Mistborn Trilogy

by Sanderson, Brandon

  He heard rustling from behind, and a moment later Vin landed on one of his stacks of books, somehow managing to balance atop it. Her mistcloak tassels hung down around her, smudging the ink on his letter.

  Elend sighed.

  “Oops,” Vin said, pulling back the mistcloak. “Sorry.”

  “Is it really necessary to leap around like that all the time, Vin?” Elend asked.

  Vin jumped down. “Sorry,” she repeated, biting her lip. “Sazed says it’s because Mistborn like to be up high, so we can see everything that’s going on.”

  Elend nodded, continuing the letter. He preferred them to be in his own hand, but he’d need to have a scribe rewrite this one. He shook his head. So much to do….

  Vin watched Elend scribble. Sazed sat reading, as did one of Elend’s scribes—the obligator. She eyed the man, and he shrank down a little in his seat. He knew that she’d never trusted him. Priests shouldn’t be cheerful.

  She was excited to tell Elend what she’d discovered about Demoux, but she hesitated. There were too many people around, and she didn’t really have any evidence—just her instincts. So, she held herself back, looking over the stacks of books.

  There was a dull quiet in the room. Tindwyl sat with her eyes slightly glazed; she was probably studying some ancient biography in her mind. Even Ham was reading, though he flipped from book to book, hopping topics. Vin felt as if she should be studying something, too. She thought of the notes she’d been making about the Deepness and the Hero of Ages, but couldn’t bring herself to get them out.

  She couldn’t tell him about Demoux, yet, but there was something else she’d discovered.

  “Elend,” she said quietly. “I have something to tell you.”

  “Humm?”

  “I heard the servants talking when OreSeur and I got dinner earlier,” Vin said. “Some people they know have been sick lately—a lot of them. I think that someone might be fiddling with our supplies.”

  “Yes,” Elend said, still writing. “I know. Several wells in the city have been poisoned.”

  “They have?”

  He nodded. “Didn’t I tell you when you checked on me earlier? That’s where Ham and I were.”

  “You didn’t tell me.”

  “I thought I did,” Elend said, frowning.

  Vin shook her head.

  “I apologize,” he said, leaned up and kissed her, then turned back to his scribbling.

  And a kiss is supposed to make it all right? she thought sullenly, sitting back on a stack of books.

  It was a silly thing; there was really no reason that Elend should have told her so quickly. And yet, the exchange left her feeling odd. Before, he would have asked her to do something about the problem. Now, he’d apparently handled it all on his own.

  Sazed sighed, closing his tome. “Your Majesty, I can find no holes. I have read your laws over six times now.”

  Elend nodded. “I feared as much. The only advantage we could gain from the law is to misinterpret it intentionally—which I will not do.”

  “You are a good man, Your Majesty,” Sazed said. “If you had seen a hole in the law, you would have fixed it. Even if you hadn’t caught the flaws, one of us would have, when you asked for our opinions.”

  He lets them call him “Your Majesty,” Vin thought. He tried to get them to stop that. Why let them use it now?

  Odd, that Elend would finally start to think of himself as king after the throne had been taken from him.

  “Wait,” Tindwyl said, eyes unglazing. “You read over this law before it was ratified, Sazed?”

  Sazed flushed.

  “He did,” Elend said. “In fact, Sazed’s suggestions and ideas were instrumental in helping me craft the current code.”

  “I see,” Tindwyl said through tight lips.

  Elend frowned. “Tindwyl, you were not invited to this meeting. You are suffered at it. Your advice has been well appreciated, but I will not allow you to insult a friend and guest of my household, even if those insults are indirect.”

  “I apologize, Your Majesty.”

  “You will not apologize to me,” Elend said. “You will apologize to Sazed, or you will leave this conference.”

  Tindwyl sat for a moment; then she stood and left the room. Elend didn’t appear offended. He simply turned back to writing his letters.

  “You didn’t need to do that, Your Majesty,” Sazed said. “Tindwyl’s opinions of me are well founded, I think.”

  “I will do as I see fit, Sazed,” Elend said, still writing. “No offense, my friend, but you have a history of letting people treat you poorly. I won’t stand for it in my house—by insulting your help with my laws, she insulted me as well.”

  Sazed nodded, then reached over to pick up a new volume.

  Vin sat quietly. He’s changing so quickly. How long has it been since Tindwyl arrived? Two months? None of the things Elend said were that different from what he would have said before—but the way he said them was completely different. He was firm, demanding in a way that implied he expected respect.

  It’s the collapse of his throne, the danger of the armies, Vin thought. The pressures are forcing him to change, to either step up and lead or get crushed. He’d known about the wells. What other things had he discovered, and not told her?

  “Elend?” Vin asked. “I’ve thought more about the Deepness.”

  “That’s wonderful, Vin,” Elend said, smiling at her. “But, I really don’t have time right now….”

  Vin nodded, and smiled at him. However, her thoughts were more troubled. He’s not uncertain, like he once was. He doesn’t have to rely on people as much for support.

  He doesn’t need me anymore.

  It was a foolish thought. Elend loved her; she knew that. His aptitude wouldn’t make her less valuable to him. And yet, she couldn’t stamp out her worries. He’d left her once before, when he’d been trying to juggle the needs of his house with his love for her, and the action had nearly crushed her.

  What would happen if he abandoned her now?

  He won’t, she told herself. He’s a better man than that.

  But, good men had failed relationships, didn’t they? People grew apart—particularly people who were so different to begin with. Despite herself—despite her self-assurances—she heard a small voice pop up in the back of her mind.

  It was a voice she’d thought banished, a voice she hadn’t ever expected to hear again.

  Leave him first, Reen, her brother, seemed to whisper in her head. It will hurt less.

  Vin heard a rustling outside. She perked up slightly, but it had been too soft for the others to hear. She stood, walking over to the ventilation window.

  “Going back on patrol?” Elend asked.

  She turned, then nodded.

  “You might want to scout out Cett’s defenses at Keep Hasting,” Elend said.

  Vin nodded again. Elend smiled at her, then turned back to his letters. Vin pulled open the window and stepped out into the night. Zane stood in the mists, feet barely resting against the stone lip running beneath the window. He stood at a skewed angle, feet against the wall, body jutting out into the night.

  Vin glanced to the side, noting the bit of metal that Zane was Pulling against to hold himself stationary. Another feat of prowess. He smiled at her in the night.

  “Zane?” she whispered.

  Zane glanced upward, and Vin nodded. A second later, they both landed atop Keep Venture’s metal roof.

  Vin turned to Zane. “Where have you been?”

  He attacked.

  Vin jumped back in surprise as Zane spun forward, a swirling form in black, knives twinkling. She came down with her feet half off the rooftop, tense. A spar, then? she thought.

  Zane struck, his knife coming dangerously close to her neck as she dodged to the side. There was something different about his attacks this time. Something more dangerous.

  Vin cursed and pulled out her own daggers, jumping back from another attack. As she
moved, Zane sliced through the air, cutting the tip off one of her mistcloak tassels.

  She turned to face him. He walked forward, but held no combat posture. He seemed confident, yet unconcerned, as if he were strolling up to an old friend, not entering a fight.

  All right then, she thought, jumping forward, swiping with her daggers.

  Zane stepped forward casually, turning just slightly to the side, easily dodging one knife. He reached out, grabbing her other hand with an effortless motion, stopping its blow.

  Vin froze. Nobody was that good. Zane looked down at her, eyes dark. Unconcerned. Unworried.

  He was burning atium.

  Vin pulled free of his grip, jumping backward. He let her go, watching as she fell into a crouch, sweat beading on her brow. She felt a sudden, sharp stab of terror—a guttural, primal feeling. She had feared this day from the moment she’d learned of atium. It was the terror of knowing she was powerless, despite all of her skills and abilities.

  It was the terror of knowing she was going to die.

  She turned to jump away, but Zane leaped forward before she even began to move. He knew what she would do before she did herself. He grabbed her shoulder from behind, pulling her backward, throwing her down to the rooftop.

  Vin slammed against the metal roofing, gasping in pain. Zane stood above her, looking down, as if waiting.

  I won’t be beaten this way! Vin thought with desperation. I won’t be killed like a trapped rat!

  She reached and swung a knife at his leg, but it was useless. He pulled the leg back slightly—just enough—so that her swing didn’t even nick the cloth of his trousers. She was like a child, being held at a distance by a much larger, more powerful foe. This was what it must be like, being a normal person, trying to fight her.

  Zane stood in the darkness.

  “What?” she finally demanded.

  “You really don’t have it,” he said quietly. “The Lord Ruler’s atium stash.”

  “No,” she said.

  “You don’t have any at all,” he said flatly.

  “I used the last bead the day I fought Cett’s assassins.”

  He stood for a moment; then he turned, stepping away from her. Vin sat up, heart thumping, hands shaking just a bit. She forced herself to her feet, then stooped and retrieved her fallen daggers. One had cracked against the roof’s copper top.

  Zane turned back toward her, quiet in the mists.

  Zane watched her in the darkness, saw her fear—yet also her determination.

  “My father wants me to kill you,” Zane said.

  She stood, watching him, eyes still afraid. She was strong, and she repressed the fear well. The news from their spy, the words Vin had spoken while visiting Straff’s tent, were all true. There was no atium to be had in this city.

  “Is that why you stayed away?” she asked.

  He nodded, turning away from her.

  “So?” she asked. “Why let me live?”

  “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I may still kill you. But…I don’t have to. Not to fulfill his order. I could just take you away—that would have the same effect.”

  He turned back toward her. She was frowning, a small, quiet figure in the mists.

  “Come with me,” he said. “Both of us could leave—Straff would lose his Mistborn, and Elend would lose his. We could deny them both their tools. And we could be free.”

  She didn’t respond immediately. Finally, she shook her head. “This…thing between us, Zane. It isn’t what you think.”

  “What do you mean?” he said, stepping forward.

  She looked up at him. “I love Elend, Zane. I really do.”

  And you think that means you can’t feel anything for me? Zane thought. What of that look I’ve seen in your eyes, that longing? No, it isn’t as easy as you imply, is it?

  It never is.

  And yet, what else had he expected? He turned away. “It makes sense. That’s the way it has always been.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” she demanded.

  Elend….

  “Kill him,” God whispered.

  Zane squeezed his eyes shut. She would not be fooled; not a woman who had grown up on the streets, a woman who was friends with thieves and scammers. This was the difficult part. She would need to see things that terrified Zane.

  She would need truth.

  “Zane?” Vin asked. She still seemed a bit shaken by his attack, but she was the type who recovered quickly.

  “Can’t you see the resemblance?” Zane asked, turning. “The same nose, the same slant of the face? I cut my hair shorter than he, but it has the same curl. Is it so hard to see?”

  Her breath caught in her throat.

  “Who else would Straff Venture trust as his Mistborn?” Zane asked. “Why else would he let me get so close, why else would he feel so comfortable letting me in on his plans?”

  “You’re his son,” Vin whispered. “Elend’s brother.”

  Zane nodded.

  “Elend…”

  “Doesn’t know of me,” Zane said. “Ask him about our father’s sexual habits sometime.”

  “He’s told me,” Vin said. “Straff likes mistresses.”

  “For more than one reason,” Zane said. “More women means more children. More children means more Allomancers. More Allomancers means more chances at having a Mistborn son to be your assassin.”

  Breeze-blown mist washed over them. In the distance, a soldier’s armor clinked as he patrolled.

  “While the Lord Ruler lived, I could never inherit,” Zane said. “You know how strict the obligators were. I grew up in the shadows, ignored. You lived on the streets—I assume that was terrible. But, think of what it would be like to be a scavenger in your own home, unacknowledged by your father, treated like a beggar. Think of watching your brother, a boy your same age, growing up privileged. Think of watching his disdain for the things you longed to have. Comfort, idleness, love…”

  “You must hate him,” Vin whispered.

  “Hate?” Zane asked. “No. Why hate a man for what he is? Elend has done nothing to me, not directly. Besides, Straff found a reason to need me, eventually—after I Snapped, and he finally got what he’d been gambling to get for the last twenty years No, I don’t hate Elend. Sometimes, however, I do envy him. He has everything. And still…it seems to me like he doesn’t appreciate it.”

  Vin stood quietly. “I’m sorry.”

  Zane shook his head sharply. “Don’t pity me, woman. If I were Elend, I wouldn’t be Mistborn. I wouldn’t understand the mists, nor would I know what it was like to grow up alone and hated.” He turned, looking into her eyes. “Don’t you think a man better appreciates love when he has been forced for so long to go without?”

  “I…”

  Zane turned away. “Anyway,” he said, “I didn’t come here tonight to lament my childhood. I came with a warning.”

  Vin grew tense.

  “A short time ago,” Zane said, “my father let several hundred refugees through his barricade to approach the city. You know of the koloss army?”

  Vin nodded.

  “It attacked and pillaged the city of Suisna earlier.”

  Vin felt a start of fright. Suisna was only a day away from Luthadel. The koloss were close.

  “The refugees came to my father for help,” Zane said. “He sent them on to you.”

  “To make the people of the city more afraid,” Vin said. “And to provide a further drain on our resources.”

  Zane nodded. “I wanted to give you warning. Both of the refugees, and of my orders. Think about my offer, Vin. Think about this man who claims to love you. You know he doesn’t understand you. If you leave, it will be better for both of you.”

  Vin frowned. Zane bowed his head slightly to her, then jumped into the night, Pushing against the metal rooftop. She still didn’t believe him about Elend. He could see that in her eyes.

  Well, proof was coming. She’d soon see. She’d soon understand wha
t Elend Venture truly thought of her.

  35

  But I do so now. Let it be known that I, Kwaan, Worldbringer of Terris, am a fraud.

  It felt like she was going to a ball again.

  The beautiful maroon gown would have fit in perfectly at one of the parties she had attended during the months before the Collapse. The dress was untraditional, but not unfashionable. The changes simply made the dress seem distinctive.

  The alterations left her freer to move; let her walk more gracefully, turn more naturally. That, in turn, made her feel even more beautiful. Standing before her mirror, Vin thought of what it might have been like to wear the dress to a real ball. To be herself—not Valette, the uncomfortable country noblewoman. Not even Vin, the skaa thief. To be herself.

  Or, at least, as she could imagine herself. Confident because she accepted her place as a Mistborn. Confident because she accepted her place as the one who had struck down the Lord Ruler. Confident because she knew that the king loved her.

  Maybe I could be both, Vin thought, running her hands down the sides of the dress, feeling the soft satin.

  “You look beautiful, child,” Tindwyl said.

  Vin turned, smiling hesitantly. “I don’t have any jewelry. I gave the last of it to Elend to help feed the refugees. It was the wrong color to go with this dress anyway.”

  “Many women use jewelry to try and hide their own plainness,” Tindwyl said. “You don’t have that need.”

  The Terriswoman stood with her usual posture, hands clasped before her, rings and earrings sparkling. None of her jewelry, however, had gemstones; in fact, most of it was made from simple materials. Iron, copper, pewter. Feruchemical metals.

  “You haven’t been in to see Elend lately,” Vin said, turning back to the mirror and using a few wooden barrettes to hold her hair back.

  “The king is quickly approaching the point where he no longer needs my instruction.”

  “He’s that close then?” Vin asked. “To being like the men from your biographies?”

  Tindwyl laughed. “Goodness, no, child. He’s quite far from that.”

  “But—”

  “I said he would no longer need my instruction,” Tindwyl said. “He is learning that he can rely only so much upon the words of others, and has reached the point where he will have to learn more for himself. You would be surprised, child, how much about being a good leader simply comes from experience.”