The Mistborn Trilogy

by Brandon Sanderson

  “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I may still kill you. But…I don’t have to. Not to fulfill his order. I could just take you away—that would have the same effect.”

  He turned back toward her. She was frowning, a small, quiet figure in the mists.

  “Come with me,” he said. “Both of us could leave—Straff would lose his Mistborn, and Elend would lose his. We could deny them both their tools. And we could be free.”

  She didn’t respond immediately. Finally, she shook her head. “This…thing between us, Zane. It isn’t what you think.”

  “What do you mean?” he said, stepping forward.

  She looked up at him. “I love Elend, Zane. I really do.”

  And you think that means you can’t feel anything for me? Zane thought. What of that look I’ve seen in your eyes, that longing? No, it isn’t as easy as you imply, is it?

  It never is.

  And yet, what else had he expected? He turned away. “It makes sense. That’s the way it has always been.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” she demanded.

  Elend….

  “Kill him,” God whispered.

  Zane squeezed his eyes shut. She would not be fooled; not a woman who had grown up on the streets, a woman who was friends with thieves and scammers. This was the difficult part. She would need to see things that terrified Zane.

  She would need truth.

  “Zane?” Vin asked. She still seemed a bit shaken by his attack, but she was the type who recovered quickly.

  “Can’t you see the resemblance?” Zane asked, turning. “The same nose, the same slant of the face? I cut my hair shorter than he, but it has the same curl. Is it so hard to see?”

  Her breath caught in her throat.

  “Who else would Straff Venture trust as his Mistborn?” Zane asked. “Why else would he let me get so close, why else would he feel so comfortable letting me in on his plans?”

  “You’re his son,” Vin whispered. “Elend’s brother.”

  Zane nodded.

  “Elend…”

  “Doesn’t know of me,” Zane said. “Ask him about our father’s sexual habits sometime.”

  “He’s told me,” Vin said. “Straff likes mistresses.”

  “For more than one reason,” Zane said. “More women means more children. More children means more Allomancers. More Allomancers means more chances at having a Mistborn son to be your assassin.”

  Breeze-blown mist washed over them. In the distance, a soldier’s armor clinked as he patrolled.

  “While the Lord Ruler lived, I could never inherit,” Zane said. “You know how strict the obligators were. I grew up in the shadows, ignored. You lived on the streets—I assume that was terrible. But, think of what it would be like to be a scavenger in your own home, unacknowledged by your father, treated like a beggar. Think of watching your brother, a boy your same age, growing up privileged. Think of watching his disdain for the things you longed to have. Comfort, idleness, love…”

  “You must hate him,” Vin whispered.

  “Hate?” Zane asked. “No. Why hate a man for what he is? Elend has done nothing to me, not directly. Besides, Straff found a reason to need me, eventually—after I Snapped, and he finally got what he’d been gambling to get for the last twenty years No, I don’t hate Elend. Sometimes, however, I do envy him. He has everything. And still…it seems to me like he doesn’t appreciate it.”

  Vin stood quietly. “I’m sorry.”

  Zane shook his head sharply. “Don’t pity me, woman. If I were Elend, I wouldn’t be Mistborn. I wouldn’t understand the mists, nor would I know what it was like to grow up alone and hated.” He turned, looking into her eyes. “Don’t you think a man better appreciates love when he has been forced for so long to go without?”

  “I…”

  Zane turned away. “Anyway,” he said, “I didn’t come here tonight to lament my childhood. I came with a warning.”

  Vin grew tense.

  “A short time ago,” Zane said, “my father let several hundred refugees through his barricade to approach the city. You know of the koloss army?”

  Vin nodded.

  “It attacked and pillaged the city of Suisna earlier.”

  Vin felt a start of fright. Suisna was only a day away from Luthadel. The koloss were close.

  “The refugees came to my father for help,” Zane said. “He sent them on to you.”

  “To make the people of the city more afraid,” Vin said. “And to provide a further drain on our resources.”

  Zane nodded. “I wanted to give you warning. Both of the refugees, and of my orders. Think about my offer, Vin. Think about this man who claims to love you. You know he doesn’t understand you. If you leave, it will be better for both of you.”

  Vin frowned. Zane bowed his head slightly to her, then jumped into the night, Pushing against the metal rooftop. She still didn’t believe him about Elend. He could see that in her eyes.

  Well, proof was coming. She’d soon see. She’d soon understand what Elend Venture truly thought of her.

  35

  But I do so now. Let it be known that I, Kwaan, Worldbringer of Terris, am a fraud.

  It felt like she was going to a ball again.

  The beautiful maroon gown would have fit in perfectly at one of the parties she had attended during the months before the Collapse. The dress was untraditional, but not unfashionable. The changes simply made the dress seem distinctive.

  The alterations left her freer to move; let her walk more gracefully, turn more naturally. That, in turn, made her feel even more beautiful. Standing before her mirror, Vin thought of what it might have been like to wear the dress to a real ball. To be herself—not Valette, the uncomfortable country noblewoman. Not even Vin, the skaa thief. To be herself.

  Or, at least, as she could imagine herself. Confident because she accepted her place as a Mistborn. Confident because she accepted her place as the one who had struck down the Lord Ruler. Confident because she knew that the king loved her.

  Maybe I could be both, Vin thought, running her hands down the sides of the dress, feeling the soft satin.

  “You look beautiful, child,” Tindwyl said.

  Vin turned, smiling hesitantly. “I don’t have any jewelry. I gave the last of it to Elend to help feed the refugees. It was the wrong color to go with this dress anyway.”

  “Many women use jewelry to try and hide their own plainness,” Tindwyl said. “You don’t have that need.”

  The Terriswoman stood with her usual posture, hands clasped before her, rings and earrings sparkling. None of her jewelry, however, had gemstones; in fact, most of it was made from simple materials. Iron, copper, pewter. Feruchemical metals.

  “You haven’t been in to see Elend lately,” Vin said, turning back to the mirror and using a few wooden barrettes to hold her hair back.

  “The king is quickly approaching the point where he no longer needs my instruction.”

  “He’s that close then?” Vin asked. “To being like the men from your biographies?”

  Tindwyl laughed. “Goodness, no, child. He’s quite far from that.”

  “But—”

  “I said he would no longer need my instruction,” Tindwyl said. “He is learning that he can rely only so much upon the words of others, and has reached the point where he will have to learn more for himself. You would be surprised, child, how much about being a good leader simply comes from experience.”

  “He seems very different to me,” Vin said quietly.

  “He is,” Tindwyl said, walking forward to lay a hand on Vin’s shoulder. “He is becoming the man that he always knew he would have to be—he just didn’t know the path. Though I am hard on him, I think he would have found his way, even if I hadn’t come. A man can only stumble for so long before he either falls or stands up straight.”

  Vin looked at her mirror self, pretty in its maroon dressings. “This is what I have to become. For him.”

  “For
him,” Tindwyl agreed. “And for yourself. This is where you were heading, before you got distracted.”

  Vin turned. “Are you going to come with us tonight?”

  Tindwyl shook her head. “That is not my place. Now, go meet your king.”

  This time, Elend did not intend to enter his enemy’s lair without a proper escort. Two hundred soldiers stood in the courtyard, waiting to accompany him to Cett’s dinner, and Ham—fully armed—was playing personal bodyguard. Spook would act as Elend’s coachman. That only left Breeze, who—understandably—was a bit nervous about the idea of going to the dinner.

  “You don’t have to come,” Elend told the portly man as they assembled in the Venture courtyard.

  “I don’t?” Breeze said. “Well then, I shall remain here. Enjoy the dinner!”

  Elend paused, frowning.

  Ham clapped Elend on the shoulder. “You should know better than to give that one any wiggle room, Elend!”

  “Well, I meant my words,” Elend said. “We could really use a Soother, but he doesn’t have to come if he doesn’t want to.”

  Breeze looked relieved.

  “You don’t even feel a bit guilty, do you?” Ham asked.

  “Guilty?” Breeze asked, hand resting on his cane. “My dear Hammond, have you ever known me to express such a dreary and uninspired emotion? Besides, I have a feeling Cett will be more amiable without me around.”

  He’s probably right, Elend thought as his coach pulled up.

  “Elend,” Ham said. “Don’t you think bringing two hundred soldiers with us is…well, a little obvious?”

  “Cett is the one who said we should be honest with our threats,” Elend said. “Well, I’d say two hundred men is on the conservative side of how well I trust the man. He’ll still have us outnumbered five to one.”

  “But you’ll have a Mistborn sitting a few seats from him,” a soft voice said from behind.

  Elend turned, smiling at Vin. “How can you possibly move so quietly in a dress like that?”

  “I’ve been practicing,” she said, taking his arm.

  Thing is, she probably has, he thought, inhaling her perfume, imagining Vin creeping through the palace hallways in a massive ball gown.

  “Well, we should get moving,” Ham said. He gestured for Vin and Elend to enter the carriage, and they left Breeze behind on the palace steps.

  After a year of passing Keep Hasting in the night, its windows darkened, it felt right to see them glowing again.

  “You know,” Elend said from beside her, “we never did get to attend a ball together.”

  Vin turned from her contemplation of the approaching keep. Around her, the carriage bounced along to the sound of several hundred tromping feet, the evening just beginning to grow dark.

  “We met up several times at the balls,” Elend continued, “but we never officially attended one together. I never got the chance to pick you up in my carriage.”

  “Is that really so important?” Vin asked.

  Elend shrugged. “It’s all part of the experience. Or, it was. There was a comfortable formality to it all; the gentleman arriving to accompany the lady, then everyone watching you enter and evaluating how you look together. I did it dozens of times with dozens of women, but never with the one that would have made the experience special.”

  Vin smiled. “Do you think we’ll ever have balls again?”

  “I don’t know, Vin. Even if we survive all of this…well, could you dance while so many people starved?” He was probably thinking about the hundreds of refugees, wearied from their travels, stripped of all food and equipment by Straff’s soldiers, huddled together in the warehouse Elend had found for them.

  You danced before, she thought. People starved then, too. But that was a different time; Elend hadn’t been king then. In fact, as she thought about it, he had never actually danced at those balls. He had studied and met with his friends, planning how he could make a better place out of the Final Empire.

  “There has to be a way to have both,” Vin said. “Maybe we could throw balls, and ask the nobility who came to donate money to help feed the people.”

  Elend smiled. “We’d probably spend twice as much on the party as we got in donations.”

  “And the money we spent would go to skaa merchants.”

  Elend paused thoughtfully, and Vin smirked to herself. Odd that I would end up with the only frugal nobleman in the city. What a pair they were—a Mistborn who felt guilty wasting coins to jump and a nobleman who thought balls were too expensive. It was a wonder that Dockson could pry enough money out of them to keep the city running.

  “We’ll worry about that later,” Elend said as the Hasting gates opened, revealing a field of soldiers at attention.

  You can bring your soldiers if you want, the display seemed to say. I’ve got more. In reality, they were entering a strange allegory of Luthadel itself. Elend’s two hundred were now surrounded by Cett’s thousand—which, in turn, were surrounded by Luthadel’s twenty thousand. The city, of course, was then surrounded by nearly a hundred thousand troops on the outside. Layer upon layer of soldiers, all tensely waiting for a fight. Thoughts of balls and parties fled her mind.

  Cett did not greet them at the door. That duty was performed by a soldier in a simple uniform.

  “Your soldiers can remain here,” the man said as they entered the main entryway. Once, the large, pillared room had been draped in fine rugs and wall hangings, but Elend had taken those to fund his government. Cett, obviously, hadn’t brought replacements, and that left the inside of the keep feeling austere. Like a battlefront fortress, rather than a mansion.

  Elend turned, waving to Demoux, and the captain ordered his men to wait indoors. Vin stood for a moment, consciously keeping herself from shooting a glare at Demoux. If he was the kandra, as her instincts warned, then it was dangerous to have him too close. Part of her itched to simply throw him in a dungeon.

  And yet, a kandra couldn’t hurt humans, so he wasn’t a direct threat. He was simply there to relay information. Plus, he’d already know their most sensitive secrets; there was little point in striking now, playing her hand so quickly. If she waited, saw where he went when he slipped out of the city, then maybe she could find out which army—or sect in the city—he was reporting to. Learn what information he had betrayed.

  And so, she stayed her hand, waiting. The time to strike would come.

  Ham and Demoux arranged their men, and then a smaller honor guard—including Ham, Spook, and Demoux—gathered to stay with Vin and Elend. Elend nodded to Cett’s man, and the soldier led them down a side passageway.

  We’re not heading toward the lifts, Vin thought. The Hasting ballroom was at the very top of the keep’s central tower; the times she had attended balls in the structure, she had been taken to the top on one of four human-drawn lifts. Either Hasting didn’t want to waste the manpower, or…

  He picked the tallest keep in the city, Vin thought. The one with the fewest windows as well. If Cett pulled all the lifts to the top, it would be very difficult for an invading force to claim the keep.

  Fortunately, it didn’t appear that they would have to go all the way to the top this evening. After they climbed two flights in a twisting stone stairwell—Vin having to pull her dress in at the sides to keep from brushing against the stones—their guide led them out into a large, circular room with stained-glass windows running around the entire perimeter, broken only by columns to support the ceiling. The single room was nearly as wide around as the tower itself.

  A secondary ballroom, perhaps? Vin wondered, taking in the beauty. The glass wasn’t lit, though she suspected that there were clefts for limelights on the outside. Cett didn’t appear to care about such things. He had set up a large table in the very center of the room, and sat at its head. He was already eating.

  “You’re late,” he called out to Elend, “so I started without you.”

  Elend frowned. To this, Cett laughed a full bellow, holding up a dru
mstick. “You seem more aghast at my breach of etiquette than you do about the fact that I brought an army to conquer you, boy! But, I suppose that’s Luthadel. Sit down before I eat this all myself.”

  Elend held out an arm for Vin, leading her to the table. Spook took up position near the stairwell, his Tineye’s ears listening for danger. Ham led their ten men to a position from which they could watch the only entrances to the room—the entry from the stairs and the door the serving staff used.

  Cett ignored the soldiers. He had a group of his own bodyguards standing near the wall on the other side of the room, but he seemed unconcerned that Ham’s troop had them slightly outnumbered. His son—the young man who had attended him at the Assembly meeting—stood at his side, waiting quietly.

  One of the two has to be Mistborn, Vin thought. And I still think it is Cett.

  Elend seated her, then took a chair next to her, both of them sitting directly across from Cett. He barely paused in his eating as the servers brought Vin’s and Elend’s dishes.

  Drumsticks, Vin thought, and vegetables in gravy. He wants this to be a messy meal—he wants to make Elend uncomfortable.

  Elend didn’t start on his food immediately. He sat, watching Cett, his expression thoughtful.

  “Damn,” Cett said. “This is good food. You have no idea how hard it is to get proper meals when traveling!”

  “Why did you want to speak with me?” Elend asked. “You know I won’t be convinced to vote for you.”

  Cett shrugged. “I thought it might be interesting.”

  “Is this about your daughter?” Elend asked.

  “Lord Ruler, no!” Cett said with a laugh. “Keep the silly thing, if you want. The day she ran off was one of the few joys I’ve had this last month.”

  “And if I threaten to harm her?” Elend asked.

  “You won’t,” Cett said.

  “You’re certain?”

  Cett smiled through his thick beard, leaning toward Elend. “I know you, Venture. I’d been watching you, studying you, for months. And then, you were kind enough to send one of your friends to spy on me. I learned a lot about you from him!”