The Mistborn Trilogy

by Brandon Sanderson

  “So,” Noorden said, “Lord Cett wanted to appear unconnected to Luthadel—the beard and the attitude only serving to reinforce that impression. Yet, he always had a very quiet hand in things here.”

  Elend nodded. “Maybe he realized that you can’t avoid politics by pretending you’re not part of them. There’s no way he would have been able to grab as much power as he did without some solid political connections.”

  “So, what does this tell us?” Sazed asked.

  “That Cett is far more accomplished at the game than he wants people to believe,” Elend said, standing, then stepping over a pile of books as he made his way back to his chair. “But, I think that much was obvious by the way he manipulated me and the Assembly yesterday.”

  Noorden chuckled. “You should have seen the way you all looked, Your Majesty. When Cett revealed himself, a few of the noble Assemblymen actually jumped in their seats! I think the rest of you were too shocked to—”

  “Noorden?” Elend said.

  “Yes, Your Majesty?”

  “Please focus on the task at hand.”

  “Um, yes, Your Majesty.”

  “Sazed?” Elend asked. “What do you think?”

  Sazed looked up from his book—a codified and annotated version of the city’s charter, as written by Elend himself. The Terrisman shook his head. “You did a very good job with this, I think. I can see very few methods of preventing Lord Cett’s appointment, should the Assembly choose him.”

  “Too competent for your own good?” Noorden said.

  “A problem which, unfortunately, I’ve rarely had,” Elend said, sitting and rubbing his eyes.

  Is this how Vin feels all the time? he wondered. She got less sleep than he, and she was always moving about, running, fighting, spying. Yet, she always seemed fresh. Elend was beginning to droop after just a couple of days of hard study.

  Focus, he told himself. You have to know your enemies so that you can fight them. There has to be a way out of this.

  Dockson was still composing letters to the other Assemblymen. Elend wanted to meet with those who were willing. Unfortunately, he had a feeling that number would be small. They had voted him out, and now they had been presented with an option that seemed an easy way out of their problems.

  “Your Majesty…” Noorden said slowly. “Do you think, maybe, that we should just let Cett take the throne? I mean, how bad could he be?”

  Elend stopped. One of the reasons he employed the former obligator was because of Noorden’s different viewpoint. He wasn’t a skaa, nor was he a high nobleman. He wasn’t a thief. He was just a scholarly little man who had joined the Ministry because it had offered an option other than becoming a merchant.

  To him, the Lord Ruler’s death had been a catastrophe that had destroyed his entire way of life. He wasn’t a bad man, but he had no real understanding of the plight of the skaa.

  “What do you think of the laws I’ve made, Noorden?” Elend asked.

  “They’re brilliant, Your Majesty,” Noorden said. “Keen representations of the ideals spoken of by old philosophers, along with a strong element of modern realism.”

  “Will Cett respect these laws?” Elend asked.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t ever really met the man.”

  “What do your instincts tell you?”

  Noorden hesitated. “No,” he finally said. “He isn’t the type of man who rules by law. He just does what he wants.”

  “He would bring only chaos,” Elend said. “Look at the information we have from his homeland and the places he’s conquered. They are in turmoil. He’s left a patchwork of half alliances and promises—threats of invasion acting as the thread that—barely—holds it all together. Giving him rule of Luthadel would just set us up for another collapse.”

  Noorden scratched his cheek, then nodded thoughtfully and turned back to his reading.

  I can convince him, Elend thought. If only I could do the same for the Assemblymen.

  But Noorden was a scholar; he thought the way Elend did. Logical facts were enough for him, and a promise of stability was more powerful than one of wealth. The Assembly was a different beast entirely. The noblemen wanted a return to what they’d known before; the merchants saw an opportunity to grab the titles they’d always envied; and the skaa were simply worried about a brutal slaughter.

  And yet, even those were generalizations. Lord Penrod saw himself as the city’s patriarch—the ranking nobleman, the one who needed to bring a measure of conservative temperance to their problems. Kinaler, one of the steelworkers, was worried that the Central Dominance needed a kinship with the kingdoms around it, and saw an alliance with Cett as the best way to protect Luthadel in the long run.

  Each of the twenty-three Assemblymen had their own thoughts, goals, and problems. That was what Elend had intended; ideas proliferated in such an environment. He just hadn’t expected so many of their ideas to contradict his own.

  “You were right, Ham,” Elend said, turning.

  Ham looked up, raising an eyebrow.

  “At the beginning of this all, you and the others wanted to make an alliance with one of the armies—give them the city in exchange for keeping it safe from the other armies.”

  “I remember,” Ham said.

  “Well, that’s what the people want,” Elend said. “With or without my consent, it appears they’re going to give the city to Cett. We should have just gone with your plan.”

  “Your Majesty?” Sazed asked quietly.

  “Yes?”

  “My apologies, but it is not your duty to do what the people want.”

  Elend blinked. “You sound like Tindwyl.”

  “I have known few people as wise as she, Your Majesty,” Sazed said, glancing at her.

  “Well, I disagree with both of you,” Elend said. “A ruler should only lead by the consent of the people he rules.”

  “I do not disagree with that, Your Majesty,” Sazed said. “Or, at least, I do believe in the theory of it. Regardless, I still do not believe that your duty is to do as the people wish. Your duty is to lead as best you can, following the dictates of your conscience. You must be true, Your Majesty, to the man you wish to become. If that man is not whom the people wish to have lead them, then they will choose someone else.”

  Elend paused. Well, of course. If I shouldn’t be an exception to my own laws, I shouldn’t be an exception to my own ethics, either. Sazed’s words were really just a rephrasing of things Tindwyl had said about trusting oneself, but Sazed’s explanation seemed a better one. A more honest one.

  “Trying to guess what people wish of you will only lead to chaos, I think,” Sazed said. “You cannot please them all, Elend Venture.”

  The study’s small ventilation window bumped open, and Vin squeezed through, pulling in a puff of mist behind her. She closed the window, then surveyed the room.

  “More?” she asked incredulously. “You found more books?”

  “Of course,” Elend said.

  “How many of those things have people written?” she asked with exasperation.

  Elend opened his mouth, then paused as he saw the twinkle in her eye. Finally, he just sighed. “You’re hopeless,” he said, turning back to his letters.

  He heard rustling from behind, and a moment later Vin landed on one of his stacks of books, somehow managing to balance atop it. Her mistcloak tassels hung down around her, smudging the ink on his letter.

  Elend sighed.

  “Oops,” Vin said, pulling back the mistcloak. “Sorry.”

  “Is it really necessary to leap around like that all the time, Vin?” Elend asked.

  Vin jumped down. “Sorry,” she repeated, biting her lip. “Sazed says it’s because Mistborn like to be up high, so we can see everything that’s going on.”

  Elend nodded, continuing the letter. He preferred them to be in his own hand, but he’d need to have a scribe rewrite this one. He shook his head. So much to do….

  Vin watched Elend scribbl
e. Sazed sat reading, as did one of Elend’s scribes—the obligator. She eyed the man, and he shrank down a little in his seat. He knew that she’d never trusted him. Priests shouldn’t be cheerful.

  She was excited to tell Elend what she’d discovered about Demoux, but she hesitated. There were too many people around, and she didn’t really have any evidence—just her instincts. So, she held herself back, looking over the stacks of books.

  There was a dull quiet in the room. Tindwyl sat with her eyes slightly glazed; she was probably studying some ancient biography in her mind. Even Ham was reading, though he flipped from book to book, hopping topics. Vin felt as if she should be studying something, too. She thought of the notes she’d been making about the Deepness and the Hero of Ages, but couldn’t bring herself to get them out.

  She couldn’t tell him about Demoux, yet, but there was something else she’d discovered.

  “Elend,” she said quietly. “I have something to tell you.”

  “Humm?”

  “I heard the servants talking when OreSeur and I got dinner earlier,” Vin said. “Some people they know have been sick lately—a lot of them. I think that someone might be fiddling with our supplies.”

  “Yes,” Elend said, still writing. “I know. Several wells in the city have been poisoned.”

  “They have?”

  He nodded. “Didn’t I tell you when you checked on me earlier? That’s where Ham and I were.”

  “You didn’t tell me.”

  “I thought I did,” Elend said, frowning.

  Vin shook her head.

  “I apologize,” he said, leaned up and kissed her, then turned back to his scribbling.

  And a kiss is supposed to make it all right? she thought sullenly, sitting back on a stack of books.

  It was a silly thing; there was really no reason that Elend should have told her so quickly. And yet, the exchange left her feeling odd. Before, he would have asked her to do something about the problem. Now, he’d apparently handled it all on his own.

  Sazed sighed, closing his tome. “Your Majesty, I can find no holes. I have read your laws over six times now.”

  Elend nodded. “I feared as much. The only advantage we could gain from the law is to misinterpret it intentionally—which I will not do.”

  “You are a good man, Your Majesty,” Sazed said. “If you had seen a hole in the law, you would have fixed it. Even if you hadn’t caught the flaws, one of us would have, when you asked for our opinions.”

  He lets them call him “Your Majesty,” Vin thought. He tried to get them to stop that. Why let them use it now?

  Odd, that Elend would finally start to think of himself as king after the throne had been taken from him.

  “Wait,” Tindwyl said, eyes unglazing. “You read over this law before it was ratified, Sazed?”

  Sazed flushed.

  “He did,” Elend said. “In fact, Sazed’s suggestions and ideas were instrumental in helping me craft the current code.”

  “I see,” Tindwyl said through tight lips.

  Elend frowned. “Tindwyl, you were not invited to this meeting. You are suffered at it. Your advice has been well appreciated, but I will not allow you to insult a friend and guest of my household, even if those insults are indirect.”

  “I apologize, Your Majesty.”

  “You will not apologize to me,” Elend said. “You will apologize to Sazed, or you will leave this conference.”

  Tindwyl sat for a moment; then she stood and left the room. Elend didn’t appear offended. He simply turned back to writing his letters.

  “You didn’t need to do that, Your Majesty,” Sazed said. “Tindwyl’s opinions of me are well founded, I think.”

  “I will do as I see fit, Sazed,” Elend said, still writing. “No offense, my friend, but you have a history of letting people treat you poorly. I won’t stand for it in my house—by insulting your help with my laws, she insulted me as well.”

  Sazed nodded, then reached over to pick up a new volume.

  Vin sat quietly. He’s changing so quickly. How long has it been since Tindwyl arrived? Two months? None of the things Elend said were that different from what he would have said before—but the way he said them was completely different. He was firm, demanding in a way that implied he expected respect.

  It’s the collapse of his throne, the danger of the armies, Vin thought. The pressures are forcing him to change, to either step up and lead or get crushed. He’d known about the wells. What other things had he discovered, and not told her?

  “Elend?” Vin asked. “I’ve thought more about the Deepness.”

  “That’s wonderful, Vin,” Elend said, smiling at her. “But, I really don’t have time right now….”

  Vin nodded, and smiled at him. However, her thoughts were more troubled. He’s not uncertain, like he once was. He doesn’t have to rely on people as much for support.

  He doesn’t need me anymore.

  It was a foolish thought. Elend loved her; she knew that. His aptitude wouldn’t make her less valuable to him. And yet, she couldn’t stamp out her worries. He’d left her once before, when he’d been trying to juggle the needs of his house with his love for her, and the action had nearly crushed her.

  What would happen if he abandoned her now?

  He won’t, she told herself. He’s a better man than that.

  But, good men had failed relationships, didn’t they? People grew apart—particularly people who were so different to begin with. Despite herself—despite her self-assurances—she heard a small voice pop up in the back of her mind.

  It was a voice she’d thought banished, a voice she hadn’t ever expected to hear again.

  Leave him first, Reen, her brother, seemed to whisper in her head. It will hurt less.

  Vin heard a rustling outside. She perked up slightly, but it had been too soft for the others to hear. She stood, walking over to the ventilation window.

  “Going back on patrol?” Elend asked.

  She turned, then nodded.

  “You might want to scout out Cett’s defenses at Keep Hasting,” Elend said.

  Vin nodded again. Elend smiled at her, then turned back to his letters. Vin pulled open the window and stepped out into the night. Zane stood in the mists, feet barely resting against the stone lip running beneath the window. He stood at a skewed angle, feet against the wall, body jutting out into the night.

  Vin glanced to the side, noting the bit of metal that Zane was Pulling against to hold himself stationary. Another feat of prowess. He smiled at her in the night.

  “Zane?” she whispered.

  Zane glanced upward, and Vin nodded. A second later, they both landed atop Keep Venture’s metal roof.

  Vin turned to Zane. “Where have you been?”

  He attacked.

  Vin jumped back in surprise as Zane spun forward, a swirling form in black, knives twinkling. She came down with her feet half off the rooftop, tense. A spar, then? she thought.

  Zane struck, his knife coming dangerously close to her neck as she dodged to the side. There was something different about his attacks this time. Something more dangerous.

  Vin cursed and pulled out her own daggers, jumping back from another attack. As she moved, Zane sliced through the air, cutting the tip off one of her mistcloak tassels.

  She turned to face him. He walked forward, but held no combat posture. He seemed confident, yet unconcerned, as if he were strolling up to an old friend, not entering a fight.

  All right then, she thought, jumping forward, swiping with her daggers.

  Zane stepped forward casually, turning just slightly to the side, easily dodging one knife. He reached out, grabbing her other hand with an effortless motion, stopping its blow.

  Vin froze. Nobody was that good. Zane looked down at her, eyes dark. Unconcerned. Unworried.

  He was burning atium.

  Vin pulled free of his grip, jumping backward. He let her go, watching as she fell into a crouch, sweat beading on h
er brow. She felt a sudden, sharp stab of terror—a guttural, primal feeling. She had feared this day from the moment she’d learned of atium. It was the terror of knowing she was powerless, despite all of her skills and abilities.

  It was the terror of knowing she was going to die.

  She turned to jump away, but Zane leaped forward before she even began to move. He knew what she would do before she did herself. He grabbed her shoulder from behind, pulling her backward, throwing her down to the rooftop.

  Vin slammed against the metal roofing, gasping in pain. Zane stood above her, looking down, as if waiting.

  I won’t be beaten this way! Vin thought with desperation. I won’t be killed like a trapped rat!

  She reached and swung a knife at his leg, but it was useless. He pulled the leg back slightly—just enough—so that her swing didn’t even nick the cloth of his trousers. She was like a child, being held at a distance by a much larger, more powerful foe. This was what it must be like, being a normal person, trying to fight her.

  Zane stood in the darkness.

  “What?” she finally demanded.

  “You really don’t have it,” he said quietly. “The Lord Ruler’s atium stash.”

  “No,” she said.

  “You don’t have any at all,” he said flatly.

  “I used the last bead the day I fought Cett’s assassins.”

  He stood for a moment; then he turned, stepping away from her. Vin sat up, heart thumping, hands shaking just a bit. She forced herself to her feet, then stooped and retrieved her fallen daggers. One had cracked against the roof’s copper top.

  Zane turned back toward her, quiet in the mists.

  Zane watched her in the darkness, saw her fear—yet also her determination.

  “My father wants me to kill you,” Zane said.

  She stood, watching him, eyes still afraid. She was strong, and she repressed the fear well. The news from their spy, the words Vin had spoken while visiting Straff’s tent, were all true. There was no atium to be had in this city.

  “Is that why you stayed away?” she asked.

  He nodded, turning away from her.

  “So?” she asked. “Why let me live?”