The Mistborn Trilogy

by Brandon Sanderson

  “Oh?”

  OreSeur rose, padding forward. “Please get out one of your vials.”

  Vin did as requested, pulling out a small glass vial. OreSeur stopped, then turned one shoulder toward her. As she watched, the fur parted and the flesh itself split, showing forth veins and layers of skin. Vin pulled back a bit.

  “There is no need to be worried, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “My flesh is not like your own. I have more…control over it, you might say. Place the metal vial inside my shoulder.”

  Vin did as asked. The flesh sealed around the vial, obscuring it from view. Experimentally, Vin burned iron. No blue lines appeared pointing toward the hidden vial. Metal inside of a person’s stomach couldn’t be affected by another Allomancer; indeed, metal piercing a body, like Inquisitor spikes or Vin’s own earring, couldn’t be Pushed or Pulled by someone else. Apparently, the same rule applied to metals hidden within a kandra.

  “I will deliver this to you in an emergency,” OreSeur said.

  “Thank you,” Vin said.

  “The Contract, Mistress. Do not give me thanks. I do only what I am required.”

  Vin nodded slowly. “Let’s go back to the palace, then,” she said. “I want to check on Elend.”

  9

  But, let me begin at the beginning. I met Alendi first in Khlennium; he was a young lad then, and had not yet been warped by a decade spent leading armies.

  Marsh had changed. There was something…harder about the former Seeker. Something in the way he always seemed to be staring at things Sazed couldn’t see, something in his blunt responses and terse language.

  Of course, Marsh had always been a straightforward man. Sazed eyed his friend as the two strode down the dusty highway. They had no horses; even if Sazed had possessed one, most beasts wouldn’t go near an Inquisitor.

  What did Spook say that Marsh’s nickname was? Sazed thought to himself as they walked. Before his transformation, they used to call him…Ironeyes. The name that had turned out to be chillingly prophetic. Most of the others found Marsh’s transformed state discomforting, and had left him isolated. Though Marsh hadn’t seemed to mind the treatment, Sazed had made a special effort to befriend the man.

  He still didn’t know if Marsh appreciated the gesture or not. They did seem to get along well; both shared an interest in scholarship and history, and both were interested in the religious climate of the Final Empire.

  And, he did come looking for me, Sazed thought. Of course, he did claim that he wanted help in case the Inquisitors weren’t all gone from the Conventical of Seran. It was a weak excuse. Despite his powers as a Feruchemist, Sazed was no warrior.

  “You should be in Luthadel,” Marsh said.

  Sazed looked up. Marsh had spoken bluntly, as usual, without preamble. “Why do you say that?” Sazed asked.

  “They need you there.”

  “The rest of the Final Empire has need of me too, Marsh. I am a Keeper—one group of people should not be able to monopolize all of my time.”

  Marsh shook his head. “These peasants, they will forget your passing. No one will forget the things that will soon happen in the Central Dominance.”

  “You would be surprised, I think, at what men can forget. Wars and kingdoms may seem important now, but even the Final Empire proved mortal. Now that it has fallen, the Keepers have no business being involved in politics.” Most would say we never had any business being involved in politics at all.

  Marsh turned toward him. Those eyes, sockets filled entirely with steel. Sazed did not shiver, but he felt distinctly uncomfortable.

  “And your friends?” Marsh asked.

  This touched on something more personal. Sazed looked away, thinking of Vin, and of his vow to Kelsier that he would protect her. She needs little protection now, he thought. She’s grown more adept at Allomancy than even Kelsier was. And yet, Sazed knew that there were modes of protection that didn’t relate to fighting. These things—support, counsel, kindness—were vital to every person, and most especially to Vin. So much rested on that poor girl’s shoulders.

  “I have…sent help,” Sazed said. “What help I can.”

  “Not good enough,” Marsh said. “The things happening in Luthadel are too important to ignore.”

  “I am not ignoring them, Marsh,” Sazed said. “I am simply performing my duty as best I can.”

  Marsh finally turned away. “The wrong duty. You will return to Luthadel once we are finished here.”

  Sazed opened his mouth to argue, but said nothing. What was there to say? Marsh was right. Though he had no proof, Sazed knew that there were important things happening in Luthadel—things that would require his aid to fight. Things that likely affected the future of the entire land once known as the Final Empire.

  So, he closed his mouth and trudged after Marsh. He would return to Luthadel, proving himself a rebel once again. Perhaps, in the end, he would realize that there was no ghostly threat facing the world—that he had simply returned because of his own selfish desire to be with his friends.

  In fact, he hoped that proved to be the truth. The alternative made him very uncomfortable.

  10

  Alendi’s height struck me the first time I saw him. Here was a man who towered over others, a man who—despite his youth and his humble clothing—demanded respect.

  The assembly hall was in the former Steel Ministry Canton of Finance headquarters. It was a low-ceilinged space, more of a large lecture room than an assembly hall. There were rows of benches fanning out in front of a raised stage. On the right side of the stage, Elend had constructed a tier of seats for the Assembly members. On the left of the stage, he had constructed a single lectern for speakers.

  The lectern faced the Assemblymen, not the crowd. The common people were, however, encouraged to attend. Elend thought that everyone should be interested in the workings of their government; it pained him that the Assembly’s weekly meetings usually had a small audience.

  Vin’s seat was on the stage, but at the back, directly opposite the audience. From her vantage with the other bodyguards, she would look past the lectern toward the crowd. Another row of Ham’s guards—in regular clothing—sat in the first row of the audience, providing a first line of protection. Elend had balked at Vin’s demands to having guards both in front of the stage and behind it—he thought that bodyguards sitting right behind the speakers would be distracting. Ham and Vin, however, had insisted. If Elend was going to stand up in front of a crowd every week, Vin wanted to be certain she could keep a close eye on him—and on those watching him.

  Getting to her chair, therefore, required Vin to walk across the stage. Stares followed her. Some of the watching crowd were interested in the scandal; they assumed that she was Elend’s mistress, and a king sleeping with his personal assassin made for good gossip. Others were interested in the politics; they wondered how much influence Vin had over Elend, and whether they could use her to get the king’s ear. Still others were curious about the growing legends; they wondered if a girl like Vin could really have slain the Lord Ruler.

  Vin hurried her pace. She passed the Assemblymen and found her seat next to Ham, who—despite the formal occasion—still wore a simple vest with no shirt. Sitting next to him in her trousers and shirt, Vin didn’t feel quite so out of place.

  Ham smiled, clapping her affectionately on the shoulder. She had to force herself not to jump at the touch. It wasn’t that she disliked Ham—quite the opposite, actually. She loved him as she did all of the former members of Kelsier’s band. It was just that…well, she had trouble explaining it, even to herself. Ham’s innocent gesture made her want to squirm. It seemed to her that people shouldn’t be so casual with the way that they touched others.

  She pushed those thoughts away. She had to learn to be like other people. Elend deserved a woman who was normal.

  He was already there. He nodded to Vin as he noticed her arrival, and she smiled. Then he turned back to speaking quietly with Lord Penrod, one o
f the noblemen in the Assembly.

  “Elend will be happy,” Vin whispered. “Place is packed.”

  “They’re worried,” Ham said quietly. “And worried people pay more attention to things like this. Can’t say I’m happy—all these people make our job harder.”

  Vin nodded, scanning the audience. The crowd was a strangely mixed one—a collection of different groups who would never have met together during the days of the Final Empire. A major part were noblemen, of course. Vin frowned, thinking of how often various members of the nobility tried to manipulate Elend, and of the promises he made to them….

  “What’s that look for?” Ham asked, nudging her.

  Vin eyed the Thug. Expectant eyes twinkled in his firm, rectangular face. Ham had an almost supernatural sense when it came to arguments.

  Vin sighed. “I don’t know about this, Ham.”

  “This?”

  “This,” Vin said quietly, waving her hand at the Assembly. “Elend tries so hard to make everyone happy. He gives so much away—his power, his money….”

  “He just wants to see that everyone is treated fairly.”

  “It’s more than that, Ham,” Vin said. “It’s like he’s determined to make everyone a nobleman.”

  “Would that be such a bad thing?”

  “If everyone is a nobleman, then there is no such thing as a nobleman. Everyone can’t be rich, and everyone can’t be in charge. That’s just not the way things work.”

  “Perhaps,” Ham said thoughtfully. “But, doesn’t Elend have a civic duty to try and make sure justice is served?”

  Civic duty? Vin thought. I should have known better than to talk to Ham about something like this….

  Vin looked down. “I just think he could see that everyone was treated well without having an Assembly. All they do is argue and try to take his power away. And he lets them.”

  Ham let the discussion die, and Vin turned back to her study of the audience. It appeared that a large group of mill workers had arrived first and managed to get the best seats. Early in the Assembly’s history—perhaps ten months before—the nobility had sent servants to reserve seats for them, or had bribed people to give up their places. As soon as Elend had discovered this, however, he had forbidden both practices.

  Other than the noblemen and the mill workers, there was a large number of the “new” class. Skaa merchants and craftsmasters, now allowed to set their own prices for their services. They were the true winners in Elend’s economy. Beneath the Lord Ruler’s oppressive hand, only the few most extraordinarily skilled skaa had been able to rise to positions of even moderate comfort. Without those restrictions, these same people had quickly proven to have abilities and acumen far above their noble counterparts’. They represented a faction in the Assembly at least as powerful as that of the nobility.

  Other skaa peppered the crowd. They looked much the same as they had before Elend’s rise to power. While noblemen generally wore suits—complete with dayhats and coats—these skaa wore simple trousers. Some of them were still dirty from their day’s labor, their clothing old, worn, and stained with ash.

  And yet…there was something different about them. It wasn’t in their clothing, but their postures. They sat a little straighter, their heads held a little higher. And they had enough free time to attend an Assembly meeting.

  Elend finally stood to begin the meeting. He had let his attendants dress him this morning, and the result was attire that was almost completely free of dishevelment. His suit fit well, all the buttons were done up, and his vest was of an appropriate dark blue. His hair was even neatly styled, the short, brown curls lying flat.

  Normally, Elend would begin the meeting by calling on other speakers, Assemblymen who would drone on for hours about various topics like taxation rates or city sanitation. However, this day, there were more pressing matters.

  “Gentlemen,” Elend said. “I beg your leave to depart from our usual agenda this afternoon, in the light of our current…state of city affairs.”

  The group of twenty-four Assemblymen nodded, a few muttering things under their breath. Elend ignored them. He was comfortable before crowds, far more comfortable than Vin would ever be. As he unrolled his speech, Vin kept one eye on the crowd, watching for reactions or problems.

  “The dire nature of our situation should be quite obvious,” Elend said, beginning the speech he had prepared earlier. “We face a danger that this city has never known. Invasion and siege from an outside tyrant.

  “We are a new nation, a kingdom founded on principles unknown during the days of the Lord Ruler. Yet, we are already a kingdom of tradition. Freedom for the skaa. Rule by our own choice and of our own design. Noblemen who don’t have to cower before the Lord Ruler’s obligators and Inquisitors.

  “Gentlemen, one year is not enough. We have tasted freedom, and we need time to savor it. During the last month, we have frequently discussed and argued regarding what to do should this day arrive. Obviously, we are of many minds on the issue. Therefore, I ask for a vote of solidarity. Let us promise ourselves, and these people, that we will not give this city over to a foreign power without due consideration. Let us resolve to gather more information, to seek for other avenues, and even to fight should it be deemed necessary.”

  The speech went on, but Vin had heard it a dozen times as Elend practiced it. As he spoke, she found herself eying the crowd. She was most worried about the obligators she saw sitting in the back. They showed little reaction to the negative light in which Elend’s remarks cast them.

  She’d never understood why Elend allowed the Steel Ministry to continue teaching. It was the last real remnant of the Lord Ruler’s power. Most obligators obstinately refused to lend their knowledge of bureaucracy and administration to Elend’s government, and they still regarded skaa with contempt.

  And yet, Elend let them remain. He maintained a strict rule that they were not allowed to incite rebellion or violence. However, he also didn’t eject them from the city, as Vin had suggested. Actually, if the choice had been solely hers, she probably would have executed them.

  Eventually, Elend’s speech drew to a close, and Vin turned her attention back to him. “Gentlemen,” he said, “I make this proposal out of faith, and I make it in the names of those we represent. I ask for time. I propose that we forgo all votes regarding the future of the city until a proper royal delegation has been allowed to meet with the army outside and determine what, if any, opportunity there is for negotiations.”

  He lowered his sheet, looking up, waiting for comments.

  “So,” said Philen, one of the merchants on the Assembly. “You’re asking us to give you the power to decide the city’s fate.” Philen wore his rich suit so well that an observer would never have known that he’d first put one on about a year ago.

  “What?” Elend asked. “I said nothing of the sort—I’m simply asking for more time. To meet with Straff.”

  “He’s rejected all of our earlier messages,” said another Assemblyman. “What makes you think he’ll listen now?”

  “We’re approaching this wrong!” said one of the noble representatives. “We should be resolving to beg Straff Venture not to attack, not resolving to meet with him and chat. We need to establish quickly that we’re willing to work with him. You’ve all seen that army. He’s planning to destroy us!”

  “Please,” Elend said, raising a hand. “Let us stay on topic!”

  One of the other Assemblymen—one of the skaa—spoke up, as if he hadn’t heard Elend. “You say that because you’re noble,” he said, pointing at the noble Elend had interrupted. “It’s easy for you to talk about working with Straff, since you’ve got very little to lose!”

  “Very little to lose?” the nobleman said. “I and all of my house could be executed for supporting Elend against his father!”

  “Bah,” said one of the merchants. “This is all pointless. We should have hired mercenaries months ago, as I’d suggested.”

  “And whe
re would we have gotten the funds for that?” asked Lord Penrod, senior of the noble Assemblymen.

  “Taxes,” the merchant said with a wave of his hand.

  “Gentlemen!” Elend said; then, louder, “Gentlemen!”

  This garnered him some small measure of attention.

  “We have to make a decision,” Elend said. “Stay focused, if you please. What of my proposal?”

  “It’s pointless,” said Philen the merchant. “Why should we wait? Let’s just invite Straff into the city and be done. He’s going to take it anyway.”

  Vin sat back as the men began to argue again. The problem was, the merchant Philen—as little as she liked him—had a point. Fighting was looking like a very unattractive option. Straff had such a large army. Would stalling really do that much good?

  “Look, see,” Elend said, trying to get their attention again—and only partially succeeding. “Straff is my father. Maybe I could talk to him. Get him to listen? Luthadel was his home for years. Perhaps I can convince him not to attack it.”

  “Wait,” said one of the skaa representatives. “What of the food issue? Have you seen what the merchants are charging for grain? Before we worry about that army, we should talk about bringing prices down.”

  “Always blaming us for your problems,” one of the merchant Assemblymen said, pointing. And the squabbling began again. Elend slumped just slightly behind the lectern. Vin shook her head, feeling sorry for Elend as the discussion degenerated. This was what often happened at Assembly meetings; it seemed to her that they simply didn’t give Elend the respect he deserved. Perhaps that was his own fault, for elevating them to his near equals.

  Finally, the discussion wound down, and Elend got out a piece of paper, obviously planning to record the vote on his proposal. He did not look optimistic.

  “All right,” Elend said. “Let’s vote. Please remember—giving me time will not play our hand. It will simply give me a chance to try and make my father reconsider his desire to take our city away from us.”