Mistborn Trilogy

by Sanderson, Brandon

  No, she thought, he doesn’t trust me.

  He turned away again, and Vin watched him. She did understand what he meant, for she had once thought as he did. Idly, she wondered what kind of person she might have become if she’d gained full access to her powers without—at the same time—learning of friendship and trust from Kelsier’s crew.

  “What would you do, Vin?” Zane asked, turning back toward her. “Assuming you didn’t have any constraints—assuming there were no repercussions for your actions?”

  Go north. The thought was immediate. Find out what is causing that thumping. She didn’t say it, however. “I don’t know,” she said instead.

  He turned, eyeing her. “You aren’t taking me seriously, I see. I apologize for wasting your time.”

  He turned to go, walking directly between her and OreSeur. Vin watched him, and felt a sudden stab of concern. He’d come to her, willing to talk rather than just fight—and she’d wasted the opportunity. She was never going to turn him to her side if she didn’t talk to him.

  “You want to know what I’d do?” she asked, her voice ringing in the silent mists.

  Zane paused.

  “If I could just use my power as I wanted?” Vin asked. “No repercussions? I’d protect him.”

  “Your king?” Zane asked, turning.

  Vin nodded sharply. “These men who brought armies against him—your master, this man named Cett. I’d kill them. I’d use my power to make certain that nobody could threaten Elend.”

  Zane nodded quietly, and she saw respect in his eyes. “And why don’t you?”

  “Because…”

  “I see the confusion in your eyes,” Zane said. “You know that your instincts to kill those men are right—yet you hold back. Because of him.”

  “There would be repercussions, Zane,” Vin said. “If I killed those men, their armies might just attack. Right now, diplomacy could still work.”

  “Perhaps,” Zane said. “Until he asks you to go kill someone for him.”

  Vin snorted. “Elend doesn’t work that way. He doesn’t give me orders, and the only people I kill are the ones who try to kill him first.”

  “Oh?” Zane said. “You may not act at his order, Vin, but you certainly refrain from action at it. You are his toy. I don’t say this to insult you—you see, I’m as much a toy as you are. Neither of us can break free. Not alone.”

  Suddenly, the coin Vin had dropped snapped into the air, flying toward Zane. She tensed, but it simply streaked into Zane’s waiting hand.

  “It’s interesting,” he said, turning the coin in his fingers. “Many Mistborn stop seeing the value in coins. To us, they simply become something to be used for jumping. It’s easy to forget the value of something when you use it so often. When it becomes commonplace and convenient to you. When it becomes…just a tool.”

  He flipped the coin up, then shot it out into the night. “I must go,” he said, turning.

  Vin raised a hand. Seeing him use Allomancy made her realize that there was another reason she wanted to speak with him. It had been so long since she’d talked with another Mistborn, one who understood her powers. Someone like her.

  But, it seemed to her that she was too desperate for him to stay. So she let him go, and returned to her vigil.

  25

  He fathered no children, yet all of the land became his progeny.

  Vin was a very light sleeper—a heritage from her youth. Thieving crews worked together out of necessity, and any man who couldn’t guard his own possessions was considered to be unworthy of them. Vin, of course, had been at the very bottom of the hierarchy—and while she hadn’t had many possessions to protect, being a young girl in a primarily male environment gave her other reasons to be a light sleeper.

  So it was that when she awoke to a quiet bark of warning, she reacted without thinking. She tossed off her covers, reaching immediately for the vial on her bedstand. She didn’t sleep with metals inside of her; many of the Allomantic metals were, to some small extent, poisonous. It was unavoidable that she’d have to deal with some of that danger, but she had been warned to burn away excess metals at the end of each day.

  She downed this vial even as she reached for the obsidian daggers hidden beneath her pillow. The door to her sleeping chamber swung open, and Tindwyl walked in. The Terriswoman froze in midstep as she saw Vin crouching on the bed’s footboard a few feet away, twin daggers glistening, body tense.

  Tindwyl raised an eyebrow. “So you are awake.”

  “Now.”

  The Terriswoman smiled.

  “What are you doing in my rooms?” Vin demanded.

  “I came to wake you. I thought we might go shopping.”

  “Shopping?”

  “Yes, dear,” Tindwyl said, walking over to pull open the curtains. It was far earlier in the day than Vin usually rose. “From what I hear, you’re going to meet with His Majesty’s father on the morrow. You’ll want a suitable dress for the occasion, I assume?”

  “I don’t wear dresses anymore.” What is your game?

  Tindwyl turned, eyeing Vin. “You sleep in your clothing?”

  Vin nodded.

  “You don’t keep any ladies-in-waiting?”

  Vin shook her head.

  “Very well, then,” Tindwyl said, turning to walk from the room. “Bathe and change. We’ll leave when you’re ready.”

  “I don’t take commands from you.”

  Tindwyl paused by the door, turning. Then her face softened. “I know you don’t, child. You may come with me if you wish—the choice is yours. However, do you really want to meet with Straff Venture in trousers and a shirt?”

  Vin hesitated.

  “At least come browse,” Tindwyl said. “It will help take your mind off things.”

  Finally, Vin nodded. Tindwyl smiled again, then left.

  Vin glanced at OreSeur, who sat beside her bed. “Thanks for the warning.”

  The kandra shrugged.

  Once, Vin wouldn’t have been able to imagine living in a place like Keep Venture. The young Vin had been accustomed to hidden lairs, skaa hovels, and the occasional alley. Now she lived in a building bespeckled with stained glass, bounded by mighty walls and grand archways.

  Of course, Vin thought as she left the stairwell, many things have happened that I didn’t expect. Why think about them now?

  Her youth in the thieving crews had been much on her mind of late, and Zane’s comments—ridiculous though they were—itched in her mind. Did Vin belong in a place like this keep? She had a great many skills, but few of them were beautiful hallway kinds of skills. They were more…ash-stained alleyway kinds of skills.

  She sighed, OreSeur at her side as she made her way to the southern entryway, where Tindwyl said she’d be waiting. The hallway here grew wide and grand, and opened directly into the courtyard. Usually, coaches came right up into the entryway to pick up their occupants—that way the noblemen wouldn’t be exposed to the elements.

  As she approached, her tin let her hear voices. One was Tindwyl, the other…

  “I didn’t bring much,” Allrianne said. “A couple hundred boxings. But I do so need something to wear. I can’t survive on borrowed gowns forever!”

  Vin paused as she turned into the last part of the hallway.

  “The king’s gift will surely be enough to pay for a dress, dear,” Tindwyl said, noticing Vin. “Ah, here she is.”

  A sullen-looking Spook stood with the two women. He had on his palace guard’s uniform, though he wore the jacket undone and the trousers loose. Vin walked forward slowly. “I wasn’t expecting company,” she said.

  “Young Allrianne was trained as a courtly noblewoman,” Tindwyl said. “She will know the current fashions, and will be able to advise on your purchases.”

  “And Spook?”

  Tindwyl turned, eyeing the boy. “Packman.”

  Well, that explains his mood, Vin thought.

  “Come,” Tindwyl said, walking toward the courtyard.
Allrianne followed quickly, walking with a light, graceful step. Vin glanced at Spook, who shrugged, and they followed as well.

  “How did you get pulled into this?” Vin whispered to Spook.

  “Was up too early, sneaking food,” Spook grumbled. “Miss Imposing there noticed me, smiled like a wolfhound, and said, ‘We’ll be needing your services this afternoon, young man.’”

  Vin nodded. “Stay alert and keep your tin burning. Remember, we’re at war.”

  Spook obediently did what she said. Standing close to him as she was, Vin easily picked up and identified his tin’s Allomantic pulses—meaning he wasn’t the spy.

  Another one off the list, Vin thought. At least this trip won’t be a total waste.

  A coach waited for them by the front keep gates. Spook climbed up beside the coachman, and the women piled into the back. Vin sat down inside, and OreSeur climbed in and took the seat next to her. Allrianne and Tindwyl sat across from her, and Allrianne eyed OreSeur with a frown, wrinkling her nose. “Does the animal have to sit on the seats with us?”

  “Yes,” Vin said as the carriage started moving.

  Allrianne obviously expected more of an explanation, but Vin didn’t give one. Finally, Allrianne turned to look out the window. “Are you sure we’ll be safe, traveling with only one manservant, Tindwyl?”

  Tindwyl eyed Vin. “Oh, I think that we’ll be all right.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Allrianne said, looking back at Vin. “You’re an Allomancer! Are the things they say true?”

  “What things?” Vin asked quietly.

  “Well, they say you killed the Lord Ruler, for one. And that you’re kind of…um…well.” Allrianne bit her lip. “Well, just a little bit rickety.”

  “Rickety?”

  “And dangerous,” Allrianne said. “But, well, that can’t be true. I mean, you’re going shopping with us, right?”

  Is she trying to provoke me on purpose?

  “Do you always wear clothing like that?” Allrianne asked.

  Vin was in her standard gray trousers and tan shirt. “It’s easy to fight in.”

  “Yes, but…well.” Allrianne smiled. “I guess that’s why we’re here today, right, Tindwyl?”

  “Yes, dear,” Tindwyl said. She’d been studying Vin through the entire conversation.

  Like what you see? Vin thought. What is it you want?

  “You have to be the strangest noblewoman I’ve ever met,” Allrianne declared. “Did you grow up far from court? I did, but my mother was quite certain to train me well. Of course, she was just trying to make me into a good catch so Father could auction me off to make an alliance.”

  Allrianne smiled. It had been a while since Vin had been forced to deal with women like her. She remembered hours spent at court, smiling, pretending to be Valette Renoux. Often when she thought of those days, she remembered the bad things. The spite she’d faced from court members, her own lack of comfort in the role.

  But, there had also been good things. Elend was one. She would never have met him if she hadn’t been pretending to be a noblewoman. And the balls—with their colors, their music, and their gowns—had held a certain transfixing charm. The graceful dancing, the careful interactions, the perfectly decorated rooms…

  Those things are gone now, she told herself. We don’t have time for silly balls and gatherings, not when the dominance is on the verge of collapse.

  Tindwyl was still watching her.

  “Well?” Allrianne asked.

  “What?” Vin asked.

  “Did you grow up far from court?”

  “I’m not noble, Allrianne. I’m skaa.”

  Allrianne paled, then flushed, then raised her fingers to her lips. “Oh! You poor thing!” Vin’s augmented ears heard something beside her—a light chuckling from OreSeur, soft enough that only an Allomancer could have heard him.

  She resisted the urge to shoot the kandra a flat look. “It wasn’t so bad,” she said.

  “But, well, no wonder you don’t know how to dress!” Allrianne said.

  “I know how to dress,” Vin said. “I even own a few gowns.” Not that I’ve put one on in months….

  Allrianne nodded, though she obviously didn’t believe Vin’s comment. “Breezy is skaa, too,” she said quietly. “Or, half skaa. He told me. Good thing he didn’t tell Father—Father never has been very nice to skaa.”

  Vin didn’t reply.

  Eventually, they reached Kenton Street, and the crowds made the carriage a liability. Vin climbed out first, OreSeur hopping down to the cobblestones beside her. The market street was busy, though not as packed as it had been the last time she’d visited. Vin glanced over the prices at some nearby shops as the others exited the coach.

  Five boxings for a bin of aging apples, Vin thought with dissatisfaction. Food is already going at a premium. Elend had stores, fortunately. But how long would they last before the siege? Not through the approaching winter, certainly—not with so much of the dominance’s grain still unharvested in the outer plantations.

  Time may be our friend now, Vin thought, but it will turn on us eventually. They had to get those armies to fight each other. Otherwise, the city’s people might die of starvation before the soldiers even tried to take the walls.

  Spook hopped down from the carriage, joining them as Tindwyl surveyed the street. Vin eyed the bustling crowds. The people were obviously trying to go about their daily activities, despite the threat from outside. What else could they do? The siege had already lasted for weeks. Life had to go on.

  “There,” Tindwyl said, pointing to a dressmaker’s shop.

  Allrianne scampered forward. Tindwyl followed behind, walking with modest decorum. “Eager young thing, isn’t she?” the Terriswoman asked.

  Vin shrugged. The blond noblewoman had already gotten Spook’s attention; he was following her with a lively step. Of course, it wasn’t hard to get Spook’s attention. You just had to have breasts and smell nice—and the second was sometimes optional.

  Tindwyl smiled. “She probably hasn’t had an opportunity to go shopping since she left with her father’s army weeks ago.”

  “You sound like you think she went through some awful ordeal,” Vin said. “Just because she couldn’t go shopping.”

  “She obviously enjoys it,” Tindwyl said. “Surely you can understand being taken from that which you love.”

  Vin shrugged as they reached the shop. “I have trouble feeling sympathy for a courtly puff who is tragically taken from her dresses.”

  Tindwyl frowned slightly as they entered the shop, OreSeur settling down to wait outside. “Do not be so hard on the child. She is a product of her upbringing, just as you are. If you judge her worth based on frivolities, then you are doing the same as those who judge you based on your simple clothing.”

  “I like it when people judge me based on my simple clothing,” Vin said. “Then they don’t expect too much.”

  “I see,” Tindwyl said. “Then, you haven’t missed this at all?” She nodded toward the shop’s inner room.

  Vin paused. The room burst with colors and fabric, lace and velvet, bodices and skirts. Everything was powdered with a light perfume. Standing before the dressing dummies in their brilliant hues, Vin was—for just a moment—again taken back to the balls. Back to when she was Valette. Back to when she had an excuse to be Valette.

  “They say you enjoyed noble society,” Tindwyl said lightly, walking forward. Allrianne was already standing near the front of the room, running her fingers across a bolt of fabric, talking to the dressmaker in a firm voice.

  “Who told you that?” Vin asked.

  Tindwyl turned back. “Why, your friends, dear. It’s quite curious—they say you stopped wearing dresses a few months after the Collapse. They all wonder why. They say you seemed to like dressing like a woman, but I guess they were wrong.”

  “No,” Vin said quietly. “They were right.”

  Tindwyl raised an eyebrow, pausing beside a dressmaker’s
dummy in a bright green dress, edged with lace, the bottom flaring wide with several underskirts.

  Vin approached, looking up at the gorgeous costume. “I was beginning to like dressing like this. That was the problem.”

  “I don’t see a problem in that, dear.”

  Vin turned away from the gown. “This isn’t me. It never was—it was just an act. When wearing a dress like that, it’s too easy to forget who you really are.”

  “And these dresses can’t be part of who you really are?”

  Vin shook her head. “Dresses and gowns are part of who she is.” She nodded toward Allrianne. “I need to be something else. Something harder.” I shouldn’t have come here.

  Tindwyl laid a hand on Vin’s shoulder. “Why haven’t you married him, child?”

  Vin looked up sharply. “What kind of question is that?”

  “An honest one,” Tindwyl said. She seemed far less harsh than she had been the other times Vin had met her. Of course, during those times, she had mostly been addressing Elend.

  “That topic is not your concern,” Vin said.

  “The king has asked me to help him improve his image,” Tindwyl said. “And I have taken it upon myself to do more than that—I want to make a real king of him, if I can. There is some great potential in him, I think. However, he’s not going to be able to realize it until he’s more sure about certain things in his life. You in particular.”

  “I…” Vin closed her eyes, remembering his marriage proposal. That night, on the balcony, ash lightly falling in the night. She remembered her terror. She’d known, of course, where the relationship was going. Why had she been so frightened?

  That was the day she’d stopped wearing dresses.

  “He shouldn’t have asked me,” Vin said quietly, opening her eyes. “He can’t marry me.”

  “He loves you, child,” Tindwyl said. “In a way, that is unfortunate—this would all be much easier if he could feel otherwise. However, as things stand…”

  Vin shook her head. “I’m wrong for him.”

  “Ah,” Tindwyl said. “I see.”