The Mistborn Trilogy

by Brandon Sanderson

  Elend looked troubled.

  Cett laughed. “Honestly, you didn’t think I’d recognize one of the Survivor’s own crewmembers? You Luthadel noblemen must assume that everyone outside the city is a damn fool!”

  “And yet, you listened to Breeze,” Elend said. “You let him join you, listened to his advice. And then, you only chased him away when you found him being intimate with your daughter—the one you claim to have no affection for.”

  “Is that why he told you he left the camp?” Cett asked, laughing. “Because I caught him with Allrianne? Goodness, what do I care if the girl seduced him?”

  “You think she seduced him?” Vin asked.

  “Of course,” Cett said. “Honestly, I only spent a few weeks with him, and even I know how useless he is with women.”

  Elend was taking all this in stride. He watched Cett with narrow, discerning eyes. “So why did you chase him away?”

  Cett leaned back. “I tried to turn him. He refused. I figured killing him would be preferable to letting him return to you. But, he’s remarkably agile for a man his size.”

  If Cett really is Mistborn, there’s no way Breeze got away without Cett letting him, Vin thought.

  “So you see, Venture,” Cett said. “I know you. I know you better, perhaps, than you know yourself—for I know what your friends think of you. It takes a pretty extraordinary man to earn the loyalty of a weasel like Breeze.”

  “So you think I won’t harm your daughter,” Elend said.

  “I know you won’t,” Cett said. “You’re honest—I happen to like that about you. Unfortunately, honesty is very easy to exploit—I knew, for instance, that you’d admit Breeze was Soothing that crowd.” Cett shook his head. “Honest men weren’t meant to be kings, lad. It’s a damn shame, but it’s true. That’s why I have to take the throne from you.”

  Elend was silent for a moment. Finally, he looked to Vin. She took his plate, sniffing it with an Allomancer’s senses.

  Cett laughed. “Think I’d poison you?”

  “No, actually,” Elend said as Vin set the plate down. She wasn’t as good as some, but she’d leaned the obvious scents.

  “You wouldn’t use poison,” Elend said. “That isn’t your way. You seem to be a rather honest man yourself.”

  “I’m just blunt,” Cett said. “There’s a difference.”

  “I haven’t heard you tell a lie yet.”

  “That’s because you don’t know me well enough to discern the lies,” Cett said. He held up several grease-stained fingers. “I’ve already told you three lies tonight, lad. Good luck guessing which ones they were.”

  Elend paused, studying Cett. “You’re playing with me.”

  “Of course I am!” Cett said. “Don’t you see, boy? This is why you shouldn’t be king. Leave the job to men who understand their own corruption; don’t let it destroy you.”

  “Why do you care?” Elend asked.

  “Because I’d rather not kill you,” Cett said.

  “Then don’t.”

  Cett shook his head. “That isn’t how all this works, lad. If there is an opportunity to stabilize your power, or to get more power, you’d damn well better take it. And I will.”

  The table fell silent again. Cett eyed Vin. “No comments from the Mistborn?”

  “You swear a lot,” Vin said. “You’re not supposed to do that in front of ladies.”

  Cett laughed. “That’s the funny thing about Luthadel, lass. They’re all so concerned about doing what is ‘proper’ when people can see them—but, at the same time, they find nothing wrong with going and raping a couple skaa women when the party is through. At least I swear to your face.”

  Elend still hadn’t touched his food. “What will happen if you win the vote for the throne?”

  Cett shrugged. “Honest answer?”

  “Always.”

  “First thing, I’d have you assassinated,” Cett said. “Can’t have old kings sticking around.”

  “And if I step down?” Elend said. “Withdraw from the vote?”

  “Step down,” Cett said, “vote for me, and then leave town, and I’ll let you live.”

  “And the Assembly?” Elend asked.

  “Dissolved,” Cett said. “They’re a liability. Any time you give a committee power, you just end up with confusion.”

  “The Assembly gives the people power,” Elend said. “That’s what a government should provide.”

  Surprisingly, Cett didn’t laugh at that comment. Instead, he leaned in again, setting one arm on the table, discarding a half-eaten drumstick. “That’s the thing, boy. Letting the people rule themselves is fine when everything is bright and happy, but what about when you have two armies facing you? What about when there’s a band of insane koloss destroying villages on your frontier? Those aren’t the times when you can afford to have an Assembly around to depose you.” Cett shook his head. “The price is too high. When you can’t have both freedom and safety, boy, which do you choose?”

  Elend was silent. “I make my own choice,” he finally said. “And I leave the others to make their own as well.”

  Cett smiled, as if he’d expected such a reply. He started in on another drumstick.

  “Let’s say I leave,” Elend said. “And let’s say you do get the throne, protect the city, and dissolve the Assembly. What then? What of the people?”

  “Why do you care?”

  “You need ask?” Elend said. “I thought you ‘understood’ me.”

  Cett smiled. “I put the skaa back to work, in the way the Lord Ruler did. No pay, no emancipated peasant class.”

  “I can’t accept that,” Elend said.

  “Why not?” Cett said. “It’s what they want. You gave them a choice—and they chose to throw you out. Now they’re going to choose to put me on the throne. They know that the Lord Ruler’s way was the best. One group must rule, and another must serve. Someone has to grow the food and work the forges, boy.”

  “Perhaps,” Elend said. “But you’re wrong about one thing.”

  “And what is that?”

  “They’re not going to vote for you,” Elend said, standing. “They’re going to choose me. Faced with the choice between freedom and slavery, they will choose freedom. The men of the Assembly are the finest of this city, and they will make the best choice for its people.”

  Cett paused, then he laughed. “The best thing about you, lad, is that you can say that and sound serious!”

  “I’m leaving, Cett,” Elend said, nodding to Vin.

  “Oh, sit down, Venture,” Cett said, waving toward Elend’s chair. “Don’t act indignant because I’m being honest with you. We still have things to discuss.”

  “Such as?” Elend asked.

  “Atium,” Cett said.

  Elend stood for a moment, apparently forcing down his annoyance. When Cett didn’t speak immediately, Elend finally sat and began to eat. Vin just picked quietly at her food. As she did, however, she studied the faces of Cett’s soldiers and servants. There were bound to be Allomancers mixed among them—finding out how many could give Elend an advantage.

  “Your people are starving,” Cett said. “And, if my spies are worth their coin, you just got another influx of mouths. You can’t last much longer under this siege.”

  “And?” Elend asked.

  “I have food,” Cett said. “A lot of it—more than my army needs. Canned goods, packed with the new method the Lord Ruler developed. Long-lasting, no spoilage. Really a marvel of technology. I’d be willing to trade you some of them….”

  Elend paused, fork halfway to his lips. Then he lowered it and laughed. “You still think I have the Lord Ruler’s atium?”

  “Of course you have it,” Cett said, frowning. “Where else would it be?”

  Elend shook his head, taking a bite of gravy-drenched potato. “Not here, for certain.”

  “But…the rumors…” Cett said.

  “Breeze spread those rumors,” Elend said. “I thought you’d figu
red out why he joined your group. He wanted you to come to Luthadel so that you’d stop Straff from taking the city.”

  “But, Breeze did everything he could to keep me from coming here,” Cett said. “He downplayed the rumors, he tried to distract me, he…” Cett trailed off, then he bellowed a laugh. “I thought he was just there to spy! It seems we both underestimated each other.”

  “My people could still use that food,” Elend said.

  “And they’ll have it—assuming I become king.”

  “They’re starving now,” Elend said.

  “And their suffering will be your burden,” Cett said, his face growing hard. “I can see that you have judged me, Elend Venture. You think me a good man. You’re wrong. Honesty does not make a man less of a tyrant. I slaughtered thousands to secure my rule. I put burdens on the skaa that make even the Lord Ruler’s hand seem pleasant. I made certain that I stayed in power. I will do the same here.”

  The men fell silent. Elend ate, but Vin only mixed her food around. If she had missed a poison, she wanted one of them to remain alert. She still wanted to find those Allomancers, and there was only one way to be certain. She turned off her copper, then burned bronze.

  There was no Coppercloud burning; Cett apparently didn’t care if someone recognized his men as Allomancers. Two of his men were burning pewter. Neither, however, were soldiers; both were pretending to be members of the serving staff who were bringing meals. There was also a Tineye pulsing in the other room, listening.

  Why hide Thugs as servants, then use no copper to hide their pulses? In addition, there were no Soothers or Rioters. Nobody was trying to influence Elend’s emotions. Neither Cett nor his youthful attendant were burning any metals. Either they weren’t actually Allomancers, or they feared exposing themselves. Just to be certain, Vin flared her bronze, seeking to pierce any hidden copperclouds that might be nearby. She could see Cett putting out some obvious Allomancers as a distraction, then hiding the others inside a cloud.

  She found nothing. Finally satisfied, she returned to picking at her meal. How many times has this ability of mine—the ability to pierce copperclouds—proven useful? She’d forgotten what it was like to be blocked from sensing Allomantic pulses. This one little ability—simple though it seemed—provided an enormous advantage. And the Lord Ruler and his Inquisitors had probably been able to do it from the beginning. What other tricks was she missing, what other secrets had died with the Lord Ruler?

  He knew the truth about the Deepness, Vin thought. He must have. He tried to warn us, at the end….

  Elend and Cett were talking again. Why couldn’t she focus on the problems of the city?

  “So you don’t have any atium at all?” Cett said.

  “None that we’re willing to sell,” Elend said.

  “You’ve searched the city?” Cett asked.

  “A dozen times.”

  “The statues,” Cett said. “Perhaps the Lord Ruler hid the metal by melting it down, then building things out of it.”

  Elend shook his head. “We thought of that. The statues aren’t atium, and they aren’t hollow either—that would have been a good place to hide metal from Allomancer eyes. We thought maybe that it would be hidden in the palace somewhere, but even the spires are simple iron.”

  “Caves, tunnels….”

  “None that we can find,” Elend said. “We’ve had Allomancers patrol, searching for large sources of metals. We’ve done everything we can think of, Cett, short of tearing holes in the ground. Trust me. We’ve been working on this problem for a while.”

  Cett nodded, sighing. “So, I suppose holding you for ransom would be pointless?”

  Elend smiled. “I’m not even king, Cett. The only thing you’d do is make the Assembly less likely to vote for you.”

  Cett laughed. “Suppose I’ll have to let you go, then.”

  36

  Alendi was never the Hero of Ages. At best, I have amplified his virtues, creating a Hero where there was none. At worst, I fear that all we believe may have been corrupted.

  Once this warehouse had held swords and armor, scattered across its floor in heaps, like some mythical treasure. Sazed remembered walking through it, marveling at the preparations Kelsier had made without alerting any of his crewmembers. Those weapons had armed the rebellion on the eve of the Survivor’s own death, letting it take the city.

  Those weapons were now stored in lockers and armories. In their place, a desperate, beaten people huddled in what blankets they could find. There were very few men, none of fighting quality; Straff had pressed those into his army. These others—the weak, the sickly, the wounded—he had allowed to Luthadel, knowing that Elend wouldn’t turn them away.

  Sazed moved among them, offering what comfort he could. They had no furniture, and even changes of clothing were becoming scarce in the city. The merchants, realizing that warmth would be a premium for the upcoming winter, had begun raising prices on all their wares, not just foodstuffs.

  Sazed knelt beside a crying woman. “Peace, Genedere,” he said, his coppermind reminding him of her name.

  She shook her head. She had lost three children in the koloss attack, two more in the flight to Luthadel. Now the final one—the babe she had carried the entire way—was sick. Sazed took the child from her arms, carefully studying his symptoms. Little had changed from the day before.

  “Is there hope, Master Terrisman?” Genedere asked.

  Sazed glanced down at the thin, glassy-eyed baby. The chances were not good. How could he tell her such a thing?

  “As long as he breathes, there is hope, dear woman,” Sazed said. “I will ask the king to increase your portion of food—you need strength to give suck. You must keep him warm. Stay near the fires, and use a damp cloth to drip water in his mouth even when he is not eating. He has great need of liquids.”

  Genedere nodded dully, taking back the baby. How Sazed wished he could give her more. A dozen different religions passed through his mind. He had spent his entire life trying to encourage people to believe in something other than the Lord Ruler. Yet, for some reason, at this moment he found it difficult to preach one of them to Genedere.

  It had been different before the Collapse. Each time he’d spoken of a religion, Sazed had felt a subtle sense of rebellion. Even if people hadn’t accepted the things he taught—and they rarely had—his words had reminded them that there had once been beliefs other than the doctrines of the Steel Ministry.

  Now there was nothing to rebel against. In the face of the terrible grief he saw in Genedere’s eyes, he found it difficult to speak of religions long dead, gods long forgotten. Esoterica would not ease this woman’s pain.

  Sazed stood, moving on to the next group of people.

  “Sazed?”

  Sazed turned. He hadn’t noticed Tindwyl entering the warehouse. The doors of the large structure were closed against approaching night, and the firepits gave an inconsistent light. Holes had been knocked in the roof to let out the smoke; if one looked up, trails of mist could be seen creeping into the room, though they evaporated before they reached halfway to the floor.

  The refugees didn’t often look up.

  “You’ve been here nearly all day,” Tindwyl said. The room was remarkably quiet, considering its occupancy. Fires crackled, and people lay silent in their pain or numbness.

  “There are many wounded here,” Sazed said. “I am the best one to look after them, I think. I am not alone—the king has sent others and Lord Breeze is here, Soothing the people’s despair.”

  Sazed nodded to the side, where Breeze sat in a chair, ostensibly reading a book. He looked terribly out of place in the room, wearing his fine three-piece suit. Yet, his mere presence said something remarkable, in Sazed’s estimation.

  These poor people, Sazed thought. Their lives were terrible under the Lord Ruler. Now even what little they had has been taken from them. And they were only a tiny number—four hundred compared with the hundreds of thousands who still lived in Lut
hadel.

  What would happen when the final stores of food ran out? Rumors were already abroad regarding the poisoned wells, and Sazed had just heard that some of their stored food had been sabotaged as well. What would happen to these people? How long could the siege continue?

  In fact, what would happen when the siege ended? What would happen when the armies finally began to attack and pillage? What destruction, what grief, would the soldiers cause in searching for hidden atium?

  “You do care for them,” Tindwyl said quietly, stepping up.

  Sazed turned toward her. Then he looked down. “Not as much as I should, perhaps.”

  “No,” Tindwyl said. “I can see it. You confuse me, Sazed.”

  “I seem to have a talent in that area.”

  “You look tired. Where is your bronzemind?”

  Suddenly, Sazed felt the fatigue. He’d been ignoring it, but her words seemed to bring it in like a wave, rolling over him.

  He sighed. “I used most of my wakefulness in my run to Luthadel. I was so eager to get here….” His studies had languished recently. With the problems in the city, and the arrival of the refugees, he hadn’t had much time. Besides, he had already transcribed the rubbing. Further work would require detailed cross-referencing to other works, searching for clues. He probably wouldn’t even have time to…

  He frowned, noting the odd look in Tindwyl’s eyes.

  “All right,” she said, sighing. “Show me.”

  “Show you?”

  “Whatever it was you found,” she said. “The discovery that prompted you to run across two dominances. Show it to me.”

  Suddenly, everything seemed to lighten. His fatigue, his worry, even his sorrow. “I would love to,” he said quietly.

  Another job well done, Breeze thought, congratulating himself as he watched the two Terrismen leave the warehouse.

  Most people, even noblemen, misunderstood Soothing. They thought of it as some kind of mind control, and even those who knew more presumed that Soothing was an invasive, terrible thing.