The Mistborn Trilogy

by Brandon Sanderson

  The entire chamber was crafted from white marble of various shades. While it was large enough to hold hundreds of people—plus a dance floor and tables—it still felt intimate. The room was divided by rows of ornamental marble pillars, and it was further partitioned with large stained-glass panels that ran from floor to ceiling. Vin was impressed—most keeps in Luthadel left their stained glass to the perimeter walls, so they could be lit from outside. While this keep did have some of those, she quickly realized that the true masterpieces had been placed here, freestanding inside the ballroom, where they could be admired from both sides.

  “By the Lord Ruler,” Elend whispered, scanning the gathered people. “They really do think they can just ignore the rest of the world, don’t they?”

  Gold, silver, bronze, and brass sparkled upon figures in brilliant ball gowns and sharp gentlemen’s suits. The men generally wore dark clothing, and the women generally wore colors. A group of musicians played strings in a far corner, their music unimpeded by the shocked atmosphere. Servants waited, uncertain, bearing drinks and foods.

  “Yes,” Vin whispered. “We should move out of the doorway. When the guards come, we’ll want to be mingled in the crowd to make the soldiers uncertain if they want to attack.”

  Elend smiled, and she knew he was remarking to himself about her tendency to keep her back from being exposed. However, she also knew that he realized she was right. They walked down the short set of marble steps, joining the party.

  Skaa might have shied away from such a dangerous couple, but Vin and Elend wore the costume of noble propriety. The aristocracy of the Final Empire were quite adept at playing pretend—and when they were uncertain how to behave, they fell back on the old standard: proper manners.

  Lords and ladies bowed and curtsied, acting as if the emperor and empress’s attendance had been completely expected. Vin let Elend take the lead, as he had far more experience than she with matters of court. He nodded to those they passed, displaying just the right amount of self-assurance. Behind, guards finally arrived at the doors. They stopped, however, obviously wary about disturbing the party.

  “There,” Vin said, nodding to their left. Through a stained-glass partition, she could make out a figure sitting at an elevated table.

  “I see him,” Elend said, leading her around the glass, and giving Vin her first sight of Aradan Yomen, king of the Western Dominance.

  He was younger than she’d expected—perhaps as young as Elend. Roundfaced with serious eyes, Yomen had his head shaved bald, after the manner of obligators. His dark gray robes were a mark of his station, as were the complicated patterns of tattoos around his eyes, which proclaimed him a very high-ranking member of the Canton of Resource.

  Yomen stood up as Vin and Elend approached. He looked utterly dumbfounded. Behind, the soldiers had begun to carefully work their way into the room. Elend paused a distance from the high table, with its white cloth and pure crystal place settings. He met Yomen’s gaze, the other guests so quiet that Vin guessed most were holding their breaths.

  Vin checked her metal reserves, turning slightly, keeping an eye on the guards. Then, from the corner of her eye, she saw Yomen raise his hand and subtly wave the guards back.

  Chatter began in the room almost immediately. Yomen sat back down, looking troubled, and did not return to his meal.

  Vin looked up at Elend. “Well,” she whispered, “we’re in. What now?”

  “I need to talk to Yomen,” Elend said. “But I’d like to wait a little bit first; give him a chance to get used to our presence.”

  “Then we should mingle.”

  “Split up? We can cover more nobility that way.”

  Vin hesitated.

  “I can protect myself, Vin,” Elend said, smiling. “I promise.”

  “All right.” Vin nodded, though that wasn’t the only reason she’d paused.

  “Talk to as many people as you can,” Elend said. “We’re here to shatter this people’s image of safety. After all, we just proved that Yomen can’t keep us out of Fadrex—and we’re showing that we’re so unthreatened by him that we’ll waltz into a ball that he’s attending. Once we’ve made a bit of a stir, I’ll talk to their king, and they’ll all be certain to listen in.”

  Vin nodded. “When you mingle, watch for people who look like they might be willing to support us against the current government. Slowswift implied that there are some in the city who aren’t pleased with the way their king is handling things.”

  Elend nodded, kissed her cheek, and then she was alone. Vin stood in her beautiful gown, feeling a moment of shock. Over the last two years, she’d explicitly worked to keep herself out of situations where she would wear gowns and mingle with nobility. She’d determinedly worn trousers and shirts, making it her self-appointed duty to sow discomfort in those she found too full of themselves.

  Yet, she had been the one to suggest this infiltration to Elend. Why? Why put herself back in this position? She wasn’t displeased with who she was—she didn’t need to prove anything by putting on another silly gown and making courtly conversation with a bunch of nobility she didn’t know.

  Did she?

  No use fidgeting about it now, Vin thought, scanning the crowd. Noble balls in Luthadel—and she could only assume here—were very polite affairs, designed to encourage mingling, and therefore facilitate political give and take. Balls had once been the main form of sport for the nobility, who had lived privileged lives under the Lord Ruler because their ancestors had been his friends back before his Ascension.

  And so, the party was made up of small groups—some mixed couples, but many clusters of just women or just men. A pair was not expected to stay together the entire time. There were side rooms where gentlemen could retire and drink with their allies, leaving the women to converse in the ballroom.

  Vin walked forward, slipping a cup of wine off the tray of a passing servant. By splitting up, Elend and she had indicated that they were open to conversation with others. Unfortunately, it had been a long, long time since Vin had to be alone at a party like this. She felt awkward, uncertain whether to approach one of the groups, or wait to see if anyone came to her. She felt somewhat as she had that first night, when she’d gone to Keep Venture posing as a lone noblewoman, Sazed her only guide.

  That day, she’d played a part, hiding in her role as Valette Renoux. She couldn’t do that anymore. Everyone knew who she really was. That would have bothered her, once, but it didn’t anymore. Still, she couldn’t just do what she’d done then—stand around and wait for others to come to her. The entire room seemed to be staring at her.

  She strode through the beautiful white room, aware of how much her black dress stood out against the women in their colors. She moved around the slices of colored glass that hung from the ceiling like crystalline curtains. She’d learned from her earlier balls that there was one thing she could always count on: Whenever noblewomen gathered, one always set herself up as the most important.

  Vin found her with ease. The woman had dark hair and tan skin, and she sat at a table surrounded by sycophants. Vin recognized that arrogant look, that way the woman’s voice was just loud enough to be imperious, but just soft enough to make everyone hang on her words.

  Vin approached with determination. Years ago, she’d been forced to start at the bottom. She didn’t have time for that. She didn’t know the subtle political intricacies of the city—the allegiances and rivalries. However, there was one thing of which she was fairly confident.

  Whichever side this woman was on, Vin wanted to be on the opposite one.

  Several of the sycophants looked up as Vin approached, and they grew pale. Their leader had the poise to remain aloof. She’ll try to ignore me, Vin thought. I can’t leave her that option. Vin sat at the table directly across from the woman. Then, Vin turned and addressed several of the younger sycophants.

  “She’s planning to betray you,” Vin said.

  The women glanced at each other.


  “She has plans to get out of the city,” Vin said. “When the army attacks, she won’t be here. And she’s going to leave you all to die. Make an ally of me, however, and I will see that you are protected.”

  “Excuse me?” the lead woman said, her voice indignant. “Did I invite you to sit here?”

  Vin smiled. That was easy. A thieving crewleader’s basis of power was money—take that away, and he’d fall. For a woman like this, her power was in the people who listened to her. To make her react, one simply had to threaten to take her minions.

  Vin turned to confront the woman. “No, you didn’t invite me. I invited myself. Someone needs to warn the women here.”

  The woman sniffed. “You spread lies. You know nothing of my supposed plans.”

  “Don’t I? You’re not the type to let a man like Yomen determine your future, and if the others here think about it, they’ll realized that there’s no way you would let yourself get caught in Fadrex City without plans to escape. I’m surprised you’re even still here.”

  “Your threats do not frighten me,” the lady said.

  “I haven’t threatened you yet,” Vin noted, sipping her wine. She gave a careful Push on the emotions of the women at the table, making them more worried. “We could get to that, if you wish—though, technically, I’ve got your entire city under threat already.”

  The woman narrowed her eyes at Vin. “Don’t listen to her, ladies.”

  “Yes, Lady Patresen,” one of the women said, speaking a little too quickly.

  Patresen, Vin thought, relieved that someone had finally mentioned the woman’s name. Do I know that name? “House Patresen,” Vin said idly. “Isn’t that a cousin family of House Elariel?”

  Lady Patresen remained quiet.

  “I killed an Elariel once,” Vin said. “It was a good fight. Shan was a very clever woman, and a skilled Mistborn.” She leaned in. “You may think that the stories about me are exaggerations. You may assume that I didn’t really kill the Lord Ruler, and that the talk is simply propaganda crafted to help stabilize my husband’s rule.

  “Think as you wish, Lady Patresen. However, there is one thing you must understand. You are not my adversary. I don’t have time for people like you. You’re a petty woman in an insignificant city, part of a doomed culture of nobility. I’m not talking to you because I want to be part of your schemes; you can’t even understand how unimportant they are to me. I’m just here to voice a warning. We’re going to take this city—and when we do, there will be little room for people who were against us.”

  Patresen paled just slightly. However, her voice was calm when she spoke. “I doubt that’s true. If you could take the city as easily as you claim, then you would have already.”

  “My husband is a man of honor,” Vin said, “and decided that he wished to speak with Yomen before attacking. I, however, am not quite so temperate.”

  “Well, I think that—”

  “You don’t understand, do you?” Vin asked. “It doesn’t matter what you think. Look, I know you’re the type with powerful connections. Those connections will have told you by now the numbers we bring. Forty thousand men, twenty thousand koloss, and a full contingent of Allomancers. Plus two Mistborn. My husband and I did not come to this conference to make allies, or even to make enemies. We came to give warning. I suggest you take it.”

  She punctuated her last comment with a powerful Soothing. She wanted it to be obvious to the women, to let them know that they were—indeed—under her power. Then, she stood, trailing away from the table.

  What she had said to Patresen wasn’t really that important—the important thing was that Vin had been seen confronting the woman. Hopefully, that would put Vin on a side in the local politics, making her less threatening to some factions in the room. That, in turn, would make her more accessible, and—

  The sound of chairs scooting back from the table came from behind her. Vin turned, suspicious, and saw most of Lady Patresen’s clique approaching in a hurry, leaving their leader sitting virtually alone at her table, a scowl on her face.

  Vin tensed.

  “Lady Venture,” one of the women said. “Perhaps you would let some of us . . . introduce you at the party?”

  Vin frowned.

  “Please,” the woman said very quietly.

  Vin blinked in surprise. She’d expected the women to resent her, not listen to her. She glanced about. Most of the women looked so intimidated that Vin thought they might wilt away, like leaves in the sun. Feeling a little bemused, Vin nodded her head and let herself be led into the party for introductions.

  Rashek wore both black and white. I think he wanted to show that he was a duality, Preservation and Ruin.

  This, of course, was a lie. After all, he had only touched one of the powers—and only in a very small way at that.

  31

  “LORD BREEZE GUESSED CORRECTLY,” Sazed said, standing at the front of their small group. “As far as I can tell, the diversion of waters into this underground reservoir was intentional. The project must have taken decades. It required widening natural passageways so that the water—which once fed the river and canals above—instead flowed into this cavern.”

  “Yes, but what’s the point?” Breeze asked. “Why waste so much effort to move a river?”

  Three days in Urteau had allowed them to do as Spook had suggested, moving their troops into the Ministry building, ostensibly taking up residence inside of it. The Citizen couldn’t know about the cache, otherwise he would have ransacked it. That meant Sazed and his team held a distinct advantage should events in the city turn ugly.

  They had pulled some of the furniture from the building above and arranged it—with sheets and tapestries to create “rooms”—amid the shelves in the cavern. Logic dictated that the cavern was the best place to spend their time, for should someone attack the Ministry building, the cavern was where they wanted to be. True, they’d be trapped—but with the supplies they had, they’d be able to survive indefinitely and work out a plan of escape.

  Sazed, Breeze, Spook, and Allrianne sat in one of these partitioned-off areas among the shelves of food. “The reason that the Lord Ruler made this lake is simple, I think.” Sazed turned, glancing over his shoulder at the lake. “That water comes via an underground river, filtered—in all likelihood—through layers of rock. It is pure water, the likes of which you rarely see in the Final Empire. No ash, no sediment. The purpose of that water is to sustain a population should a disaster occur. If it were still flowing into the canals above, it would quickly get soiled and polluted by the population living in the city.”

  “The Lord Ruler was looking to the future,” Spook said, still wearing his strange eye bandage. He’d turned aside all questions and promptings regarding why he wore it, though Sazed was beginning to suspect it had to do with burning tin.

  Sazed nodded at the young man’s comment. “The Lord Ruler wasn’t worried about causing financial ruin in Urteau—he just wanted to make certain this cavern had access to a constant, flowing source of fresh water.”

  “Isn’t this all beside the point?” Allrianne asked. “So we have water. What about that maniac running the city?”

  Sazed paused, and the others turned to look to him. I am, unfortunately, in charge. “Well,” he said, “we should speak of this. Emperor Venture has asked us to secure the city. As the Citizen has proven unwilling to meet with us again, we shall need to discuss other options.”

  “That man needs to go,” Spook said. “We need assassins.”

  “I fear that wouldn’t work very well, my dear boy,” Breeze said.

  “Why not?” Spook asked. “We killed the Lord Ruler, and that worked pretty well.”

  “Ah,” Breeze said, raising a finger, “but the Lord Ruler was irreplaceable. He was a god, and so killing him created a psychological impact on his populace.”

  Allrianne nodded. “This Citizen’s not a force of nature, but a man—and men can be replaced. If we assassinate Quellion,
one of his lackeys will simply take his place.”

  “And we will be branded as murderers,” Breeze added.

  “What, then?” Spook asked. “We leave him alone?”

  “Of course not,” Breeze said. “If we want to take this city, we need to undermine him, then remove him. We prove that his entire system is faulty—that his government is, in essence, silly. If we manage that, we won’t just stop him, we’ll stop everyone who has worked with him and supported him. That is the only way we’re going to take Urteau short of marching an army in here and seizing it by force.”

  “And, since His Majesty kindly left us without any troops to speak of . . .” Allrianne said.

  “I am not convinced that such rash action is required,” Sazed said. “Perhaps, given more time, we’ll be able to work with this man.”

  “Work with him?” Spook asked. “You’ve been here three days—isn’t that enough for you to see what Quellion is like?”

  “I have seen,” Sazed said. “And, to be perfectly honest, I do not know that I can fault the Citizen’s views.”

  The cavern fell silent.

  “Perhaps you should explain yourself, my dear man,” Breeze said, sipping at a cup of wine.

  “The things that the Citizen says are not false,” Sazed said. “We cannot blame him for teaching the very same things that Kelsier did. The Survivor spoke of killing the nobility—goodness knows, we all saw him engaging in that activity often enough. He spoke of revolution and of skaa ruling themselves.”

  “He spoke of extreme actions during extreme times,” Breeze said. “That’s what you do when you need to motivate people. Even Kelsier wouldn’t have taken it this far.”

  “Perhaps,” Sazed said. “But can we really be surprised that people who heard Kelsier speak have created this society? And, what right have we to take it from them? In a way, they’ve been truer to Kelsier than we have. Can you really say that you think he’d be pleased to find out that we put a nobleman on the throne not one day after he died?”