Mistborn

by Brandon Sanderson

  Kelsier paused, but he was too drained to feel any anger. He sighed, sitting down. “There’s more, Dox.”

  Dockson frowned.

  “I’ve avoided talking about the Lord Ruler to the others,” Kelsier said, “but . . . I’m worried. The plan is good, but I have this terrible, haunting feeling that we’ll never succeed as long as he’s alive. We can take his money, we can take his armies, we can trick him out of the city...but I still worry that we won’t be able to stop him.”

  Dockson frowned. “You’re serious about this Eleventh Metal business, then?”

  Kelsier nodded. “I searched for two years to find a way to kill him. Men have tried everything—he ignores normal wounds, and decapitation only annoys him. A group of soldiers burned down his inn during one of the early wars. The Lord Ruler walked out as barely more than a skeleton, then healed in a matter of seconds.

  “Only the stories of the Eleventh Metal offered any hope. But I can’t make it work! That’s why I had to go back to the palace. The Lord Ruler’s hiding something in that room—I can feel it. I can’t help thinking that if we knew what it was, we’d be able to stop him.”

  “You didn’t have to take Vin with you.”

  “She followed me,” Kelsier said. “I worried that she’d try to get in on her own if I left her. The girl has a headstrong streak, Dox—she hides it well, but she’s blasted stubborn when she wants to be.”

  Dockson sighed, then nodded quietly. “And we still don’t know what’s in that room.”

  Kelsier eyed the book Sazed had set on the table. The rainwater had marked it, but the tome was obviously designed to endure. It was strapped tightly to prevent water from seeping in, and the cover was of well-cured leather.

  “No,” Kelsier finally said. “We don’t.” But we do have that, whatever it is.

  “Was it worth it, Kell?” Dockson asked. “Was this insane stunt really worth nearly getting yourself—and the child— killed?”

  “I don’t know,” Kelsier said honestly. He turned to Dock-son, meeting his friend’s eyes. “Ask me once we know whether or not Vin will live.”

  THE END OF PART TWO

  PART THREE

  Children of a Bleeding Sun

  Many think that my journey started in Khlennium, that great city of wonder. They forget that I was no king when my quest began. Far from it.

  I think it would do men well to remember that this task was not begun by emperors, priests, prophets, or generals. It didn’t start in Khlennium or Kordel, nor did it come from the great nations to the east or the fiery empire of the West.

  It began in a small, unimportant town whose name would mean nothing to you. It began with a youth, the son of a blacksmith, who was unremarkable in every way—except, perhaps, in his ability to get into trouble.

  It began with me.

  16

  WHEN VIN AWOKE, THE PAIN told her that Reen had beaten her again. What had she done? Had she been too friendly to one of the other crewmembers? Had she made a foolish comment, drawing the crewleader’s ire? She was to remain quiet, always quiet, staying away from the others, never calling attention to herself. Otherwise he would beat her. She had to learn, he said. She had to learn....

  But, her pain seemed too strong for that. It had been a long time since she could remember hurting this much.

  She coughed slightly, opening her eyes. She lay in a bed that was far too comfortable, and a lanky teenage boy sat in a chair beside her bed.

  Lestibournes, she thought. That’s his name. I’m in Clubs’s shop.

  Lestibournes jumped to his feet. “You’re awaking!”

  She tried to speak, but just coughed again, and the boy hurriedly gave her a cup of water. Vin sipped it thankfully, grimacing at the pain in her side. In fact, her entire body felt like it had been pummeled soundly.

  “Lestibournes,” she finally croaked.

  “Notting as the now,” he said. “Kelsier wasing the hit with my name; changed it to Spook.”

  “Spook?” Vin asked. “It fits. How long have I been asleep?”

  “Two weeks,” the boy said. “Wait here.” He scrambled away, and she could hear him calling out in the distance.

  Two weeks? She sipped at the cup, trying to organize her muddled memories. Reddish afternoon sunlight shone through the window, lighting the room. She set the cup aside, checking her side, where she found a large white bandage.

  That’s where the Inquisitor hit me, she thought. I should be dead.

  Her side was bruised and discolored from where she’d hit the roof after falling, and her body bore a dozen other nicks, bruises, and scrapes. All in all, she felt absolutely terrible.

  “Vin!” Dockson said, stepping into the room. “You’re awake!”

  “Barely,” Vin said with a groan, lying back against her pillow.

  Dockson chuckled, walking over and sitting on Lestibournes’s stool. “How much do you remember?”

  “Most everything, I think,” she said. “We fought our way into the palace, but there were Inquisitors. They chased us, and Kelsier fought—” She stopped, looking at Dockson. “Kelsier? Is he—”

  “Kell’s fine,” Breeze said. “He came out of the incident in far better shape than you did. He knows the palace fairly well, from the plans we made three years ago, and he...”

  Vin frowned as Dockson trailed off. “What?”

  “He said the Inquisitors didn’t seem very focused on killing him. They left one to chase him, and sent two after you.”

  Why? Vin thought. Did they simply want to concentrate their energy on the weakest enemy first? Or, is there another reason? She sat back thoughtfully, working through the events of that night.

  “Sazed,” Vin she finally said. “He saved me. The Inquisitor was about to kill me, but . . . Dox, what is he?”

  “Sazed?” Dockson asked. “That’s probably a question I should let him answer.”

  “Is he here?”

  Dockson shook his head. “He had to return to Fellise. Breeze and Kell are out recruiting, and Ham left last week to inspect our army. He won’t be back for another month at least.”

  Vin nodded, feeling drowsy.

  “Drink the rest of your water,” Dockson suggested. “There’s something in it to help with the pain.”

  Vin downed the rest of the drink, then rolled over and let sleep take her again.

  Kelsier was there when she awoke. He sat on the stool by her bed, hands clasped with his elbows on his knees, watching her by the faint light of a lantern. He smiled when she opened her eyes. “Welcome back.”

  She immediately reached for the cup of water on the bed-stand. “How’s the job going?”

  He shrugged. “The army is growing, and Renoux has begun to purchase weapons and supplies. Your suggestion regarding the Ministry turned out to be a good one—we found Theron’s contact, and we’ve nearly negotiated a deal that will let us place someone as a Ministry acolyte.”

  “Marsh?” Vin asked. “Will he do it himself?”

  Kelsier nodded. “He’s always had a...certain fascination with the Ministry. If any skaa can pull off imitating an obligator, it will be Marsh.”

  Vin nodded, sipping her drink. There was something different about Kelsier. It was subtle—a slight alteration in his air and attitude. Things had changed during her sickness.

  “Vin,” Kelsier said hesitantly. “I owe you an apology. I nearly got you killed.”

  Vin snorted quietly. “It’s not your fault. I made you take me.”

  “You shouldn’t have been able to make me,” Kelsier said. “My original decision to send you away was the right one. Please accept the apology.”

  Vin nodded quietly. “What do you need me to do now? The job has to go forward, right?”

  Kelsier smiled. “Indeed it does. As soon as you’re up to it, I’d like you to move back to Fellise. We created a cover story saying that Lady Valette has taken sick, but rumors are starting to appear. The sooner you can be seen in the flesh by vi
sitors, the better.”

  “I can go tomorrow,” Vin said.

  Kelsier chuckled. “I doubt it, but you can go soon. For now, just rest.” He stood, moving to leave.

  “Kelsier?” Vin asked, causing him to pause. He turned, looking at her.

  Vin struggled to formulate what she wanted to say. “The palace... the Inquisitors...We’re not invincible, are we?” She flushed; it sounded stupid when she said it that way.

  Kelsier, however, just smiled. He seemed to understand what she meant. “No, Vin,” he said quietly. “We’re far from it.”

  Vin watched the landscape pass outside her carriage window. The vehicle, sent from Mansion Renoux, had supposedly taken Lady Valette for a ride through Luthadel. In reality, it hadn’t picked up Vin until it had stopped briefly by Clubs’s street. Now, however, her window shades were open, showing her again to the world—assuming anyone cared.

  The carriage made its way back toward Fellise. Kelsier had been right: She’d had to rest three more days in Clubs’s shop before feeling strong enough to make the trip. In part, she’d waited simply because she had dreaded struggling into a noblewoman’s dresses with her bruised arms and wounded side.

  Still, it felt good to be up again. There had been some-thing...wrong about simply recovering in bed. Such a lengthy period of rest wouldn’t have been given to a regular thief; thieves either got back to work quickly or were abandoned for dead. Those who couldn’t bring in money for food couldn’t be allowed to take up space in the lair.

  But, that isn’t the only way people live, Vin thought. She was still uncomfortable with that knowledge. It hadn’t mattered to Kelsier and the others that she drained their resources—they hadn’t exploited her weakened state, but had cared for her, each one spending time at her bedside. Most notable among the vigilists had been the young Lestibournes. Vin didn’t even feel that she knew him very well, yet Kelsier said that the boy had spent hours watching over her during her coma.

  What did one make of a world where a crewleader agonized over his people? In the underground, each person bore responsibility for what happened to them—the weaker segment of a crew had to be allowed to die, lest they keep everyone else from earning enough to survive. If a person got captured by the Ministry, you left them to their fate and hoped that they didn’t betray too much. You didn’t worry about your own guilt at putting them in danger.

  They’re fools, Reen’s voice whispered. This entire plan will end in disaster—and your death will be your own fault for not leaving when you could.

  Reen had left when he could. Perhaps he’d known that the Inquisitors would eventually hunt her down for the powers she unwittingly possessed. He always had known when to leave—it was no accident, she thought, that he hadn’t ended up slaughtered with the rest of Camon’s crew.

  And yet, she ignored Reen’s promptings in her head, instead letting the carriage pull her toward Fellise. It wasn’t that she felt completely secure in her place with Kelsier’s crew— indeed, in a way, her place with these people was making her even more apprehensive. What if they stopped needing her? What if she became useless to them?

  She had to prove to them that she could do what they needed her to. There were functions to attend, a society to infiltrate. She had so much work to do; she couldn’t afford to spend any more of it sleeping.

  In addition, she needed to return to her Allomantic practice sessions. It had only taken a few short months for her to grow dependent upon her powers, and she longed for the freedom of leaping through the mists, of Pulling and Pushing her way through the skies. Kredik Shaw had taught her that she wasn’t invincible—but Kelsier’s survival with barely a scratch proved that it was possible to be much better than she was. Vin needed to practice, to grow in strength, until she too could escape Inquisitors like Kelsier had.

  The carriage turned a bend and rolled into Fellise. The familiar, pastoral suburb made Vin smile to herself, and she leaned against the open carriage window, feeling the breeze. With luck, some streetgoers would gossip that Lady Valette had been seen riding through the city. She arrived at Mansion Renoux a few short turns later. A footman opened the door, and Vin was surprised to see Lord Renoux himself waiting outside the carriage to help her down.

  “My lord?” she said, giving him her hand. “Surely you have more important things to attend to.”

  “Nonsense,” he said. “A lord must be allowed time to dote upon his favored niece. How was your ride?”

  Does he ever break character? He didn’t ask after the others in Luthadel, or give any indication that he knew of her wound.

  “It was refreshing, Uncle,” she said as they walked up the steps to the mansion doors. Vin was thankful for the pewter burning lightly in her stomach to give strength to her still weak legs. Kelsier had warned against using it too much, lest she grow dependent upon its power, but she saw little alternative until she was healed.

  “That is wonderful,” Renoux said. “Perhaps, once you are feeling better, we should take lunch together on the garden balcony. It has been warm lately, despite the coming winter.”

  “That would be very pleasant,” Vin said. Before, she’d found the impostor’s noble bearing intimidating. Yet, as she slipped into the persona of Lady Valette, she experienced the same calmness as before. Vin the thief was nothing to a man such as Renoux, but Valette the socialite was another matter.

  “Very good,” Renoux said, pausing inside the entryway. “However, let us attend to that on another day—for now, you would likely prefer to rest from your journey.”

  “Actually, my lord, I’d like to visit Sazed. I have some matters I must discuss with the steward.”

  “Ah,” Renoux said. “You will find him in the library, working on one of my projects.”

  “Thank you,” Vin said.

  Renoux nodded, then walked away, his dueling cane clicking against the white marble floor. Vin frowned, trying to decide if he was completely sane. Could someone really adopt a persona that wholly?

  You do it, Vin reminded herself. When you become Lady Valette, you show a completely different side of yourself.

  She turned, flaring pewter to help her climb the northern set of stairs. She let her flare lapse as she reached the top, returning to a normal burn. As Kelsier said, it was dangerous to flare metals for too extended a period; an Allomancer could quickly make their body dependent.

  She took a few breaths—climbing the stairs had been difficult, even with pewter—then walked down the corridor to the library. Sazed sat at a desk beside a small coal stove on the far side of the small room, writing on a pad of paper. He wore his standard steward’s robes, and a pair of thin spectacles sat at the end of his nose.

  Vin paused in the doorway, regarding the man who had saved her life. Why is he wearing spectacles? I’ve seen him read before without them. He seemed completely absorbed by his work, periodically studying a large tome on the desk, then turning to scribble notes on his pad.

  “You’re an Allomancer,” Vin said quietly.

  Sazed paused, then set down his pen and turned. “What makes you say that, Mistress Vin?”

  “You got to Luthadel too quickly.”

  “Lord Renoux keeps several swift messenger horses in his stables. I could have taken one of those.”

  “You found me at the palace,” Vin said.

  “Kelsier told me of his plans, and I correctly assumed that you had followed him. Locating you was a stroke of luck, one that nearly took me too long to achieve.”

  Vin frowned. “You killed the Inquisitor.”

  “Killed?” Sazed asked. “No, Mistress. It takes far more power than I possess to kill one of those monstrosities. I simply...distracted him.”

  Vin stood in the doorway for a moment longer, trying to figure out why Sazed was being so ambiguous. “So, are you an Allomancer or not?”

  He smiled, then he pulled a stool out from beside the desk. “Please, sit down.”

  Vin did as requested, crossing the room
and sitting on the stool, her back to a massive bookshelf.

  “What would you think if I told you that I wasn’t an Allomancer?” Sazed asked.

  “I’d think that you were lying,” Vin said.

  “Have you known me to lie before?”

  “The best liars are those who tell the truth most of the time.”

  Sazed smiled, regarding her through bespectacled eyes. “That is true, I think. Still, what proof have you that I am an Allomancer?”

  “You did things that couldn’t have been done without Allomancy.”

  “Oh? A Mistborn for two months, and already you know all that is possible in the world?”

  Vin paused. Up until just recently, she hadn’t even known much about Allomancy. Perhaps there was more to the world than she had assumed.

  There’s always another secret. Kelsier’s words.

  “So,” she said slowly, “what exactly is a ‘Keeper’?”

  Sazed smiled. “Now, that is a far more clever question, Mistress. Keepers are...storehouses. We remember things, so that they can be used in the future.”

  “Like religions,” Vin said.

  Sazed nodded. “Religious truths are my particular specialty.”

  “But, you remember other things too?”

  Sazed nodded.

  “Like what?”

  “Well,” Sazed said, closing the tome he had been studying. “Languages, for instance.”

  Vin immediately recognized the glyph-covered cover. “The book I found in the palace! How did you get it?”

  “I happened across it while searching for you,” the Terrisman said. “It is written in a very old language, one that hasn’t been spoken regularly in nearly a millennium.”

  “But you speak it?” Vin asked.

  Sazed nodded. “Enough to translate this, I think.”

  “And...how many languages do you know?”

  “A hundred and seventy-two,” Sazed said. “Most of them, such as Khlenni, are no longer spoken. The Lord Ruler’s unity movement of the fifth century made certain of that. The language people now speak is actually a distant dialect of Terris, the language of my homeland.”