The other Coinshot tried to spray Vin with coins, but she deflected them with ease. Unfortunately, he wasn’t as foolish as his companion, and he released the coins soon after Pushing them. However, it was obvious that he couldn’t hit her. Why did he keep—
The other Mistborn! Vin thought, ducking to a roll as a figure leaped from the dark mists, glass knives flashing in the air.
Vin just barely got out of the way, flaring pewter to give herself balance. She came to her feet beside the wounded Thug, who stood on obviously weak legs. With another flare of pewter, Vin slammed her shoulder into the man’s chest, shoving him to the side.
The man stumbled maladroitly, still holding his bleeding side. Then he tripped and fell right into the skylight. The fine, tinted glass shattered as he fell, and Vin’s tin-enhanced ears could hear cries of surprise from below, followed by a crash as the Thug hit the ground.
Vin looked up, smiling evilly at the stunned Shan. Behind her, the second Mistborn—a man—swore quietly.
“You…You…” Shan sputtered, her eyes flaring dangerously with anger in the night.
Take the warning, Elend, Vin thought, and escape. It’s time for me to go.
She couldn’t face two Mistborn at once—she couldn’t even beat Kelsier most nights. Flaring Steel, Vin launched herself backward. Shan took a step forward and—looking determined—Pushed herself after Vin. The second Mistborn joined her.
Bloody hell! Vin thought, spinning in the air and Pulling herself to the rooftop’s edge near where she had broken the rose window. Below, figures scrambled about, lanterns brightening the mists. Lord Venture probably thought that the fuss meant his son was dead. He was in for a surprise.
Vin launched herself into the air again, jumping out into the misty void. She could hear the two Mistborn land behind her, then push off as well.
This isn’t good, Vin thought with trepidation as she hurled through the misty air currents. She didn’t have any coins left, nor did she have daggers—and she faced two trained Mistborn.
She burned iron, searching frantically for an anchor in the night. A line of blue, moving slowly, appeared beneath her to the right.
Vin yanked on the line, changing her trajectory. She shot downward, the Venture grounds wall appearing as a dark shadow beneath her. Her anchor was the breastplate of an unfortunate guard, who lay atop the wall, holding frantically to a tooth in the battlements to keep himself from being pulled up toward Vin.
Vin slammed feet-first into the man, then spun in the misty air, flipping to land on the cool stone. The guard collapsed to the stone, then cried out, desperately grabbing his stone anchor as another Allomantic force Pulled against him.
Sorry, friend, Vin thought, kicking the man’s hand free from the battlement tooth. He immediately snapped upward, yanked into the air as if pulled by a powerful tether.
The sound of bodies colliding sounded from the darkness above, and Vin saw a pair of forms drop limply to the Venture courtyard. Vin smiled, dashing along the wall. I sure hope that was Shan.
Vin jumped up, landing atop the gatehouse. Near the keep, people were scattering, climbing in carriages to flee.
And so the house war starts, Vin thought. Didn’t think I’d be the one to officially begin it.
A figure plummeted toward her from the mists above. Vin cried out, flaring pewter and jumping to the side. Shan landed dexterously—mistcloak tassels billowing—atop the gatehouse. She had both daggers out, and her eyes burned with anger.
Vin jumped to the side, rolling off the gatehouse and landing on the walltop below. A pair of guards jumped back in alarm, surprised to see a half-naked girl fall into their midst. Shan dropped to the wall behind them, then Pushed, throwing one of the guards in Vin’s direction.
The man cried out as Vin Pushed against his breastplate as well—but he was far heavier than she, and she was thrown backward. She Pulled on the guard to slow herself, and the man crashed down to the walltop. Vin landed lithely beside him, then grabbed his staff as it rolled free from his hand.
Shan attacked in a flash of spinning daggers, and Vin was forced to jump backward again. She’s so good! Vin thought with anxiety. Vin herself had barely trained with daggers; now she wished she’d asked Kelsier for a little more practice. She swung the staff, but she’d never used one of the weapons before, and her attack was laughable.
Shan slashed, and Vin felt a flare of pain in her cheek as she dodged. She dropped the staff in shock, reaching up to her face and feeling blood. She stumbled back, seeing the smile on Shan’s face.
And then Vin remembered the vial. The one she still carried—the one Kelsier had given her.
Atium.
She didn’t bother to grab it from the place she had tucked it at her waist. She burned steel, Pushing it out into the air in front of her. Then, she immediately burned iron and yanked on the bead of atium. The vial shattered, the bead heading back toward Vin. She caught it in her mouth, swallowing the lump and forcing it down.
Shan paused. Then, before Vin could do anything, she downed a vial of her own.
Of course she has atium!
But, how much did she have? Kelsier hadn’t given Vin much—only enough for about thirty seconds. Shan jumped forward, smiling, her long black hair flaring in the air. Vin gritted her teeth. She didn’t have much choice.
She burned atium. Immediately, Shan’s form shot forth dozens of phantom atium shadows. It was a Mistborn standoff: The first one who ran out of atium would be vulnerable. You couldn’t escape an opponent who knew exactly what you were going to do.
Vin scrambled backward, keeping an eye on Shan. The noblewoman stalked forward, her phantoms forming an insane bubble of translucent motion around her. She seemed calm. Secure.
She has plenty of atium, Vin thought, feeling her own storage burn away. I need to get away.
A shadowy length of wood suddenly shot through Vin’s chest. She ducked to the side just as the real arrow—apparently made with no arrowhead—passed through the air where she had been standing. She glanced toward the gatehouse, where several soldiers were raising bows.
She cursed, glancing to the side, into the mists. As she did so, she caught a smile from Shan.
She’s just waiting for my atium to burn out. She wants me to run—she knows she can chase me down.
There was only one other option: attack.
Shan frowned in surprise as Vin dashed forward, phantom arrows snapping against the stones just before their real counterparts arrived. Vin dodged between two arrows—her atium-enhanced mind knowing exactly how to move—passing so close that she could feel the missiles in the air to either side of her.
Shan swung her daggers, and Vin twisted to the side, dodging one slice and blocking the other with her forearm, earning a deep gash. Her own blood flew in the air as she spun—each droplet tossing out a translucent atium image—and flared pewter, punching Shan square in the stomach.
Shan grunted in pain, bending slightly, but she didn’t fall.
Atium’s almost gone, Vin thought desperately. Only a few seconds left.
So, she extinguished her atium early, exposing herself.
Shan smiled wickedly, coming up from her crouch, right-hand dagger swinging confidently. She assumed that Vin had run out of atium—and therefore assumed that she was exposed. Vulnerable.
At that moment, Vin burned her last bit of atium. Shan paused just briefly in confusion, giving Vin an opening as a phantom arrow streaked through the mists overhead.
Vin caught the real arrow as it followed—the grainy wood burning her fingers—then rammed it down into Shan’s chest. The shaft snapped in Vin’s hand, leaving about an inch protruding from Shan’s body. The woman stumbled backward, staying on her feet.
Damn pewter, Vin thought, ripping a sword from a sheath beside the unconscious soldier at her feet. She jumped forward, gritting her teeth in determination, and Shan—still dazed—raised a hand to Push against the sword.
Vin let the weapon go�
�it was just a distraction—as she slammed the second half of the broken arrow into Shan’s chest just beside its counterpart.
This time, Shan dropped. She tried to rise, but one of the shafts must have done some serious damage to her heart, for her face paled. She struggled for a moment, then fell lifeless to the stones.
Vin stood, breathing deeply as she wiped the blood from her cheek—only to realize that her bloody arm was just making her face worse. Behind her, the soldiers called out, nocking more arrows.
Vin glanced back toward the keep, bidding farewell to Elend, then Pushed herself out into the night.
Other men worry whether or not they will be remembered. I have no such fears; even disregarding the Terris prophecies, I have brought such chaos, conflict, and hope to this world that there is little chance that I will be forgotten.
I worry about what they will say of me. Historians can make what they wish of the past. In a thousand years’ time, will I be remembered as the man who protected mankind from a powerful evil? Or, will I be remembered as a tyrant who arrogantly tried to make himself a legend?
31
“I DON’T KNOW,” KELSIER SAID, SMILING as he shrugged. “Breeze would make a pretty good Minister of Sanitation.”
The group chuckled, though Breeze just rolled his eyes. “Honestly, I don’t see why I consistently prove to be the target of you people’s humor. Why must you choose the only dignified person in this crew as the butt of your mockery?”
“Because, my dear man,” Ham said, imitating Breeze’s accent, “you are, by far, the best butt we have.”
“Oh, please,” Breeze said as Spook nearly collapsed to the floor with laughter. “This is just getting juvenile. The teenage boy was the only one who found that comment amusing, Hammond.”
“I’m a soldier,” Ham said, raising his cup. “Your witty verbal attacks have no effect on me, for I’m far too dense to understand them.”
Kelsier chuckled, leaning back against the cupboard. One problem with working at night was that he missed the evening gatherings in Clubs’s kitchen. Breeze and Ham continued their general banter. Dox sat at the end of the table, going over ledgers and reports, while Spook sat by Ham eagerly, trying his best to take part in the conversation. Clubs sat in his corner, overseeing, occasionally smiling, and generally enjoying his ability to give the best scowls in the room.
“I should be leaving, Master Kelsier,” Sazed said, checking the wall clock. “Mistress Vin should be about ready to leave.”
Kelsier nodded. “I should get going myself. I still have to—”
The outside kitchen door slammed open. Vin stood silhouetted by the dark mist, wearing nothing but her dressing undergarments—a flimsy white shirt and shorts. Both were sprayed with blood.
“Vin!” Ham exclaimed, standing.
Her cheek bore a long, thin gash, and she had a bandage tied on one forearm. “I’m fine,” she said wearily.
“What happened to your dress?” Dockson immediately demanded.
“You mean this?” Vin asked apologetically, holding up a ripped, soot-stained blue mass of cloth. “It…got in the way. Sorry, Dox.”
“Lord Ruler, girl!” Breeze said. “Forget the dress—what happened to you!”
Vin shook her head, shutting the door. Spook blushed furiously at her outfit, and Sazed immediately moved over, checking the wound on her cheek.
“I think I did something bad,” Vin said. “I…kind of killed Shan Elariel.”
“You did what?” Kelsier asked as Sazed tisked quietly, leaving the small cheek cut alone as he undid the bandage on her arm.
Vin flinched slightly at Sazed’s ministrations. “She was Mistborn. We fought. I won.”
You killed a fully-trained Mistborn? Kelsier thought with shock. You’ve practiced for barely eight months!
“Master Hammond,” Sazed requested, “would you fetch my healer’s bag?”
Ham nodded, rising.
“You might want to grab her something to wear too,” Kelsier suggested. “I think poor Spook’s about to have a heart attack.”
“What’s wrong with this?” Vin asked, nodding toward her clothing. “It’s not that much more revealing than some of the thief’s clothing I’ve worn.”
“Those are undergarments, Vin,” Dockson said.
“So?”
“It’s the principle of the matter,” Dockson said. “Young ladies do not run around in their undergarments, no matter how much those undergarments may resemble regular clothing.”
Vin shrugged, sitting as Sazed held a bandage to her arm. She seemed…exhausted. And not just from the fighting. What else happened at that party?
“Where did you fight the Elariel woman?” Kelsier asked.
“Outside Keep Venture,” Vin said, looking down. “I…think some of the guards spotted me. Some of the nobles might have too, I’m not certain.”
“That’s going to be trouble,” Dockson said, sighing. “Of course, that cheek wound is going to be pretty obvious, even with makeup. Honestly, you Allomancers…Don’t you ever worry about what you’re going to look like the day after you get into one of these fights?”
“I was kind of focused on staying alive, Dox,” Vin said.
“He’s just complaining because he’s worried about you,” Kelsier said as Ham returned with the bag. “That’s what he does.”
“Both wounds will require immediate stitching, Mistress,” Sazed said. “The one on your arm hit the bone, I think.”
Vin nodded, and Sazed rubbed her arm with a numbing agent, then began to work. She bore it without much visible discomfort—though she obviously had her pewter flared.
She looks so exhausted, Kelsier thought. She was such a frail-looking thing, mostly just arms and legs. Hammond put a cloak around her shoulders, but she appeared too tired to care.
And I brought her into this.
Of course, she should know better than to get herself into this kind of trouble. Eventually, Sazed finished his efficient sewing, then tied a new bandage around the arm wound. He moved onto the cheek.
“Why would you fight a Mistborn?” Kelsier asked sternly. “You should have run. Didn’t you learn anything from your battle with the Inquisitors?”
“I couldn’t get away without turning my back on her,” Vin said. “Besides, she had more atium than me. If I hadn’t attacked, she would have chased me down. I had to strike while we were equally matched.”
“But how did you get into this in the first place?” Kelsier demanded. “Did she attack you?”
Vin glanced down at her feet. “I attacked first.”
“Why?” Kelsier asked.
Vin sat for a moment, Sazed working on her cheek. “She was going to kill Elend,” she finally said.
Kelsier exhaled in exasperation. “Elend Venture? You risked your life—risked the plan, and our lives—for that fool of a boy?”
Vin looked up, glaring at him. “Yes.”
“What is wrong with you, girl?” Kelsier asked. “Elend Venture isn’t worth this.”
She stood angrily, Sazed backing away, the cloak falling the floor. “He’s a good man!”
“He’s a nobleman!”
“So are you!” Vin snapped. She waved a frustrated arm toward the kitchen and the crew. “What do you think this is, Kelsier? The life of a skaa? What do any of you know about skaa? Aristocratic suits, stalking your enemies in the night, full meals and nightcaps around the table with your friends? That’s not the life of a skaa!”
She took a step forward, glaring at Kelsier. He blinked in surprise at the outburst.
“What do you know about them, Kelsier?” she asked. “When’s the last time you slept in an alley, shivering in the cold rain, listening to the beggar next to you cough with a sickness you knew would kill him? When’s the last time you had to lay awake at night, terrified that one of the men in your crew would try to rape you? Have you ever knelt, starving, wishing you had the courage to knife the crewmember beside you just so you could take h
is crust of bread? Have you ever cowered before your brother as he beat you, all the time feeling thankful because at least you had someone who paid attention to you?”
She fell silent, puffing slightly, the crewmembers staring at her.
“Don’t talk to me about noblemen,” Vin said. “And don’t say things about people you don’t know. You’re no skaa—you’re just noblemen without titles.”
She turned, stalking from the room. Kelsier watched her go, shocked, hearing her footsteps on the stairs. He stood, dumbfounded, feeling a surprising flush of ashamed guilt.
And, for once, found himself without anything to say.
Vin didn’t go to her room. She climbed to the roof, where the mists curled in the quiet, unlit night. She sat down in the corner, the rough stone lip of the flat rooftop against her nearly bare back, wood beneath her.
She was cold, but she didn’t care. Her arm hurt a bit, but it was mostly numb. She didn’t feel nearly numb enough herself.
She crossed her arms, huddling down, watching the mists. She didn’t know what to think, let alone what to feel. She shouldn’t have exploded at Kelsier, but everything that had happened…the fight, Elend’s betrayal…it just left her feeling frustrated. She needed to be angry at someone.
You should just be angry at yourself, Reen’s voice whispered. You’re the one who let them get close. Now they’re all just going to leave you.
She couldn’t make it stop hurting. She could only sit and shiver as the tears fell, wondering how everything had collapsed so quickly.
The trap door to the rooftop opened with a quiet creak, and Kelsier’s head appeared.
Oh, Lord Ruler! I don’t want to face him now. She tried to wipe away her tears, but she only succeeded in aggravating the freshly stitched wound on her cheek.
Kelsier closed the trap door behind him, then stood, so tall and proud, staring up at the mists. He didn’t deserve the things I said. None of them did.
“Watching the mists is comforting, isn’t it?” Kelsier asked.
The Mistborn Trilogy Page 56
