I wonder if Elend Venture will be there.... Didn’t Sazed say that most of the younger aristocrats attended every ball?
She lay a hand on one dress, black with silver embroiderings. It would match her hair, but was it too dark? Most of the other women wore colorful dresses; muted colors seemed reserved for men’s suits. She eyed a yellow gown, but it just seemed a little too...perky. And the white one was too ornate.
That left the red. The neckline was lower—not that she had a lot to show—but it was beautiful. A bit gossamer, with full sleeves that were made of translucent mesh in places, it enticed her. But it seemed so... blatant. She picked it up, feeling the soft material in her fingers, imagining herself wearing it.
How did I get to this? Vin thought. This thing would be impossible to hide in! These frilly creations, these aren’t me.
And yet...part of her longed to be back at the ball again. The daily life of a noblewoman frustrated her, but her memories of that one night were alluring. The beautiful couples dancing, the perfect atmosphere and music, the marvelous crystalline windows . . .
I don’t even realize when I’m wearing perfume anymore, she realized with shock. She found it preferable to bathe in scented water each day, and the servants even perfumed her clothing. It was all subtle, of course, but it would be enough to give her away while sneaking.
Her hair had grown longer, and had been carefully cut by Renoux’s stylist so that it fell around her ears, curling just slightly. She no longer looked quite so scrawny in the mirror, despite her lengthy sickness; regular meals had filled her out.
I’m becoming... Vin paused. She didn’t know what she was becoming. Certainly not a noblewoman. Noblewomen didn’t get annoyed when they couldn’t to go out stalking at night. Yet, she wasn’t really Vin the urchin anymore. She was...
Mistborn.
Vin carefully laid the beautiful red dress back on her bed, then crossed the room to look out the window. The sun was close to setting; soon, the mists would come—though, as usual, Sazed would have guards posted to make certain that she didn’t go on any unauthorized Allomantic romps. She hadn’t complained at the precautions. He was right: Unwatched, she probably would have broken her promise long ago.
She caught a glimpse of motion to her right, and could just barely make out a figure standing out on the garden balcony. Kelsier. Vin stood for a moment, then left her rooms.
Kelsier turned as she walked onto the balcony. She paused, not wanting to interrupt, but he gave her one of his characteristic smiles. She walked forward, joining him at the carved stone balcony railing.
He turned and looked westward—not at the grounds, but beyond them. Toward the wilderness, lit by a setting sun, outside of town. “Does it ever look wrong to you, Vin?”
“Wrong?” she asked.
Kelsier nodded. “The dry plants, the angry sun, the smoky-black sky.”
Vin shrugged. “How can those things be right or wrong? That’s just the way things are.”
“I suppose,” Kelsier said. “But, I think your mind-set is part of the wrongness. The world shouldn’t look like this.”
Vin frowned. “How do you know that?”
Kelsier reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. He unfolded it with a gentle touch, then handed it to Vin.
She accepted the sheet, holding it carefully; it was so old and worn that it seemed close to breaking at the creases. It didn’t contain any words, just an old, faded picture. It depicted a strange shape—something like a plant, though not one Vin had ever seen. It was too... flimsy. It didn’t have a thick stalk, and its leaves were far too delicate. At its top, it had a strange collection of leaves that were a different color from the rest.
“It’s called a flower,” Kelsier said. “They used to grow on plants, before the Ascension. Descriptions of them appear in the old poems and stories—things that only Keepers and rebel sages know about anymore. Apparently, these plants were beautiful, and they had a pleasant smell.”
“Plants that smell?” Vin asked. “Like fruit?”
“Something like that, I think. Some of the reports even claim that these flowers grew into fruit, in the days before the Ascension.”
Vin stood quietly, frowning, trying to imagine such a thing.
“That picture belonged to my wife, Mare,” Kelsier said quietly. “Dockson found it in her things after we were taken. He kept it, hoping that we would return. He gave it to me after I escaped.”
Vin looked down at the picture again.
“Mare was fascinated by pre-Ascension times,” Kelsier said, still staring out over the gardens. In the distance, the sun touched the horizon, and grew an even deeper red. “She collected things like that paper: pictures and descriptions of the old times. I think that fascination—along with the fact that she was a Tineye—is part of what led her to the underground, and to me. She’s the one who first introduced me to Sazed, though I didn’t use him in my crew at the time. He wasn’t interested in thieving.”
Vin folded up the paper. “And you keep this picture still? After . . . what she did to you?”
Kelsier fell silent for a moment. Then he eyed her. “Been listening at doors again, have we? Oh, don’t worry. I suppose it’s common enough knowledge.” In the distance, the setting sun became a blaze, its ruddy light illuminating clouds and smoke alike.
“Yes, I keep the flower,” Kelsier said. “I’m not really sure why. But . . . do you stop loving someone just because they betray you? I don’t think so. That’s what makes the betrayal hurt so much—pain, frustration, anger ...and I still loved her. I still do.”
“How?” Vin asked. “How can you? And, how can you possibly trust people? Didn’t you learn from what she did to you?”
Kelsier shrugged. “I think...I think given the choice between loving Mare—betrayal included—and never knowing her, I’d choose love. I risked, and I lost, but the risk was still worth it. It’s the same with my friends. Suspicion is healthy in our profession—but only to an extent. I’d rather trust my men than worry about what will happen if they turn on me.”
“That sounds foolish,” Vin said.
“Is happiness foolish?” Kelsier asked, turning toward her. “Where have you been happier, Vin? On my crew, or back with Camon?”
Vin paused.
“I don’t know for sure if Mare betrayed me,” Kelsier said, looking back at the sunset. “She always claimed that she didn’t.”
“And she was sent to the Pits, right?” Vin said. “That doesn’t make sense, if she sided with the Lord Ruler.”
Kelsier shook his head, still staring into the distance. “She showed up at the Pits a few weeks after I was sent there—we were separated, after we were caught. I don’t know what happened during that time, or why she was eventually sent to Hathsin. The fact that she was sent to die hints that maybe she really didn’t betray me, but . . .”
He turned toward Vin. “You didn’t hear him when he caught us, Vin. The Lord Ruler . . . he thanked her. Thanked her for betraying me. His words—spoken with such an eerie sense of honesty—mixed with the way that the plan was set up...well, it was hard to believe Mare. That didn’t change my love, though—not deep down. I nearly died when she did a year later, beaten before the slavemasters at the Pits. That night, after her corpse was taken away, I Snapped.”
“You went mad?” Vin asked.
“No,” Kelsier said. “Snapping is an Allomantic term. Our powers are latent at first—they only come out after some traumatic event. Something intense—something almost deadly. The philosophers say that a man can’t command the metals until he has seen death and rejected it.”
“So... when did it happen to me?” Vin asked.
Kelsier shrugged. “It’s hard to tell. Growing up as you did, there were probably ample opportunities for you to Snap.”
He nodded as if to himself. “For me,” he said, “it was that night. Alone in the Pits, my arms bleeding from the day’s work. Mare was dead, and I fea
red that I was responsible— that my lack of faith took away her strength and will. She died knowing that I questioned her loyalty. Maybe, if I’d really loved her, I wouldn’t have ever questioned. I don’t know.”
“But, you didn’t die,” Vin said.
Kelsier shook his head. “I decided that I’d see her dream fulfilled. I’d make a world where flowers returned, a world with green plants, a world where no soot fell from the sky....” He trailed off, then sighed. “I know. I’m insane.”
“Actually,” Vin said quietly, “it kind of makes sense. Finally.”
Kelsier smiled. The sun sank beneath the horizon, and while its light was still a flare in the west, the mists began to appear. They didn’t come from one specific place, they just sort of...grew. They extended like translucent, twisting vines in the sky—curling back and forth, lengthening, dancing, melding.
“Mare wanted children,” Kelsier said suddenly. “Back when we were first married, a decade and a half ago. I... didn’t agree with her. I wanted to become the most famous skaa thief of all time, and didn’t have time for things that would slow me down.
“It’s probably a good thing that we didn’t have children. The Lord Ruler might have found and killed them. But, he might not have—Dox and the others survived. Now, sometimes, I wish that I had a piece of her with me. A child. A daughter, perhaps, with Mare’s same dark hair and resilient stubbornness.”
He paused, then looked down at Vin. “I don’t want to be responsible for something happening to you, Vin. Not again.”
Vin frowned. “I’m not spending any more time locked in this mansion.”
“No, I don’t suppose you will. If we try and keep you in much longer, you’ll probably just show up at Clubs’s shop one night having done something very foolish. We’re a bit too much alike that way, you and I. Just . . . be careful.”
Vin nodded. “I will.”
They stood for a few more minutes, watching the mists gather. Finally, Kelsier stood up straight, stretching. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you decided to join us, Vin.”
Vin shrugged. “To tell you the truth, I’d kind of like to see one of those flowers for myself.”
You could say that circumstances forced me to leave my home behind—certainly, if I had stayed, I would now be dead. During those days—running without knowing why, carrying a burden I didn’t understand—I assumed that I would lose myself in Khlennium and seek a life of indistinction.
I am slowly coming to understand that anonymity, like so many other things, has already been lost to me forever.
18
SHE DECIDED TO WEAR THE red dress. It was definitely the boldest choice, but that felt right. After all, she hid her true self behind an aristocratic appearance; the more visible that appearance was, the easier it should be for her to hide.
A footman opened the carriage door. Vin took a deep breath—chest a little confined by the special corset she was wearing to hide her bandages—then accepted the footman’s hand and climbed down. She straightened her dress, nodded to Sazed, then joined the other aristocrats making their way up the steps to Keep Elariel. It was a bit smaller than the keep of House Venture. However, Keep Elariel apparently had a separate party ballroom, while House Venture had its gatherings in the enormous main hall.
Vin eyed the other noblewomen, and felt a bit of her confidence vanish. Her dress was beautiful, but the other women had so much more than just gowns. Their long, flowing hair and self-assured airs matched their bejeweled figures. They filled out the upper portions of their dresses with voluptuous curves, and moved elegantly in the frilled splendor of the lower folds. Vin occasionally caught glimpses of the women’s feet, and they didn’t wear simple slippers like her own, but rather high-heeled shoes.
“Why don’t I have shoes like that?” she asked quietly as they climbed the carpet-covered stairs.
“Heels take practice to walk in, Mistress,” Sazed replied. “Since you’ve only just learned to dance, it might be best if you wore regular shoes for a time.”
Vin frowned, but accepted the explanation. Sazed’s mention of dancing, however, increased her discomfort. She remembered the flowing poise of the dancers at her last ball. She certainly wouldn’t be able to imitate that—she barely even knew the basic steps.
That won’t matter, she thought. They won’t see me—they’ll see Lady Valette. She’s supposed to be new and uncertain, and everyone thinks she’s been ill lately. It will make sense for her to be a poor dancer.
That thought in mind, Vin reached the top of the stairs feeling a bit more secure.
“I must say, Mistress,” Sazed said. “You seem far less nervous this time—in fact, you even seem excited. This is the proper attitude for Valette to display, I think.”
“Thank you,” she said, smiling. He was right: She was excited. Excited to be part of the job again—excited, even, to be back among the nobility, with their splendor and grace.
They stepped up to the squat ballroom building—one of several low wings extending from the main keep—and a servant took her shawl. Vin paused a moment just inside the doorway, waiting as Sazed arranged her table and meal.
The Elariel ballroom was very different from the majestic Venture grand hall. The dim room was only a single story high, and while it had a lot of stained-glass windows, they were all in the ceiling. Circular rose-window skylights shone from above, lit by small limelights on the roof. Each table was set with candles, and despite the light from above, there was a reserved darkness about the room. It seemed...private, despite the numerous people in attendance.
This room had obviously been designed to accommodate parties. A sunken dancing floor lay at its center, and this was better lit than the rest of the room. There were two tiers of tables circling the dancing floor: The first tier was only a few feet above, the other was farther back and about twice as high.
A servant led her to a table at the rim of the room. She sat, Sazed taking his customary place beside her, and began to wait for her meal to arrive.
“How exactly am I supposed to get the information Kelsier wants?” she asked quietly, scanning the dark room. The deep, crystalline colors from above projected patterns across tables and people, creating an impressive atmosphere, yet making it difficult to distinguish faces. Was Elend here somewhere amidst the ball-goers?
“Tonight, some men should ask you to dance,” Sazed said. “Accept their invitations—this will give you an excuse to seek them out later and mingle in their groups. You don’t need to participate in conversations—you just have to listen. At future balls, perhaps some of the young men will begin to ask you to accompany them. Then you’ll be able to sit at their table and listen to all of their discussions.”
“You mean, sit with one man the entire time?”
Sazed nodded. “It’s not uncommon. You would dance only with him that night as well.”
Vin frowned. However, she let the matter drop, turning to inspect the room again. He’s probably not even here—he said he avoided balls when possible. Even if he were here, he’d be off on his own. You won’t even—
A muted thump sounded as someone dropped a stack of books onto her table. Vin jumped in startlement, turning as Elend Venture pulled over a chair, then sat down with a relaxed posture. He leaned back in the chair, angling toward a candelabrum beside her table, and opened a book to begin reading.
Sazed frowned. Vin hid a smile, eyeing Elend. He still didn’t look as if he had bothered to brush his hair, and again wore his suit without the buttons done up. The garment wasn’t shabby, but nor was it as rich as others at the party. It seemed to have been tailored to be loose and relaxed, defying the traditional sharp, well-cut fashion.
Elend flipped through his book. Vin waited patiently for him to acknowledge her, but he just continued to read. Finally, Vin raised an eyebrow. “I don’t remember giving you permission to sit at my table, Lord Venture,” she said.
“Don’t mind me,” Elend said, not l
ooking up. “You’ve got a big table—there’s plenty of room for both of us.”
“Both of us, perhaps,” Vin said. “But I’m not sure about those books. Where are the servers going to put my meal?”
“There’s a bit of space to your left,” Elend said offhandedly.
Sazed’s frown deepened. He stepped forward, gathering up the books and setting them on the floor beside Elend’s chair.
Elend continued to read. He did, however, raise a hand to gesture. “See, now, that’s why I don’t ever use Terrismen servants. They’re an insufferably efficient lot, I must say.”
“Sazed is hardly insufferable,” Vin said coolly. “He is a good friend, and is probably a better man than you will ever be, Lord Venture.”
Elend finally looked up. “I’m... sorry,” he said in a frank tone. “I apologize.”
Vin nodded. Elend, however, opened his book and began reading again.
Why sit with me if he’s just going to read? “What did you do at these parties before you had me to pester?” she asked in an annoyed tone.
“See, now, how can I be pestering you?” he asked. “I mean, really, Valette. I’m just sitting here, reading quietly to myself.”
“At my table. I’m certain you could get your own—you’re the Venture heir. Not that you were forthcoming about that fact during our last meeting.”
“True,” Elend said. “I do, however, recall telling you that the Ventures were an annoying lot. I’m just trying to live up to the description.”
“You’re the one that made up the description!”
“Convenient, that,” Elend said, smiling slightly as he read.
Vin sighed in frustration, scowling.
Elend peeked up over his book. “That’s a stunning dress. It’s almost as beautiful as you are.”
Mistborn Page 31
