The Mistborn Trilogy

by Brandon Sanderson

  Besides, he kind of liked how the tight clothing looked on her.

  Vin usually let others strike first, and this day was no exception. Staves rapped as Ham engaged her, and despite her size, Vin held her own. After a quick exchange, they both backed away, circling warily.

  “My money’s on the girl.”

  Elend turned as he noticed a form limping down the hallway toward him. Clubs stepped up beside Elend, setting a ten-boxing coin down on the railing with a snap. Elend smiled to the general, and Clubs scowled back—which was generally accepted as Clubs’s version of a smile. Dockson excluded, Elend had taken quickly to the other members of Vin’s crew. Clubs, however, had taken a little getting used to. The stocky man had a face like a gnarled toadstool, and he always seemed to be squinting in displeasure—an expression usually matched by his tone of voice.

  However, he was a gifted craftsman, not to mention an Allomancer—a Smoker, actually, though he didn’t get to use his power much anymore. For the better part of a year, Clubs had acted as general of Elend’s military forces. Elend didn’t know where Clubs had learned to lead soldiers, but the man had a remarkable knack for it. He’d probably gotten the skill in the same place that he’d acquired the scar on his leg—a scar that produced the hobble from which Clubs drew his nickname.

  “They’re just sparring, Clubs,” Elend said. “There won’t be a ‘winner.’”

  “They’ll end with a serious exchange,” Clubs said. “They always do.”

  Elend paused. “You’re asking me to bet against Vin, you know,” he noted. “That could be unhealthy.”

  “So?”

  Elend smiled, pulling out a coin. Clubs still kind of intimidated him, and he didn’t want to risk offending the man.

  “Where’s that worthless nephew of mine?” Clubs asked as he watched the sparring.

  “Spook?” Elend asked. “He’s back? How’d he get into the city?”

  Clubs shrugged. “He left something on my doorstep this morning.”

  “A gift?”

  Clubs snorted. “It was a woodcarving from a master carpenter up in Yelva City. The note said, ‘I just wanted to show you what real carpenters are up to, old man.’”

  Elend chuckled, but trailed off as Clubs eyed him with a discomforting stare. “Whelp was never this insolent before,” Clubs muttered. “I swear, you lot have corrupted the lad.”

  Clubs almost seemed to be smiling. Or, was he serious? Elend couldn’t ever decide if the man was as crusty as he seemed, or if Elend was the butt of some elaborate joke.

  “How is the army doing?” Elend finally asked.

  “Terribly,” Clubs said. “You want an army? Give me more than one year to train it. Right now, I’d barely trust those boys against a mob of old women with sticks.”

  Great, Elend thought.

  “Can’t do much right now, though,” Clubs grumbled. “Straff is digging in some cursory fortifications, but mostly he’s just resting his men. The attack will come by the end of the week.”

  In the courtyard, Vin and Ham continued to fight. It was slow, for the moment, Ham taking time to pause and explain principles or stances. Elend and Clubs watched for a short time as the sparring gradually became more intense, the rounds taking longer, the two participants beginning to sweat as their feet kicked up puffs of ash in the packed, sooty earth.

  Vin gave Ham a good contest despite the ridiculous differences in strength, reach, and training, and Elend found himself smiling slightly despite himself. She was something special—Elend had realized that when he’d first seen her in the Venture ballroom, nearly two years before. He was only now coming to realize how much of an understatement “special” was.

  A coin snapped against the wooden railing. “My money’s on Vin, too.”

  Elend turned with surprise. The man who had spoken was a soldier who had been standing with the others watching behind. Elend frowned. “Who—”

  Then, Elend cut himself off. The beard was wrong, the posture too straight, but the man standing behind him was familiar. “Spook?” Elend asked incredulously.

  The teenage boy smiled behind an apparently fake beard. “Wasing the where of calling out.”

  Elend’s head immediately began to hurt. “Lord Ruler, don’t tell me you’ve gone back to the dialect?”

  “Oh, just for the occasional nostalgic quip,” Spook said with a laugh. His words bore traces of his Easterner accent; during the first few months Elend had known the boy, Spook had been utterly unintelligible. Fortunately, the boy had grown out of using his street cant, just as he’d managed to grow out of most of his clothing. Well over six feet tall, the sixteen-year-old young man hardly resembled the gangly boy Elend had met a year before.

  Spook leaned against the railing beside Elend, adopting a teenage boy’s lounging posture and completely destroying his image as a soldier—which, indeed, he wasn’t.

  “Why the costume, Spook?” Elend asked with a frown.

  Spook shrugged. “I’m no Mistborn. We more mundane spies have to find ways to get information without flying up to windows and listening outside.”

  “How long you been standing there?” Clubs asked, glaring at his nephew.

  “Since before you got here, Uncle Grumbles,” Spook said. “And, in answer to your question, I got back a couple days ago. Before Dockson, actually. I just thought I’d take a bit of a break before I went back to duty.”

  “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Spook,” Elend said, “but we’re at war. There isn’t a lot of time to take breaks.”

  Spook shrugged. “I just didn’t want you to send me away again. If there’s going to be war here, I want to be around. You know, for the excitement.”

  Clubs snorted. “And where did you get that uniform?”

  “Uh…Well…” Spook glanced to the side, displaying just a hint of the uncertain boy Elend had known.

  Clubs grumbled something about insolent boys, but Elend just laughed and clapped Spook on the shoulder. The boy looked up, smiling; though he’d been easy to ignore at first, he was proving as valuable as any of the other members of Vin’s former crew. As a Tineye—a Misting who could burn tin to enhance his senses—Spook could listen to conversations from far away, not to mention notice distant details.

  “Anyway, welcome back,” Elend said. “What’s the word from the west?”

  Spook shook his head. “I hate to sound too much like Uncle Crusty over there, but the news isn’t good. You know those rumors about the Lord Ruler’s atium being in Luthadel? Well, they’re back. Stronger this time.”

  “I thought we were past that!” Elend said. Breeze and his team had spent the better part of six months spreading rumors and manipulating the warlords into believing that the atium must have been hidden in another city, since Elend hadn’t found it in Luthadel.

  “Guess not,” Spook said. “And…I think someone’s spreading these rumors intentionally. I’ve been on the street long enough to sense a planted story, and this rumor smells wrong. Someone really wants the warlords to focus on you.”

  Great, Elend thought. “You don’t know where Breeze is, do you?”

  Spook shrugged, but he no longer seemed to be paying attention to Elend. He was watching the sparring. Elend glanced back toward Vin and Ham.

  As Clubs had predicted, the two had fallen into a more serious contest. There was no more instruction; there were no more quick, repetitive exchanges. They sparred in earnest, fighting in a swirling melee of staffs and dust. Ash flew around them, blown up by the wind of their attacks, and even more soldiers paused in the surrounding hallways to watch.

  Elend leaned forward. There was something intense about a duel between two Allomancers. Vin tried an attack. Ham, however, swung simultaneously, his staff blurringly quick. Somehow, Vin got her own weapon up in time, but the power of Ham’s blow threw her back in a tumble. She hit the ground on one shoulder. She gave barely a grunt of pain, however, and somehow got a hand beneath her, throwing herself up to land on her fee
t. She skidded for a moment, retaining her balance, holding her staff up.

  Pewter, Elend thought. It made even a clumsy man dexterous. And, for a person normally graceful like Vin…

  Vin’s eyes narrowed, her innate stubbornness showing in the set of her jaw, the displeasure in her face. She didn’t like being beaten—even when her opponent was obviously stronger than she was.

  Elend stood up straight, intending to suggest an end to the sparring. At that moment, Vin dashed forward.

  Ham brought his staff up expectantly, swinging as Vin came within reach. She ducked to the side, passing within inches of the attack, then brought her weapon around and slammed it into the back of Ham’s staff, throwing him off balance. Then she ducked in for the attack.

  Ham, however, recovered quickly. He let the force of Vin’s blow spin him around, and he used the momentum to bring his staff around in a powerful blow aimed directly at Vin’s chest.

  Elend cried out.

  Vin jumped.

  She didn’t have metal to Push against, but that didn’t seem to matter. She sprang a good seven feet in the air, easily cresting Ham’s staff. She flipped as the swing passed beneath her, her fingers brushing the air just above the weapon, her own staff spinning in a one-handed grip.

  Vin landed, her staff already howling in a low swing, its tip throwing up a line of ash as it ran along the ground. It slammed into the back of Ham’s legs. The blow swept Ham’s feet out from beneath him, and he cried out as he fell.

  Vin jumped into the air again.

  Ham slammed to the earth on his back, and Vin landed on his chest. Then, she calmly rapped him on the forehead with the end of her staff. “I win.”

  Ham lay, looking dazed, Vin crouching on his chest. Dust and ash settled quietly in the courtyard.

  “Damn…” Spook whispered, voicing a sentiment that seemed to be shared by the dozen or so watching soldiers.

  Finally, Ham chuckled. “Fine. You beat me—now, if you would, kindly get me something to drink while I try to massage some feeling back into my legs.”

  Vin smiled, hopping off his chest and scampering away to do as requested. Ham shook his head, climbing to his feet. Despite his words, he walked with barely a limp; he’d probably have a bruise, but it wouldn’t bother him for long. Pewter not only enhanced one’s strength, balance, and speed, it also made one’s body innately stronger. Ham could shrug off a blow that would have shattered Elend’s legs.

  Ham joined them, nodding to Clubs and punching Spook lightly on the arm. Then he leaned against the railing and rubbed his left calf, cringing slightly. “I swear, Elend—sometimes sparring with that girl is like trying to fight with a gust of wind. She’s never where I think she’ll be.”

  “How did she do that, Ham?” Elend asked. “The jump, I mean. That leap seemed inhuman, even for an Allomancer.”

  “Used steel, didn’t she?” Spook said.

  Ham shook his head. “No, I doubt it.”

  “Then how?” Elend asked.

  “Allomancers draw strength from their metals,” Ham said, sighing and putting his foot down. “Some can squeeze out more than others—but the real power comes from the metal itself, not the person’s body.”

  Elend paused. “So?”

  “So,” Ham said, “an Allomancer doesn’t have to be physically strong to be incredibly powerful. If Vin were a Feruchemist, it would be different—if you ever see Sazed increase his strength, his muscles will grow larger. But with Allomancy, all the strength comes directly from the metal.

  “Now, most Thugs—myself included—figure that making their bodies strong will only add to their power. After all, a muscular man burning pewter will be that much stronger than a regular man of the same Allomantic power.”

  Ham rubbed his chin, eyeing the passage Vin had left through. “But…well, I’m beginning to think that there might be another way. Vin’s a thin little thing, but when she burns pewter, she grows several times stronger than any normal warrior. She packs all that strength into a small body, and doesn’t have to bother with the weight of massive muscles. She’s like…an insect. Far stronger than her mass or her body would indicate. So, when she jumps, she can jump.”

  “But you’re still stronger than she is,” Spook said.

  Ham nodded. “And I can make use of that—assuming I can ever hit her. That’s getting harder and harder to do.”

  Vin finally returned, carrying a jug of chilled juice—apparently she’d decided to go all the way to the keep, rather than grabbing some of the warm ale kept on hand in the courtyard. She handed a flagon to Ham, and had thought to bring cups for Elend and Clubs.

  “Hey!” Spook said as she poured. “What about me?”

  “That beard looks silly on you,” Vin said as she poured.

  “So I don’t get anything to drink?”

  “No.”

  Spook paused. “Vin, you’re a strange girl.”

  Vin rolled her eyes; then she glanced toward the water barrel in the corner of the courtyard. One of the tin cups lying beside it lurched into the air, shooting across the courtyard. Vin stuck her hand out, catching it with a slapping sound, then set it on the railing before Spook. “Happy?”

  “I will be once you pour me something to drink,” Spook said as Clubs grunted, taking a slurp from his own cup. The old general then reached over, sliding two of the coins off the railing and pocketing them.

  “Hey, that’s right!” Spook said. “You owe me, El. Pay up.”

  Elend lowered his cup. “I never agreed to the bet.”

  “You paid Uncle Irritable. Why not me?”

  Elend paused, then sighed, pulling out a ten-boxing coin and setting it beside Spook’s. The boy smiled, plucking both up in a smooth street-thief gesture. “Thanks for winning the bout, Vin,” he said with a wink.

  Vin frowned at Elend. “You bet against me?”

  Elend laughed, leaning across the railing to kiss her. “I didn’t mean it. Clubs bullied me.”

  Clubs snorted at that comment, downed the rest of his juice, then held out his cup for a refill. When Vin didn’t respond, he turned to Spook and gave the boy a telling scowl. Finally, Spook sighed, picking up the jug to refill the cup.

  Vin was still regarding Elend with dissatisfaction.

  “I’d be careful, Elend,” Ham said with a chuckle. “She can hit pretty hard….”

  Elend nodded. “I should know better than to antagonize her when there are weapons lying around, eh?”

  “Tell me about it,” Ham said.

  Vin sniffed at that comment, rounding the railing so that she could stand next to Elend. Elend put his arm around her, and as he did, he caught a bare flash of envy in Spook’s eyes. Elend suspected that the boy’d had a crush on Vin for some time—but, well, Elend couldn’t really blame him for that.

  Spook shook his head. “I’ve got to find myself a woman.”

  “Well, that beard isn’t going to help,” Vin said.

  “It’s just a disguise, Vin,” Spook said. “El, I don’t suppose you could give me a title or something?”

  Elend smiled. “I don’t think that will matter, Spook.”

  “It worked for you.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Elend said. “Somehow, I think Vin fell in love with me despite my title, rather than because of it.”

  “But you had others before her,” Spook said. “Noble girls.”

  “A couple,” Elend admitted.

  “Though Vin has a habit of killing off her competition,” Ham quipped.

  Elend laughed. “Now, see, she only did that once. And I think Shan deserved it—she was, after all, trying to assassinate me at the time.” He looked down fondly, eyeing Vin. “Though, I do have to admit, Vin is a bit hard on other women. With her around, everybody else looks bland by comparison.”

  Spook rolled his eyes. “It’s more interesting when she kills them off.”

  Ham chuckled, letting Spook pour him some more juice. “Lord Ruler only knows what she’d do to you
if you ever tried to leave her, Elend.”

  Vin stiffened immediately, pulling him a little tighter. She’d been abandoned far too many times. Even after what they’d been through, even after his proposal of marriage, Elend had to keep promising Vin that he wasn’t going to leave her.

  Time to change the topic, Elend thought, the joviality of the moment fading. “Well,” he said, “I think I’m going to go visit the kitchens and get something to eat. You coming, Vin?”

  Vin glanced at the sky—likely checking to see how soon it would grow dark. Finally, she nodded.

  “I’ll come,” Spook said.

  “No you won’t,” Clubs said, grabbing the boy by the back of the neck. “You’re going to stay right here and explain exactly where you got one of my soldiers’ uniforms.”

  Elend chuckled, leading Vin away. Truth be told, even with the slightly sour end of conversation, he felt better for having come to watch the sparring. It was strange how the members of Kelsier’s crew could laugh and make light, even during the most terrible of situations. They had a way of making him forget about his problems. Perhaps that was a holdover from the Survivor. Kelsier had, apparently, insisted on laughing, no matter how bad the situation. It had been a form of rebellion to him.

  None of that made the problems go away. They still faced an army several times larger than their own, in a city that they could barely defend. Yet, if anyone could survive such a situation, it would be Kelsier’s crew.

  Later that night, having filled her stomach at Elend’s insistence, Vin made her way with Elend to her rooms.

  There, sitting on the floor, was a perfect replica of the wolfhound she had bought earlier. It eyed her, then bowed its head. “Welcome back, Mistress,” the kandra said in a growling, muffled voice.

  Elend whistled appreciatively, and Vin walked in a circle around the creature. Each hair appeared to have been placed perfectly. If it hadn’t spoken, one would never have been able to tell it wasn’t the original dog.

  “How do you manage the voice?” Elend asked curiously.

  “A voice box is a construction of flesh, not bone, Your Majesty,” OreSeur said. “Older kandra learn to manipulate their bodies, not just replicate them. I still need to digest a person’s corpse to memorize and re-create their exact features. However, I can improvise some things.”