The Mistborn Trilogy

by Brandon Sanderson

  The Garrison watches the skaa, Vin thought. Apparently, the obligators perform a similar function for the nobility. It was an odd sight—she’d always thought of the noblemen as being free. And, truthfully, they were far more confident than the skaa. Many seemed to be enjoying themselves, and the obligators didn’t seem to be acting really as police, or even specifically as spies. And yet, they were there. Hovering about, joining in conversations. A constant reminder of the Lord Ruler and his empire.

  Vin turned her attention away from the obligators—their presence still made her a bit uncomfortable—and instead focused on something else: the beautiful windows. Sitting where she was, she could see some of the ones directly across and up from where she sat.

  They were religious, like many scenes preferred by the aristocracy. Perhaps it was to show devotion, or perhaps it was required. Vin didn’t know enough—but, likely, that was something Valette wouldn’t know either, so it was all right.

  She did, fortunately, recognize some of the scenes—mostly because of Sazed’s teachings. He seemed to know as much about the Lord Ruler’s mythology as he did about other religions, though it seemed odd to her that he would study the very religion he found so oppressive.

  Central to many of the windows was the Deepness. Dark black—or, in window terms, violet—it was formless, with vengeful, tentaclelike masses creeping across several windows. Vin looked up at it, along with the brilliantly colored depictions of the Lord Ruler, and found herself a little bit transfixed by the backlit scenes.

  What was it? she wondered. The Deepness? Why depict it so formlessly—why not show what it really was?

  She’d never really wondered about the Deepness before, but Sazed’s lessons left her wondering. Her instincts whispered scam. The Lord Ruler had invented some terrible menace that he’d been able to destroy in the past, therefore “earning” his place as emperor. And yet, staring up at the horrible, twisting thing, Vin could almost believe.

  What if something like that had existed? And, if it had, how had the Lord Ruler managed to defeat it?

  She sighed, shaking her head at the thoughts. Already, she was beginning to think too much like a noblewoman. She was admiring the beauty of the decorations—thinking about what they meant—without giving more than a passing thought to the wealth that had created them. It was just that everything here was so wondrous and ornate.

  The pillars in the hall weren’t just normal columns, they were carved masterpieces. Wide banners hung from the ceiling just above the windows, and the arching, lofty ceiling was crisscrossed by structural buttressings and dotted with capstones. Somehow she knew each of those capstones was intricately carved, despite the fact that they were too far away to be seen from below.

  And the dancers matched, perhaps even outshone, the exquisite setting. Couples moved gracefully, stepping to the soft music with seemingly effortless motions. Many were even chatting with one another while they danced. The ladies moved freely in their dresses—many of which, Vin noticed, made her own frilly garment look plain by comparison. Sazed was right: Long hair was certainly the fashion, though an equal number kept their hair up as left it down.

  Surrounded by the majestic hall, the sharp-suited noblemen looked different, somehow. Distinguished. Were these the same creatures that beat her friends and enslaved the skaa? They seemed too…perfect, too well-mannered, for such horrible acts.

  I wonder if they even notice the outside world, she thought, crossing her arms on the table as she watched the dancing. Perhaps they can’t see beyond their keeps and their balls—just like they can’t see past my dress and makeup.

  Sazed tapped her shoulder, and Vin sighed, adopting a more ladylike posture. The meal arrived a few moments later—a feast of such strange flavors that she would have been daunted, had she not eaten similar fare often during the last few months. Sazed’s lessons might have omitted dancing, but they had been quite extensive regarding dining etiquette, for which Vin was grateful. As Kelsier had said, her main purpose of the evening was to make an appearance—and so it was important that she make a proper one.

  She ate delicately, as instructed, and that allowed her to be slow and meticulous. She didn’t relish the idea of being asked to dance; she was half afraid she’d panic again if anyone actually spoke to her. However, a meal could only be extended so long—especially one with a lady’s small portions. She soon finished, and set her fork across the plate, indicating that she was done.

  The first suitor approached not two minutes later. “Lady Valette Renoux?” the young man asked, bowing just slightly. He wore a green vest beneath his long, dark suit coat. “I am Lord Rian Strobe. Would you care to dance?”

  “My lord,” Vin said, glancing down demurely. “You are kind, but this is my first ball, and everything here is so grand! I fear that I’ll stumble from nervousness on the dance floor. Perhaps, next time…?”

  “Of course, my lady,” he said with a courteous nod, then withdrew.

  “Very well done, Mistress,” Sazed said quietly. “Your accent was masterful. You will, of course, have to dance with him at the next ball. We shall surely have you trained by then, I think.”

  Vin flushed slightly. “Maybe he won’t attend.”

  “Perhaps,” Sazed said. “But not likely. The young nobility are quite fond of their nightly diversions.”

  “They do this every night?”

  “Nearly,” Sazed said. “The balls are, after all, a prime reason people come to Luthadel. If one is in town and there is a ball—and there almost always is—one generally attends, especially if one is young and unmarried. You won’t be expected to attend quite so frequently, but we should probably get you up to attending two or three a week.”

  “Two or three…” Vin said. “I’m going to need more gowns!”

  Sazed smiled. “Ah, thinking like a noblewoman already. Now, Mistress, if you will excuse me…”

  “Excuse you?” Vin asked, turning.

  “To the steward’s dinner,” Sazed said. “A servant of my rank is generally dismissed once my master’s meal is finished. I hesitate to go and leave you, but that room will be filled with the self-important servants of the high nobility. There will be conversations there that Master Kelsier wishes me to overhear.”

  “You’re leaving me by myself?”

  “You’ve done well so far, Mistress,” Sazed said. “No major mistakes—or, at least, none that wouldn’t be expected of a lady new to court.”

  “Like what?” Vin asked apprehensively.

  “We shall discuss them later. Just remain at your table, sipping your wine—try not to get it refilled too often—and wait for my return. If other young men approach, turn them away as delicately as you did the first.”

  Vin nodded hesitantly.

  “I shall return in about an hour,” Sazed promised. He remained, however, as if waiting for something.

  “Um, you are dismissed,” Vin said.

  “Thank you, Mistress,” he said, bowing and withdrawing. Leaving her alone.

  Not alone, she thought. Kelsier’s out there somewhere, watching in the night. The thought comforted her, though she wished she didn’t feel the empty space beside her chair quite so keenly.

  Three more young men approached her for dances, but each one accepted her polite rejection. No others came after them; word had probably gotten around that she wasn’t interested in dancing. She memorized the names of the four men who had approached her—Kelsier would want to know them—and began to wait.

  Oddly, she soon found herself growing bored. The room was well ventilated, but she still felt hot beneath the layers of fabric. Her legs were especially bad, since they had to deal with her ankle-long undergarments. The long sleeves didn’t help either, though the silky material was soft against her skin. The dancing continued, and she watched with interest for a time. However, her attention soon turned to the obligators.

  Interestingly, they did seem to serve some sort of function at the party. Though they often sto
od apart from the groups of chatting nobility, occasionally they would join in. And, every so often, a group would pause and seek out an obligator, waving one over with a respectful gesture.

  Vin frowned, trying to decide what she was missing. Eventually, a group at a nearby table waved to a passing obligator. The table was too far away to hear unaided, but with tin…

  She reached inside to burn the metal, but then paused. Copper first, she thought, turning the metal on. She would have to grow accustomed to leaving it on almost all the time, so that she wouldn’t expose herself.

  Her Allomancy hidden, she burned tin. Immediately, the light in the room became blinding, and she had to close her eyes. The band’s music became louder, and a dozen conversations around her turned from buzzes to audible voices. She had to try hard to focus on the one she was interested in, but the table was the one closest to her, so she eventually singled out the appropriate voices.

  “…swear that I’ll share news of my engagement with him before anyone else,” one of the people said. Vin opened her eyes a slit—it was one of the noblemen at the table.

  “Very well,” said the obligator. “I witness and record this.”

  The nobleman reached out a hand, and coins clinked. Vin extinguished her tin, opening her eyes all the way in time to see the obligator wandering away from the table, slipping something—likely the coins—into a pocket of his robes.

  Interesting, Vin thought.

  Unfortunately, the people at that table soon rose and went their separate ways, leaving Vin without anyone close enough to eavesdrop upon. Her boredom returned as she watched the obligator stroll across the room toward one of his companions. She began to tap on the table, idly watching the two obligators until she realized something.

  She recognized one of them. Not the one who had taken the money earlier, but his companion, an older man. Short and firm-featured, he stood with an imperious air. Even the other obligator seemed deferential to him.

  At first, Vin thought her familiarity came from her visit to the Canton of Finance with Camon, and she felt a stab of panic. Then, however, she realized that this wasn’t the same man. She’d seen him before, but not there. He was…

  My father, she realized with stupefaction.

  Reen had pointed him out once, when they had first come to Luthadel, a year ago; he had been inspecting the workers at a local forge. Reen had taken Vin, sneaking her in, insisting that she at least see her father once—though she still didn’t understand why. She had memorized the face anyway.

  She resisted the urge to shrink down in her chair. There was no way the man would be able to recognize her—he didn’t even know she existed. She forcibly turned her attention away from him, looking up at the windows instead. She couldn’t get that good a look at them, however, because the pillars and overhang restricted her view.

  As she sat, she noticed something she hadn’t seen before—a lofty, inset balcony that ran just above the entire far wall. It was like a counterpart to the alcove beneath the windows, except it ran at the top of the wall, between the stained-glass windows and the ceiling. She could see movement upon it, couples and singles strolling along, looking down upon the party below.

  Her instincts drew her toward the balcony, from where she could watch the party without being seen herself. It would also give her a wonderful view of the banners and the windows directly above her table, not to mention let her study the stonework without seeming to gawk.

  Sazed had told her to stay, but the more she sat, the more she found her eyes drawn toward the hidden balcony. She itched to stand up and move, to stretch her legs and perhaps air them out a bit. The presence of her father—oblivious of her or not—served only as another motivation for her to leave the main floor.

  It isn’t like anyone else is asking me to dance, she thought. And I’ve done what Kelsier wanted, I’ve been seen by the nobility.

  She paused, then waved for a serving boy.

  He approached with alacrity. “Yes, Lady Renoux?”

  “How do I get up there?” Vin asked, pointing toward the balcony.

  “There are stairs just to the side of the orchestra, my lady,” the boy said. “Climb them to the top landing.”

  Vin nodded her thanks. Then, determined, she stood and made her way to the front of the room. No one gave her passing more than a glance, and she walked with more confidence as she crossed the hallway to the stairwell.

  The stone corridor twisted upward, curling upon itself, its steps short but steep. Little stained glass windows, no wider than her hand, ran up the outside wall—though they were dark in color, lacking backlight. Vin climbed eagerly, working away her restless energy, but she soon began to puff from the weight of the dress and the difficulty of holding it up so that she didn’t trip. A spark of burned pewter, however, made the climb effortless enough that she didn’t sweat and ruin her makeup.

  The climb proved to be worth the effort. The upper balcony was dark—lit only by several small blue-glassed lanterns on the walls—and it gave an amazing view of the stained-glass windows. The area was quiet, and Vin felt practically alone as she approached the iron railing between two pillars, looking down. The stone tiles of the floor below formed a pattern she hadn’t noticed, a kind of freeform curving of gray upon white.

  Mists? she wondered idly, leaning against the railing. It, like the lantern bracket behind her, was intricate and detailed—both had been wrought in the form of thick, curving vines. To her sides, the tops of the pillars were carved into stone animals that appeared frozen in the motion of jumping off of the balcony.

  “Now, see, here’s the problem with going to refill your cup of wine.”

  The sudden voice made Vin jump, and she spun. A young man stood behind her. His suit wasn’t the finest she had seen, nor was his vest as bright as most. Both coat and shirt seemed to fit too loosely, and his hair was just a bit disheveled. He carried a cup of wine, and the outer pocket of his suit coat bulged with the shape of a book that was just a bit too big for its confines.

  “The problem is,” the young man said, “you return to find that your favorite spot has been stolen by a pretty girl. Now, a gentleman would move on to another place, leaving the lady to her contemplations. However, this is the best spot on the balcony—it’s the only place close enough to a lantern to have good reading light.”

  Vin flushed. “I’m sorry, my lord.”

  “Ah, see, now I feel guilty. All for a cup of wine. Look, there’s plenty of room for two people here—just scoot over a bit.”

  Vin paused. Could she politely refuse? He obviously wanted her to stay near him—did he know who she was? Should she try to find out his name, so she could tell Kelsier?

  She stepped a bit to the side, and the man took a place next to her. He leaned back against the side pillar, and, surprisingly, took out his book and began to read. He was right: The lantern shined directly on the pages. Vin stood for a moment, watching him, but he seemed completely absorbed. He didn’t even pause to look up at her.

  Isn’t he going to pay me any attention at all? Vin thought, puzzled at her own annoyance. Maybe I should have worn a fancier dress.

  The man sipped at his wine, focused on the book.

  “Do you always read at balls?” she asked.

  The young man looked up. “Whenever I can get away with it.”

  “Doesn’t that kind of defeat the purpose of coming?” Vin asked. “Why attend if you’re just going to avoid socializing?”

  “You’re up here too,” he pointed out.

  Vin flushed. “I just wanted to get a brief view of the hall.”

  “Oh? And why did you refuse all three men who asked you to dance?”

  Vin paused. The man smiled, then turned back to his book.

  “There were four,” Vin said with a huff. “And I refused them because I don’t know how to dance very well.”

  The man lowered his book slightly, eyeing her. “You know, you’re a lot less timid than you look.”


  “Timid?” Vin asked. “I’m not the one staring at his book when there’s a young lady standing by him, never having properly introduced himself.”

  The man raised a speculative eyebrow. “Now, see, you sound like my father. Far better looking, but just as grumpy.”

  Vin glared at him. Finally, he rolled his eyes. “Very well, let me be a gentleman, then.” He bowed to her with a refined, formal step. “I am Lord Elend. Lady Valette Renoux, might I have the pleasure of sharing this balcony with you whilst I read?”

  Vin folded her arms. Elend? Family name or given name? Should I even care? He just wanted his spot back. But…how did he know that I’d refused dancing partners? Somehow, she had a suspicion that Kelsier would want to hear about this particular conversation.

  Oddly, she didn’t feel a desire to shrug this man away as she had the others. Instead, she felt another stab of annoyance as he again raised his book.

  “You still haven’t told me why you would rather read than participate,” she said.

  The man sighed, lowering the book again. “Well, see, I’m not exactly the best dancer either.”

  “Ah,” Vin said.

  “But,” he said, raising a finger, “that’s only part of it. You may not realize this yet, but it’s not that hard to get overpartied. Once you attend five or six hundred of these balls, they start to feel a bit repetitive.”

  Vin shrugged. “You’d probably learn to dance better if you practiced.”

  Elend raised an eyebrow. “You’re not going to let me get back to my book, are you?”

  “I wasn’t intending to.”

  He sighed, tucking the book back into his jacket pocket—which was beginning to show signs of book-shaped wear. “Well, then. Do you want to go dance instead?”

  Vin froze. Elend smiled nonchalantly.

  Lord! He’s either incredibly smooth or socially incompetent. It was disturbing that she couldn’t determine which.

  “That’s a no, I assume?” Elend said. “Good—I thought I should offer, since we’ve established that I’m a gentleman. However, I doubt the couples below would appreciate us trampling their toes.”