“I don’t think you said anything, Dox,” Kelsier said.
“Oh, he said something,” Spook said. “It just didn’t mean anything.”
Kelsier laughed. “That’s true pretty much all the time. I’ve found you can ignore half of what Dox tells you and not miss much—except for maybe the occasional complaint that you’re spending too much.”
“Hey!” Dockson said. “Once again, must I point out that someone has to be responsible? Honestly, the way you people go through boxings…”
Vin smiled. Even Dockson’s complaints seemed good-natured. Clubs sat quietly by the side wall, looking as curmudgeonly as ever, but Vin caught sight of a slight smile on his lips. Kelsier rose and opened another bottle of wine, refilling cups as he told the crew about the skaa army’s preparations.
Vin felt…contented. As she sipped at her wine, she caught sight of the open doorway leading into the darkened workshop. She imagined, just for a moment, that she could see a figure out in the shadows—a frightened wisp of a girl, untrusting, suspicious. The girl’s hair was ragged and short, and she wore a simple, untucked dirty shirt and a pair of brown trousers.
Vin remembered that second night in Clubs’s shop, when she had stood out in the dark workroom, watching the others share late-night conversation. Had she really been that girl—one who would hide in the cold darkness, watching the laughter and friendship with a hidden envy, but never daring to join it?
Kelsier made some particularly witty comment, drawing laughter from the entire room.
You’re right, Kelsier, Vin thought with a smile. This is better.
She wasn’t like them yet—not completely. Six months couldn’t silence Reen’s whispers, and she couldn’t see herself ever being as trusting as Kelsier was. But…she could finally understand, at least a little bit, why he worked the way he did.
“All right,” Kelsier said, pulling over a chair and sitting on it the wrong way. “It looks like the army will be ready on schedule, and Marsh is in place. We need to get this plan moving. Vin, news from the ball?”
“House Tekiel is vulnerable,” she said. “Its allies are scattering, and the vultures are moving in. Some whisper that debts and lost business will force the Tekiel to sell off their keep by the end of the month. There’s no way they can afford to continue paying the Lord Ruler’s keep tax.”
“Which effectively eliminates one entire Great House from the city,” Dockson said. “Most of the Tekiel nobility—including Mistings and Mistborn—will have to move to outer plantations to try and recoup losses.”
“Nice,” Ham noted. Any noble houses they could frighten out of the city would make seizing it that much easier.
“That still leaves nine Great Houses in the city,” Breeze noted.
“But they’ve started killing each other at night,” Kelsier said. “That’s only one step away from open war. I suspect we’ll see an exodus start here pretty soon—anyone who isn’t willing to risk assassination to maintain dominance in Luthadel will leave town for a couple of years.”
“The strong houses don’t seem very afraid, though,” Vin said. “They’re still throwing balls, anyway.”
“Oh, they’ll keep doing that right up until the end,” Kelsier said. “Balls make great excuses to meet with allies and keep an eye on enemies. House wars are primarily political, and so they demand political battlefields.”
Vin nodded.
“Ham,” Kelsier said, “we need to keep an eye on the Luthadel Garrison. You’re still planning to visit your soldier contacts tomorrow?”
Ham nodded. “I can’t promise anything, but I should be able to reestablish some connections. Give me a bit of time, and I’ll find out what the military is up to.”
“Good,” Kelsier said.
“I’d like to go with him,” Vin said.
Kelsier paused. “With Ham?”
Vin nodded. “I haven’t trained with a Thug yet. Ham could probably show me a few things.”
“You already know how to burn pewter,” Kelsier said. “We’ve practiced that.”
“I know,” Vin said. How could she explain? Ham had practiced with pewter exclusively—he was bound to be better at it than Kelsier.
“Oh, stop pestering the child,” Breeze said. “She’s probably just tired of balls and parties. Let her go be a normal street urchin again for a bit.”
“Fine,” Kelsier said, rolling his eyes. He poured himself another drink. “Breeze, how well could your Soothers manage if you were gone for a little while?”
Breeze shrugged. “I am, of course, the most effective member of the team. But, I did train the others—they’ll recruit effectively without me, especially now that stories about the Survivor are getting so popular.”
“We need to talk about that by the way, Kell,” Dockson said, frowning. “I’m not sure if I like all this mysticism about you and the Eleventh Metal.”
“We can discuss it later,” Kelsier said.
“Why ask about my men?” Breeze said. “Have you finally grown so jealous of my impeccable fashion sense that you’ve decided to have me disposed of?”
“You might say that,” Kelsier said. “I was thinking of sending you to replace Yeden in a few months.”
“Replace Yeden?” Breeze asked with surprise. “You mean for me to lead the army?”
“Why not?” Kelsier asked. “You’re great at giving orders.”
“From the background, my dear man,” Breeze said. “I don’t stand out in front. Why, I’d be a general. Do you have any idea how ludicrous that sounds?”
“Just consider it,” Kelsier said. “Our recruitment should be mostly done by then, so you might be most effective if you were to go to the caves and let Yeden come back to prepare his contacts here.”
Breeze frowned. “I suppose.”
“Regardless,” Kelsier said, rising. “I don’t think I’ve had nearly enough wine. Spook, be a good lad and run down to the cellar for another bottle, eh?”
The boy nodded, and the conversation turned back to lighter topics. Vin settled back in her chair, feeling the warmth of the coal stove at the side of the room, content for the moment to simply enjoy the peace of not having to worry, fight, or plan.
If only Reen could have known something like this, she thought, idly fingering her earring. Perhaps then, things would have been different for him. For us.
Ham and Vin left the next day to visit the Luthadel Garrison.
After so many months of playing a noblewoman, Vin had thought that it would feel strange to wear street clothing again. Yet, it really didn’t. True, it was a bit different—she didn’t have to worry about sitting properly or walking so that her dress didn’t brush against dirty walls or floors. Yet, the mundane clothing still felt natural to her.
She wore a simple pair of brown trousers and a loose white shirt, tucked in at the waist, then overlaid by a leather vest. Her still lengthening hair was pulled up under a cap. Casual passers might think her a boy, though Ham didn’t seem to think it mattered.
And it really didn’t. Vin had grown accustomed to having people study and evaluate her, but no one on the street even bothered to give her a glance. Shuffling skaa workers, unconcerned low noblemen, even high-placed skaa like Clubs—they all ignored her.
I’d almost forgotten what it was like to be invisible, Vin thought. Fortunately, the old attitudes—looking down when she walked, stepping out of people’s way, slouching to make herself inconspicuous—returned to her easily. Becoming Vin the street skaa felt as simple as remembering an old, familiar melody she used to hum.
This really is just another disguise, Vin thought as she walked beside Ham. My makeup is a light coat of ash, carefully rubbed on my cheeks. My gown is a pair of trousers, rubbed to make them seem old and well used.
Who, then, was she really? Vin the urchin? Valette the lady? Neither? Did any of her friends really know her? Did she even really know herself?
“Ah, I’ve missed this place,” Ham said, walking happily be
side her. Ham always seemed happy; she couldn’t imagine him dissatisfied, despite what he’d said about his time leading the army.
“It’s kind of strange,” he said, turning to Vin. He didn’t walk with the same careful air of despondence that Vin had cultivated; he didn’t even seem to care that he stood out from other skaa. “I probably shouldn’t miss this place—I mean, Luthadel is the dirtiest, most crowded city in the Final Empire. But, there’s also something about it….”
“Is this where your family lives?” Vin asked.
Ham shook his head. “They live in a smaller city outside of town. My wife is a seamstress there; she tells people I’m in the Luthadel Garrison.”
“Don’t you miss them?”
“Of course I do,” Ham said. “It’s hard—I only get to spend a few months at a time with them—but it’s better this way. If I were to get killed on a job, the Inquisitors would have a tough time tracking my family. I haven’t even told Kell which city they live in.”
“You think the Ministry would go to that much trouble?” Vin asked. “I mean, you’d already be dead.”
“I’m a Misting, Vin—that means that all of my descendants will have some noble blood. My children might turn out to be Allomancers, as might their children. No, when the Inquisitors kill a Misting, they make certain to wipe out his children too. The only way to keep my family safe is to stay away from them.”
“You could just not use your Allomancy,” Vin said.
Ham shook his head. “I don’t know if I could do that.”
“Because of the power?”
“No, because of the money,” Ham said frankly. “Thugs—or, Pewterarms, as the nobility prefer to call them—are the most sought-after Mistings. A competent Thug can stand against a half-dozen regular men, and he can lift more, endure more, and move faster than any other hired muscle. Those things mean a lot when you have to keep your crews small. Mix a couple of Coinshots with five or so Thugs, and you’ve got yourself a small, mobile army. Men will pay a lot for protection like that.”
Vin nodded. “I can see how the money would be tempting.”
“It’s more than tempting, Vin. My family doesn’t have to live in packed skaa tenements, nor do they have to worry about starving. My wife only works to keep up appearances—they have a good life, for skaa. Once I have enough, we’ll move away from the Central Dominance. There are places in the Final Empire that a lot of people don’t know about—places where a man with enough money can live the life of a nobleman. Places where you can stop worrying and just live.”
“That sounds…appealing.”
Ham nodded, turning and leading them down a larger thoroughfare toward the main city gates. “I got the dream from Kell, actually. That’s what he always said he wanted to do. I just hope I have more luck than he did….”
Vin frowned. “Everyone says he was rich. Why didn’t he leave?”
“I don’t know,” Ham said. “There was always another job—each one bigger than the last. I guess when you’re a crewleader like him, the game can get addicting. Soon, money didn’t even seem to matter to him. Eventually, he heard that the Lord Ruler was storing some incalculable secret in that hidden sanctum of his. If he and Mare had walked away before that job…But, well, they didn’t. I don’t know—maybe they wouldn’t have been happy living lives where they didn’t have to worry.”
The concept seemed to intrigue him, and Vin could see another of his “questions” working within his mind.
I guess when you’re a crewleader like him, the game can get addicting….
Her earlier apprehensions returned. What would happen if Kelsier seized the imperial throne for himself? He couldn’t possibly be as bad as the Lord Ruler, but…she was reading more and more of the logbook. The Lord Ruler hadn’t always been a tyrant. He’d been a good man, once. A good man whose life had gone wrong.
Kelsier’s different, Vin told herself forcefully. He’ll do the right thing.
Still, she wondered. Ham might not understand, but Vin could see the enticement. Despite noble depravity, there was something intoxicating about high society. Vin was captivated by the beauty, the music, and the dancing. Her fascination wasn’t the same as Kelsier’s—she wasn’t as interested in political games or even scams—but she could understand why he would have been reluctant to leave Luthadel behind.
That reluctance had destroyed the old Kelsier. But, it had produced something better—a more determined, less self-serving Kelsier. Hopefully.
Of course, his plans before also cost him the woman he loved. Is that why he hates the nobility so much?
“Ham?” she asked. “Has Kelsier always hated the nobility?”
Ham nodded. “It’s worse now, though.”
“He frightens me sometimes. It seems like he wants to kill all of them, no matter who they are.”
“I’m concerned about him too,” Ham said. “This Eleventh Metal business…it’s almost like he’s making himself out to be some kind of holy man.” He paused, then he looked toward her. “Don’t worry too much. Breeze, Dox, and I have already talked about this. We’re going to confront Kell, see if we can rein him in a bit. He means well, but he has a tendency to go a little overboard sometimes.”
Vin nodded. Ahead, the customary crowded lines of people waited for permission to pass through the city gates. She and Ham walked quietly past the solemn group—workers being sent out to the docks, men off to work one of the outer mills alongside the river or lake, lesser noblemen wishing to travel. All had to have a good reason to leave the city; the Lord Ruler strictly controlled travel inside his realm.
Poor things, Vin thought as she passed a ragged band of children carrying pails and brushes—probably on duty to climb the wall and scrub mist-grown lichen off the parapets. Ahead, up near the gates, an official cursed and shoved a man out of the line. The skaa worker fell hard, but eventually picked himself back up and shuffled to the end of the line. It was likely that if he wasn’t let out of the city, he wouldn’t be able to do his day’s work—and no work meant no food tokens for his family.
Vin followed Ham past the gates, heading down a street parallel to the city wall, at the end of which Vin could see a large building complex. Vin had never studied the Garrison headquarters before; most crewmembers tended to stay a good distance away from it. However, as they approached, she was impressed by its defensive appearance. Large spikes were mounted on the wall that ran around the entire complex. The buildings within were bulky and fortified. Soldiers stood at the gates, eyeing passersby with hostility.
Vin paused. “Ham, how are we going to get in there?”
“Don’t worry,” he said, stopping beside her. “I’m known to the Garrison. Besides, it’s not as bad as it looks—the Garrison members just put on an intimidating face. As you can imagine, they aren’t very well liked. Most of the soldiers in there are skaa—men who have, in exchange for a better life, sold out to the Lord Ruler. Whenever there are skaa riots in a city, the local garrison is usually hit pretty hard by malcontents. Hence the fortifications.”
“So…you know these men?”
Ham nodded. “I’m not like Breeze or Kell, Vin—I can’t put on faces and pretend. I’m just who I am. Those soldiers don’t know I’m a Misting, but they know I work in the underground. I’ve known many of these guys for years; they’ve consistently tried to recruit me. They generally have better luck getting people like me, who are already outside mainstream society, to join their ranks.”
“But, you’re going to betray them,” Vin said quietly, pulling Ham to the side of the road.
“Betray?” he asked. “No, it won’t be a betrayal. Those men are mercenaries, Vin. They’ve been hired to fight, and they’ll attack friends—even relatives—in a riot or rebellion. Soldiers learn to understand these kinds of things. We may be friends, but when it comes to fighting, none of us would hesitate to kill the others.”
Vin nodded slowly. It seemed…harsh. But, that’s what life is. Harsh. That part of R
een’s teaching wasn’t a lie.
“Poor lads,” Ham said, looking at the Garrison. “We could have used men like them. Before I left for the caves, I managed to recruit the few that I thought would be receptive. The rest…well, they picked their path. Like me, they’re just trying to give their kids a better life—the difference is, they’re willing to work for him in order to do it.”
Ham turned back to her. “All right, you wanted some tips on burning pewter?”
Vin nodded eagerly.
“The soldiers usually let me spar with them,” Ham said. “You can watch me fight—burn bronze to see when I’m using Allomancy. The first, most important thing you’ll learn about Pewterarming is when to use your metal. I’ve noticed that young Allomancers tend to always flare their pewter, thinking that the stronger they are, the better. However, you don’t always want to hit as hard as you can with each blow.
“Strength is a big part of fighting, but it’s not the only part. If you always hit your hardest, you’ll tire faster and you’ll give your opponent information about your limitations. A smart man hits his hardest at the end of a battle, when his opponent is weakest. And, in an extended battle—like a war—the smart soldier is the one who survives the longest. He’ll be the man who paces himself.”
Vin nodded. “But, don’t you tire slower when you’re using Allomancy?”
“Yes,” Ham said. “In fact, a man with enough pewter can keep fighting at near-peak efficiency for hours. But pewter dragging like that takes practice, and you’ll run out of metals eventually. When you do, the fatigue could kill you.
“Anyway, what I’m trying to explain is that it’s usually best to vary your pewter burning. If you use more strength than you need, you could knock yourself off balance. Also, I’ve seen Thugs who rely on their pewter so much that they disregard training and practice. Pewter enhances your physical abilities, but not your innate skill. If you don’t know how to use a weapon—or if you aren’t practiced at thinking quickly in a fight—you’ll lose no matter how strong you are.
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