The Terrisman nodded his head slightly with respect. “I was wondering if you might be willing to listen to another proposal.”
Vin sighed, rolling her eyes. “Fine.” It isn’t like I can do anything else but sit here.
“I think I have the perfect religion for you,” Sazed said, his normally stoic face revealing a glimmer of eagerness. “It is called ‘Trelagism,’ after the god Trell. Trell was worshipped by a group known as the Nelazan, a people who lived far to the north. In their land, the day and night cycle was very odd. During some months of the year, it was dark for most of the day. During the summer, however, it only grew dark for a few hours at a time.
“The Nelazan believed that there was beauty in darkness, and that the daylight was more profane. They saw the stars as the Thousand Eyes of Trell watching them. The sun was the single, jealous eye of Trell’s brother, Nalt. Since Nalt only had one eye, he made it blaze brightly to outshine his brother. The Nelazan, however, were not impressed, and preferred to worship the quiet Trell, who watched over them even when Nalt obscured the sky.”
Sazed fell silent. Vin wasn’t sure how to respond, so she didn’t say anything.
“It really is a good religion, Mistress Vin,” Sazed said. “Very gentle, yet very powerful. The Nelazan were not an advanced people, but they were quite determined. They mapped the entire night sky, counting and placing every major star. Their ways suit you—especially their preference of the night. I can tell you more, if you wish.”
Vin shook her head. “That’s all right, Sazed.”
“Not a good fit, then?” Sazed said, frowning slightly. “Ah, well. I shall have to consider it some more. Thank you, Mistress—you are very patient with me, I think.”
“Consider it some more?” Vin asked. “That’s the fifth religion you’ve tried to convert me to, Saze. How many more can there be?”
“Five hundred and sixty two,” Sazed said. “Or, at least, that is the number of belief systems I know. There are, likely and unfortunately, others that have passed from this world without leaving traces for my people to collect.”
Vin paused. “And you have all of these religions memorized?”
“As much as is possible,” Sazed said. “Their prayers, their beliefs, their mythologies. Many are very similar—breakoffs or sects of one another.”
“Even still, how can you remember all of that?”
“I have . . . methods,” Sazed said.
“But, what’s the point?”
Sazed frowned. “The answer should be obvious, I think. People are valuable, Mistress Vin, and so—therefore—are their beliefs. Since the Ascension a thousand years ago, so many beliefs have disappeared. The Steel Ministry forbids the worship of anyone but the Lord Ruler, and the Inquisitors have quite diligently destroyed hundreds of religions. If someone doesn’t remember them, then they will simply disappear.”
“You mean,” Vin said incredulously, “you’re trying to get me to believe in religions that have been dead for a thousand years?”
Sazed nodded.
Is everyone involved with Kelsier insane?
“The Final Empire cannot last forever,” Sazed said quietly. “I do not know if Master Kelsier will be the one who finally brings its end, but that end will come. And when it does— when the Steel Ministry no longer holds sway—men will wish to return to the beliefs of their fathers. On that day they will look to the Keepers, and on that day we shall return to mankind his forgotten truths.”
“Keepers?” Vin asked as Cosahn moved around to begin snipping at her bangs. “There are more like you?”
“Not many,” Sazed said. “But some. Enough to pass the truths on to the next generation.”
Vin sat thoughtfully, resisting the urge to squirm beneath Cosahn’s ministrations. The woman certainly was taking her time—when Reen had cut Vin’s hair, he had been finished after just a few quick hacks.
“Shall we go over your lessons while we wait, Mistress Vin?” Sazed asked.
Vin eyed the Terrisman, and he smiled just slightly. He knew that he had her captive; she couldn’t hide, or even sit at the window, staring out into the mists. All she could do was sit and listen. “Fine.”
“Can you name all ten Great Houses of Luthadel in order of power?”
“Venture, Hasting, Elariel, Tekiel, Lekal, Erikeller, Erikell, Haught, Urbain, and Buvidas.”
“Good,” Sazed said. “And you are?”
“I am the Lady Valette Renoux, fourth cousin to Lord Teven Renoux, who owns this mansion. My parents—Lord Hadren and Lady Fellette Renoux—live in Chakath, a city in the Western Dominance. Major export, wool. My family works in trading dyes, specifically blushdip red, from the snails that are common there, and callowfield yellow, made from tree bark. As part of a trade agreement with their distant cousin, my parents sent me down here to Luthadel, so I can spend some time at court.”
Sazed nodded. “And how do you feel about this opportunity?”
“I am amazed and a little overwhelmed,” Vin said. “People will pay attention to me because they wish to curry favor with Lord Renoux. Since I’m not familiar with the ways of court, I will be flattered by their attention. I will ingratiate myself to the court community, but I will stay quiet and out of trouble.”
“Your memorization skills are admirable, Mistress,” Sazed said. “This humble attendant wonders how much more successful might you be if you dedicated yourself to learning, rather than dedicating yourself to avoiding our lessons.”
Vin eyed him. “Do all Terrisman ‘humble attendants’ give their masters as much lip as you do?”
“Only the successful ones.”
Vin eyed him for a moment, then sighed. “I’m sorry, Saze. I don’t mean to avoid your lessons. I just . . . the mists...I get distracted sometimes.”
“Well, fortunately and honestly, you are very quick to learn. However, the people of the court have had their entire lives to study etiquette. Even as a rural noblewoman, there are certain things you would know.”
“I know,” Vin said. “I don’t want to stand out.”
“Oh, you can’t avoid that, Mistress. A newcomer, from a distant part of the empire? Yes, they will notice you. We just don’t want to make them suspicious. You must be considered, then dismissed. If you act too much like a fool, that will be suspect in and of itself.”
Great.
Sazed paused, cocking his head slightly. A few seconds later, Vin heard footsteps in the hallway outside. Kelsier sauntered into the room, bearing a self-satisfied smile. He pulled off his mistcloak, then paused as he saw Vin.
“What?” she asked, sinking a little further into the chair.
“The haircut looks good,” Kelsier said. “Nice job, Cosahn.”
“It was nothing, Master Kelsier.” Vin could hear the blush in her voice. “I just work with what I have.”
“Mirror,” Vin said, holding out her hand.
Cosahn handed her one. Vin held it up, and what she saw gave her pause. She looked...like a girl.
Cosahn had done a remarkable job of evening out the hair, and she had managed to get rid of the snags. Vin had always found that if her hair got too long, it had a tendency to stand up. Cosahn had done something about this too. Vin’s hair still wasn’t very long—it barely hung down over her ears—but at least it lay flat.
You don’t want them to think of you as a girl, Reen’s voice warned. Yet, for once, she found herself wanting to ignore that voice.
“We might actually turn you into a lady, Vin!” Kelsier said with a laugh, earning him a glare from Vin.
“First we’ll have to persuade her not to scowl so often, Master Kelsier,” Sazed noted.
“That’s going to be hard,” Kelsier said. “She’s quite fond of making faces. Anyway, well done, Cosahn.”
“I’ve still got a little bit of trimming to do, Master Kelsier,” the woman said.
“By all means, continue,” Kelsier said. “But I’m going to filch Sazed for a moment.”
<
br /> Kelsier winked at Vin, smiled at Cosahn, then he and Sazed retreated from the room—once again leaving Vin where she couldn’t eavesdrop.
Kelsier peeked into the kitchen, watching Vin sit sullenly in her chair. The haircut really was good. However, his compliments had an ulterior motive—he suspected that Vin had spent far too much of her life being told that she was worthless. Perhaps if she had a bit more self-confidence, she wouldn’t try to hide so much.
He let the door slide shut, turning to Sazed. The Terrisman waited, as always, with restful patience.
“How is the training going?” Kelsier asked.
“Very well, Master Kelsier,” Sazed said. “She already knew some things from training she received at her brother’s hands. Above that, however, she is an extremely intelligent girl— perceptive and quick to memorize. I didn’t expect such skill from one who grew up in her circumstances.”
“A lot of the street children are clever,” Kelsier said. “The ones who aren’t dead.”
Sazed nodded solemnly. “She is extremely reserved, and I sense that she doesn’t see the full value in my lessons. She is very obedient, but is quick to exploit mistakes or misunderstandings. If I don’t tell her exactly when and where to meet, I often have to search the entire mansion for her.”
Kelsier nodded. “I think it’s her way of maintaining a bit of control in her life. Anyway, what I really wanted to know is whether she’s ready or not.”
“I’m not sure, Master Kelsier,” Sazed replied. “Pure knowledge is not the equivalent of skill. I’m not certain if she has the... poise to imitate a noblewoman, even a young and inexperienced one. We’ve done practice dinners, gone over conversational etiquette, and memorized gossip. She seems skilled at it all, in a controlled situation. She’s even done well sitting in on tea meetings when Renoux entertains noble guests. However, we won’t really be able to tell if she can do this until we put her alone in a party full of aristocrats.”
“I wish she could practice some more,” Kelsier said with a shake of his head. “But every week we spend preparing increases the chances that the Ministry will discover our budding army in the caves.”
“It is a test of balance, then,” Sazed said. “We must wait long enough to gather the men we need, yet move soon enough to avoid discovery.”
Kelsier nodded. “We can’t pause for one crewmember— we’ll have to find someone else to be our mole if Vin does badly. Poor girl—I wish I had time to train her better in Allomancy. We’ve barely covered the first four metals. I just don’t have enough time!”
“If I might make a suggestion...”
“Of course, Saze.”
“Send the child with some of the Misting crewmembers,” Sazed said. “I hear that the man Breeze is a very accomplished Soother, and surely the others are equally skilled. Let them show Mistress Vin how to use her abilities.”
Kelsier paused thoughtfully. “That’s a good idea, Saze.”
“But?”
Kelsier glanced back toward the door, beyond which Vin was still petulantly getting her haircut. “I’m not sure. Today, when we were training, we got into a Steelpush shoving match. The kid has to weigh less than half what I do, but she gave me a decent pummeling anyway.”
“Different people have different strengths in Allomancy,” Sazed said.
“Yes, but the variance isn’t usually this great,” Kelsier said. “Plus, it took me months and months to learn how to manipulate my Pushes and Pulls. It’s not as easy as it sounds—even something as simple as Pushing yourself up onto a rooftop requires an understanding of weight, balance, and trajectory.
“But Vin... she seems to know all these things instinctively. True, she can only use the first four metals with any skill, but the progress she’s made is amazing.”
“She is a special girl.”
Kelsier nodded. “She deserves more time to learn about her powers. I feel a little guilty about pulling her into our plans. She’ll probably end up at a Ministry execution ceremony with the rest of us.”
“But that guilt won’t stop you from using her to spy on the aristocracy.”
Kelsier shook his head. “No,” he said quietly. “It won’t. We’ll need every advantage we can get. Just ...watch over her, Saze. From now on, you’ll act as Vin’s steward and guardian at the functions she attends—it won’t be odd for her to bring a Terrisman servant with her.”
“Not at all,” Sazed agreed. “In fact, it would be strange to send a girl her age to courtly functions without an escort.”
Kelsier nodded. “Protect her, Saze. She might be a powerful Allomancer, but she’s inexperienced. I’ll feel a lot less guilty about sending her into those aristocratic dens if I know you’re with her.”
“I will protect her with my life, Master Kelsier. I promise you this.”
Kelsier smiled, resting a thankful hand on Sazed’s shoulder. “I feel pity for the man who gets in your way.”
Sazed bowed his head humbly. He looked innocuous, but Kelsier knew the strength that Sazed hid. Few men, Allomancers or not, would fare well in a fight with a Keeper whose anger had been roused. That was probably why the Ministry had hunted the sect virtually to extinction.
“All right,” Kelsier said. “Get back to your teaching. Lord Venture is throwing a ball at the end of the week, and—ready or not—Vin is going to be there.”
It amazes me how many nations have united behind our purpose. There are still dissenters, of course—and some kingdoms, regrettably, have fallen to wars that I could not stop.
Still, this general unity is glorious, even humbling, to contemplate. I wish that the nations of mankind hadn’t required such a dire threat to make them see the value of peace and cooperation.
10
VIN WALKED ALONG A STREET in the Cracks—one of Luthadel’s many skaa slums—with her hood up. For some reason, she found the muffled heat of a hood preferable to the oppressive red sunlight.
She walked with a slouch, eyes down, sticking near to the side of the street. The skaa she passed had similar airs of dejection. No one looked up; no one walked with a straight back or an optimistic smile. In the slums, those things would make one look suspicious.
She’d almost forgotten how oppressive Luthadel could be. Her weeks in Fellise had accustomed her to trees and washed stone. Here, there was nothing white—no creeping aspens, no whitewashed granite. All was black.
Buildings were stained by countless, repetitive ashfalls. Air curled with smoke from the infamous Luthadel smithies and a thousand separate noble kitchens. Cobblestones, doorways, and corners were clogged with soot—the slums were rarely swept clean.
It’s like . . . things are actually brighter at night than they are during the day, Vin thought, pulling her patched skaa cloak close, turning a corner. She passed beggars, huddled on corners, hands outstretched and hoping for an offering, their pleadings falling vainly on the ears of people who were themselves starving. She passed workers, walking with heads and shoulders bowed, caps or hoods pulled down to keep ash out of their eyes. Occasionally, she passed squads of Garrison town guards, walking with full armor—breastplate, cap, and black cloak—trying to look as intimidating as possible.
This last group moved through the slums, acting as the Lord Ruler’s hands in an area most obligators found too distasteful to visit. The Garrisoners kicked at beggars to make certain they were truly invalids, stopped wandering workers to harass them about being on the streets instead of working, and made a general nuisance of themselves. Vin ducked down as a group passed, pulling her hood close. She was old enough that she should have been either bearing children or working in a mill, but her size often made her look younger in profile.
Either the ruse worked, or this particular squad wasn’t interested in looking for ditchers, for they let her pass with barely a glance. She ducked around a corner, walking down an ash-drifted alley, and approached the soup kitchen at the end of the small street.
Like most of its kind, the kitchen
was dingy and poorly maintained. In an economy where workers were rarely, if ever, given direct pay, kitchens had to be supported by the nobility. Some local lords—probably the owners of the mills and forges in the area—paid the kitchen owner to provide food for the local skaa. The workers would be given meal tokens for their time, and would be allowed a short break at midday to go eat. The central kitchen would allow the smaller businesses to avoid the costs of providing on-site meals.
Of course, since the kitchen owner was paid directly, he could pocket whatever he could save on ingredients. In Vin’s experience, kitchen food was about as tasty as ashwater.
Fortunately, she hadn’t come to eat. She joined the line at the door, waiting quietly as workers presented their meal chips. When her turn came, she pulled out a small wooden disk and passed it to the skaa man at the door. He accepted the chip with a smooth motion, nodding almost imperceptibly to his right.
Vin walked in the indicated direction, passing through a filthy dining room, floor scattered with tracked-in ash. As she approached the far wall, she could see a splintery wooden door set in the room’s corner. A man seated by the door caught her eyes, nodded slightly, and pushed the door open. Vin passed quickly into the small room beyond.
“Vin, my dear!” Breeze said, lounging at a table near the center of the room. “Welcome! How was Fellise?”
Vin shrugged, taking a seat at the table.
“Ah,” Breeze said. “I’d almost forgotten what a fascinating conversationalist you are. Wine?”
Vin shook her head.
“Well, I would certainly like some.” Breeze wore one of his extravagant suits, dueling cane resting across his lap. The chamber was only lit by a single lantern, but it was far cleaner than the room outside. Of the four other men in the room, Vin recognized only one—an apprentice from Clubs’s shop. The two by the door were obviously guards. The last man appeared to be a regular skaa worker—complete with blackened jacket and ashen face. His self-confident air, however, proved that he was a member of the underground. Probably one of Yeden’s rebels.
Breeze held up his cup, tapping its side with his fingernail. The rebel regarded it darkly.
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