“Perhaps later,” Vin said, opening her eyes. Out beyond the city, watchfires from the armies lit the horizon. Keep Venture blazed in the night to her right, and inside of it, Elend was holding council with the others. Many of the most important men in the government, sitting together in one room. Elend would call her paranoid for insisting that she be the one who watched for spies and assassins. That was fine; he could call her whatever he wanted, as long as he stayed alive.
She settled back down. She was glad Elend had decided to pick Keep Venture as his palace, rather than moving into Kredik Shaw, the Lord Ruler’s home. Not only was Kredik Shaw too big to be properly defended, but it also reminded her of him. The Lord Ruler.
She thought of the Lord Ruler often, lately—or, rather, she thought of Rashek, the man who had become the Lord Ruler. A Terrisman by birth, Rashek had killed the man who should have taken the power at the Well of Ascension and…
And done what? They still didn’t know. The Hero had been on a quest to protect the people from a danger simply known as the Deepness. So much had been lost; so much had been intentionally destroyed. Their best source of information about those days came in the form of an aged journal, written by the Hero of Ages during the days before Rashek had killed him. However, it gave precious few clues about his quest.
Why do I even worry about these things? Vin thought. The Deepness is a thing a thousand years forgotten. Elend and the others are right to be concerned about more pressing events.
And still, Vin found herself strangely detached from them. Perhaps that was why she found herself scouting outside. It wasn’t that she didn’t worry about the armies. She just felt…removed from the problem. Even now, as she considered the threat to Luthadel, her mind was drawn back to the Lord Ruler.
You don’t know what I do for mankind, he had said. I was your god, even if you couldn’t see it. By killing me, you have doomed yourselves. Those were the Lord Ruler’s last words, spoken as he lay dying on the floor of his own throne room. They worried her. Chilled her, even still.
She needed to distract herself. “What kinds of things do you like, kandra?” she asked, turning to the creature, who still sat on the rooftop beside her. “What are your loves, your hatreds?”
“I do not want to answer that.”
Vin frowned. “Do not want to, or do not have to?”
OreSeur paused. “Do not want to, Mistress.” The implication was obvious. You’re going to have to command me.
She almost did. However, something gave her pause, something in those eyes—inhuman though they were. Something familiar.
She’d known resentment like that. She’d felt it often during her youth, when she’d served crewleaders who had lorded over their followers. In the crews, one did what one was commanded—especially if one was a small waif of a girl, without rank or means of intimidation.
“If you don’t wish to speak of it,” Vin said, turning away from the kandra, “then I won’t force you.”
OreSeur was silent.
Vin breathed in the mist, its cool wetness tickling her throat and lungs. “Do you know what I love, kandra?”
“No, Mistress.”
“The mists,” she said, holding out her arms. “The power, the freedom.”
OreSeur nodded slowly. Nearby, Vin felt a faint pulsing with her bronze. Quiet, strange, unnerving. It was the same odd pulsing that she had felt atop Keep Venture a few nights before. She had never been brave enough to investigate it again.
It’s time to do something about that, she decided. “Do you know what I hate, kandra?” she whispered, falling to a crouch, checking her knives and metals.
“No, Mistress.”
She turned, meeting OreSeur’s eyes. “I hate being afraid.”
She knew that others thought her jumpy. Paranoid. She had lived with fear for so long that she had once seen it as something natural, like the ash, the sun, or the ground itself.
Kelsier had taken that fear away. She was careful, still, but she didn’t feel a constant sense of terror. The Survivor had given her a life where the ones she loved didn’t beat her, had shown her something better than fear. Trust. Now that she knew of these things, she would not quickly surrender them. Not to armies, not to assassins…
Not even to spirits.
“Follow if you can,” she whispered, then dropped off the rooftop to the street below.
She dashed along the mist-slicked street, building momentum before she had time to lose her nerve. The source of the bronze pulses was close; it came from only one street over, in a building. Not the top, she decided. One of the darkened windows on the third floor, the shutters open.
Vin dropped a coin and jumped into the air. She shot upward, angling herself by Pushing against a latch across the street. She landed in the window’s pitlike opening, arms grabbing the sides of the frame. She flared tin, letting her eyes adjust to the deep darkness within the abandoned room.
And it was there. Formed entirely of mists, it shifted and spun, its outline vague in the dark chamber. It had a vantage to see the rooftop where Vin and OreSeur had been talking.
Ghosts don’t spy on people…do they? Skaa didn’t speak of things like spirits or the dead. It smacked too much of religion, and religion was for the nobility. To worship was death for skaa. That hadn’t stopped some, of course—but thieves like Vin had been too pragmatic for such things.
There was only one thing in skaa lore that this creature matched. Mistwraiths. Creatures said to steal the souls of men foolish enough to go outside at night. But, Vin now knew what mistwraiths were. They were cousins to the kandra—strange, semi-intelligent beasts who used the bones of those they ingested. They were odd, true—but hardly phantoms, and not really even that dangerous. There were no dark wraiths in the night, no haunting spirits or ghouls.
Or so Kelsier had said. The thing standing in the dark room—its insubstantial form writhing in the mists—seemed a powerful counterexample. She gripped the sides of the window, fear—her old friend—returning.
Run. Flee. Hide.
“Why have you been watching me?” she demanded.
The thing did not move. Its form seemed to draw the mists forward, and they spun slightly, as if in an air current.
I can sense it with bronze. That means it’s using Allomancy—and Allomancy attracts the mist.
The thing stepped forward. Vin tensed.
And then the spirit was gone.
Vin paused, frowning. That was it? She had—
Something grabbed her arm. Something cold, something terrible, but something very real. A pain shot through her head, moving as if from her ear and into her mind. She yelled, but cut off as her voice failed. With a quiet groan—her arm quivering and shaking—she fell backward out of the window.
Her arm was still cold. She could feel it whipping in the air beside her, seeming to exude chill air. Mist passed like trailing clouds.
Vin flared tin. Pain, cold, wetness, and lucidity burst into her mind, and she threw herself into a twist and flared pewter just as she hit the ground.
“Mistress?” OreSeur said, darting from the shadows.
Vin shook her head, pushing herself up to her knees, her palms cool against the slick cobblestones. She could still feel the trailing chill in her left arm.
“Shall I go for aid?” the wolfhound asked.
Vin shook her head, forcing herself into a wobbling stand. She looked upward, through swirling mists, toward the black window above.
She shivered. Her shoulder was sore from where she had hit the ground, and her still bruised side throbbed, but she could feel her strength returning. She stepped away from the building, still looking up. Above her, the deep mists seemed…ominous. Obscuring.
No, she thought forcefully. The mists are my freedom; the night is my home! This is where I belong. I haven’t needed to be afraid in the night since Kelsier taught me otherwise.
She couldn’t lose that. She wouldn’t go back to the fear. Still, she couldn’t hel
p the quick urgency in her step as she waved to OreSeur and scampered away from the building. She gave no explanation for her strange actions.
He didn’t ask for one.
Elend set a third pile of books onto the table, and it slumped against the other two, threatening to topple the entire lot to the floor. He steadied them, then glanced up.
Breeze, in a prim suit, regarded the table with amusement as he sipped his wine. Ham and Spook were playing a game of stones as they waited for the meeting to begin; Spook was winning. Dockson sat in the corner of the room, scribbling on a ledger, and Clubs sat in a deep plush chair, eyeing Elend with one of his stares.
Any of these men could be an impostor, Elend thought. The thought still seemed insane to him. What was he to do? Exclude them all from his confidence? No, he needed them too much.
The only option was to act normally and watch them. Vin had told him to try and spot inconsistencies in their personalities. He intended to do his best, but the reality was he wasn’t sure how much he would be able to see. This was more Vin’s area of expertise. He needed to worry about the armies.
Thinking of her, he glanced at the stained-glass window at the back of the study, and was surprised to see it was dark.
That late already? Elend thought.
“My dear man,” Breeze noted. “When you told us you needed to ‘go and gather a few important references,’ you might have warned us that you were planning to be gone for two full hours.”
“Yes, well,” Elend said, “I kind of lost track of time….”
“For two hours?”
Elend nodded sheepishly. “There were books involved.”
Breeze shook his head. “If the fate of the Central Dominance weren’t at stake—and if it weren’t so fantastically enjoyable to watch Hammond lose an entire month’s earnings to the boy there—I’d have left an hour ago.”
“Yes, well, we can get started now,” Elend said.
Ham chuckled, standing up. “Actually, it’s kind of like the old days. Kell always arrived late, too—and he liked to hold his meetings at night. Mistborn hours.”
Spook smiled, his coin pouch bulging.
We still use boxings—Lord Ruler imperials—as our coinage, Elend thought. We’ll have to do something about that.
“I miss the charcoal board, though,” Spook said.
“I certainly don’t,” Breeze replied. “Kell had atrocious handwriting.”
“Absolutely atrocious,” Ham said with a smile, sitting. “You have to admit, though—it was distinctive.”
Breeze raised an eyebrow. “It was that, I suppose.”
Kelsier, the Survivor of Hathsin, Elend thought. Even his handwriting is legendary. “Regardless,” he said, “I think perhaps we should get to work. We’ve still got two armies waiting out there. We’re not leaving tonight until we have a plan to deal with them!”
The crewmembers shared looks.
“Actually, Your Majesty,” Dockson said, “we’ve already worked on that problem for a bit.”
“Oh?” Elend asked, surprised. Well, I guess I did leave them alone for a couple of hours. “Let me hear it, then.”
Dockson stood, pulling his chair a bit closer to join the rest of the group, and Ham began to speak.
“Here’s the thing, El,” Ham said. “With two armies here, we don’t have to worry about an immediate attack. But, we’re still in serious danger. This will probably turn into an extended siege as each army tries to outlast the other.”
“They’ll try to starve us out,” Clubs said. “Weaken us, and their enemies, before attacking.”
“And,” Ham continued, “that puts us in a bind—because we can’t last very long. The city is already on the edge of starvation—and the enemy kings are probably aware of that fact.”
“What are you saying?” Elend asked slowly.
“We have to make an alliance with one of those armies, Your Majesty,” Dockson said. “They both know it. Alone, they can’t reliably defeat one another. With our help, however, the balance will be tipped.”
“They’ll hem us in,” Ham said. “Keep us blockaded until we get desperate enough to side with one of them. Eventually, we’ll have to do so—either that, or let our people starve.”
“The decision comes down to this,” Breeze said. “We can’t outlast the others, so we have to choose which of those men we want to take over the city. And, I would suggest making our decision quickly as opposed to waiting while our supplies run out.”
Elend stood quietly. “By making a deal with one of those armies, we’ll essentially be giving away our kingdom.”
“True,” Breeze said, tapping the side of his cup. “However, what I gained us by bringing a second army is bargaining power. You see, at least we are in a position to demand something in exchange for our kingdom.”
“What good is that?” Elend asked. “We still lose.”
“It’s better than nothing,” Breeze said. “I think that we might be able to persuade Cett to leave you as a provisional leader in Luthadel. He doesn’t like the Central Dominance; he finds it barren and flat.”
“Provisional leader of the city,” Elend said with a frown. “That is somewhat different from king of the Central Dominance.”
“True,” Dockson said. “But, every emperor needs good men to administrate the cities under their rule. You wouldn’t be king, but you—and our armies—would live through the next few months, and Luthadel wouldn’t be pillaged.”
Ham, Breeze, and Dockson all sat resolutely, looking him in the eye. Elend glanced down at his pile of books, thinking of his research and study. Worthless. How long had the crew known that there was only one course of action?
The crew seemed to take Elend’s silence as assent.
“Cett really is the best choice, then?” Dockson asked. “Perhaps Straff would be more likely to make an agreement with Elend—they are, after all, family.”
Oh, he’d make an agreement, Elend thought. And he’d break it the moment it was convenient. But…the alternative? Give the city over to this Cett? What would happen to this land, this people, if he were in charge?
“Cett is best, I think,” Breeze said. “He is very willing to let others rule, as long as he gets his glory and his coins. The problem is going to be that atium. Cett thinks it is here, and if he doesn’t find it…”
“We just let him search the city,” Ham said.
Breeze nodded. “You’d have to persuade him that I misled him about the atium—and that shouldn’t be too hard, considering what he thinks of me. Which is another small matter—you’ll have to convince him that I’ve been dealt with. Perhaps he’d believe that I was executed as soon as Elend found out I had raised an army against him.”
The others nodded.
“Breeze?” Elend asked. “How does Lord Cett treat the skaa in his lands?”
Breeze paused, then glanced away. “Not well, I’m afraid.”
“Now, see,” Elend said. “I think we need to consider how to best protect our people. I mean, if we give everything over to Cett, then we’d save my skin—but at the cost of the entire skaa population of the dominance!”
Dockson shook his head. “Elend, it’s not a betrayal. Not if this is the only way.”
“That’s easy to say,” Elend said. “But I’m the one who’d have to bear the guilty conscience for doing such a thing. I’m not saying that we should throw out your suggestion, but I do have a few ideas that we might talk about….”
The others shared looks. As usual, Clubs and Spook remained quiet during proceedings; Clubs only spoke when he felt it absolutely necessary, and Spook tended to stay on the periphery of the conversations. Finally, Breeze, Ham, and Dockson looked back at Elend.
“This is your country, Your Majesty,” Dockson said carefully. “We’re simply here to give advice.” Very good advice, his tone implied.
“Yes, well,” Elend said, quickly selecting a book. In his haste, he knocked over one of the stacks, sending a clatter of books
across the table and landing a volume in Breeze’s lap.
“Sorry,” Elend said, as Breeze rolled his eyes and sat the book back up on the table. Elend pulled open his own book. “Now, this volume had some very interesting things to say about the movement and arrangement of troop bodies—”
“Uh, El?” Ham asked, frowning. “That looks like a book on shipping grain.”
“I know,” Elend said. “There weren’t a lot of books about warfare in the library. I guess that’s what we get for a thousand years without any wars. However, this book does mention how much grain it took to keep the various garrisons in the Final Empire stocked. Do you have any idea how much food an army needs?”
“You have a point,” Clubs said, nodding. “Usually, it’s a blasted pain to keep soldiers fed; we often had supply problems fighting on the frontier, and we were only small bands, sent to quell the occasional rebellion.”
Elend nodded. Clubs didn’t often speak of his past fighting in the Lord Ruler’s army—and the crew didn’t often ask him about it.
“Anyway,” Elend said, “I’ll bet both Cett and my father are unaccustomed to moving large bodies of men. There will be supply problems, especially for Cett, since he marched so hastily.”
“Maybe not,” Clubs said. “Both armies have secured canal routes into Luthadel. That will make it easy for them to send for more supplies.”
“Plus,” Breeze added, “though much of Cett’s land is in revolt right now, he does still hold the city of Haverfrex, which held one of the Lord Ruler’s main canneries. Cett has a remarkable amount of food a short canal trip away.”
“Then, we disrupt the canals,” Elend said. “We find a way to stop those supplies from coming. Canals make resupply quick, but also vulnerable, since we know exactly which route it will take. And, if we can take away their food, perhaps they’ll be forced to turn around and march home.”
“Either that,” Breeze said, “or they’ll just decide to risk attacking Luthadel.”
Elend paused. “That’s a possibility,” he said. “But, well, I’ve been researching how to hold the city as well.” He reached across the table, picking up a book. “Now, this is Jendellah’s City Management in the Modern Era. He mentions how difficult Luthadel is to police because of its extreme size and large number of skaa slums. He suggests using roving bands of city watchmen. I think we could adapt his methods to use in a battle—our wall is too long to defend in detail, but if we had mobile bands of troops that could respond to—”
The Mistborn Trilogy Page 85
