The Final Empire

by Brandon Sanderson

Ham shrugged. “If the Inquisitors broke Marsh, that means they know everything. Or, at least, they know enough. They’ll know that we plan to strike the palace, and that we’re going to use the house war as a cover. We’ll never get the Lord Ruler out of the city now, and we’ll certainly never get him to send the palace guard into the city. It doesn’t look good, Vin.”

  Vin sat quietly, digesting the information. Ham sat cross-legged on the dirty floor, leaning against the bricks of the far wall. The backup lair was a dank cellar with only three rooms, and the air smelled of dirt and ash. Clubs’s apprentices took up one room to themselves, though Dockson had sent away all of the other servants before coming to the safe house.

  Breeze stood by the far wall. He occasionally shot uncomfortable looks at the dirty floor and dusty stools, but then decided to remain standing. Vin didn’t see why he bothered—it was going to be impossible to keep his suits clean while living in what was, essentially, a pit in the ground.

  Breeze wasn’t the only one taking their self-imposed captivity resentfully; Vin had heard several of the apprentices grumble that they’d almost rather have been taken by the Ministry. Yet, during their two days in the cellar, everyone had stayed in the safe house except when absolutely necessary. They understood the danger: Marsh could have given the Inquisitors descriptions and aliases for each crewmember.

  Breeze shook his head. “Perhaps, gentlemen, it is time to pack up this operation. We tried hard, and considering the fact that our original plan—gathering the army—ended up so dreadfully, I’d say that we’ve done quite a marvelous job.”

  Dockson sighed. “Well, we certainly can’t live off of saved funds for much longer—especially if Kell keeps giving our money away to the skaa.” He sat beside the table that was the room’s only piece of furniture, his most important ledgers, notes, and contracts organized into neat piles before him. He had been remarkably efficient at gathering every bit of paper that could have incriminated the crew or given further information about their plan.

  Breeze nodded. “I, for one, am looking forward to a change. This has all been fun, delightful, and all of those other fulfilling emotions, but working with Kelsier can be a bit draining.”

  Vin frowned. “You’re not going to stay on his crew?”

  “It depends on his next job,” Breeze said. “We aren’t like other crews you’ve known—we work as we please, not because we are told to. It pays for us to be very discerning in the jobs we take. The rewards are great, but so are the risks.”

  Ham smiled, resting with his arms behind his head, completely unconcerned about the dirt. “It kind of makes you wonder how we ended up on this particular job, eh? Very high risk, very little reward.”

  “None, actually,” Breeze noted. “We’ll never get that atium now. Kelsier’s words about altruism and working to help the skaa were all well and good, but I was always hoping that we’d still get to take a swipe at that treasury.”

  “True,” Dockson said, looking up from his notes. “But, was it worth it anyway? The work we did—the things we accomplished?”

  Breeze and Ham paused, then they both nodded.

  “And that’s why we stayed,” Dockson said. “Kell said it himself—he picked us because he knew we would try something a little different to accomplish a worthwhile goal. You’re good men—even you, Breeze. Stop scowling at me.”

  Vin smiled at the familiar banter. There was a sense of mourning regarding Marsh, but these were men who knew how to move on despite their losses. In that way, they really were like skaa, after all.

  “A house war,” Ham said idly, smiling to himself. “How many noblemen dead, do you think?”

  “Hundreds, at least,” Dockson said without looking up. “All killed by their own greedy noble hands.”

  “I’ll admit that I had my doubts about this entire fiasco,” Breeze said. “But the interruption in trade this will cause, not to mention the disorder in the government…well, you’re right, Dockson. It was worth it.”

  “Indeed!” Ham said, mimicking Breeze’s stuffy voice.

  I’m going to miss them, Vin thought regretfully. Maybe Kelsier will take me with him on his next job.

  The stairs rattled, and Vin moved reflexively back into the shadows. The splintery door opened, and a familiar, black-clothed form strode in. He carried his mistcloak over his arm, and his face looked incredibly wearied.

  “Kelsier!” Vin said, stepping forward.

  “Hello, all,” he said in a tired voice.

  I know that tiredness, Vin thought. Pewter drag. Where has he been?

  “You’re late, Kell,” Dockson said, still not looking up from his ledgers.

  “I strive for nothing if not consistency,” Kelsier said, dropping his mistcloak on the floor, stretching, then sitting down. “Where are Clubs and Spook?”

  “Clubs is sleeping in the back room,” Dockson said. “Spook went with Renoux. We figured you’d want him to have our best Tineye to keep a watch.”

  “Good idea,” Kelsier said, letting out a deep sigh and closing his eyes as he leaned against the wall.

  “My dear man,” Breeze said, “you look terrible.”

  “It’s not as bad as it looks—I took it easy coming back, even stopped to sleep for a few hours on the way.”

  “Yes, but where were you?” Ham asked pointedly. “We’ve been worried sick that you were out doing something…well, stupid.”

  “Actually,” Breeze noted, “we took it for granted that you were doing something stupid. We’ve just been wondering how stupid this particular event would turn out to be. So, what is it? Did you assassinate the lord prelan? Slaughter dozens of noblemen? Steal the cloak off the Lord Ruler’s own back?”

  “I destroyed the Pits of Hathsin,” Kelsier said quietly.

  The room fell into a stunned silence.

  “You know,” Breeze finally said, “you’d think that by now we’d have learned not to underestimate him.”

  “Destroyed them?” Ham asked. “How do you destroy the Pits of Hathsin? They’re just a bunch of cracks in the ground!”

  “Well, I didn’t actually destroy the pits themselves,” Kelsier explained. “I just shattered the crystals that produce atium geodes.”

  “All of them?” Dockson asked, dumbstruck.

  “All of them that I could find,” Kelsier said. “And that was several hundred pockets’ worth. It was actually a lot easier to get around down there, now that I have Allomancy.”

  “Crystals?” Vin asked, confused.

  “Atium crystals, Vin,” Dockson said. “They produce the geodes—I don’t think anyone actually knows how—that have atium beads at the center.”

  Kelsier nodded. “The crystals are why the Lord Ruler can’t just send down Allomancers to Pull out the atium geodes. Using Allomancy near the crystals makes them shatter—and it takes centuries for them to grow back.”

  “Centuries during which they won’t produce atium,” Dockson added.

  “And so you…” Vin trailed off.

  “I pretty much ended atium production in the Final Empire for the next three hundred years or so.”

  Elend. House Venture. They’re in charge of the Pits. How will the Lord Ruler react when he finds out about this?

  “You madman,” Breeze said quietly, eyes open wide. “Atium is the foundation of the imperial economy—controlling it is one of the main ways that the Lord Ruler maintains his hold over the nobility. We may not get to his reserves, but this will eventually have the same effect. You blessed lunatic…you blessed genius!”

  Kelsier smiled wryly. “I appreciate both compliments. Have the Inquisitors moved against Clubs’s shop yet?”

  “Not that our watchmen have seen,” Dockson said.

  “Good,” Kelsier said. “Maybe they didn’t get Marsh to break. At the very least, maybe they don’t realize that their Soothing stations were compromised. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to sleep. We have a lot of planning to do tomorrow.”

  The group pau
sed.

  “Planning?” Dox finally asked. “Kell…we were kind of thinking that we should pull out. We caused a house war, and you just took out the imperial economy. With our cover—and our plan—compromised…Well, you can’t honestly expect us to do anything more, right?”

  Kelsier smiled, staggering to his feet and moving into the back room. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  “What do you think he’s planning, Sazed?” Vin asked, sitting on a stool beside the cellar’s hearth as the Terrisman prepared the afternoon meal. Kelsier had slept through the night, and had yet to rise this afternoon.

  “I really have no idea, Mistress,” Sazed replied, sipping the stew. “Though, this moment—with the city so unbalanced—does seem like the perfect opportunity to move against the Final Empire.”

  Vin sat thoughtfully. “I suppose we could still seize the palace—that’s what Kell always wanted to do. But, if the Lord Ruler has been warned, the others don’t see that happening. Plus, it doesn’t seem like we have enough soldiers to do much in the city. Ham and Breeze never finished their recruiting.”

  Sazed shrugged.

  “Maybe Kelsier plans to do something about the Lord Ruler,” Vin mused.

  “Perhaps.”

  “Sazed?” Vin said slowly. “You collect legends, right?”

  “As a Keeper I collect many things,” Sazed said. “Stories, legends, religions. When I was young, another Keeper recited all of his knowledge to me so that I could store it, and then add to it.”

  “Have you ever heard about this ‘Eleventh Metal’ legend that Kelsier talks about?”

  Sazed paused. “No, Mistress. That legend was new to me when I heard of it from Master Kelsier.”

  “But he swears that it’s true,” Vin said. “And I…believe him, for some reason.”

  “It is very possible that there are legends I haven’t heard of,” Sazed said. “If the Keepers knew everything, then why would we need to keep searching?”

  Vin nodded, still a bit uncertain.

  Sazed continued to stir the soup. He seemed so…dignified, even while performing such a menial task. He stood in his steward’s robes, unconcerned with how simple a service he was performing, easily taking over for the servants the crew had dismissed.

  Quick footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Vin perked up, sliding off her stool.

  “Mistress?” Sazed asked.

  “Someone on the stairs,” Vin said, moving to the doorway.

  One of the apprentices—Vin thought his name was Tase—burst into the main room. Now that Lestibournes was gone, Tase had become the crew’s main lookout.

  “People are gathering in the square,” Tase said, gesturing toward the stairs.

  “What’s this?” Dockson said, entering from the other room.

  “People in the fountain square, Master Dockson,” the boy said. “Word on the street is that the obligators are planning more executions.”

  Retribution for the Pits, Vin thought. That didn’t take long.

  Dockson’s expression darkened. “Go wake Kell.”

  “I intend to watch them,” Kelsier said, walking through the room, dressed in simple skaa clothing and cloak.

  Vin’s stomach twisted. Again?

  “You all may do as you wish,” Kelsier said. He looked much better after his extended rest—his exhaustion was gone, replaced with the characteristic strength Vin had come to expect from him.

  “The executions are probably a reaction to what I did at the Pits,” Kelsier continued. “I’m going to watch those people’s deaths—because indirectly, I caused them.”

  “It’s not your fault, Kell,” Dockson said.

  “It’s all of our faults,” Kelsier said bluntly. “That doesn’t make what we do wrong—however, if it weren’t for us, these people wouldn’t have to die. I, for one, think that the least we can do for these people is bear witness to their passing.”

  He pulled open the door, climbing the steps. Slowly, the rest of the crew followed him—though Clubs, Sazed, and the apprentices remained with the safe house.

  Vin climbed the musty-aired steps, eventually joining the others on a grimy street in the middle of a skaa slum. Ash fell from the sky, floating in lazy flakes. Kelsier was already walking down the street, and the rest of them—Breeze, Ham, Dockson, and Vin—quickly moved to catch up with him.

  The safe house wasn’t far from the fountain square. Kelsier, however, paused a few streets away from their destination. Dull-eyed skaa continued walking around them, jostling the crew. Bells rang in the distance.

  “Kell?” Dockson asked.

  Kelsier cocked his head. “Vin, you hear that?”

  She closed her eyes, then flared her tin. Focus, she thought. Like Spook said. Cut through the shuffling feet and murmuring voices. Hear over the doors shutting and the people breathing. Listen….

  “Horses,” she said, dampening her tin and opening her eyes. “And carriages.”

  “Carts,” Kelsier said, turning toward the side of the street. “The prisoner carts. They’re coming this way.”

  He looked up at the buildings around him, then grabbed hold of a raingutter and began to shimmy up a wall. Breeze rolled his eyes, nudging Dockson and nodding toward the front of the building, but Vin and Ham—with pewter—easily followed Kelsier up to the roof.

  “There,” Kell said, pointing at a street a short ways away. Vin could just barely make out a row of barred prison carts rolling toward the square.

  Dockson and Breeze entered the slanted rooftop through a window. Kelsier remained where he was, standing by the roof’s lip, staring out at the prison carts.

  “Kell,” Ham said warily. “What are you thinking?”

  “We’re still a short distance from the square,” he said slowly. “And the Inquisitors aren’t riding with the prisoners—they’ll come down from the palace, like last time. There can’t be more than a hundred soldiers guarding those people.”

  “A hundred men are plenty, Kell,” Ham said.

  Kelsier didn’t seem to hear the words. He took another step forward, up onto the roof’s edge. “I can stop this…. I can save them.”

  Vin stepped up beside him. “Kell, there might not be many guards with the prisoners, but the fountain square is only a few blocks away. It’s packed with soldiers, not to mention the Inquisitors!”

  Ham, unexpectedly, didn’t back her up. He turned, glancing at Dockson and Breeze. Dox paused, then shrugged.

  “Are you all crazy?” Vin demanded.

  “Wait a moment,” Breeze said, squinting. “I’m no Tineye, but don’t some of those prisoners look a bit too well dressed?”

  Kelsier froze, then he cursed. Without warning, he jumped off the rooftop, dropping to the street below.

  “Kell!” Vin said. “What—” Then she paused, looking up in the red sunlight, watching the slowly approaching procession of carts. Through tin-enhanced eyes, she thought that she recognized someone sitting near the front of one of the carts.

  Spook.

  “Kelsier, what’s going on!” Vin demanded, dashing down the street behind him.

  He slowed just a bit. “I saw Renoux and Spook in that first cart. The Ministry must have hit Renoux’s canal procession—the people in those cages are the servants, staff, and guards we hired to work at the mansion.”

  The canal procession… Vin thought. The Ministry must know that Renoux was a fake. Marsh broke after all.

  Behind them, Ham appeared out of the building and onto the street. Breeze and Dockson were slower in coming.

  “We have to work quickly!” Kelsier said, picking up his pace again.

  “Kell!” Vin said, grabbing his arm. “Kelsier, you can’t save them. They’re too well guarded, and it’s daylight in the middle of the city. You’ll just get yourself killed!”

  He paused, halting in the street, turning in Vin’s grasp. He looked into her eyes, disappointed. “You don’t understand what this is all about, do you, Vin? You never did. I let you stop me once
before, on the hillside by the battlefield. Not this time. This time I can do something.”

  “But…”

  He shook his arm free. “You still have some things to learn about friendship, Vin. I hope someday you realize what they are.”

  Then he took off, charging in the direction of the carts. Ham barreled past Vin, heading in a different direction, pushing his way through skaa on their way to the square.

  Vin stood stupidly for a few moments, standing in the falling ash as Dockson caught up to her.

  “It’s insanity,” she mumbled. “We can’t do this, Dox. We’re not invincible.”

  Dockson snorted. “We’re not helpless either.”

  Breeze puffed up behind them, pointing toward a side street. “There. We need to get me to a place where I can see the soldiers.”

  Vin let them tow her along, suddenly feeling shame mix with her worry.

  Kelsier…

  Kelsier tossed away a pair of empty vials, their contents ingested. The vials sparkled in the air beside him, falling to shatter against the cobblestones. He ducked through one final alleyway, bursting out onto an eerily empty thoroughfare.

  The prisoner carts rolled toward him, entering a small courtyard square formed by the intersection of two streets. Each rectangular vehicle was lined with bars; each one was packed with people who were now distinctly familiar. Servants, soldiers, housekeepers—some were rebels, many were just regular people. None of them deserved death.

  Too many skaa have died already, he thought, flaring his metals. Hundreds. Thousands. Hundreds of thousands.

  Not today. No more.

  He dropped a coin and jumped, Pushing himself through the air in a wide arc. Soldiers looked up, pointing. Kelsier landed directly in their center.

  There was a quiet moment as the soldiers turned in surprise. Kelsier crouched amid them, bits of ash falling from the sky.

  Then he Pushed.

  He flared steel with a yell, standing and Pushing outward. The burst of Allomantic power hurled soldiers away by their breastplates, tossing a dozen men into the air, sending them crashing into companions and walls.

  Men screamed. Kelsier spun, Pushing against a group of soldiers and sending himself flying toward a prison cart. Flaring his pewter, he smashed into it and grabbed the metal door with his hands.