Mistborn Trilogy

by Sanderson, Brandon

  And Cett still lived. She couldn’t even perform a proper massacre without stumbling halfway through. It was Kelsier’s fault. He had trained her to take his place, but could anyone ever really do that?

  Why do we always have to be someone else’s knives? Zane’s voice whispered in her head.

  His words had seemed to make sense sometimes, but they had a flaw. Elend. Vin wasn’t his knife—not really. He didn’t want her to assassinate or kill. But, his ideals had left him without a throne, and had left his city surrounded by enemies. If she really loved Elend—if she really loved the people of Luthadel—wouldn’t she have done more?

  The pulsings thumped against her, like the beats of a drum the size of the sun. She burned bronze almost constantly now, listening to the rhythm, letting it pull her away….

  “Mistress?” OreSeur asked from behind. “What are you thinking about?”

  “The end,” Vin said quietly, staring outward.

  Silence.

  “The end of what, Mistress?”

  “I don’t know.”

  OreSeur padded over to the balcony, walking into the mists and sitting down beside her. She was getting to know him well enough that she could see concern in his canine eyes.

  She sighed, shaking her head. “I just have decisions to make. And, no matter which choice I make, it will mean an end.”

  OreSeur sat for a moment, head cocked. “Mistress,” he finally said, “that seems excessively dramatic to me.”

  Vin shrugged. “No advice for me, then?”

  “Just make the decision,” OreSeur said.

  Vin sat for a moment, then smiled. “Sazed would have said something wise and comforting.”

  OreSeur frowned. “I fail to see why he should be part of this conversation, Mistress.”

  “He was my steward,” Vin said. “Before he left, and before Kelsier switched your Contract to me.”

  “Ah,” OreSeur said. “Well, I never did much like Terrismen, Mistress. Their self-important sense of subservience is very difficult to imitate—not to mention the fact that their muscles are far too stringy to taste good.”

  Vin raised an eyebrow. “You’ve imitated Terrismen? I didn’t think there would be much cause for that—they weren’t a very influential people during the days of the Lord Ruler.”

  “Ah,” OreSeur said. “But they were always around influential people.”

  Vin nodded, standing. She walked back into her empty room and lit a lamp, extinguishing her tin. Mist carpeted the room, flowing over her stacks of paper, her feet throwing up puffs as she walked toward the bedroom.

  She paused. That was a bit strange. Mist rarely remained long when it came indoors. Elend said it had to do with heat and enclosed spaces. Vin had always ascribed to it something more mystical. She frowned, watching it.

  Even without tin, she heard the creak.

  Vin spun. Zane stood on the balcony, his figure a black silhouette in the mists. He stepped forward, the mist following around him, as it did around anyone burning metals. And yet…it also seemed to be pushing away from him slightly.

  OreSeur growled quietly.

  “It’s time,” Zane said.

  “Time for what?” Vin asked, setting the lamp down.

  “To go,” Zane said. “To leave these men and their armies. To leave the squabbling. To be free.”

  Free.

  “I…don’t know, Zane,” Vin said, looking away.

  She heard him step forward. “What do you owe him, Vin? He doesn’t know you. He fears you. The truth is, he was never worthy of you.”

  “No,” Vin said, shaking her head. “That’s not it at all, Zane. You don’t understand. I was never worthy of him. Elend deserves someone better. He deserves…someone who shares his ideals. Someone who thinks he was right to give up his throne. Someone who sees more honor—and less foolishness—in that.”

  “Either way,” Zane said, stopping a short distance from her. “He cannot understand you. Us.”

  Vin didn’t reply.

  “Where would you go, Vin?” Zane asked. “If you weren’t bound to this place, bound to him? If you were free, and could do whatever you wished, where would you go?”

  The thumpings seemed louder. She glanced toward OreSeur, who sat quietly by the side wall, mostly in the dark. Why feel guilty? What did she have to prove to him?

  She turned back to Zane. “North,” she said. “To Terris.”

  “We can go there. Wherever you want. Location is irrelevant to me, as long as it is not this place.”

  “I can’t abandon them,” Vin said.

  “Even if by doing so, you steal away Straff’s only Mistborn?” Zane asked. “The trade is a good one. My father will know that I have disappeared, but he will not realize that you aren’t still in Luthadel. He’ll be even more afraid to attack. By giving yourself freedom, you’ll also be leaving your allies with a precious gift.”

  Zane took her hand, forcing her to look at him. He did look like Elend—like a hard version of Elend. Zane had been broken by life, just as she had been, but both had put themselves back together. Had the re-forming made them stronger, or more fragile?

  “Come,” Zane whispered. “You can save me, Vin.”

  A war is coming to the city, Vin thought with a chill. If I stay, I will have to kill again.

  And slowly, she let him draw her away from her desk, toward the mists and the comforting darkness beyond. She reached up, pulling out a metal vial for the journey, and the motion caused Zane to spin suspiciously.

  He has good instincts, Vin thought. Instincts like my own. Instincts that won’t let him trust, but that keep him alive.

  He relaxed as he saw what she was doing, and smiled and turned away again. Vin followed him, walking again, but she felt a sudden stab of fear. This is it, she thought. After this, everything changes. The time for decisions has passed.

  And I made the wrong choice.

  Elend wouldn’t have jumped like that when I took out the vial.

  She froze. Zane tugged on her wrist, but she didn’t move. He turned toward her in the mists, frowning as he stood at the edge of her balcony.

  “I’m sorry,” Vin whispered, slipping her hand free. “I can’t go with you.”

  “What?” Zane asked. “Why not?”

  Vin shook her head, turning and walking back into the room.

  “Tell me what it is!” Zane said, tone rising. “What is it about him that draws you? He isn’t a great leader. He’s not a warrior. He’s no Allomancer or general. What is it about him?”

  The answer came to her simply and easily. Make your decisions—I’ll support you in them. “He trusts me,” she whispered.

  “What?” Zane asked incredulously.

  “When I attacked Cett,” Vin said, “the others thought I was acting irrationally—and they were right. But Elend told them I had a good reason, even if he didn’t know what it was.”

  “So he’s a fool,” Zane said.

  “When we spoke later,” Vin continued, not looking at Zane, “I was cold to him. I think he knew that I was trying to decide whether to stay with him or not. And…he told me that he trusted my judgment. He’d support me if I chose to leave him.”

  “So he’s also unappreciative,” Zane said.

  Vin shook her head. “No. He just loves me.”

  “I love you.”

  Vin paused, looking at Zane. He looked angry. Desperate, even. “I believe you. I still can’t go with you.”

  “But why?”

  “Because it would require leaving Elend,” she said. “Even if I can’t share his ideals, I can respect them. Even if I don’t deserve him, I can be near him. I’m staying, Zane.”

  Zane stood quietly for a moment, mist falling around his shoulders. “I’ve failed, then.”

  Vin turned away from him. “No. It isn’t that you’ve failed. You aren’t flawed simply because I—”

  He slammed into her, throwing her toward the mist-covered floor. Vin turned her head, shocked
, as she crashed into the wooden floor, the breath going out of her.

  Zane loomed above her, his face dark. “You were supposed to save me,” he hissed.

  Vin flared every metal she had in a sudden jolt. She shoved Zane backward and Pulled herself against the door hinges. She flew backward and hit the door hard, the wood cracking slightly, but she was too tense—too shocked—to feel anything but the thud.

  Zane rose quietly, standing tall, dark. Vin rolled forward into a crouch. Zane was attacking her. Attacking her for real.

  But…he…

  “OreSeur!” Vin said, ignoring her mind’s objections, whipping out her daggers. “Run away!”

  The code given, she charged, trying to distract Zane’s attention from the wolfhound. Zane sidestepped her attacks with a casual grace. Vin whipped a dagger toward his neck. It barely missed as Zane tipped his head backward. She struck at his side, at his arm, at his chest. Each strike missed.

  She’d known he’d burn atium. She’d expected that. She skidded to a stop, looking at him. He hadn’t even bothered to pull out his own weapons. He stood before her, face dark, mist a growing lake at his feet. “Why didn’t you listen to me, Vin?” he asked. “Why force me to keep being Straff’s tool? We both know where that must lead.”

  Vin ignored him. Gritting her teeth, she launched into an attack. Zane backhanded her indifferently, and she Pushed slightly against the deskmounts behind him—tossing herself backward, as if thrown by the force of his blow. She slammed into the wall, then slumped to the ground.

  Directly beside the startled OreSeur.

  He hadn’t opened his shoulder to give her the atium. Hadn’t he understood the code? “The atium I gave you,” Vin hissed. “I need it. Now.”

  “Kandra,” Zane said. “Come to me.”

  OreSeur met her eyes, and she saw something within them. Shame. He glanced away, then padded across the floor, mist up to his knees, as he joined Zane in the center of the room.

  “No…” Vin whispered. “OreSeur—”

  “You will no longer obey her commands, TenSoon,” Zane said.

  OreSeur bowed his head.

  “The Contract, OreSeur!” Vin said, climbing to her knees. “You must obey my orders!”

  “My servant, Vin,” Zane said. “My Contract. My orders.”

  My servant….

  And suddenly, it clicked. She’d suspected everyone—Dockson, Breeze, even Elend—but she’d never connected the spy to the one person that made the most sense. There had been a kandra in the palace all along. And he had been at her side.

  “I’m sorry, Mistress,” OreSeur whispered.

  “How long?” Vin asked, bowing her head.

  “Since you gave my predecessor—the real OreSeur—the dog’s body,” the kandra said. “I killed him that day and took his place, wearing the body of a dog. You never saw him as a wolfhound.”

  What easier way to mask the transformation? Vin thought. “But, the bones we discovered in the palace,” she said. “You were with me on the wall when they appeared. They—”

  She’d taken his word on how fresh those bones had been; she’d taken his word on when they had been produced. She’d assumed all along that the switch must have happened that day, when she was with Elend on the city wall—but she’d done so primarily because of what OreSeur had said.

  Idiot! she thought. OreSeur—or, TenSoon, as Zane had called him—had led her to suspect everyone but himself. What was wrong with her? She was usually so good at sniffing out traitors, at noticing insincerity. How had she missed spotting her own kandra?

  Zane walked forward. Vin waited, on her knees. Weak, she told herself. Look weak. Make him leave you alone. Try to—

  “Soothing me will do no good,” Zane said quietly, grabbing her by the front of her shirt, picking her up, then throwing her back down. Mist sprayed beneath her, puffing up in a splash as she slammed to the floor. Vin stifled her cry of pain.

  I have to stay quiet. If guards come, he’ll kill them. If Elend comes…

  She had to stay quiet, quiet even as Zane kicked her in her wounded side. She grunted, eyes watering.

  “You could have saved me,” Zane said, peering down at her. “I was willing to go with you. Now, what is left? Nothing. Nothing, but Straff’s orders.” He punctuated that sentence with a kick.

  Stay small, she told herself through the pain. He’ll leave you alone eventually….

  But it had been years since she’d had to bow before anyone. Her days of cringing before Camon and Reen were almost misty shadows, forgotten before the light offered by Elend and Kelsier. As Zane kicked again, Vin found herself growing angry.

  He brought his foot back, angling it toward her face, and Vin moved. As his foot arced down, she threw herself backward, Pushing against the window latches to scoot herself through the mists. She flared pewter, throwing herself up to her feet, trailing mist from the floor. It was up past her knees now.

  She glared at Zane, who looked back with a dark expression. Vin ducked forward, but Zane moved faster—moved first—stepping between her and the balcony. Not that getting to it would do her any good; with atium, he could chase her down easily.

  It was like before, when he’d attacked her with atium. Only this time it was worse. Before, she’d been able to believe—if just a little—that they were still sparring. Still not enemies, even if they weren’t friends. She hadn’t really believed that he wanted to kill her.

  She had no such illusions this time. Zane’s eyes were dark, his expression flat—just like that night a few days before, when slaughtering Cett’s men.

  Vin was going to die.

  She hadn’t felt such fear in a long time. But now she saw it, felt it, smelled it on herself as she shied away from the approaching Zane. She felt what it was like to face a Mistborn—what it must have been like for those soldiers she’d killed. There was no fighting. There was no chance.

  No, she told herself forcefully, holding her side. Elend didn’t back down against Straff. He doesn’t have Allomancy, but he marched into the center of the koloss camp.

  I can beat this.

  With a cry, Vin dashed toward TenSoon. The dog backed away in shock, but he needn’t have worried. Zane was there again. He slammed a shoulder into Vin, then whipped his dagger around and slashed a wound across her cheek as she fell backward. The cut was precise. Perfect. Matching the wound on her other cheek, one given to her during her first fight with a Mistborn, nearly two years before.

  Vin gritted her teeth, burning iron as she fell. She Pulled on a pouch on her desk, whipping the coins into her hand. She hit the ground on her side, other hand down, and threw herself back to her feet. She dumped a shower of coins from the pouch into her hand, then raised them at Zane.

  Blood dripped from her chin. She threw the coins out. Zane moved to Push them away.

  Vin smiled, then burned duralumin as she Pushed. The coins snapped forward, and the wind of their sudden passing parted the mist on the ground, revealing the floor beneath.

  The room shook.

  And in an eyeblink, Vin found herself slammed back against the wall. She gasped in surprise, breath knocked from her lungs, her vision swimming. She looked up, disoriented, surprised to find herself on the ground again.

  “Duralumin,” Zane said, still standing with a hand up before him. “TenSoon told me about it. We deduced you must have a new metal from the way you can sense me when my copper is on. After that, a little searching, and he found that note from your metallurgist, which handily had the instructions for making duralumin.”

  Her addled mind struggled to connect ideas. Zane had duralumin. He’d used the metal, and had Pushed against one of the coins she’d shot at him. He must have Pushed behind himself as well, to keep from being forced backward as his weight met hers.

  And her own duralumin-enhanced Push had slammed her against the wall. She had trouble thinking. Zane walked forward. She looked up, dazed, then scrambled away on hands and knees, crawling in the mist
s. It was at face level, and her nostrils tickled as she inhaled the cool, quiet chaos.

  Atium. She needed atium. But, the bead was in TenSoon’s shoulder; she couldn’t Pull it to herself. The reason he carried it there was that the flesh protected it from being affected by Allomancers. Just like the spikes piercing an Inquisitor’s body, just like her own earring. Metal inside—or even piercing—a person’s body could not be Pulled or Pushed except with the most extreme of Allomantic forces.

  But she’d done it once. When fighting the Lord Ruler. It hadn’t been her own power, or even duralumin, that had let her accomplish it. It had been something else. The mists.

  She’d drawn upon them.

  Something hit her on her back, pushing her down. She rolled over, kicking upward, but her foot missed Zane’s face by a few atium-aided inches. Zane slapped her foot aside, then reached down, slamming her against the floor by her shoulders.

  Mists churned around him as he looked down at her. Through her terror, she reached out for the mists, as she had over a year before when fighting the Lord Ruler. That day, they had fueled her Allomancy, giving her a strength that she shouldn’t have had. She reached out for them, begging for their help.

  And nothing happened.

  Please….

  Zane slammed her down again. The mists continued to ignore her pleas.

  She twisted, Pulling against the window frame to get leverage, and pushed Zane to the side. They rolled, Vin coming around on top.

  Suddenly, both of them lurched off the floor, bursting out of the mists and flying toward the ceiling, thrown upward as Zane Pushed against coins on the floor. They slammed against the ceiling, Zane’s body pushing against hers, pinning her to the wooden planks. He was on top again—or, rather, he was on the bottom, but that was now the point of leverage.

  Vin gasped. He was so strong. Stronger than she. His fingers bit into the flesh of her arms despite her pewter, and her side ached from her earlier wounds. She was in no condition to fight—not against another Mistborn.