The Mistborn Trilogy

by Brandon Sanderson

  “I don’t understand you,” she repeated quietly. “You should be a leader among our people, Sazed. Not our greatest rebel and dissident. Everyone wants to look up to you—but they can’t. Must you defy every order you are given?”

  He smiled wanly, but did not answer.

  Tindwyl sighed, rising. She walked toward the door, but paused, taking his hand as she passed. She looked into his eyes for a moment; then he removed the hand.

  She shook her head and left.

  24

  He commanded kings, and though he sought no empire, he became greater than all who had come before.

  Something is going on, Vin thought, sitting in the mists atop Keep Venture.

  Sazed was not prone to exaggeration. He was meticulous—that much showed in his mannerisms, his cleanliness, and even the way he spoke. And, he was even more meticulous when it came to his studies. Vin was inclined to believe his discoveries.

  And she’d certainly seen things in the mists. Dangerous things. Could the mist spirit explain the deaths Sazed had encountered? But, if that’s the case, why didn’t Sazed speak of figures in the mist?

  She sighed, closing her eyes and burning bronze. She could hear the spirit, watching nearby. And, she could hear it again as well, the strange thumping in the distance. She opened her eyes, leaving her bronze on, and quietly unfolded something from her pocket: a sheet from the logbook. By the light from Elend’s balcony below, and with tin, she could easily read the words.

  I sleep but a few hours each night. We must press forward, traveling as much as we can each day—but when I finally lie down, I find sleep elusive. The same thoughts that trouble me during the day are only compounded by the stillness of night.

  And, above it all, I hear the thumping sounds from above, the pulsings from the mountains. Drawing me closer with each beat.

  She shivered. She had asked one of Elend’s seekers to burn bronze, and he had claimed to hear nothing from the north. Either he was the kandra, lying to her about his ability to burn bronze, or Vin could hear a rhythm that nobody else could. Nobody except a man a thousand years dead.

  A man everyone had assumed was the Hero of Ages.

  You’re being silly, she told herself, refolding the paper. Jumping to conclusions. To her side, OreSeur rustled, lying quietly and staring out over the city.

  And yet, she kept thinking of Sazed’s words. Something was happening with the mists. Something was wrong.

  Zane didn’t find her atop Keep Hasting.

  He stopped in the mists, standing quietly. He’d expected to find her waiting, for this was the place of their last fight. Even thinking of the event made him tense with anticipation.

  During the months of sparring, they had always met again at the place where he’d eventually lost her. Yet, he’d returned to this location on several nights, and had never found her. He frowned, thinking of Straff’s orders, and of necessity.

  Eventually, he would likely be ordered to kill this girl. He wasn’t certain what bothered him more—his growing reluctance to consider such an act, or his growing worry that he might not actually be able to beat her.

  She could be it, he thought. The thing that finally lets me resist. The thing that convinces me to just…leave.

  He couldn’t explain why he needed a reason. Part of him simply ascribed it to his insanity, though the rational part of him felt that was a weak excuse. Deep down, he admitted that Straff was all he had ever known. Zane wouldn’t be able to leave until he knew he had someone else to rely on.

  He turned away from Keep Hasting. He’d had enough of waiting; it was time to seek her out. Zane threw a coin, bounding across the city for a time. And, sure enough, there she was: sitting atop Keep Venture, watching over his foolish brother.

  Zane rounded the keep, keeping far enough away that even tin-enhanced eyes wouldn’t see him. He landed on the back of the keep’s roof, then walked forward quietly. He approached, watching her sit on the edge of the roof. The air was silent.

  Finally, she turned around, jumping slightly. He swore that she could sense him when she shouldn’t be able to.

  Either way, he was discovered.

  “Zane,” Vin said flatly, easily identifying the silhouette. He wore his customary black on black, with no mistcloak.

  “I’ve been waiting,” he said quietly. “Atop Keep Hasting. Hoping you’d come.”

  She sighed, careful to keep an eye on him, but relaxing slightly. “I’m not really in the mood for sparring right now.”

  He watched her. “Pity,” he finally said. He walked over, prompting Vin to rise cautiously to her feet. He paused beside the lip of the rooftop, looking down at Elend’s lit balcony.

  Vin glanced at OreSeur. He was tense, alternately watching her and Zane.

  “You’re so worried about him,” Zane said quietly.

  “Elend?” Vin asked.

  Zane nodded. “Even though he uses you.”

  “We’ve had this discussion, Zane. He isn’t using me.”

  Zane looked up at her, meeting her eyes, standing straight-backed and confident in the night.

  He’s so strong, she thought. So sure of himself. So different from…

  She stopped herself.

  Zane turned away. “Tell me, Vin,” he said, “when you were younger, did you ever wish for power?”

  Vin cocked her head, frowning at the strange question. “What do you mean?”

  “You grew up on the streets,” Zane said. “When you were younger, did you wish for power? Did you dream of having the ability to free yourself, to kill those who brutalized you?”

  “Of course I did,” Vin said.

  “And now you have that power,” Zane said. “What would the child Vin say if she could see you? A Mistborn who is bent and bowed by the weight of another’s will? Powerful, yet somehow still subservient?”

  “I’m a different person now, Zane,” Vin said. “I’d like to think that I’ve learned things since I was a child.”

  “I’ve found that a child’s instincts are often the most honest,” Zane said. “The most natural.”

  Vin didn’t respond.

  Zane turned quietly, looking out over the city, seemingly unconcerned that he was exposing his back to her. Vin eyed him, then dropped a coin. It plinked against the metal rooftop, and he immediately glanced back toward her.

  No, she thought, he doesn’t trust me.

  He turned away again, and Vin watched him. She did understand what he meant, for she had once thought as he did. Idly, she wondered what kind of person she might have become if she’d gained full access to her powers without—at the same time—learning of friendship and trust from Kelsier’s crew.

  “What would you do, Vin?” Zane asked, turning back toward her. “Assuming you didn’t have any constraints—assuming there were no repercussions for your actions?”

  Go north. The thought was immediate. Find out what is causing that thumping. She didn’t say it, however. “I don’t know,” she said instead.

  He turned, eyeing her. “You aren’t taking me seriously, I see. I apologize for wasting your time.”

  He turned to go, walking directly between her and OreSeur. Vin watched him, and felt a sudden stab of concern. He’d come to her, willing to talk rather than just fight—and she’d wasted the opportunity. She was never going to turn him to her side if she didn’t talk to him.

  “You want to know what I’d do?” she asked, her voice ringing in the silent mists.

  Zane paused.

  “If I could just use my power as I wanted?” Vin asked. “No repercussions? I’d protect him.”

  “Your king?” Zane asked, turning.

  Vin nodded sharply. “These men who brought armies against him—your master, this man named Cett. I’d kill them. I’d use my power to make certain that nobody could threaten Elend.”

  Zane nodded quietly, and she saw respect in his eyes. “And why don’t you?”

  “Because…”

  “I see the con
fusion in your eyes,” Zane said. “You know that your instincts to kill those men are right—yet you hold back. Because of him.”

  “There would be repercussions, Zane,” Vin said. “If I killed those men, their armies might just attack. Right now, diplomacy could still work.”

  “Perhaps,” Zane said. “Until he asks you to go kill someone for him.”

  Vin snorted. “Elend doesn’t work that way. He doesn’t give me orders, and the only people I kill are the ones who try to kill him first.”

  “Oh?” Zane said. “You may not act at his order, Vin, but you certainly refrain from action at it. You are his toy. I don’t say this to insult you—you see, I’m as much a toy as you are. Neither of us can break free. Not alone.”

  Suddenly, the coin Vin had dropped snapped into the air, flying toward Zane. She tensed, but it simply streaked into Zane’s waiting hand.

  “It’s interesting,” he said, turning the coin in his fingers. “Many Mistborn stop seeing the value in coins. To us, they simply become something to be used for jumping. It’s easy to forget the value of something when you use it so often. When it becomes commonplace and convenient to you. When it becomes…just a tool.”

  He flipped the coin up, then shot it out into the night. “I must go,” he said, turning.

  Vin raised a hand. Seeing him use Allomancy made her realize that there was another reason she wanted to speak with him. It had been so long since she’d talked with another Mistborn, one who understood her powers. Someone like her.

  But, it seemed to her that she was too desperate for him to stay. So she let him go, and returned to her vigil.

  25

  He fathered no children, yet all of the land became his progeny.

  Vin was a very light sleeper—a heritage from her youth. Thieving crews worked together out of necessity, and any man who couldn’t guard his own possessions was considered to be unworthy of them. Vin, of course, had been at the very bottom of the hierarchy—and while she hadn’t had many possessions to protect, being a young girl in a primarily male environment gave her other reasons to be a light sleeper.

  So it was that when she awoke to a quiet bark of warning, she reacted without thinking. She tossed off her covers, reaching immediately for the vial on her bedstand. She didn’t sleep with metals inside of her; many of the Allomantic metals were, to some small extent, poisonous. It was unavoidable that she’d have to deal with some of that danger, but she had been warned to burn away excess metals at the end of each day.

  She downed this vial even as she reached for the obsidian daggers hidden beneath her pillow. The door to her sleeping chamber swung open, and Tindwyl walked in. The Terriswoman froze in midstep as she saw Vin crouching on the bed’s footboard a few feet away, twin daggers glistening, body tense.

  Tindwyl raised an eyebrow. “So you are awake.”

  “Now.”

  The Terriswoman smiled.

  “What are you doing in my rooms?” Vin demanded.

  “I came to wake you. I thought we might go shopping.”

  “Shopping?”

  “Yes, dear,” Tindwyl said, walking over to pull open the curtains. It was far earlier in the day than Vin usually rose. “From what I hear, you’re going to meet with His Majesty’s father on the morrow. You’ll want a suitable dress for the occasion, I assume?”

  “I don’t wear dresses anymore.” What is your game?

  Tindwyl turned, eyeing Vin. “You sleep in your clothing?”

  Vin nodded.

  “You don’t keep any ladies-in-waiting?”

  Vin shook her head.

  “Very well, then,” Tindwyl said, turning to walk from the room. “Bathe and change. We’ll leave when you’re ready.”

  “I don’t take commands from you.”

  Tindwyl paused by the door, turning. Then her face softened. “I know you don’t, child. You may come with me if you wish—the choice is yours. However, do you really want to meet with Straff Venture in trousers and a shirt?”

  Vin hesitated.

  “At least come browse,” Tindwyl said. “It will help take your mind off things.”

  Finally, Vin nodded. Tindwyl smiled again, then left.

  Vin glanced at OreSeur, who sat beside her bed. “Thanks for the warning.”

  The kandra shrugged.

  Once, Vin wouldn’t have been able to imagine living in a place like Keep Venture. The young Vin had been accustomed to hidden lairs, skaa hovels, and the occasional alley. Now she lived in a building bespeckled with stained glass, bounded by mighty walls and grand archways.

  Of course, Vin thought as she left the stairwell, many things have happened that I didn’t expect. Why think about them now?

  Her youth in the thieving crews had been much on her mind of late, and Zane’s comments—ridiculous though they were—itched in her mind. Did Vin belong in a place like this keep? She had a great many skills, but few of them were beautiful hallway kinds of skills. They were more…ash-stained alleyway kinds of skills.

  She sighed, OreSeur at her side as she made her way to the southern entryway, where Tindwyl said she’d be waiting. The hallway here grew wide and grand, and opened directly into the courtyard. Usually, coaches came right up into the entryway to pick up their occupants—that way the noblemen wouldn’t be exposed to the elements.

  As she approached, her tin let her hear voices. One was Tindwyl, the other…

  “I didn’t bring much,” Allrianne said. “A couple hundred boxings. But I do so need something to wear. I can’t survive on borrowed gowns forever!”

  Vin paused as she turned into the last part of the hallway.

  “The king’s gift will surely be enough to pay for a dress, dear,” Tindwyl said, noticing Vin. “Ah, here she is.”

  A sullen-looking Spook stood with the two women. He had on his palace guard’s uniform, though he wore the jacket undone and the trousers loose. Vin walked forward slowly. “I wasn’t expecting company,” she said.

  “Young Allrianne was trained as a courtly noblewoman,” Tindwyl said. “She will know the current fashions, and will be able to advise on your purchases.”

  “And Spook?”

  Tindwyl turned, eyeing the boy. “Packman.”

  Well, that explains his mood, Vin thought.

  “Come,” Tindwyl said, walking toward the courtyard. Allrianne followed quickly, walking with a light, graceful step. Vin glanced at Spook, who shrugged, and they followed as well.

  “How did you get pulled into this?” Vin whispered to Spook.

  “Was up too early, sneaking food,” Spook grumbled. “Miss Imposing there noticed me, smiled like a wolfhound, and said, ‘We’ll be needing your services this afternoon, young man.’”

  Vin nodded. “Stay alert and keep your tin burning. Remember, we’re at war.”

  Spook obediently did what she said. Standing close to him as she was, Vin easily picked up and identified his tin’s Allomantic pulses—meaning he wasn’t the spy.

  Another one off the list, Vin thought. At least this trip won’t be a total waste.

  A coach waited for them by the front keep gates. Spook climbed up beside the coachman, and the women piled into the back. Vin sat down inside, and OreSeur climbed in and took the seat next to her. Allrianne and Tindwyl sat across from her, and Allrianne eyed OreSeur with a frown, wrinkling her nose. “Does the animal have to sit on the seats with us?”

  “Yes,” Vin said as the carriage started moving.

  Allrianne obviously expected more of an explanation, but Vin didn’t give one. Finally, Allrianne turned to look out the window. “Are you sure we’ll be safe, traveling with only one manservant, Tindwyl?”

  Tindwyl eyed Vin. “Oh, I think that we’ll be all right.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Allrianne said, looking back at Vin. “You’re an Allomancer! Are the things they say true?”

  “What things?” Vin asked quietly.

  “Well, they say you killed the Lord Ruler, for one. And that you�
�re kind of…um…well.” Allrianne bit her lip. “Well, just a little bit rickety.”

  “Rickety?”

  “And dangerous,” Allrianne said. “But, well, that can’t be true. I mean, you’re going shopping with us, right?”

  Is she trying to provoke me on purpose?

  “Do you always wear clothing like that?” Allrianne asked.

  Vin was in her standard gray trousers and tan shirt. “It’s easy to fight in.”

  “Yes, but…well.” Allrianne smiled. “I guess that’s why we’re here today, right, Tindwyl?”

  “Yes, dear,” Tindwyl said. She’d been studying Vin through the entire conversation.

  Like what you see? Vin thought. What is it you want?

  “You have to be the strangest noblewoman I’ve ever met,” Allrianne declared. “Did you grow up far from court? I did, but my mother was quite certain to train me well. Of course, she was just trying to make me into a good catch so Father could auction me off to make an alliance.”

  Allrianne smiled. It had been a while since Vin had been forced to deal with women like her. She remembered hours spent at court, smiling, pretending to be Valette Renoux. Often when she thought of those days, she remembered the bad things. The spite she’d faced from court members, her own lack of comfort in the role.

  But, there had also been good things. Elend was one. She would never have met him if she hadn’t been pretending to be a noblewoman. And the balls—with their colors, their music, and their gowns—had held a certain transfixing charm. The graceful dancing, the careful interactions, the perfectly decorated rooms…

  Those things are gone now, she told herself. We don’t have time for silly balls and gatherings, not when the dominance is on the verge of collapse.

  Tindwyl was still watching her.

  “Well?” Allrianne asked.