The Mistborn Trilogy

by Brandon Sanderson

  And still Vin kept it. As a reminder, of sorts. The truth was, she didn’t feel like a noblewoman. At times, she thought she had more in common with her insane mother than she did with the aristocracy of Elend’s world. The balls and parties she had attended before the Collapse—they had been a charade. A dreamlike memory. They had no place in this world of collapsing governments and nightly assassinations. Plus, Vin’s part in the balls—pretending to be the girl Valette Renoux—had always been a sham.

  She pretended still. Pretended not to be the girl who had grown up starving on the streets, a girl who had been beaten far more often than she had been befriended. Vin sighed, turning from the window. The next shop, however, drew her attention despite herself.

  It contained ball gowns.

  The shop was empty of patrons; few thought of gowns on the eve of an invasion. Vin paused before the open doorway, held almost as if she were metal being Pulled. Inside, dressing dummies stood posed in majestic gowns. Vin looked up at the garments, with their tight waists and tapering, bell-like skirts. She could almost imagine she was at a ball, soft music in the background, tables draped in perfect white, Elend standing up on his balcony, leafing through a book….

  She almost went in. But why bother? The city was about to be attacked. Besides, the garments were expensive. It had been different when she’d spent Kelsier’s money. Now she spent Elend’s money—and Elend’s money was the kingdom’s money.

  She turned from the gowns and walked back out onto the street. Those aren’t me anymore. Valette is useless to Elend—he needs a Mistborn, not an uncomfortable girl in a gown that she doesn’t quite fill. Her wounds from the night before, now firm bruises, were a reminder of her place. They were healing well—she’d been burning pewter heavily all day—but she’d be stiff for a while yet.

  Vin quickened her pace, heading for the livestock pens. As she walked, however, she caught sight of someone tailing her.

  Well, perhaps “tailing” was too generous a word—the man certainly wasn’t doing a very good job of going unnoticed. He was balding on top, but wore the sides of his hair long. He wore a simple skaa’s smock: a single-piece tan garment that was stained dark with ash.

  Great, Vin thought. There was another reason she avoided the market—or any place where crowds of skaa gathered.

  She sped up again, but the man hurried as well. Soon, his awkward movements gained attention—but, instead of cursing him, most people paused reverently. Soon others joined him, and Vin had a small crowd trailing her.

  A part of her wanted to just slap down a coin and shoot away. Yes, Vin thought to herself wryly, use Allomancy in the daylight. That’ll make you inconspicuous.

  So, sighing, she turned to confront the group. None of them looked particularly threatening. The men wore trousers and dull shirts; the women wore one-piece, utilitarian dresses. Several more men wore single-piece, ash-covered smocks.

  Priests of the Survivor.

  “Lady Heir,” one of them said, approaching and falling to his knees.

  “Don’t call me that,” Vin said quietly.

  The priest looked up at her. “Please. We need direction. We have cast off the Lord Ruler. What do we do now?”

  Vin took a step backward. Had Kelsier understood what he was doing? He had built up the skaa’s faith in him, then had died a martyr to turn them in rage against the Final Empire. What had he thought would happen after that? Could he have foreseen the Church of the Survivor—had he known that they would replace the Lord Ruler with Kelsier himself as God?

  The problem was, Kelsier had left his followers with no doctrine. His only goal had been to defeat the Lord Ruler; partially to get his revenge, partially to seal his legacy, and partially—Vin hoped—because he had wanted to free the skaa.

  But now what? These people must feel as she did. Set adrift, with no light to guide them.

  Vin could not be that light. “I’m not Kelsier,” she said quietly, taking another step backward.

  “We know,” one of the men said. “You’re his heir—he passed on, and this time you Survived.”

  “Please,” a woman said, stepping forward, holding a young child in her arms. “Lady Heir. If the hand that struck down the Lord Ruler could touch my child…”

  Vin tried to back away farther, but realized she was up against another crowd of people. The woman stepped closer, and Vin finally raised an uncertain hand to the baby’s forehead.

  “Thank you,” the woman said.

  “You’ll protect us, won’t you, Lady Heir?” asked a young man—no older than Elend—with a dirty face but honest eyes. “The priests say that you’ll stop that army out there, that its soldiers won’t be able to enter the city while you’re here.”

  That was too much for her. Vin mumbled a halfhearted response, but turned and pushed her way through the crowd. The group of believers didn’t follow her, fortunately.

  She was breathing deeply, though not from exertion, by the time she slowed. She moved into an alley between two shops, standing in the shade, wrapping her arms around herself. She had spent her life learning to remain unnoticed, to be quiet and unimportant. Now she could be none of those things.

  What did the people expect of her? Did they really think that she could stop an army by herself? That was one lesson she’d learned very early into her training: Mistborn weren’t invincible. One man, she could kill. Ten men could give her trouble. An army…

  Vin held herself and took a few calming breaths. Eventually, she moved back out onto the busy street. She was near her destination now—a small, open-sided tent surrounded by four pens. The merchant lounged by it, a scruffy man who had hair on only half of his head—the right half. Vin stood for a moment, trying to decide if the odd hairstyle was due to disease, injury, or preference.

  The man perked up when he saw her standing at the edge of his pens. He brushed himself off, throwing up a small amount of dust. Then he sauntered up to her, smiling with what teeth he still had, acting as if he hadn’t heard—or didn’t care—that there was an army just outside.

  “Ah, young lady,” he said. “Lookin’ for a pup? I’ve got some wee scamps that any girl is sure to love. Here, let me grab one. You’ll agree it’s the cutest thing you ever seen.”

  Vin folded her arms as the man reached down to grab a puppy from one of the pens. “Actually,” she said, “I was looking for a wolfhound.”

  The merchant looked up. “Wolfhound, miss? ’Tis no pet for a girl like yourself. Mean brutes, those. Let me find you a nice bobbie. Nice dogs, those—smart, too.”

  “No,” Vin said, drawing him up short. “You will bring me a wolfhound.”

  The man paused again, looking at her, scratching himself in several undignified places. “Well, I guess I can see…”

  He wandered toward the pen farthest from the street. Vin waited quietly, nose downturned at the smell as the merchant yelled at a few of his animals, selecting an appropriate one. Eventually, he pulled a leashed dog up to Vin. It was a wolfhound, if a small one—but it had sweet, docile eyes, and an obviously pleasant temperament.

  “The runt of the litter,” the merchant said. “A good animal for a young girl, I’d say. Will probably make an excellent hunter, too. These wolfhounds, they can smell better than any beast you seen.”

  Vin reached for her coin purse, but paused, looking down at the dog’s panting face. It almost seemed to be smiling at her.

  “Oh, for the Lord Ruler’s sake,” she snapped, pushing past the dog and master, stalking toward the back pens.

  “Young lady?” the merchant asked, following uncertainly.

  Vin scanned the wolfhounds. Near the back, she spotted a massive black and gray beast. It was chained to a post, and it regarded her defiantly, a low growl rising in its throat.

  Vin pointed. “How much for that one in the back?”

  “That?” the merchant asked. “Good lady, that’s a watchbeast. It’s meant to be set loose on a lord’s grounds to attack anyone who enters! It
’s the one of the meanest things you’ll ever see!”

  “Perfect,” Vin said, pulling out some coins.

  “Good lady, I couldn’t possibly sell you that beast. Not possibly at all. Why, I’ll bet it weighs half again as much as you do.”

  Vin nodded, then pulled open the pen gate and strode in. The merchant cried out, but Vin walked right up to the wolfhound. He began to bark wildly at her, frothing.

  Sorry about this, Vin thought. Then, burning pewter, she ducked in and slammed her fist into the animal’s head.

  The animal froze, wobbled, then fell unconscious in the dirt. The merchant stopped up short beside her, mouth open.

  “Leash,” Vin ordered.

  He gave her one. She used it to tie the wolfhound’s feet together, and then—with a flare of pewter—she threw the animal over her shoulders. She cringed only slightly at the pain in her side.

  This thing better not get drool on my shirt, she thought, handing the merchant some coins and walking back toward the palace.

  Vin slammed the unconscious wolfhound to the floor. The guards had given her some strange looks as she entered the palace, but she was getting used to those. She brushed off her hands.

  “What is that?” OreSeur asked. He’d made it back to her rooms at the palace, but his current body was obviously unusable. He’d needed to form muscles in places that men didn’t normally have them to even keep the skeleton together, and while he’d healed his wounds, his body looked unnatural. He still wore the bloodstained clothing from the night before.

  “This,” Vin said, pointing at the wolfhound, “is your new body.”

  OreSeur paused. “That? Mistress, that is a dog.”

  “Yes,” Vin said.

  “I am a man.”

  “You’re a kandra,” Vin said. “You can imitate flesh and muscle. What about fur?”

  The kandra did not look pleased. “I cannot imitate it,” he said, “but I can use the beast’s own fur, like I use its bones. However, surely there is—”

  “I’m not going to kill for you, kandra,” Vin said. “And even if I did kill someone, I wouldn’t let you…eat them. Plus, this will be more inconspicuous. People will begin to talk if I keep replacing my stewards with unknown men. I’ve been telling people for months that I was thinking of dismissing you. Well, I’ll tell them that I finally did—nobody will think to realize that my new pet hound is actually my kandra.”

  She turned, nodding toward the carcass. “This will be very useful. People pay less attention to hounds than they do to humans, and so you’ll be able to listen in on conversations.”

  OreSeur’s frown deepened. “I will not do this thing easily. You will need to compel me, by virtue of the Contract.”

  “Fine,” Vin said. “You’re commanded. How long will it take?”

  “A regular body only takes a few hours,” OreSeur said. “This could take longer. Getting that much fur to look right will be challenging.”

  “Get started, then,” Vin said, turning toward the door. On her way, however, she noticed a small package sitting on her desk. She frowned, walking over and taking off the lid. A small note sat inside.

  Lady Vin,

  Here is the next alloy you requested. Aluminum is very difficult to acquire, but when a noble family recently left the city, I was able to buy some of their diningware.

  I do not know if this one will work, but I believe it worth a try. I have mixed the aluminum with four percent copper, and found the outcome quite promising. I have read of this composition; it is called duralumin.

  Your servant, Terion

  Vin smiled, setting aside the note and removing the rest of the box’s contents: a small pouch of metal dust and a thin silvery bar, both presumably of this “duralumin” metal. Terion was a master Allomantic metallurgist. Though not an Allomancer himself, he had been mixing alloys and creating dusts for Mistborn and Mistings for most of his life.

  Vin pocketed both pouch and bar, then turned toward OreSeur. The kandra regarded her with a flat expression.

  “This came for me today?” Vin asked, nodding to the box.

  “Yes, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “A few hours ago.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?”

  “I’m sorry, Mistress,” OreSeur said in his toneless way, “but you did not command me to tell you if packages arrived.”

  Vin ground her teeth. He knew how anxiously she’d been waiting for another alloy from Terion. All of the previous aluminum alloys they’d tried had turned out to be duds. It bothered her to know that there was another Allomantic metal out there somewhere, waiting to be discovered. She wouldn’t be satisfied until she found it.

  OreSeur just sat where he was, bland expression on his face, unconscious wolfhound on the floor in front of him.

  “Just get to work on that body,” Vin said, spinning and leaving the room to search for Elend.

  Vin finally found Elend in his study, going over some ledgers with a familiar figure.

  “Dox!” Vin said. He’d retired to his rooms soon after his arrival the day before, and she hadn’t seen much of him.

  Dockson looked up and smiled. Stocky without being fat, he had short dark hair and still wore his customary half beard. “Hello, Vin.”

  “How was Terris?” she asked.

  “Cold,” Dockson replied. “I’m glad to be back. Though I wish I hadn’t arrived to find that army here.”

  “Either way, we’re glad you’ve returned, Dockson,” Elend said. “The kingdom practically fell apart without you.”

  “That hardly seems the case,” Dockson said, closing his ledger and setting it on the stack. “All things—and armies—considered, it looks like the royal bureaucracy held together fairly well in my absence. You hardly need me anymore!”

  “Nonsense!” Elend said.

  Vin leaned against the door, eyeing the two men as they continued their discussion. They maintained their air of forced joviality. Both were dedicated to making the new kingdom work, even if it meant pretending that they liked each other. Dockson pointed at places in the ledgers, talking about finances and what he’d discovered in the outlying villages under Elend’s control.

  Vin sighed, glancing across the room. Sunlight streamed through the room’s stained-glass rose window, throwing colors across the ledgers and table. Even now, Vin still wasn’t accustomed to the casual richness of a noble keep. The window—red and lavender—was a thing of intricate beauty. Yet, noblemen apparently found its like so commonplace that they had put this one in the keep’s back rooms, in the small chamber that Elend now used as his study.

  As one might expect, the room was piled with stacks of books. Shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, but they were no match for the sheer volume of Elend’s growing collection. She’d never cared much for Elend’s taste in books. They were mostly political or historical works, things with topics as musty as their aged pages. Many of them had once been forbidden by the Steel Ministry, but somehow the old philosophers could make even salacious topics seem boring.

  “Anyway,” Dockson said, finally closing his ledgers. “I have some things to do before your speech tomorrow, Your Majesty. Did Ham say there’s a city defense meeting that evening as well?”

  Elend nodded. “Assuming I can get the Assembly to agree not to hand the city over to my father, we’ll need to come up with a strategy to deal with this army. I’ll send someone for you tomorrow night.”

  “Good,” Dockson said. With that, he nodded to Elend, winked at Vin, then made his way from the cluttered room.

  As Dockson shut the door, Elend sighed, then relaxed back in his oversized plush chair.

  Vin walked forward. “He really is a good man, Elend.”

  “Oh, I realize he is. Being a good man doesn’t always make one likable, however.”

  “He’s nice, too,” Vin said. “Sturdy, calm, stable. The crew relied on him.” Even though Dockson wasn’t an Allomancer, he had been Kelsier’s right-hand man.

  “He does
n’t like me, Vin,” Elend said. “It’s…very hard to get along with someone who looks at me like that.”

  “You’re not giving him a fair chance,” Vin complained, stopping beside Elend’s chair.

  He looked up at her, smiling wanly, his vest unbuttoned, his hair an absolute mess. “Hum…” he said idly, taking her hand. “I really like that shirt. Red looks good on you.”

  Vin rolled her eyes, letting him gently pull her into the chair and kiss her. There was a passion to the kiss—a need, perhaps, for something stable. Vin responded, feeling herself relax as she pulled up against him. A few minutes later, she sighed, feeling much better snuggled into the chair beside him. He pulled her close, leaning the chair back into the window’s sunlight.

  He smiled and glanced at her. “That’s a…new perfume you’re wearing.”

  Vin snorted, putting her head against his chest. “It’s not perfume, Elend. It’s dog.”

  “Ah, good,” Elend said. “I was worried that you’d departed from your senses. Now, is there any particular reason why you smell like dog?”

  “I went to the market and bought one, then carried it back and fed it to OreSeur, so it can be his new body.”

  Elend paused. “Why, Vin. That’s brilliant! Nobody will suspect a dog to be a spy. I wonder if anyone’s ever thought of that before….”

  “Someone must have,” Vin said. “I mean, it makes such sense. I suspect those who thought of it, however, didn’t share the knowledge.”

  “Good point,” Elend said, relaxing back. Yet, from as close as they were, she could still feel a tension in him.

  Tomorrow’s speech, Vin thought. He’s worried about it.

  “I must say, however,” Elend said idly, “that I find it a bit disappointing that you’re not wearing dog-scented perfume. With your social station, I could see some of the local noblewomen trying to imitate you. That could be amusing indeed.”