier would come for us. I knew that he’d come and get those of us who had been faithful and guide us back to Luthadel.”

He went to those caves because I forced him to. He wanted to get himself killed fighting an army on his own.

“The destruction of the army was a test,” Demoux said, looking up into the mists. “These armies… the siege… they’re just tests. To see if we will survive or not.”

“And the ash?” Vin asked. “Where did you hear that it would stop falling?”

Demoux turned back to her. “The Survivor taught that, didn’t he?”

Vin shook her head.

“A lot of the people are saying it,” Demoux said. “It must be true. It fits with everything else – the yellow sun, the blue sky, the plants…”

“Yes, but where did you first hear those things?”

“I’m not sure, my lady.”

Where did you hear that I would be the one to bring them about? she thought, but she somehow couldn’t bring herself to voice the question. Regardless, she knew the answer: Demoux wouldn’t know. Rumors were propagating. It would be difficult indeed to trace them back to their source now.

“Go back to the palace,” Vin said. “I have to tell Elend what I saw, but I’ll ask him not to tell the rest of the crew.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Demoux said, bowing. He turned and hurried away. A second later, Vin heard a thump from behind: OreSeur, jumping down to the street.

She turned. “I was sure it was him.”

“Mistress?”

“The kandra,” Vin said, turning back toward the disappearing Demoux. “I thought I’d discovered him.”

“And?”

She shook her head. “It’s like Dockson – I think Demoux knows too much to be faking. He feels… real to me.”

“My brethren–”

“Are quite skilled,” Vin said with a sigh. “Yes, I know. But we’re not going to arrest him. Not tonight, at least. We’ll keep an eye on him, but I just don’t think it’s him anymore.”

OreSeur nodded.

“Come on,” she said. “I want to check on Elend.”

37

SAZED GLANCED AT THE WINDOW SHUTTERS, noting the hesitant beams of light that were beginning to shine through the cracks. Morning already? he thought. We studied all night? It hardly seemed possible. He had tapped no wakefulness, yet he felt more alert – more alive – than he had in days.

Tindwyl sat in the chair beside him. Sazed’s desk was filled with loose papers, two sets of ink and pen waiting to be used. There were no books; Keepers had no need of such.

“Ah!” Tindwyl said, grabbing a pen and beginning to write. She didn’t look tired either, but she had likely dipped into her bronzemind, tapping the wakefulness stored within.

Sazed watched her write. She almost looked young again; he hadn’t seen such overt excitement in her since she had been abandoned by the Breeders some ten years before. On that day, her grand work finished, she had finally joined her fellow Keepers. Sazed had been the one to present her with the collected knowledge that had been discovered during her thirty years of cloistered childbirth.

It hadn’t taken her long to achieve a place in the Synod. By then, however, Sazed had been ousted from their ranks.

Tindwyl finished writing. “The passage is from a biography of King Wednegon,” she said. “He was one of the last leaders who resisted the Lord Ruler in any sort of meaningful combat.”

“I know who he was,” Sazed said, smiling.

She paused. “Of course.” She obviously wasn’t accustomed to studying with someone who had access to as much information as she did. She pushed the written passage over to Sazed; even with his mental indexes and self-notes, it would be faster for her to write out the passage than it would be for him to try and find it within his own copperminds.

I spent a great deal of time with the king during his final weeks, the text read.

He seemed frustrated, as one might imagine. His soldiers could not stand against the Conqueror’s koloss, and his men had been beaten back repeatedly ever since FellSpire. However, the king didn’t blame his soldiers. He thought that his problems came from another source: food.

He mentioned this idea several times during those last days. He thought that if he’d had more food, he could have held out. In this, Wednegon blamed the Deepness. For, though the Deepness had been defeated – or at least weakened – its touch had depleted Darrelnai’s food stores.

His people could not both raise food and resist the Conqueror’s demon armies. In the end, that was why they fell.

Sazed nodded slowly. “How much of this text do we have?”

“Not much,” Tindwyl said. “Six or seven pages. This is the only section that mentions the Deepness.”

Sazed sat quietly for a moment, rereading the passage. Finally, he looked up at Tindwyl. “You think Lady Vin is right, don’t you? You think the Deepness was mist.”

Tindwyl nodded.

“I agree,” Sazed said. “At the very least, what we now call ‘the Deepness’ was some sort of change in the mist.”

“And your arguments from before?”

“Proven wrong,” Sazed said, setting down the paper. “By your words and my own studies. I did not wish this to be true, Tindwyl.”

Tindwyl raised an eyebrow. “You defied the Synod again to seek after something you didn’t even want to believe?”

He looked into her eyes. “There is a difference between fearing something and desiring it. The return of the Deepness could destroy us. I did not want this information – but neither could I pass by the opportunity to discover it.”

Tindwyl looked away. “I do not believe that this will destroy us, Sazed. You have made a grand discovery, that I will admit. The writings of the man Kwaan tell us much. Indeed, if the Deepness was the mists, then our understanding of the Lord Ruler’s Ascension has been enhanced greatly.”

“And if the mists are growing stronger?” Sazed asked. “If, by killing the Lord Ruler, we also destroyed whatever force was keeping the mists chained?”

“We have no proof that the mists are coming by day,” Tindwyl said. “And on the possibility of them killing people, we have only your hesitant theories.”

Sazed glanced away. On the table, his fingers had smudged Tindwyl’s hurriedly written words. “That is true,” he said.

Tindwyl sighed softly in the dim room. “Why do you never defend yourself, Sazed?”

“What defense is there?”

“There must be some. You apologize and ask forgiveness, but your apparent guilt never seems to change your behavior! Do you never think that, perhaps, if you had been more outspoken, you might be leading the Synod? They cast you out because you refused to offer arguments on your own behalf. You’re the most contrite rebel I’ve ever known.”

Sazed didn’t respond. He glanced to the side, seeing her concerned eyes. Beautiful eyes. Foolish thoughts, he told himself, looking away. You’ve always known that. Some things were meant for others, but never for you.

“You were right about the Lord Ruler, Sazed,” Tindwyl said. “Perhaps the others would have followed you if you had been just a little more… insistent.”

Sazed shook his head. “I am not a man from one of your biographies, Tindwyl. I am not even, really, a man.”

“You are a better man than they, Sazed,” Tindwyl said quietly. “The frustrating part is, I’ve never been able to figure out why.”

They fell silent. Sazed rose and walked to the window, opening the shutters, letting in the light. Then he extinguished the room’s lamp.

“I will leave today,” Tindwyl said.

“Leave?” Sazed asked. “The armies might not let you pass.”

“I wasn’t going to pass them, Sazed. I plan to visit them. I have given knowledge to young Lord Venture; I need to offer the same aid to his opponents.”

“Ah,” Sazed said. “I see. I should have realized this.”

“I doubt they will listen as he has,” Tindwyl said, a hint of fondness slipping into her voice. “Venture is a fine man.”

“A fine king,” Sazed said.

Tindwyl didn’t respond. She looked at the table, with its scattered notations, each drawn from one or another of their copperminds, scribbled in haste, then shown and reread.

What was this night, then? This night of study, this night sharing thoughts and discoveries?

She was still beautiful. Auburn hair graying, but kept long and straight. Face marked by a lifetime of hardship that had not broken her. And eyes… keen eyes, with the knowledge and love of learning that only a Keeper could claim.

I should not consider these things, Sazed thought again. There is no purpose to them. There never was. “You must go, then,” he said, turning.

“Again, you refuse to argue,” she said.

“What would be the point of argument? You are a wise and determined person. You must be guided by your own conscience.”

“Sometimes, people only seem determined upon one course because they have been offered no other options.”

Sazed turned toward her. The room was quiet, the only sounds coming from the courtyard below. Tindwyl sat half in sunlight, her bright robes slowly growing more illuminated as the shadows fell away. She seemed to be implying something, something he had not expected to ever hear from her.

“I am confused,” he said, sitting back down in a slow motion. “What of your duty as a Keeper?”

“It is important,” she admitted. “But… certain, occasional exceptions must be allowed. This rubbing you found… well, perhaps it merits further study before I depart.”

Sazed watched her, trying to read her eyes. What is it I feel? he wondered. Confused? Dumbfounded?

Afraid?

“I cannot be what you wish, Tindwyl,” he said. “I am not a man.”

She waved her hand indifferently. “I have had more than enough of ‘men’ and childbearing over the years, Sazed. I have done my duty to the Terris people. I should like to stay away from them for a time, I think. A part of me resents them, for what was done to me.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a hand. “I know, Sazed. I took that duty upon myself, and am glad for my service. But… during the years spent alone, meeting with the Keepers only on occasion, I found it frustrating that all their planning seemed to be directed at maintaining their status as a conquered people.

“I only ever saw one man pushing the Synod toward active measures. While they planned how to keep themselves hidden, one man wanted to attack. While they decided the best ways to foil the Breeders, one man wanted to plot the downfall of the Final Empire. When I rejoined my people, I found that man still fighting. Alone. Condemned for fraternizing with thieves and rebels, he quietly accepted his punishment.”

She smiled. “That man went on to free us all.”

She took his hand. Sazed sat, astonished.

“The men I read about, Sazed,” Tindwyl said quietly, “these were not men who sat and planned the best ways to hide. They fought; they sought victory. Sometimes, they were reckless – and other men called them fools. Yet, when the dice were cast and the bodies counted, they were men who changed things.”

Sunlight entered the room in full, and she sat, cupping his hand in hers. She seemed… anxious. Had he ever seen that emotion in her? She was strong, the strongest woman he knew. That couldn’t possibly be apprehension he saw in her eyes.

“Give me an excuse, Sazed,” she whispered.

“I should… very much like it if you stayed,” Sazed said, one hand in hers, the other resting on the tabletop, fingers trembling slightly.

Tindwyl raised an eyebrow.

“Stay,” Sazed said. “Please.”

Tindwyl smiled. “Very well – you have persuaded me. Let us return to our studies, then.”

Elend walked the top of the city wall in the morning light, sword at his hip clicking against the side of the stonework with each step.

“You almost look like a king,” a voice noted.

Elend turned as Ham climbed the last few steps up to the wall walk. The air was brisk, frost still crystalline in shadows on the stone. Winter was approaching. Perhaps it had arrived. Yet, Ham wore no cloak – only his usual vest, trousers, and sandals.

I wonder if he even knows what it is like to be cold, Elend thought. Pewter. Such an amazing talent.

“You say I nearly look like a king,” Elend said, turning to continue walking along the wall as Ham joined him. “I guess Tindwyl’s clothing has done wonders for my image.”

“I didn’t mean the clothing,” Ham said. “I was talking about that look on your face. How long have you been up here?”

“Hours,” Elend said. “How did you find me?”

“The soldiers,” Ham said. “They’re starting to see you as a commander, Elend. They watch where you are; they stand a little straighter when you’re around, polish their weapons if they know you’ll be stopping by.”

“I thought you didn’t spend much time with them,” Elend said.

“Oh, I never said that,” Ham said. “I spend lots of time with the soldiers – I just can’t be intimidating enough to be their commander. Kelsier always wanted me to be a general – I think, deep down, he thought that befriending people was inferior to leading them. Perhaps he was right; men need leaders. I just don’t want to be one of them.”

“I do,” Elend said, surprised to hear himself say so.

Ham shrugged. “That’s probably a good thing. You are, after all, king.”

“Kind of,” Elend said.

“You’re still wearing the crown.”

Elend nodded. “It felt wrong to go without it. It sounds silly, I know – I only wore it for a short time. But, people need to know that someone is still in charge. For a few more days at least.”

They continued to walk. In the distance, Elend could see a shadow upon the land: the third army had finally arrived in the wake of the refugees it had sent. Their scouts weren’t certain why the koloss force had taken so long to get to Luthadel. The villagers’ sad tale, however, gave some clue.

The koloss had not attacked Straff or Cett. They lay waiting. Apparently, Jastes had enough control over them to keep them in check. And so they joined the siege, another beast waiting for the opportunity to spring on Luthadel.

When you can’t have both freedom and safety, which do you choose…?

“You seem surprised to realize that you want to be in charge,” Ham said.

“I just haven’t ever voiced the desire before,” Elend said. “It sounds so arrogant, when I actually say it. I want to be king. I don’t want another man to take my place. Not Penrod, not Cett… not anyone. The position is mine. This city is mine.”

“I don’t know if ‘arrogant’ is the right word, El,” Ham said. “Why do you want to be king?”

“To protect this people,” Elend said. “To guard their safety – and their rights. But, also to make certain that the noblemen don’t end up on the wrong end of another rebellion.”

“That’s not arrogance.”

“It is, Ham,” Elend said. “But it’s an understandable arrogance. I don’t think a man could lead without it. Actually, I think it’s what I’ve been missing through most of my reign. Arrogance.”

“Self-confidence.”

“A nicer word for the same concept,” Elend said. “I can do a better job for this people than another man could. I just have to find a way to prove that fact to them.”

“You will.”

“You’re an optimist, Ham,” Elend said.

“So are you,” Ham noted.

Elend smiled. “True. But this job is changing me.”

“Well, if you want to keep the job, we should probably get back to studying. We only have one day left.”

Elend shook his head. “I’ve read all I can, Ham. I will not take advantage of the law, so there’s no reason to search for loopholes, and studying other books looking for inspiration just isn’t working. I need time to think. Time to walk…”

They continued to do so. As they did, Elend noticed something out in the distance. A group of enemy soldiers doing something he couldn’t distinguish. He waved over one of his men.

“What is that?” he asked.

The soldier shaded his eyes, looking. “Looks like another skirmish between Cett’s men and Straff’s, Your Majesty.”

Elend raised an eyebrow. “That happens often?”

The soldier shrugged. “More and more often, lately. Usually the scouting patrols run afoul of each other and get into a conflict. Leave a few bodies behind when they retreat. Nothing big, Your Majesty.”

Elend nodded, dismissing the man. Big enough, he thought to himself. Those armies must be as tense as we are. The soldiers can’t enjoy remaining so long in a siege, particularly with the winter weather.

They were close. The arrival of the koloss would only cause more chaos. If he shoved right, Straff and Cett would be pushed into a head-on battle. I just need a little more time! he thought, continuing to walk, Ham at his side.

Yet, first he needed to get his throne back. Without that authority, he was nothing – and could do nothing.

The problem gnawed at his mind. As the walk continued, however, something distracted him – this time, something inside the walls rather than outside of them. Ham was right – the soldiers did stand a little taller when Elend approached their posts. They saluted him, and he nodded to them, walking with hand on pommel, as Tindwyl had instructed.

If I do keep my throne, I owe it to that woman, he thought. Of course, she’d chastise him for that thought. She would tell him that he kept his throne because he deserved to – because he was king. In changing himself, he had simply used the resources at hand to overcome his challenges.

He wasn’t certain if he’d ever be able to see things that way. But, her final lesson to him the day before – he somehow knew that it was her last – had taught him only one new concept: that there was no one mold for kingship. He would not be like the kings of the past, any more than he would be like Kelsier.

He would be Elend Venture. His roots were in philosophy, so he would be remembered as a scholar. He’d best use that to his advantage, or he wouldn’t be remembered at all. No kings could admit their weaknesses, but they were certainly wise to admit their strengths.

And what are my strengths? he thought. Why should I be the one who rules this city, and those around it?

Yes, he was a scholar – and an optimist, as Ham had noted. He was no master duelist, though he was improving. He wasn’t an excellent diplomat, though his meetings with Straff and Cett proved that he could hold his own.

What was he?

A nobleman who loved the skaa. They’d always fascinated him, even before the Collapse – before he’d met Vin and the others. It had been one of his pet philosophical puzzles to try and prove them no different from men of noble birth. It sounded idealistic, even a little prim, when he thought about it – and, if he was truthful, much of his interest in the skaa before the Collapse had been academic. They had been unknown, and so they had seemed exotic and interesting.

He smiled. I wonder what the plantation workers would have thought, had anyone told them they were “exotic.”

But then the Collapse had come – the rebellion predicted in his books and theories coming to life. His beliefs hadn’t been able to continue as mere academic abstractions. And he’d come to know the skaa – not just Vin and the crew, but the workers and the servants. He’d seen the hope beginning to grow within them. He’d seen the awakening of self-respect, and of self-worth, in the people of the city, and it excited him.

He would not abandon them.

That’s what I am, Elend thought, pausing as he walked the wall. An idealist. A melodramatic idealist who, despite his books and learning, never did make a very good nobleman.

“What?” Ham asked, stopping next to him.

Elend turned toward him. “I’ve got an idea,” he said.

38

HOW CAN HE POSSIBLY LOOK so confident when I feel so nervous? Vin thought, standing beside Elend as the Assembly Hall began to fill. They had arrived early; this time, Elend said he wanted to appear in control by being the one who greeted each Assemblyman as he arrived.

Today, the vote for king would occur.

Vin and Elend stood on the stage, nodding to the Assemblymen as they entered through the room’s side door. On the floor of the room, the benches were already growing crowded. The first few rows, as always, were seeded with guards.

“You look beautiful today,” Elend said, looking at Vin.

Vin shrugged. She had worn her white gown, a flowing garment with a few diaphanous layers on the top. Like the others, it was designed for mobility, and it matched Elend’s new outfits – especially with the dark embroidery on the sleeves. Her jewelry was gone, but she did have a few white wooden barrettes for her hair.

“It’s odd,” she said, “how quickly wearing these gowns became natural for me again.”

“I’m glad you made the switch,” Elend said. “The trousers and shirt are you… but this is you, too. The part of you I remember from the balls, when we barely knew each other.”

Vin smiled wistfully, looking up at him, the gathering crowd growing a bit more distant. “You never did dance with me.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, holding her arm with a light touch. “We haven’t had much time for each other lately, have we?”

Vin shook her head.

“I’ll fix that,” Elend said. “Once this confusion is all through, once the throne is secure, we can get back to us.”

Vin nodded, then turned sharply as she noticed movement behind her. An Assemblyman walking across the stage.

“You’re jumpy,” Elend said, frowning slightly. “Even more than usual. What am I missing?”

Vin shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Elend greeted the Assemblyman – one of the skaa representatives – with a firm handshake. Vin stood at his side, her earlier wistfulness evaporating like mist as her mind returned to the moment. What is bothering me?

The room was packed – everyone wanted to witness the events of the day. Elend had been forced to post guards at the doors to maintain order. But, it wasn’t just the number of people that made her edgy. It was a sense of… wrongness to the event. People were gathering like carrion feeders to a rotting carcass.

“This isn’t right,” Vin said, holding Elend’s arm as the Assemblyman moved off. “Governments shouldn’t change hands based on arguments made from a lectern.”

“Just because it hasn’t happened that way in the past doesn’t mean it shouldn’t happen,” Elend said.

Vin shook her head. “Something is going to go wrong, Elend. Cett will surprise you, and maybe Penrod will, too. Men like them won’t sit still and let a vote decide their future.”

“I know,” Elend said. “But they aren’t the only ones who can offer up surprises.”

Vin looked at him quizzically. “You’re planning something?”

He paused, then glanced at her. “I… well, Ham and I came up with something last night. A ploy. I’ve been trying to find a way to talk to you about it, but there just hasn’t been time. We had to move quickly.”

Vin frowned, sensing his apprehension. She started to say something, but then stopped, studying his eyes. He seemed a little embarrassed. “What?” she asked.

“Well… it kind of involves you, and your reputation. I was going to ask permission, but…”

Vin felt a slight chill. Behind them, the last Assemblyman took his seat, and Penrod stood up to conduct the meeting. He glanced toward Elend, clearing his throat.

Elend cursed quietly. “Look, I don’t have time to explain,” he said. “But, it’s really not a big deal – it might not even get me that many votes. But, well, I had to try. And it doesn’t change anything. Between us, I mean.”

“What?”

“Lord Venture?” Penrod said. “Are you ready for this meeting to begin?”

The hall grew quiet. Vin and Elend still stood in the center of the stage, between the lectern and the seats of the Assembly members. She looked at him, torn between a sense of dread, a sense of confusion, and a slight sense of betrayal.

Why didn’t you tell me? she thought. How can I be ready if you don’t tell me what you’re planning? And… why are you looking at me like that?

“I’m sorry,” Elend said, moving over to take his seat.

Vin remained standing alone before the audience. Once, so much attention would have terrified her. It still made her uncomfortable. She ducked her head slightly, walking toward the back benches and her empty spot.

Ham wasn’t there. Vin frowned, turning as Penrod opened the proceedings. There, she thought, finding Ham in the audience, sitting calmly with a group of skaa. The group was obviously conversing quietly, but even with tin, Vin would never be able to pick out their voices in the large crowd. Breeze stood with some of Ham’s soldiers at the back of the room. It didn’t matter if they knew about Elend’s plan – they were too far away for her to interrogate them.

Annoyed, she arranged her skirts, then sat. She hadn’t felt so blind since…

Since that night a year ago, she thought, that moment just before we figured out Kelsier’s true plan, that moment when I thought everything was collapsing around me.

Perhaps that was a good sign. Had Elend cooked up some last-minute flash of political brilliance? It didn’t really matter that he hadn’t shared it with her; she probably wouldn’t understand the legal basis for it anyway.

But… he always shared his plans with me before.

Penrod continued to drone on, likely maximizing his time in front of the Assembly. Cett was on the front bench of the audience, surrounded by a good twenty soldiers, sitting with a look of self-satisfaction. As well he should. From the accounts she’d heard, Cett stood to take the vote with ease.

But what was Elend planning?

Penrod will vote for himself, Vin thought. So will Elend. That leaves twenty-two votes. The merchants are behind Cett, and so are the skaa. They’re too afraid of that army to vote for anyone else.

That only leaves the nobility. Some of them will vote for Penrod – he’s the strongest nobleman in the city; many of the members of the Assembly are longtime political allies of his. But, even if he takes half of the nobility – which he probably won’t – Cett will win. Cett only needs a two-thirds majority to get the throne.

Eight merchants, eight skaa. Sixteen men on Cett’s side. He was going to win. What could Elend possibly do?

Penrod finally finished his opening announcements. “But, before we vote,” he said, “I would like to offer time to the candidates to make any final addresses they wish. Lord Cett, would you care to go first?”

In the audience, Cett shook his head. “I’ve made my offers and my threats, Penrod. You all know you have to vote for me.”

Vin frowned. He seemed certain of himself, and yet… She scanned the crowd, eyes falling on Ham. He was talking to Captain Demoux. And seated next to them was one of the men who had followed her in the market. A priest of the Survivor.

Vin turned, studying the Assembly. The skaa representatives looked uncomfortable. She glanced at Elend, who stood up to take his turn at the front of the lectern. His earlier confidence had returned, and he looked regal in his sharp white uniform. He still wore his crown.

It doesn’t change things, he’d said. Between us…

I’m sorry.

Something that would use her reputation to gain him votes. Her reputation was Kelsier’s reputation, and only the skaa really cared about that. And there was one easy way to gain influence with them…

“You joined the Church of the Survivor, didn’t you?” she whispered.

The reactions of the skaa Assemblymen, the logic of the moment, Elend’s words to her before, all of them suddenly made sense. If Elend joined the Church, the skaa Assemblymen might be afraid to vote against him. And, Elend didn’t need sixteen votes to gain the throne; if the Assembly deadlocked, he won. With the eight skaa and his own vote, the others would never be able to oust him.

“Very clever,” she whispered.

The ploy might not work. It would depend on how much hold the Church of the Survivor had on the skaa Assemblymen. Yet, even if some skaa voted against Elend, there were still the noblemen who would probably vote for Penrod. If enough did, Elend would still deadlock the Assembly and keep his throne.

All it would cost was his integrity.

That’s unfair, Vin told herself. If Elend had joined with the Church of the Survivor, he would hold to whatever promises he had made. And, if the Church of the Survivor gained official backing, it could become as powerful in Luthadel as the Steel Ministry had once been. And… how would that change the way Elend saw her?

This doesn’t change anything, he had promised.

She dully heard him begin to speak, and his references to Kelsier now seemed obvious to her. Yet, the only thing she could feel was a slight sense of anxiety. It was as Zane had said. She was the knife – a different kind of knife, but still a tool. The means by which Elend would protect the city.

She should be furious, or at least sick. Why did her eyes keep darting toward the crowd? Why couldn’t she focus on what Elend was saying, on how he was elevating her? Why was she suddenly so on edge?

Why were those men subtly moving their way around the edges of the room?

“So,” Elend said, “by the blessing of the Survivor himself, I ask you to vote for me.”

He waited quietly. It was a drastic move; joining the Church of the Survivor put Elend under the spiritual authority of an external group. But, Ham and Demoux both had thought it a good idea. Elend had spent the better part of the previous day getting the word out to the skaa citizens about his decision.

It felt like a good move. The only thing he worried about was Vin. He glanced at her. She didn’t like her place in the Church of the Survivor, and having Elend join it meant that he – technically – accepted her part in the mythology. He tried to catch her eye and smile, but she wasn’t watching him. She was looking out into the audience.

Elend frowned. Vin stood up.

A man from the audience suddenly shoved aside two soldiers in the front row, then leaped supernaturally far to land up on the dais. The man pulled out a dueling cane.

What? Elend thought in shock. Fortunately, months spent sparring at Tindwyl’s command had given him instincts he didn’t know he had. As the Thug charged, Elend tucked and rolled. He hit the ground, scrambling, and turned to see the beefy man bearing down on him, dueling cane raised.

A flurry of white lace and skirts fluttered through the air over Elend. Vin slammed feet-first into the Thug, throwing him backward as she spun, skirts flaring.

The man grunted. Vin landed with a thump directly in front of Elend. The Assembly Hall echoed with sudden screaming and shouts.

Vin kicked the lectern out of the way. “Stay behind me,” she whispered, an obsidian dagger glittering in her right hand.

Elend nodded hesitantly, unbuckling the sword at his waist as he climbed to his feet. The Thug wasn’t alone; three small groups of armed men were moving through the room. One attacked the front row, distracting the guards there. Another group was climbing onto the dais. The third group seemed occupied by something in the crowd. Cett’s soldiers.

The Thug had regained his feet. He didn’t look like he had suffered much from Vin’s kick.

Assassins, Elend thought. But who sent them?

The man smiled as he was joined by a group of five friends. Chaos filled the room, Assemblymen scattering, their bodyguards rushing to surround them. Yet, the fighting in front of the stage kept anyone from escaping in that direction. The Assemblymen clogged around the stage’s side exit. The attackers, however, didn’t seem concerned with them.

Only with Elend.

Vin remained in her crouch, waiting for the men to attack first, her posture threatening despite the frilly dress. Elend thought he actually heard her growl quietly.

The men attacked.

Vin snapped forward, swiping at the lead Thug with a dagger. His reach was too great, however, and he easily fended her off with a swipe of his staff. There were six men in total; three who were obviously Thugs, leaving the other three to likely be Coinshots or Lurchers. A strong component of metal-controllers. Someone didn’t want her ending this fight quickly with coins.

They didn’t understand that she would never use coins in this situation. Not with Elend standing so close and with so many people in the room. Coins couldn’t be deflected safely. If she shot a handful at her enemies, random people would die.

She had to kill these men fast. They were already fanning out, surrounding her and Elend. They moved in pairs – one Thug and one Coinshot in each team. They would attack from the sides, trying to get past her to Elend.

Vin reached behind herself with iron, Pulling Elend’s sword from its sheath with a ringing squeal. She caught it by the hilt, throwing it at one of the teams. The Coinshot Pushed it back at her, and she in turn Pushed it to the side, spinning it toward a second pair of Allomancers.

One of them Pushed it back at her again. Vin Pulled from behind, whipping Elend’s metal-tipped sheath out of his hands and shooting it through the air by its clasp. Sheath passed sword in the air. This time, the enemy Coinshots Pushed both items out of the way, deflecting them toward the fleeing audience.

Men shouted in desperation as they trampled and tried to force their way out of the room. Vin gritted her teeth. She needed a better weapon.

She flung a stone dagger at one assassin pair, then jumped toward another, spinning beneath the attacking Thug’s weapon. The Coinshot didn’t have any metal on him that she could sense; he was just there to keep her from killing the Thug with coins. They probably assumed that Vin would be easy to defeat, as she was deprived of the ability to shoot coins.

The Thug brought his staff back around, trying to catch her with the end. She caught the weapon, yanking it forward and jumping up as she Pushed against the Assembly bleachers behind her. Her feet hit the Thug in the chest, and she kicked hard with flared pewter. As he grunted, Vin Pulled herself back toward the nails in the bleachers as hard as she could.

The Thug managed to stay on his feet. He seemed completely surprised, however, to find Vin streaking away from him, holding his staff in her hands.

She landed and spun toward Elend. He’d found himself a weapon – a dueling cane – and had the good sense to back himself against a wall. To her right, some of the Assemblymen stood in a huddle, surrounded by their guards. The room was too full, the exits too small and cramped, for them all to escape.

The Assemblymen made no moves to help Elend.

One of the assassins cried out, pointing as Vin Pushed against the bleachers and shot toward them, moving herself in front of Elend. Two Thugs raised their weapons as Vin turned in the air, lightly Pulling against a door’s hinges to spin herself. Her gown fluttered as she landed.

I really have to thank that dressmaker, she thought as she raised the staff. She briefly considered ripping the dress free anyway, but the Thugs were upon her too quickly. She blocked both blows at once, then threw herself between the men, flaring pewter, moving faster than even they.

One of them cursed, trying to bring his staff around. Vin broke his leg before he could. He dropped with a howl, and Vin leaped onto his back, forcing him to the ground as she swung an overhand blow at the second Thug. He blocked, then shoved his weapon against hers to throw her back off his companion.

Elend attacked. The king’s actions, however, seemed sluggish compared with the movements of men burning pewter. The Thug turned almost nonchalantly, smashing Elend’s weapon with an easy blow.

Vin cursed as she fell. She hurled her staff at the Thug, forcing him to turn away from Elend. He barely ducked out of the way as Vin hit the ground, bounced to her feet, and whipped out a second dagger. She dashed forward before the Thug could turn back to Elend.

A spray of coins flew toward her. She couldn’t Push them back, not toward the crowd. She cried out – throwing herself between the coins and Elend – then Pushed to the sides, dividing them as best she could so they sprayed against the wall. Even so, she felt a flash of pain from her shoulder.

Where did he get the coins? she thought with frustration. However, as she glanced to the side, she saw the Coinshot standing beside a cowering Assemblyman, who had been forced to give up his coin pouch.

Vin gritted her teeth. Her arm still worked. That was all that mattered. She yelled and threw herself at the closest Thug. However, the third Thug had regained his weapon – the one Vin had thrown – and was now circling with his Coinshot to try and get behind Vin.

One at a time, Vin thought.

The Thug nearest her swung his weapon. She needed to surprise him. So, she didn’t dodge or block. She simply took his blow in the side, burning duralumin and pewter to resist. Something cracked, within her as she was hit, but with duralumin, she was strong enough to stay up. Wood shattered, and she continued forward, slamming her dagger into the Thug’s neck.

He dropped, revealing a surprised Coinshot behind him. Vin’s pewter evaporated with the duralumin, and pain blossomed like a sunrise in her side. Even so, she yanked her dagger free as the Thug fell, still moving quickly enough to drop the Coinshot with a dagger in the chest.

Then she stumbled, gasping quietly, holding her side as two men died at her feet.

One Thug left, she thought desperately. And two Coinshots.

Elend needs me. To the side, she saw one of the Coinshots fire a spray of stolen coins at Elend. She cried out, Pushing them away, and she heard the Coinshot cursing.

She turned – counting on the blue lines from her steel to warn her if the Coinshots tried shooting anything else at Elend – and ripped her backup vial of metal from her sleeve, where it had been tied tightly to keep it from being Pulled away. However, even as she yanked the stopper open, the vial lurched from her now undexterous hand. The second Coinshot grinned as he Pushed the vial away, tipping it and spraying its contents across the floor.

Vin growled, but her mind was growing fuzzy. She needed pewter. Without it, the large coin wound in her shoulder – its blood turning her lacy sleeve red – and the crushing pain in her side were too much. She almost couldn’t think.

A staff swung toward her head. She jerked to the side, rolling. However, she no longer had the grace or speed of pewter. A normal man’s blow she could have dodged, but the attack of an Allomancer was another thing.

I shouldn’t have burned duralumin! she thought. It had been a gamble, letting her kill two assassins, but it had left her too exposed. The staff descended toward her.

Something large slammed into the Thug, bearing him to the ground in a growling flurry of claws. Vin came out of her dodge as the Thug punched OreSeur in the head, cracking his skull. Yet, the Thug was bleeding and cursing, and his staff had rolled free. Vin snatched it up, scrambling to her feet and gritting her teeth as she drove the butt of the staff down into the man’s face. He took the blow with a curse, swiping her feet out from under her with a kick.

She fell beside OreSeur. The wolfhound, oddly, was smiling. There was a wound in his shoulder.

No, not a wound. An opening in the flesh – and a vial of metal hidden inside. Vin snatched it, rolling, keeping it hidden as the Thug regained his feet. She downed the liquid, and the flakes of metal it contained. On the floor before her, she could see the shadow of the Thug raising his weapon in a mighty overhand blow.

Pewter flared to life inside of her, and her wounds became mere annoying buzzes. She jerked to the side as the blow fell, hitting the floor, throwing up bits of wood. Vin flipped to her feet, slamming her fist into the arm of her surprised opponent.

It wasn’t enough to break the bones, but it obviously hurt. The Thug – now missing two teeth – grunted in pain. To the side, Vin saw OreSeur on his feet, his dog’s jaw hanging unnaturally. He nodded to her; the Thug would think him dead from the cracked skull.

More coins flew at Elend. She Pushed them away without even looking. In front of her, OreSeur struck the Thug from behind, making him spin in surprise just as Vin attacked. The Thug’s staff passed within a finger’s width of her head as it smashed into OreSeur’s back, but her own hand took the man in the face. She didn’t punch, however; that wouldn’t do much against a Thug.

She had one finger out, and she had incredible aim. The Thug’s eye popped as she rammed her finger into the socket.

She hopped back as he cried out, raising a hand to his face. She smashed her fists into his chest, throwing him to the ground, then jumped over OreSeur’s crumpled form and grabbed her dagger off the ground.

The Thug died, clutching his face in agony, her dagger in his chest.

Vin spun, searching desperately for Elend. He’d taken one of the fallen Thugs’ weapons and was fending off the two remaining Coinshots, who had apparently grown frustrated by her Pushing away all of their coin attacks. Instead, they had pulled out dueling canes to attack him directly. Elend’s training had apparently been enough to keep him alive – but only because his opponents had to keep an eye on Vin to make certain she didn’t try using coins herself.

Vin kicked up the staff of the man she’d just killed, catching it. A Coinshot cried out as she growled and dashed toward them, spinning her weapon. One had the presence of mind to Push off the bleachers and launch himself away. Vin’s weapon still caught him in midair, throwing him to the side. The next swing took down his companion, who had tried to dash away.

Elend stood breathing heavily, his costume disheveled.

He did better than I thought he would, Vin admitted, flexing, trying to judge the damage to her side. She needed to get a bandage on that shoulder. The coin hadn’t hit bone, but the bleeding would–

“Vin!” Elend cried out.

Something very strong suddenly grabbed her from behind. Vin choked as she was jerked backward and thrown to the ground.

The first Thug. She’d broken his leg, then forgotten–

He got his hands around her neck, squeezing as he knelt above her, his legs pressing against her chest, his face wild with rage. His eyes bulged, adrenaline mixing with pewter.

Vin gasped for breath. She was taken back to years before, to beatings performed by men looming above her. Camon, and Reen, and a dozen others.

No! she thought, flaring her pewter, struggling. He had her pinned, however, and he was much larger then she was. Much stronger. Elend slammed his staff against the man’s back, but the Thug barely even flinched.

Vin couldn’t breathe. She felt her throat being crushed. She tried to pry the Thug’s hands apart, but it was as Ham had always said. Her small size was a great advantage to her in most situations – but when it came down to brute strength, she was no match for a man of bulk and muscle. She tried Pulling herself to the side, but the man’s grip was too strong, her weight too small compared with his.

She struggled in vain. She had duralumin still – burning it only made other metals vanish, not the duralumin itself – but last time that had nearly gotten her killed. If she didn’t take the Thug down quickly, she’d be left without pewter once again.

Elend pounded, yelling for help, but his voice sounded distant. The Thug pressed his face almost up against Vin’s, and she could see his fury. At that moment, incredibly, a thought occurred to her.

Where have I seen this man before?

Her vision darkened. However, as the Thug constricted his grip, he leaned closer, closer, closer…

She didn’t have a choice. Vin burned duralumin and flared her pewter. She flung her opponent’s hands aside and smashed her head upward into his face.

The man’s head exploded as easily as the eyeball had earlier.

Vin gasped for breath and pushed the headless corpse off her. Elend stumbled back, his suit and face sprayed red. Vin stumbled to her feet. Her vision swam as her pewter dissipated – but even through that, she could see an emotion on Elend’s face, stark as the blood on his brilliant white uniform.

Horror.

No, she thought, her mind fading. Please, Elend, not that…

She fell forward, unable to maintain consciousness.

Elend sat in his ruined suit, hands against forehead, the wreckage of the Assembly Hall hauntingly empty around him.

“She’ll live,” Ham said. “She actually isn’t hurt that badly. Or… well, not that badly for Vin. She just needs plenty of pewter and some of Sazed’s care. He says the ribs aren’t even broken, just cracked.”

Elend nodded absently. Some soldiers were clearing away the corpses, among them the six men that Vin had killed, including the one at the end…

Elend squeezed his eyes shut.

“What?” Ham asked.

Elend opened his eyes, forming his hand into a fist to keep it from shaking. “I know you’ve seen a lot of battles, Ham,” he said. “But, I’m not used to them. I’m not used to…” He turned away as the soldiers dragged away the headless body.

Ham watched the corpse go.

“I’ve only actually seen her fight once before, you know,” Elend said quietly. “In the palace, a year ago. She only threw a few men against the walls. It was nothing like this.”

Ham took a seat beside Elend on the benches. “She’s Mistborn, El. What did you expect? A single Thug can easily take down ten men – dozens, if he has a Coinshot to support him. A Mistborn… well, they’re like an army in one person.”

Elend nodded. “I know, Ham. I know she killed the Lord Ruler – she’s even told me how she faced several Steel Inquisitors. But… I’ve just never seen…”

He closed his eyes again. The image of Vin stumbling toward him at the end, her beautiful white ball gown covered in the gore of a man she’d just killed with her forehead…

She did it to protect me, he thought. But that doesn’t make it any less disturbing.

Maybe that even makes it a little more disturbing.

He forced his eyes open. He couldn’t afford to be distracted; he had to be strong. He was king.

“You think Straff sent them?” Elend asked.

Ham nodded. “Who else? They targeted you and Cett. I guess your threat to kill Straff wasn’t as binding as we assumed.”

“How is Cett?”

“He barely escaped alive. As it is, they slaughtered half of his soldiers. In the fray, Demoux and I couldn’t even see what was happening up on the stage with you and Vin.”

Elend nodded. By the time Ham had arrived, Vin had already dealt with the assassins. It had taken her only a few minutes to wipe out all six of them.

Ham was silent for a moment. Finally, he turned to Elend. “I’ll admit, El,” he said quietly. “I’m impressed. I didn’t see the fight, but I saw the aftermath. It’s one thing to fight six Allomancers, but it’s another to do that while trying to protect a regular person, and to keep any by-standers from harm. And that last man…”

“Do you remember when she saved Breeze?” Elend asked. “It was so far away, but I swear I saw her throw horses into the air with her Allomancy. Have you ever heard of anything like that?”

Ham shook his head.

Elend sat quietly for a moment. “I think we need to do some planning. What with today’s events, we can’t…”

Ham looked up as Elend trailed off. “What?”

“Messenger,” Elend said, nodding toward the doorway. Sure enough, the man presented himself to the soldiers, then was escorted up to the stage. Elend stood, walking over to meet the short man, who wore Penrod’s heraldry on his coat.

“My lord,” the man said, bowing. “I’ve been sent to inform you that the voting will proceed at Lord Penrod’s mansion.”

“The voting?” Ham asked. “What nonsense is this? His Majesty was nearly killed today!”

“I’m sorry, my lord,” the aide said. “I was simply told to deliver the message.”

Elend sighed. He’d hoped that, in the confusion, Penrod wouldn’t remember the deadline. “If they don’t choose a new leader today, Ham, then I get to retain the crown. They’ve already wasted their grace period.”

Ham sighed. “And if there are more assassins?” he asked quietly. “Vin will be laid up for a few days, at least.”

“I can’t rely on her to protect me all the time,” Elend said. “Let’s go.”

“I vote for myself,” Lord Penrod said.

Not unexpected, Elend thought. He sat in Penrod’s comfortable lounge, accompanied by a group of shaken Assemblymen – none of whom, thankfully, had been hurt in the attack. Several held drinks, and there was a veritable army of guards waiting around the perimeter, eyeing each other warily. The crowded room also held Noorden and three other scribes, who were there to witness the voting, according to the law.

“I vote for Lord Penrod as well,” said Lord Dukaler.

Also not unexpected, Elend thought. I wonder how much that cost Penrod.

Mansion Penrod was not a keep, but it was lavishly decorated. The plushness of Elend’s chair was welcome as a relief from the tensions of the day. Yet, Elend feared that it was too soothing. It would be very easy to drift off…

“I vote for Cett,” said Lord Habren.

Elend perked up. It was the second for Cett, which put him behind Penrod by three.

Everyone turned to Elend. “I vote for myself,” he said, trying to project a firmness that was hard to maintain after everything that had happened. The merchants were next. Elend settled back, prepared for the expected run of votes for Cett.

“I vote for Penrod,” Philen said.

Elend sat upright, alert. What!

The next merchant voted for Penrod as well. As did the next, and the next. Elend sat stunned, listening. What did I miss? he thought. He glanced at Ham, who shrugged in confusion.

Philen glanced at Elend, smiling pleasantly. Elend couldn’t tell if there was bitterness or satisfaction in that look, however. They switched allegiances? That quickly? Philen had been the one to sneak Cett into the city in the first place.

Elend looked down the row of merchants, trying with little success to gauge their reactions. Cett himself wasn’t in the meeting; he had retreated to Keep Hasting to nurse his wound.

“I vote for Lord Venture,” said Haws, foremost of the skaa faction. This also managed to get a stir out of the room. Haws met Elend’s eye, and nodded. He was a firm believer in the Church of the Survivor, and while the different preachers of the religion were beginning to disagree on how to organize their followers, they all agreed that a believer on the throne would be better for them than handing the city over to Cett.

There will be a price to pay for this allegiance, Elend thought as the skaa voted. They knew Elend’s reputation for honesty, and he would not betray their trust.

He had told them he would become an open member of their sect. He hadn’t promised them belief, but he had promised them devotion. He still wasn’t certain what he had given away, but both of them knew they would need each other.

“I vote for Penrod,” said Jasten, a canal worker.

“As do I,” said Thurts, his brother.

Elend gritted his teeth. He’d known they would be trouble; they never had liked the Church of the Survivor. But, four of the skaa had already given him their votes. With only two remaining, he had a very good shot at a deadlock.

“I vote for Venture,” said the next man.

“I do, too,” said the final skaa. Elend gave the man, Vet, a smile of appreciation.

That left fifteen votes for Penrod, two for Cett, and seven for Elend. Deadlock. Elend reclined slightly, head resting against the chair’s pillowed back, sighing softly.

You did your job, Vin, he thought. I did mine. Now we just need to keep this country in one piece.

“Um,” a voice asked, “am I allowed to change my vote?”

Elend opened his eyes. It was Lord Habren, one of the votes for Cett.

“I mean, it’s obvious now that Cett isn’t going to win,” Habren said, flushing slightly. The young man was a distant cousin of the Elariel family, which was probably how he’d gotten his seat. Names still meant power in Luthadel.

“I’m not sure if you can change or not,” Lord Penrod said.

“Well, I’d rather my vote meant something,” Habren said. “There are only two votes for Cett, after all.”

The room fell silent. One by one, the members of the Assembly turned to Elend. Noorden the scribe met Elend’s eyes. There was a clause allowing for men to change their votes, assuming that the chancellor hadn’t officially closed the voting – which, indeed, he hadn’t.

The clause was a rather oblique; Noorden was probably the only other one in the room who knew the law well enough to interpret it. He nodded slightly, still meeting Elend’s eyes. He would hold his tongue.

Elend sat still in a room full of men who trusted him, even as they rejected him. He could do as Noorden did. He could say nothing, or could say that he didn’t know.

“Yes,” Elend said softly. “The law allows for you to change your vote, Lord Habren. You may only do so once, and must do so before the winner is declared. Everyone else has the same opportunity.”

“Then I vote for Lord Penrod,” Habren said.

“As do I,” said Lord Hue, the other who had voted for Cett.

Elend closed his eyes.

“Are there any other alterations?” Lord Penrod asked.

No one spoke.

“Then,” Penrod said, “I see seventeen votes for myself, seven votes for Lord Venture. I officially close the voting and humbly accept your appointment as king. I shall serve as best I can in this capacity.”

Elend stood, then slowly removed his crown. “Here,” he said, setting it on the mantle. “You’ll need this.”

He nodded to Ham, then left without looking back at the men who had discarded him.