Elend paused, glancing at Vin. Then, he continued. “In fact, tell him that I want to discuss the future of Luthadel, and because I want to introduce him to someone special.”
Ham chuckled. “Ah, nothing like bringing a girl home to meet the father.”
“Especially when that girl happens to be the most dangerous Allomancer in the Central Dominance,” Breeze added.
“You think he’ll agree to letting her come?” Dockson said.
“If he doesn’t, there’s no deal,” Elend said. “Make sure he knows that. Either way, I do think he’ll agree. Straff has a habit of underestimating me—probably with good reason. However, I’ll bet that sentiment extends to Vin as well. He’ll assume she isn’t as good as everyone says.”
“Straff has his own Mistborn,” Vin added. “To protect him. It will only be fair for Elend to be able to bring me. And, if I’m there, I can get him out should something go wrong.”
Ham chuckled again. “That probably wouldn’t make for a very dignified retreat—getting slung over Vin’s shoulder and carried to safety.”
“Better than dying,” Elend said, obviously trying to act good-natured, but flushing slightly at the same time.
He loves me, but he’s still a man, Vin thought. How many times have I hurt his pride by being Mistborn while he is simply a normal person? A lesser man would never have fallen in love with me.
But, doesn’t he deserve a woman that he feels he can protect? A woman who’s more like…a woman?
Vin pulled down in her chair again, seeking warmth within its plushness. However, it was Elend’s study chair, where he read. Didn’t he also deserve a woman who shared his interests, one who didn’t find reading a chore? A woman with whom he could talk about his brilliant political theories?
Why am I thinking about our relationship so much lately? Vin thought.
We don’t belong in their world, Zane had said. We belong here, in the mists.
You don’t belong with them….
“There is something else I wanted to mention, Your Majesty,” Dockson said. “You should meet with the Assembly. They’ve been growing impatient to get your ear—something about counterfeit coins being passed in Luthadel.”
“I don’t really have time for city business right now,” Elend said. “The prime reason I set up the Assembly was so that they could deal with these kinds of issues. Go ahead and send them a message, telling them that I trust their judgment. Apologize for me, and explain that I’m seeing to the city’s defense. I’ll try and make the Assembly meeting next week.”
Dockson nodded, scribbling a note to himself. “Though,” he noted, “that is something else to consider. By meeting with Straff, you’ll give up your hold on the Assembly.”
“This isn’t an official parlay,” Elend said. “Just an informal meeting. My resolution from before will still stand.”
“In all honesty, Your Majesty,” Dockson said, “I highly doubt that they will see it that way. You know how angry they are to be left without recourse until you decide to hold the parlay.”
“I know,” Elend said. “But the risk is worthwhile. We need to meet with Straff. Once that is done, I can return with—hopefully—good news for the Assembly. At that point, I can argue that the resolution hasn’t been fulfilled. For now, the meeting goes forward.”
More decisive indeed, Vin thought. He’s changing….
She had to stop thinking about things like that. Instead, she focused on something else. The conversation turned to specific ways that Elend could manipulate Straff, each of the crewmembers giving him tips on how to scam effectively. Vin, however, found herself watching them, looking for discrepancies in their personalities, trying to decide if any of them might be the kandra spy.
Was Clubs being even quieter than normal? Was Spook’s shift in language patterns due to growing maturity, or because the kandra had difficulty mimicking his slang? Was Ham, perhaps, too jovial? He also seemed to focus less on his little philosophical puzzles than he once had. Was that because he was more serious now, or because the kandra didn’t know how to imitate him properly?
It was no good. If she thought too much, she could spot seeming discrepancies in anyone. Yet, at the same time, they all seemed like themselves. People were just too complex to reduce to simple personality traits. Plus, the kandra would be good—very good. He would have a lifetime of training in the art of imitating others, and he had probably been planning his insertion for a long time.
It came down to Allomancy, then. With all of the activities surrounding the siege and her studies about the Deepness, however, she hadn’t had a chance to test her friends. As she thought about it, she admitted that the lack of time excuse was a weak one. The truth was that she was probably distracting herself because the thought of one of the crew—one of her first group of friends—being a traitor was just too upsetting.
She had to get over that. If there really were a spy in the group, that would be the end of them. If the enemy kings found out about the tricks Elend was planning…
This in mind, she tentatively burned bronze. Immediately, she sensed an Allomantic pulse from Breeze—dear, incorrigible Breeze. He was so good at Allomancy that even Vin couldn’t detect his touch most of the time, but he was also compulsive about using his power.
He wasn’t currently using it on her, however. She closed her eyes, focusing. Once, long ago, Marsh had tried to train her in the fine art of using bronze to read Allomantic pulses. She hadn’t realized at the time just how large a task he’d begun.
When an Allomancer burned a metal, they gave off an invisible, drumlike beat that only another Allomancer burning bronze could sense. The rhythm of these pulses—how quickly the beats came, the way they “sounded”—told exactly what metal was being burned.
It took practice, and was difficult, but Vin was getting better at reading the pulses. She focused. Breeze was burning brass—the internal, mental Pushing metal. And…
Vin focused harder. She could feel a pattern washing over her, a double dum-dum beat with each pulse. They felt oriented to her right. The pulses were washing against something else, something that was sucking them in.
Elend. Breeze was focused on Elend. Not surprising, considering the current discussion. Breeze was always Pushing on the people he interacted with.
Satisfied, Vin sat back. But then she paused. Marsh implied there was much more to bronze than many people thought. I wonder….
She squeezed her eyes shut—ignoring the fact that any of the others who saw her would think her actions strange—and focused again on the Allomantic pulses. She flared the bronze, concentrating so hard she felt she’d give herself a headache. There was a…vibration to the pulses. But what that could mean, she wasn’t certain.
Focus! she told herself. However, the pulses stubbornly refused to yield any further information.
Fine, she thought. I’ll cheat. She turned off her tin—she almost always had it on a little bit—then reached inside and burned the fourteenth metal. Duralumin.
The Allomantic pulses became so loud…so powerful…she swore she could feel their vibrations shaking her apart. They pounded like beats from a massive drum set right beside her. But she got something from them.
Anxiety, nervousness, worry, insecurity, anxiety, nervousness, worry—
It was gone, her bronze expended in one massive flare of power. Vin opened her eyes; no one in the room was looking at her except OreSeur.
She felt drained. The headache she’d predicted before now came in full force, thudding inside her head like the tiny brother of the drum she’d now banished. However, she held to the information she’d gleaned. It hadn’t come in words, but feelings—and her first fear was that Breeze was making these emotions appear. Anxiety, nervousness, worry. However, she immediately realized that Breeze was a Soother. If he focused on emotions, it would be the ones he was dampening. The ones he was using his powers to Soothe away.
She looked from him to Elend. Why…he’s making Elen
d more confident! If Elend stood a little taller, it was because Breeze was quietly helping, Soothing away anxiety and worry. And Breeze did this even as he argued and made his usual mocking comments.
Vin studied the plump man, ignoring her headache, feeling a newfound sense of admiration. She’d always wondered just a little at Breeze’s placement in the crew. The other men were all, to an extent, idealists. Even Clubs, beneath his crotchety exterior, had always struck her as a solidly good man.
Breeze was different. Manipulative, a little selfish—he seemed like he’d joined the crew for the challenge, not because he really wanted to help the skaa. But, Kelsier had always claimed that he’d chosen his crew carefully, picking the men for their integrity, not just their skill.
Perhaps Breeze wasn’t an exception after all. Vin watched him pointing his cane at Ham as he said something flippant. And yet, on the inside, he was completely different.
You’re a good man, Breeze, she thought, smiling to herself. You just try your best to hide it.
And he also wasn’t the impostor. She’d known that before, of course; Breeze hadn’t been in the city when the kandra had made the switch. However, having a second confirmation lifted a tiny bit of her burden.
Now if she could just eliminate some of the others.
Elend bid the crew farewell after the meeting. Dockson went to pen the requested letters, Ham to go over security, Clubs back to training the soldiers, and Breeze to try and placate the Assembly regarding Elend’s lack of attention.
Vin trailed out of the study, shooting him a glance, then eyeing Tindwyl. Suspicious of her still, eh? Elend thought with amusement. He nodded reassuringly, and Vin frowned, looking just a little annoyed. He would have let her stay, but…well, facing Tindwyl was embarrassing enough alone.
Vin left the room, wolfhound kandra at her side. Looks like she’s growing more attached to the creature, Elend thought with satisfaction. It was good to know that someone watched over her.
Vin shut the door behind her, and Elend sighed, rubbing his shoulder. Several weeks of training with the sword and cane were taking a lot out of him, and his body was bruised. He tried to keep the pain from showing—or, rather, from letting Tindwyl see him show the pain. At least I proved that I’m learning, he thought. She had to see how well I did today.
“Well?” he asked.
“You are an embarrassment,” Tindwyl said, standing before her chair.
“So you like to say,” Elend said, walking forward to begin piling up a stack of books. Tindwyl said that he needed to let servants keep his study clean, something he’d always resisted. The clutter of books and papers felt right to him, and he certainly didn’t want someone else moving them around.
With her standing there looking at him, however, it was difficult not to feel self-conscious about the mess. He stacked another book on the pile.
“Surely you noticed how well I did,” Elend said. “I got them to let me go into Straff’s camp.”
“You are king, Elend Venture,” Tindwyl said, arms folded. “Nobody ‘lets’ you do anything. The first change in attitude has to be your own—you have to stop thinking that you need permission or agreement from those who follow you.”
“A king should lead by consent of his citizens,” Elend said. “I will not be another Lord Ruler.”
“A king should be strong,” Tindwyl said firmly. “He accepts counsel, but only when he asks for it. He makes it clear that the final decision is his, not his counselors’. You need better control over your advisors. If they don’t respect you, then your enemies won’t either—and the masses never will.”
“Ham and the others respect me.”
Tindwyl raised an eyebrow.
“They do!”
“What do they call you?”
Elend shrugged. “They’re my friends. They use my name.”
“Or a close approximation of it. Right, ‘El’?”
Elend flushed, setting one final book on the stack. “You’d have me force my friends to address me by my title?”
“Yes,” Tindwyl said. “Especially in public. You should be addressed as ‘Your Majesty,’ or at least as ‘my lord.’”
“I doubt Ham would deal well with that,” Elend said. “He has some issues with authority.”
“He will get over them,” Tindwyl said, wiping her finger along a bookcase. She didn’t need to hold it up for Elend to know there would be dust on its tip.
“What about you?” Elend challenged.
“Me?”
“You call me ‘Elend Venture,’ not ‘Your Majesty.’”
“I am different,” Tindwyl said.
“Well, I don’t see why you should be. You can call me ‘Your Majesty’ from now on.”
Tindwyl smiled slyly. “Very well, Your Majesty. You can unclench your fists now. You’re going to have to work on that—a statesman should not give visual clues of his nervousness.”
Elend glanced down, relaxing his hands. “All right.”
“In addition,” Tindwyl continued, “you still hedge too much in your language. It makes you seem timid and hesitant.”
“I’m working on that.”
“Don’t apologize unless you really mean it,” Tindwyl said. “And don’t make excuses. You don’t need them. A leader is often judged by how well he bears responsibility. As king, everything that happens in your kingdom—regardless of who commits the act—is your fault. You are even responsible for unavoidable events such as earthquakes or storms.”
“Or armies,” Elend said.
Tindwyl nodded. “Or armies. It is your responsibility to deal with these things, and if something goes wrong, it is your fault. You simply have to accept this.”
Elend nodded, picking up a book.
“Now, let’s talk about guilt,” Tindwyl said, seating herself. “Stop cleaning. That isn’t a job for a king.”
Elend sighed, setting down the book.
“Guilt,” Tindwyl said, “does not become a king. You have to stop feeling sorry for yourself.”
“You just told me everything that happens in the kingdom is my fault!”
“It is.”
“How can I not feel guilty, then?”
“You have to feel confident that your actions are the best,” Tindwyl explained. “You have to know that no matter how bad things get, they would be worse without you. When disaster occurs, you take responsibility, but you don’t wallow or mope. You aren’t allowed that luxury; guilt is for lesser men. You simply need to do what is expected.”
“And that is?”
“To make everything better.”
“Great,” Elend said flatly. “And if I fail?”
“Then you accept responsibility, and make everything better on the second try.”
Elend rolled his eyes. “And what if I can’t ever make things better? What if I’m really not the best man to be king?”
“Then you remove yourself from the position,” Tindwyl said. “Suicide is the preferred method—assuming, of course, that you have an heir. A good king knows not to foul up the succession.”
“Of course,” Elend said. “So, you’re saying I should just kill myself.”
“No. I’m telling you to have pride in yourself, Your Majesty.”
“That’s not what it sounds like. Every day you tell me how poor a king I am, and how my people will suffer because of it! Tindwyl, I’m not the best man for this position. He got himself killed by the Lord Ruler.”
“That is enough!” Tindwyl snapped. “Believe it or not, Your Majesty, you are the best person for this position.”
Elend snorted.
“You are best,” Tindwyl said, “because you hold the throne now. If there is anything worse than a mediocre king, it is chaos—which is what this kingdom would have if you hadn’t taken the throne. The people on both sides, noblemen and skaa, accept you. They may not believe in you, but they accept you. Step down now—or even die accidentally—and there would be confusion, collapse, and destruction. Poo
rly trained or not, weak of character or not, mocked or not, you are all this country has. You are king, Elend Venture.”
Elend paused. “I’m…not sure if you’re making me feel any better about myself, Tindwyl.”
“It’s—”
Elend raised a hand. “Yes, I know. It’s not about how I feel.”
“You have no place for guilt. Accept that you’re king, accept that you can do nothing constructive to change that, and accept responsibility. Whatever you do, be confident—for if you weren’t here, there would be chaos.”
Elend nodded.
“Arrogance, Your Majesty,” Tindwyl said. “Successful leaders all share one common trait—they believe that they can do a better job than the alternatives. Humility is fine when considering your responsibility and duty, but when it comes time to make a decision, you must not question yourself.”
“I’ll try.”
“Good,” Tindwyl said. “Now, perhaps, we can move on to another matter. Tell me, why haven’t you married that young girl?”
Elend frowned. Wasn’t expecting that…. “That’s a very personal question, Tindwyl.”
“Good.”
Elend deepened his frown, but she sat expectantly, watching him with one of her unrelenting stares.
“I don’t know,” Elend finally said, sitting back in his chair, sighing. “Vin isn’t…like other women.”
Tindwyl raised an eyebrow, her voice softening slightly. “I think that the more women you come to know, Your Majesty, the more you’ll find that statement applies to all of them.”
Elend nodded ruefully.
“Either way,” Tindwyl said, “things are not well as they stand. I will not pry further into your relationship, but—as we’ve discussed—appearances are very important to a king. It isn’t appropriate for you to be seen as having a mistress. I realize that sort of thing was common for imperial nobility. The skaa, however, want to see something better in you. Perhaps because many noblemen were so frivolous with their sexual lives, the skaa have always prized monogamy. They wish desperately for you to respect their values.”
Mistborn Trilogy Page 94
