Luthadel in under two days. By the time I get to the army . . .
Dockson could obviously read the worry in Kelsier's eyes. "Either way,
the army is useless to us now," he said.
"I know," Kelsier said. "This is just about saving those men's lives. I'll get
word to you as soon as I can."
Dockson nodded.
Kelsier turned, flaring his pewter. His pack suddenly became as light as if
it had been empty. "Burn your pewter, Vin. We're leaving."
She nodded, and Kelsier felt a pulsing come from her. "Flare it," he
ordered, pulling two mistcloaks from his trunk and tossing one to her. He put
on the other, then walked forward, throwing open the back door to the
kitchen. The red sun was bright overhead. Frantic crewmembers paused for a
moment, turning to watch as Kelsier and Vin left the building.
The girl hurried forward to walk at Kelsier's side. "Ham told me that I
should learn to use pewter only when I need it—he said it's better to be
subtle."
Kelsier turned to face the girl. "This is not a time for subtlety. Stay close to
me, try to keep up, and make absolutely certain you don't run out of pewter."
Vin nodded, suddenly looking a bit apprehensive.
"All right," Kelsier said, taking a deep breath. "Let's go."
Kelsier took off down the alleyway in a superhuman dash. Vin jumped into
motion, following him out of the alley and onto the street. Pewter was a
blazing fire within her. Flared as it was, she would probably go through all
five beads in barely an hour.
The street was busy with skaa workers and noble carriages. Kelsier ignored
the traffic, bolting out into the very center of the street, maintaining his
ridiculous speed. Vin followed, growing increasingly worried about what she
had gotten herself into.
I can't let him go alone, she thought. Of course, the last time she'd forced
Kelsier to take her with him, she'd ended up half dead in a sickbed for a
month.
Kelsier wove between carriages, brushing past pedestrians, charging down
the street as if it were meant only for him. Vin followed as best as she could,
the ground a blur beneath her feet, people passing too quickly to see their
faces. Some of them called out after her, their voices annoyed. A couple of
these, however, choked off immediately, falling silent.
The cloaks, Vin thought. That's why we're wearing them—that's why we
always wear them. Noblemen who see the mistcloaks will know to stay out of
our way.
Kelsier turned, running directly toward the northern city gates. Vin
followed. Kelsier didn't slow as he approached the gates, and the lines of
people began to point. Checkpoint guards turned with surprised faces.
Kelsier jumped.
One of the armored guards crumpled to the ground with a cry, smashed
down by Kelsier's Allomantic weight as the crewleader passed overhead. Vin
took a breath, dropped a coin to give herself a bit of lift, and jumped. She
easily cleared a second guard, who looked up with surprise as his companion
squirmed on the ground.
Vin Pushed against the soldier's armor, throwing herself higher into the
air. The man staggered, but stayed on his feet—Vin was nowhere near as
heavy as Kelsier.
She shot over the wall, hearing cries of surprise from the soldiers on top of
it. She could only hope that nobody recognized her. It wasn't likely. Though
her cap flew free as she soared through the air, those who were familiar with
Valette the courtgoing lady would probably never connect her to a Mistborn
in dirty trousers.
Vin's cloak whipped angrily in the passing air. Kelsier completed his arc
before her and began to descend, and Vin soon followed. It felt very strange
to use Allomancy in the sunlight. Unnatural, even. Vin made the mistake of
looking down as she fell. Instead of comfortable swirling mists, she saw the
ground far below.
So high! Vin thought with horror. Fortunately, she wasn't too disoriented
to Push against the coin Kelsier had used to land. She slowed her descent to a
manageable level before thumping against the ashen earth.
Kelsier immediately took off down the highway. Vin followed him,
ignoring merchants and travelers. Now that they were out of the city, she had
thought Kelsier might slow down. He didn't. He sped up.
And, suddenly, she understood. Kelsier didn't intend to walk, or even jog,
to the caves.
He planned to dash all the way there.
It was a two-week trip by canal. How long would it take them? They were
moving fast, horribly fast. Slower than a galloping horse, certainly, but surely
a horse couldn't maintain such a gallop for very long.
Vin didn't feel fatigue as she ran. She relied on the pewter, only passing a
little of the strain onto her body. She could barely feel her footsteps hitting
the ground beneath her, and with such a large reserve of pewter, she felt that
she could maintain the speed for a decent length of time.
She caught up to Kelsier, falling into place beside him. "This is easier than
I thought it would be."
"Pewter enhances your balance," Kelsier said. "Otherwise you'd be
tripping over yourself right now."
"What do you think we'll find? At the caves, I mean."
Kelsier shook his head. "No use talking. Save your strength."
"But, I'm not feeling weary at all!"
"We'll see what you say in sixteen hours," Kelsier said, speeding up even
more as they turned off the highway, running onto the wide towpath beside
the Luth-Davn Canal.
Sixteen hours!
Vin fell behind Kelsier slightly, giving herself plenty of space to run.
Kelsier increased their speed until they were going at a maddening pace. He
was right: In any other context, she would have quickly missed her step on
the uneven road. Yet, with pewter and tin guiding her, she managed to stay
on her feet—though doing so required increasing attention as the evening
grew dark and the mists came out.
Occasionally, Kelsier threw down a coin and launched himself from one
hilltop to another. However, he mostly kept them running at an even pace,
sticking to the canal. Hours passed, and Vin began to feel the fatigue that he
had implied would come. She maintained her speed, but she could feel
something underneath it—a resistance within, a longing to stop and rest.
Despite pewter's power, her body was running out of strength.
She made certain to never let her pewter run low. She feared that if it ever
went out, the fatigue would come upon her so powerfully that she wouldn't
be able to get started again. Kelsier also ordered her to drink a ridiculous
amount of water, though she wasn't that thirsty.
The night grew dark and silent, no travelers daring to brave the mists. They
passed canal boats and barges tied up for the night, as well as the occasional
camp of canalmen, their tents huddled closely against the mists. Twice they
saw mistwraiths on the road, the first one giving Vin a terrible start. Kelsier
just passed it by—completely ignoring the terrible, translucent remnants of
the people and animals who had been ingested, their bones now forming the
mistwraith's own skeleton.
Still he kept running. Time became a blur, and the running came to
dominate all that Vin was and did. Moving demanded so much attention that
she could barely even focus on Kelsier ahead of her in the mists. She kept
putting one foot ahead of the other, her body remaining strong—yet, at the
same time, feeling terribly exhausted. Every step, quick though it was,
became a chore. She began to yearn for rest.
Kelsier didn't give it to her. He kept running, forcing her on, maintaining
the incredible speed. Vin's world became a timeless thing of forced pain and
burgeoning enervation. They slowed occasionally to drink water or swallow
more pewter beads—but she never stopped running. It was like . . . like she
couldn't stop. Vin let the exhaustion overwhelm her mind. Flared pewter was
everything. She was nothing else.
Light surprised her. The sun began to rise, the mists vanishing. But Kelsier
didn't let the illumination stop them. How could he? They had to run. They
had to just . . . had . . . to . . . keep . . . running. . . .
I'm going to die.
It wasn't the first time the thought had occurred to Vin during the run. In
fact, the idea kept circling in her mind, picking at her brain like a carrion bird.
She kept moving. Running.
I hate running, she thought. That's why I've always lived in a city, not out
on the countryside. So I wouldn't have to run.
Something within her knew that the thought didn't make any kind of sense.
However, lucidity was not currently one of her virtues.
I hate Kelsier too. He just keeps on going. How long has it been since the
sun rose? Minutes? Hours? Weeks? Years? I swear, I don't think—
Kelsier slowed to a stop on the road ahead of her.
Vin was so stunned that she nearly collided with him. She stumbled,
slowing herself maladroitly, as if she had forgotten how to do anything other
than run. She stopped, then stared down at her feet, dumbfounded.
This is wrong, she thought. I can't just stand here. I have to be moving.
She felt herself begin to move again, but Kelsier grabbed her. She
struggled in his grip, resisting weakly.
Rest, something within her said. Relax. You've forgotten what that is, but
it's so nice. . . .
"Vin!" Kelsier said. "Don't extinguish your pewter. Keep burning it or
you'll fall unconscious!"
Vin shook her head, disoriented, trying to make out his words.
"Tin!" he said. "Flare it. Now!"
She did so. Her head blazed with a sudden headache that she had almost
forgotten, and she had to close her eyes against the blinding sunlight. Her
legs ached, and her feet felt even worse. The sudden wash of senses restored
her sanity, however, and she blinked, looking up at Kelsier.
"Better?" he asked.
She nodded.
"You've just done something incredibly unfair to your body," Kelsier said.
"It should have shut down hours ago, but you have pewter to make it keep
going. You'll recover—you'll even get better at pushing yourself like this—
but right now you just have to keep burning the pewter and stay awake. We
can sleep later."
Vin nodded again. "Why . . ." Her voice croaked as she spoke. "Why did
we stop?"
"Listen."
She did. She heard . . . voices. Yelling.
She looked up at him. "A battle?"
Kelsier nodded. "The city of Holstep is about an hour more to the north,
but I think we've found what we came for. Come on."
He released her, dropping a coin and jumping over the canal. Vin followed,
following him as he rushed up a nearby hill. Kelsier crested it, peeking over
the top. Then he stood up, staring at something to the east. Vin crested the
hill, and easily saw the battle—such as it was—in the distance. A shift in the
wind brought scents to her nose.
Blood. The valley beyond was speckled with corpses. Men still fought on
the far side of the valley—a small, ragged group in unmatched clothing was
surrounded by a much larger, uniformed army.
"We're too late," Kelsier said. "Our men must have finished off the
Holstep Garrison, then tried to march back to the caves. But Valtroux City is
only a few days away, and its garrison is five thousand strong. Those soldiers
got here before we did."
Squinting, using tin despite the light, Vin could see that he was right. The
larger army wore imperial uniforms, and if the line of corpses was any
indication, it had ambushed the skaa soldiers as it passed. Their army didn't
have a chance. As she watched, the skaa began to throw up their hands, but
the soldiers just kept on killing them. Some of the remaining peasants fought
desperately, but they were falling almost as quickly.
"It's a slaughter," Kelsier said angrily. "The Valtroux Garrison must have
orders to wipe out the entire group." He stepped forward.
"Kelsier!" Vin said, grabbing his arm. "What are you doing?"
He turned back to her. "There are still men down there. My men."
"What are you going to do—attack an entire army by yourself? For what
purpose? Your rebels don't have Allomancy—they won't be able to run away
on swift feet and escape. You can't stop an entire army, Kelsier."
He shook himself free of her grip; she didn't have the strength to hold on.
She stumbled, falling to the rough black dirt, throwing up a puff of ash.
Kelsier began to stalk down the hill toward the battlefield.
Vin climbed to her knees. "Kelsier," she said, shaking quietly with fatigue.
"We aren't invincible, remember?"
He paused.
"You're not invincible," she whispered. "You can't stop them all. You
can't save those men."
Kelsier stood quietly, his fists clenched. Then, slowly, he bowed his head.
In the distance, the massacre continued, though there weren't many rebels
left.
"The caves," Vin whispered. "Our force would have left men behind,
right? Maybe they can tell us why the army exposed itself. Maybe you can
save the ones who stayed behind. The Lord Ruler's men will certainly search
out the army's headquarters—if they aren't trying already."
Kelsier nodded. "All right. Let's go."
Kelsier dropped down into the cavern. He had to flare tin to see anything in
the deep darkness, lit only by a bit of reflected sunlight from far above. Vin's
scraping in the crack above sounded thunderous to his overenhanced ears. In
the cavern itself . . . nothing. No sound, no light.
So she was wrong, Kelsier thought. No one stayed behind.
Kelsier breathed out slowly, trying to find an outlet for his frustration and
anger. He'd abandoned the men on the battlefield. He shook his head,
ignoring what logic told him at the moment. His anger was still too fresh.
Vin dropped to the ground beside him, her figure no more than a shadow to
his straining eyes.
"Empty," he declared, his voice echoing hollowly in the cavern. "You
were wrong."
"No," Vin whispered. "There."
Suddenly, she was off, scrambling across the floor with a catlike litheness.
Kelsier called after her in the darkness, gritted his teeth, then followed her by
sound down one of the corridors.
"Vin, get back here! There's nothing—"
Kelsier paused. He could just barely make out a flicker of light ahead of
him in the corridor. Bloody hell! How did she see it from so far away?
He could still hear Vin ahead of him. Kelsier made his way more carefully,
checking his metal reserves, worried about a trap left by Ministry agents. As
he drew nearer to the light, a voice called out ahead. "Who's there? Say the
password!"
Kelsier continued walking, the light growing bright enough for him to see
a spear-holding figure backlit in the corridor ahead. Vin waited in the
darkness, crouching. She looked up questioningly as Kelsier passed. She
seemed to have gotten over the drain of the pewter drag, for the moment.
When they finally stopped to rest, however, she'd feel it.
"I can hear you!" the guard said anxiously. His voice sounded slightly
familiar. "Identify yourself."
Captain Demoux, Kelsier realized. One of ours. It's not a trap.
"Say the password!" Demoux commanded.
"I need no password," Kelsier said, stepping into the light.
Demoux lowered his spear. "Lord Kelsier? You've come . . . does that
mean the army succeeded?"
Kelsier ignored the question. "Why aren't you guarding the entrance back
there?"
"We . . . thought it would be more defensible to retreat to the inner
complex, my lord. There aren't a lot of us left."
Kelsier glanced back toward the entrance corridor. How long until the Lord
Ruler's men find a captive willing to talk? Vin was right after all—we need to
get these men to safety.
Vin stood and approached, studying the young soldier with those quiet
eyes of hers. "How many of you are there?"
"About two thousand," Demoux said. "We . . . were wrong, my lord. I'm
sorry."
Kelsier looked back at him. "Wrong?"
"We thought that General Yeden was acting rashly," Demoux said,
blushing in shame. "We stayed behind. We . . . thought we were being loyal
to you, rather than him. But we should have gone with the rest of the army."
"The army is dead," Kelsier said curtly. "Gather your men, Demoux. We
need to leave now."
That night, sitting on a tree stump with the mists gathering around him,
Kelsier finally forced himself to confront the day's events.
He sat with his hands clasped before him, listening to the last, faint sounds
of the army's men bedding down. Fortunately, someone had thought to
prepare the group for quick departure. Each man had a bedroll, a weapon, and
enough food for two weeks. As soon as Kelsier discovered who had been so
foresighted, he intended to give the man a hefty promotion.
Not that there was much to command anymore. The remaining two
thousand men included a depressingly large number of soldiers who were
past or before their prime—men wise enough to see that Yeden's plan had
been insane, or men young enough to be frightened.
Kelsier shook his head. So many dead. They'd gathered nearly seven
thousand troops before this fiasco, but now most of them lay dead. Yeden had
apparently decided to "test" the army by striking at night against the Holstep
Garrison. What had led him to such a foolish decision?
Me, Kelsier thought. This is my fault. He'd promised them supernatural
aid. He'd set himself up, had made Yeden a part of the crew, and had talked
so casually about doing the impossible. Was it any wonder that Yeden had
thought he could attack the Final Empire head on, considering the confidence
Kelsier had given him? Was it any wonder the soldiers would go with the
man, considering the promises Kelsier had made?
Now men were dead, and Kelsier was responsible. Death wasn't new to
him. Neither was failure—not anymore. But, he couldn't get over the twisting
in his gut. True, the men had died fighting the Final Empire, which was as
good a death as any skaa could hope for—however, the fact that they'd likely
died expecting some sort of divine protection from Kelsier . . . that was
disturbing.
You knew this would be hard, he told himself. You understood the burden
you were taking upon yourself.
But, what right had he? Even members of his own crew—Ham, Breeze,
and the others—assumed that the Final Empire was invincible. They followed
because of their faith in Kelsier, and because he had couched his plans in the
form of a thieving job. Well, now that job's patron was dead; a scout sent to
check the battlefield had, for better or worse, been able to confirm Yeden's
death. The soldiers had put his head on a spear beside the road, along with
several of Ham's officers.
The job was dead. They had failed. The army was gone. There would be no
rebellion, no seizing of the city.
Footsteps approached. Kelsier looked up, wondering if he even had the
strength to stand. Vin lay curled up beside his stump, asleep on the hard
ground, only her mistcloak for a cushion. Their extended pewter drag had
taken a lot out of the girl, and she had collapsed virtually the moment Kelsier
had called a halt for the night. He wished he could do the same. However, he
was far more experienced with pewter dragging than she was. His body
would give out eventually, but he could keep going for a bit longer.
A figure appeared from the mists, hobbling in Kelsier's direction. The man
was old, older than any that Kelsier had recruited. He must have been part of
the rebellion from earlier—one of the skaa who had been living in the caves
before Kelsier hijacked them.
The man chose a large stone beside Kelsier's stump, sitting with a sigh. It
was amazing that one so old had even been able to keep up. Kelsier had
moved the group at a fast pace, seeking to distance them as much as possible
from the cave complex.
"The men will sleep fitfully," the old man said. "They aren't accustomed to
being out in the mists."
"They don't have much choice," Kelsier said.
The old man shook his head. "I suppose they don't." He sat for a moment,
aged eyes unreadable. "You don't recognize me, do you?"
Kelsier paused, then shook his head. "I'm sorry. Did I recruit you?"
"After a fashion. I was one of the skaa at Lord Tresting's plantation."
Kelsier opened his mouth slightly in surprise, finally recognizing a slight
familiarity to the man's bald head and tired, yet somehow strong, posture.
"The old man I sat with that night. Your name was . . ."
"Mennis. After you killed Tresting, we retreated up to the caves, where the
rebels there took us in. A lot of the others left eventually, off to find other
plantations to join. Some of us stayed."
Kelsier nodded. "You're behind this, aren't you?" he said, gesturing
toward the camp. "The preparations?"
Mennis shrugged. "Some of us can't fight, so we do other things."
Kelsier leaned forward. "What happened, Mennis? Why did Yeden do
this?"
Mennis just shook his head. "Though most expect young men to be fools,
I've noticed that just a little bit of age can make a man far more foolish than
he was as a child. Yeden . . . well, he was the type who was too easily
impressed—both by you and by the reputation you left for him. Some of his
generals thought it might be a good idea to give the men some practical battle
experience, and they figured a night raid on the Holstep Garrison would be a
clever move. Apparently, it was more difficult than they assumed."
Kelsier shook his head. "Even if they'd been successful, exposing the army
would have made it useless to us."
"They believed in you," Mennis said quietly. "They thought that they
couldn't fail."
Kelsier sighed, resting his head back, staring up into the shifting mists. He
slowly let his breath exhale, its air mingling with the currents overhead.
"So, what becomes of us?" Mennis asked.
"We'll split you up," Kelsier said, "get you back into Luthadel in small
groups, lose you among the skaa population."
Mennis nodded. He seemed tired—exhausted—yet he didn't retire. Kelsier
could understand that feeling.
"Do you remember our conversation back on Tresting's plantation?"
Mennis asked.
"A bit," Kelsier said. "You tried to dissuade me from making trouble."
"But it didn't stop you."
"Troublemaking is just about the only thing I'm good at, Mennis. Do you
resent what I did there, what I forced you to become?"
Mennis paused, then nodded. "But, in a way, I'm thankful for that
resentment. I believed that my life was over—I awoke each day expecting
that I wouldn't have the strength to rise. But . . . well, I found purpose again
in the caves. For that, I'm grateful."
"Even after what I did to the army?"
Mennis snorted. "Don't think quite so highly of yourself, young man.
Those soldiers got themselves killed. You might have been their motivation,
but you didn't make the choice for them.
"Regardless, this isn't the first skaa rebellion to get slaughtered. Not by far.
In a way, you've accomplished a lot—you gathered an army of considerable
size, and then you armed and trained it beyond what anyone had a right to
expect. Things went a little more quickly than you anticipated, but you
should be proud of yourself."
"Proud?" Kelsier asked, standing to work off some of his agitation. "This
army was supposed to help overthrow the Final Empire, not get itself killed
fighting a meaningless battle in a valley weeks outside of Luthadel."
"Overthrow the . . ." Mennis looked up, frowning. "You really expected to
do something like that?"
"Of course," Kelsier said. "Why else would I gather an army like this?"
"To resist," Mennis said. "To fight. That's why those lads came to the
caves. It wasn't a matter of winning or losing, it was a matter of doing
something—anything—to struggle against the Lord Ruler."
Kelsier turned, frowning. "You expected the army to lose from the
beginning?"
"What other end was there?" Mennis asked. He stood, shaking his head.
"Some may have begun to dream otherwise, lad, but the Lord Ruler can't be
defeated. Once, I gave you some advice—I told you to be careful which
battles you chose to fight. Well, I've realized that this battle was worth
fighting.
"Now, let me give you another piece of advice, Kelsier, Survivor of
Hathsin. Know when to quit. You've done well, better than any would have
expected. Those skaa of yours killed an entire garrison's worth of soldiers
before they were caught and destroyed. This is the greatest victory the skaa
have known in decades, perhaps centuries. Now it's time to walk away."
With that, the old man nodded his head in respect, then began to shuffle
back toward the center of the camp.
Kelsier stood, dumbfounded. The greatest victory the skaa have known in
decades . . .
That was what he fought against. Not just the Lord Ruler, not just the
nobility. He fought against a thousand years of conditioning, a thousand years
of life in a society that would label the deaths of five thousand men as a
"great victory." Life was so hopeless for the skaa that they'd been reduced to
finding comfort in expected defeats.
"That wasn't a victory, Mennis," Kelsier whispered. "I'll show you a
victory."
He forced himself to smile—not out of pleasure, and not out of
satisfaction. He smiled despite the grief he felt at the deaths of his men; he
smiled because that was what he did. That was how he proved to the Lord
Ruler—and to himself—that he wasn't beaten.
No, he wasn't going to walk away. He wasn't finished yet. Not by far.
THE END OF PART THREE
PART FOUR
DANCERS IN
A SEA OF MIST
I am growing so very tired.
26
VIN LAY IN HER BED at Clubs's shop, feeling her head throb.
Fortunately, the headache was growing weaker. She could still remember
waking up on that first horrible morning; the pain had been so strong she'd
barely been able to think, let alone move. She didn't know how Kelsier had
kept going, leading the remnants of their army to a safe location.
That had been over two weeks ago. Fifteen full days, and her head still
hurt. Kelsier said it was good for her. He claimed that she needed to practice
"pewter dragging," training her body to function beyond what it thought
possible. Despite what he said, however, she doubted something that hurt so
much could possibly be "good" for her.
Of course, it might well be a useful skill to have. She could acknowledge
this, now that her head wasn't pounding quite so much. She and Kelsier had
been able to run to the battlefield in under a single day. The return trip had
taken two weeks.
Vin rose, stretching tiredly. They'd been back for less than a day, in fact.
Kelsier had probably stayed up half the night explaining events to the other
crewmembers. Vin, however, had been happy to go straight to bed. The
nights spent sleeping on the hard earth had reminded her that a comfortable
bed was a luxury she'd started to take for granted.
She yawned, rubbed her temples again, then threw on a robe and made her
way to the bathroom. She was pleased to see that Clubs's apprentices had
remembered to draw her a bath. She locked the door, disrobed, and settled
into the warm, lightly scented bathwater. Had she ever really found those
scents obnoxious? The smell would make her less inconspicuous, true, but
that seemed a slim price for ridding herself of the dirt and grime she'd picked
up while traveling.
She still found longer hair an annoyance, however. She washed it, combing
out the tangles and knots, wondering how the court women could stand hair
that went all the way down their backs. How long must they spend combing
and primping beneath a servant's care? Vin's hair hadn't even reached her
shoulders yet, and she was already loath to let it get longer. It would fly about
and whip her face when she jumped, not to mention provide her foes with
something to grab on to.
Once finished bathing, she returned to her room, dressed in something
practical, and made her way downstairs. Apprentices bustled in the
workroom and housekeepers worked upstairs, but the kitchen was quiet.
Clubs, Dockson, Ham, and Breeze sat at the morning meal. They looked up
as Vin entered.
"What?" Vin asked grumpily, pausing in the doorway. The bath had
soothed her headache somewhat, but it still pulsed slightly in the back of her
head.
The four men exchanged glances. Ham spoke first. "We were just
discussing the status of the plan, now that both our employer and our army
are gone."
Breeze raised an eyebrow. "Status? That's an interesting way of putting it,
Hammond. I would have said 'unfeasibility' instead."
Clubs grunted his assent, and the four turned to her, apparently waiting to
see her reaction.
Why do they care so much what I think? she thought, walking into the
room and taking a chair.
"You want something to eat?" Dockson said, rising. "Clubs's housekeepers
fixed some baywraps for us to—"
"Ale," Vin said.
Dockson paused. "It's not even noon."
"Ale. Now. Please." She leaned forward, folding her arms on the table and
resting her head on them.
Ham had the nerve to chuckle. "Pewter drag?"
Vin nodded.
"It'll pass," he said.
"If I don't die first," Vin grumbled.
Ham chuckled again, but the levity seemed forced. Dox handed her a mug,
then sat, glancing at the others. "So, Vin. What do you think?"
"I don't know," she said with a sigh. "The army was pretty much the
center of everything, right? Breeze, Ham, and Yeden spent all their time
recruiting; Dockson and Renoux worked on supplies. Now that the soldiers
are gone . . . well, that only leaves Marsh's work with the Ministry and Kell's
attacks on the nobility—and neither are things he needs us for. The crew is
redundant."
The room fell silent.
"She has a depressingly blunt way of putting it," Dockson said.
"Pewter drag will do that to you," Ham noted.
"When did you get back, anyway?" Vin asked.
"Last night, after you were asleep," Ham said. "The Garrison sent us part-
time soldiers back early, so they wouldn't have to pay us."
"They're still out there, then?" Dockson asked.
Ham nodded. "Hunting down the rest of our army. The Luthadel Garrison
relieved the Valtroux troops, who were actually pretty beat up from the
fighting. The majority of the Luthadel troops should be out for a long while
yet, searching for rebels—apparently, several very large groups broke off of
our main army and fled before the battle started."
The conversation lulled into another period of silence. Vin sipped at her
ale, drinking it more out of spite than any belief that it would make her feel
better. A few minutes later, footsteps sounded on the stairs.
Kelsier swept into the kitchen. "Good morning, all," he said with
customary cheerfulness. "Baywraps again, I see. Clubs, you really need to
hire more imaginative housemaids." Despite the comment, he grabbed a
cylindrical baywrap and took a large bite, then smiled pleasantly as he poured
himself something to drink.
The crew remained quiet. The men exchanged glances. Kelsier remained
standing, leaning back against the cupboard as he ate.
"Kell, we need to talk," Dockson finally said. "The army is gone."
"Yes," Kelsier said between bites. "I noticed."
"The job is dead, Kelsier," Breeze said. "It was a good try, but we failed."
Kelsier paused. He frowned, lowering his baywrap. "Failed? What makes
you say that?"
"The army is gone, Kell," Ham said.
"The army was only one piece of our plans. We've had a setback, true—
but we're hardly finished."
"Oh, for the Lord's sake, man!" Breeze said. "How can you stand there so
cheerfully? Our men are dead. Don't you even care?"
"I care, Breeze," Kelsier said in a solemn voice. "But what is done is done.
We need to move on."
"Exactly!" Breeze said. "Move on from this insane 'job' of yours. It's time
to quit. I know you don't like that, but it's the simple truth!"
Kelsier set his plate on the counter. "Don't Soothe me, Breeze. Never
Soothe me."
Breeze paused, mouth open slightly. "Fine," he finally said. "I won't use
Allomancy; I'll just use truth. Do you know what I think? I think you never
intended to grab that atium.
"You've been using us. You promised us wealth so we'd join you, but you
never had any intention of making us rich. This is all about your ego—it's
about becoming the most famous crewleader that ever lived. That's why
you're spreading all these rumors, doing all this recruitment. You've known
wealth—now you want to become a legend."
Breeze fell quiet, eyes hard. Kelsier stood with his arms folded, regarding
the crew. Several glanced aside, shamed eyes proving that they had
considered what Breeze was saying. Vin was one of those. The silence
persisted, all of them waiting for a rebuttal.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs again, and Spook burst into the kitchen.
"Willing the care and upping to see! A gathering, in the fountain square!"
Kelsier didn't look surprised by the boy's announcement.
"A gathering in the fountain square?" Ham said slowly. "That means . . ."
"Come on," Kelsier said, standing up straight. "We're going to watch."
"I'd rather not do this, Kell," Ham said. "I avoid these things for a reason."
Kelsier ignored him. He walked at the head of the crew, who all—even
Breeze—wore mundane skaa clothing and cloaks. A light ashfall had begun,
and careless flakes floated down from the sky, like leaves dropped from some
unseen tree.
Large clusters of skaa clogged the street, most of them workers from
factories or mills. Vin knew of only one reason why the workers would be
released and sent to gather in the city's central square.
Executions.
She'd never gone to them before. Supposedly, all the men in the city—
skaa or noble—were required to attend execution ceremonies, but thieving
crews knew how to remain hidden. Bells rang in the distance, announcing the
event, and obligators watched at the sides of the streets. They would go into
mills, forges, and random houses searching for those who disobeyed the call,
meting out death as a punishment. Gathering this many people was an
enormous undertaking—but, in a way, doing things like this simply worked
to prove how powerful the Lord Ruler was.
The streets grew even more crowded as Vin's crew approached the
fountain square. Building roofs were packed, and people filled the streets,
pressing forward. There's no way they'll all fit. Luthadel wasn't like most
other cities; its population was enormous. Even with only the men in
attendance, there was no way everyone would have a view of the executions.
Yet, they came anyway. Partially because they were required, partially
because they wouldn't have to work while they watched, and partially—Vin
suspected—because they had the same morbid curiosity that all men
possessed.
As the crowds grew thicker, Kelsier, Dockson, and Ham began to shove
the crew a path through the onlookers. Some of the skaa gave the crew looks
of resentment, though many were just dull-eyed and compliant. Some
appeared surprised, even excited, when they saw Kelsier, though his scars
were not showing. These people moved aside eagerly.
Eventually, the crew reached the outer row of buildings surrounding the
square. Kelsier picked one, nodding toward it, and Dockson moved forward.
A man at the doorway tried to bar his entrance, but Dox pointed toward the
roof, then hefted his coinpouch suggestively. A few minutes later, the crew
had the entire rooftop to themselves.
"Smoke us please, Clubs," Kelsier said quietly.
The gnarled craftsman nodded, making the crew invisible to Allomantic
bronze senses. Vin walked over and crouched beside the roof's lip, hands on
the short stone railing as she scanned the square down below. "So many
people . . ."
"You've lived in cities all your life, Vin," Ham said, standing next to her.
"Surely you've seen crowds before."
"Yes, but . . ." How could she explain? The shifting, overpacked mass was
unlike anything she'd seen. It was expansive, almost endless, its trails filling
every street leading away from the central square. The skaa were packed so
closely, she wondered how they even had room to breathe.
The noblemen were at the center of the square, separated from the skaa by
soldiers. They were close to the central fountain patio, which stood about five
feet above the rest of the square. Someone had constructed seating for the
nobility, and they lounged, as if they were visiting some show or horse race.
Many had servants holding up parasols against the ash, but it was falling
lightly enough that some just ignored it.
Standing beside the noblemen were the obligators—regular ones in gray,
Inquisitors in black. Vin shivered. There were eight Inquisitors, their lanky
forms standing a head above the obligators. But, it wasn't just height that
separated the dark creatures from their cousins. There was an air, a distinctive
posture, about the Steel Inquisitors.
Vin turned, studying the regular obligators instead. Most of them held
themselves proudly in their administrative robes—the higher their position,
the finer the robes. Vin squinted, burning tin, and recognized a moderately
familiar face.
"There," she said, pointing. "That one's my father."
Kelsier perked up. "Where?"
"At the front of the obligators," Vin said. "The shorter one with the golden
robe-scarf."
Kelsier fell silent. "That's your father?" he finally asked.
"Who?" Dockson asked, squinting. "I can't make out their faces."
"Tevidian," Kelsier said.
"The lord prelan?" Dockson asked with shock.
"What?" Vin asked. "Who's that?"
Breeze chuckled. "The lord prelan is the leader of the Ministry, my dear.
He's the most important of the Lord Ruler's obligators—technically, he's
even higher ranked than the Inquisitors."
Vin sat, dumbfounded.
"The lord prelan," Dockson mumbled, shaking his head. "This just keeps
getting better."
"Look!" Spook suddenly said, pointing.
The crowd of skaa began to shuffle. Vin had assumed that they were too
packed to move, but apparently she was wrong. The people began to pull
back, making a large corridor leading to the central platform.
What could make them—
Then she felt it. The oppressive numbness, like a massive blanket pressing
down, choking away her air, stealing her will. She immediately burned
copper. Yet, like before, she swore that she could feel the Lord Ruler's
Soothing despite the metal. She sensed him coming closer, trying to make her
lose all will, all desire, all strength of emotion.
"He's coming," Spook whispered, crouching down beside her.
A black carriage drawn by a pair of massive white stallions appeared down
a side street. It rolled down the corridor of skaa, moving with a sense of . . .
inevitability. Vin saw several people get clipped by its passing, and suspected
that if a man were to fall into the carriage's path, the vehicle wouldn't even
slow as it crushed him to death.
The skaa sagged a bit more as the Lord Ruler arrived, a visible ripple
washing across the crowd, their postures drooping as they felt his powerful
Soothing. The background roar of whispers and chatting dampened, an unreal
silence falling over the enormous square.
"He's so powerful," Breeze said. "Even at my best, I can only Soothe a
couple hundred men. There have to be tens of thousands of people here!"
Spook looked over the rim of the rooftop. "It makes me want to fall. To
just let go . . ."
Then, he paused. He shook his head, as if waking up. Vin frowned.
Something felt different. Tentatively, she extinguished her copper, and
realized that she could no longer feel the Lord Ruler's Soothing. The feeling
of awful depression—of soullessness and emptiness—had strangely
disappeared. Spook looked up, and the rest of the crewmembers stood just a
little straighter.
Vin glanced around. The skaa below looked unchanged. Yet, her friends—
Her eyes found Kelsier. The crewleader stood straight-backed, staring
resolutely at the approaching carriage, a look of concentration on his face.
He's Rioting our emotions, Vin realized. He's counteracting the Lord
Ruler's power. It was obviously a struggle for Kelsier to protect even their
small group.
Breeze is right, Vin thought. How can we fight something like this? The
Lord Ruler is Soothing a hundred thousand people at once!
But, Kelsier fought on. Just in case, Vin turned on her copper. Then she
burned zinc and reached out to help Kelsier, Rioting the emotions of those
around her. It felt like she was Pulling against some massive, immobile wall.
Yet, it must have helped, for Kelsier relaxed slightly, shooting her a grateful
look.
"Look," Dockson said, probably unaware of the unseen battle that occurred
around him. "The prisoner carts." He pointed toward a set of ten large, bar-
lined carts traveling down the corridor behind the Lord Ruler.
"Do you recognize anyone in them?" Ham said, leaning forward.
"I'm not of the seeing," Spook said, looking uncomfortable. "Uncle, you
really the burn, right?"
"Yes, my copper is on," Clubs said testily. "You're safe. We're far enough
away from the Lord Ruler that it wouldn't matter anyway—that plaza is
enormous."
Spook nodded, then obviously began burning tin. A moment later, he
shook his head. "Notting of the recognizing anyone."
"You weren't there for a lot of the recruiting, though, Spook," Ham said,
squinting.
"True," Spook replied. Though his accent remained, he was obviously
making an effort to speak normally.
Kelsier stepped up to the ledge, holding a hand up to shade his eyes. "I can
see the prisoners. No, I don't recognize any of the faces. They aren't captive
soldiers."
"Who, then?" Ham asked.
"Mostly women and children, it appears," Kelsier said.
"The families of the soldiers?" Ham asked, horrified.
Kelsier shook his head. "I doubt it. They wouldn't have taken the time to
identify dead skaa."
Ham frowned, looking confused.
"Random people, Hammond," Breeze said with a quiet sigh. "Examples—
casual executions made in order to punish the skaa for harboring rebels."
"No, not even that," Kelsier said. "I doubt the Lord Ruler even knows, or
cares, that most of those men were recruited from Luthadel. He probably just
assumes that it was another countryside rebellion. This . . . this is just a way
of reminding everyone who is in control."
The Lord Ruler's carriage rolled up a platform onto the central patio. The
ominous vehicle pulled to a stop in the exact center of the square, but the
Lord Ruler himself remained inside.
The prisoner carts pulled to a stop, and a group of obligators and soldiers
began to unload them. Black ash continued to fall as the first group of
prisoners—most struggling only weakly—were dragged up onto the raised
central platform. An Inquisitor directed the work, gesturing for prisoners to
be gathered beside each of the platform's four bowl-like fountains.
Four prisoners were forced to their knees—one beside each running
fountain—and four Inquisitors raised obsidian axes. Four axes fell, and four
heads were sheared free. The bodies, still held by soldiers, were allowed to
spurt their last lifeblood into the fountain basins.
The fountains began to glisten red as they sprayed into the air. The soldiers
tossed the bodies aside, then brought four more people forward.
Spook looked away sickly. "Why . . . why doesn't Kelsier do something?
To saving them, I mean?"
"Don't be foolish," Vin said. "There are eight Inquisitors down there—not
to mention the Lord Ruler himself. Kelsier would be an idiot to try
something."
Though I wouldn't be surprised if he considered it, she thought,
remembering when Kelsier had been ready to rush down and take on an
entire army by himself. She glanced to the side. Kelsier looked like he was
forcibly holding himself back—white-knuckled hands gripping the chimney
beside him—to keep himself from rushing down to stop the executions.
Spook stumbled over to another part of the rooftop where he could retch
without spilling bile onto the people below. Ham groaned slightly, and even
Clubs looked saddened. Dockson watched solemnly, as if witnessing the
deaths were some sort of vigil. Breeze just shook his head.
Kelsier, however . . . Kelsier was angry. His face red, his muscles tense,
his eyes ablaze.
Four more deaths, one of them a child.
"This," Kelsier said, angrily waving his hand toward the central square.
"This is our enemy. There is no quarter here, no walking away. This is no
simple job, to be thrown aside when we encounter a few unexpected twists."
Four more deaths.
"Look at them!" Kelsier demanded, pointing at the bleachers full of
nobility. Most of them appeared bored—and a few even seemed to be
enjoying themselves, turning and joking with one another as the beheadings
continued.
"I know you question me," Kelsier said, turning to the crew. "You think
that I've been too hard on the nobility, think that I relish killing them too
much. But, can you honestly see those men laughing and tell me that they
don't deserve to die by my blade? I only bring them justice."
Four more deaths.
Vin searched the bleachers with urgent, tin-enhanced eyes. She found
Elend sitting amid a group of younger men. None of them were laughing, and
they weren't the only ones. True, many of the nobility made light of the
experience, but there were some small minority who looked horrified.
Kelsier continued. "Breeze, you asked about the atium. I'll be honest. It
was never my main goal—I gathered this crew because I wanted to change
things. We'll grab the atium—we'll need it to support a new government—
but this job isn't about making me, or any of you, wealthy.
"Yeden is dead. He was our excuse—a way that we could do something
good while still pretending to just be thieves. Now that he's gone, you can
give up, if you want. Quit. But, that won't change anything. The struggle will
go on. Men will still die. You'll just be ignoring it."
Four more deaths.
"It's time to stop the charade," Kelsier said, staring at them each in turn.
"If we're going to do this now, we have to be up-front and honest with
ourselves. We have to admit that it isn't about money. It's about stopping
that." He pointed at the courtyard with its red fountains—a visible sign of
death for the thousands of skaa too far away to even tell what was happening.
"I intend to continue my fight," Kelsier said quietly. "I realize that some of
you question my leadership. You think I've been building myself up too
much with the skaa. You whisper that I'm making myself into another Lord
Ruler—you think that my ego is more important to me than overthrowing the
empire."
He paused, and Vin saw guilt in the eyes of Dockson and the others. Spook
rejoined the group, still looking a bit sick.
Four more deaths.
"You're wrong," Kelsier said quietly. "You have to trust me. You gave me
your confidence when we began this plan, despite how dangerous things
seemed. I still need that confidence! No matter how things appear, no matter
how terrible the odds, we have to keep fighting!"
Four more deaths.
The crew slowly turned toward Kelsier. Resisting the Lord Ruler's Pushing
on their emotions didn't seem like half as much a struggle for Kelsier
anymore, though Vin had let her zinc lapse.
Maybe . . . maybe he can do it, Vin thought, despite herself. If there was
ever a man who could defeat the Lord Ruler, it would be Kelsier.
"I didn't choose you men because of your competence," Kelsier said,
"though you are certainly skilled. I chose each of you specifically because I
knew you to be men of conscience. Ham, Breeze, Dox, Clubs . . . you are
men with reputations for honesty, even charity. I knew that if I were going to
succeed at this plan, I would need men who actually cared.
"No, Breeze, this isn't about boxings or about glory. This is about war—a
war we have been fighting for a thousand years, a war I intend to end. You
may go, if you wish. You know I'll let any of you out—no questions asked,
no repercussions exacted—if you wish to go.
"However," he said, eyes growing hard, "if you stay, you have to promise
to stop questioning my authority. You can voice concerns about the job itself,
but there will be no more whispered conferences about my leadership. If you
stay, you follow me. Understood?"
One by one, he locked eyes with the crewmembers. Each one gave him a
nod.
"I don't think we ever really questioned you, Kell," Dockson said. "We
just . . . we're worried, and I think rightly so. The army was a big part of our
plans."
Kelsier nodded to the north, toward the main city gates. "What do you see
up in the distance, Dox?"
"The city gates?"
"And what is different about them recently?"
Dockson shrugged. "Nothing unusual. They're a bit understaffed, but—"
"Why?" Kelsier interjected. "Why are they understaffed?"
Dockson paused. "Because the Garrison is gone?"
"Exactly," Kelsier said. "Ham says that the Garrison could be out chasing
remnants of our army for months, and only about ten percent of its men
stayed behind. That makes sense—stopping rebels is the sort of thing the
Garrison was created to do. Luthadel might be exposed, but no one ever
attacks Luthadel. No one ever has."
A quiet understanding passed between the members of the crew.
"Part one of our plan to take the city has been accomplished," Kelsier said.
"We got the Garrison out of Luthadel. It cost us far more than we expected—
far more than it should have. I wish to the Forgotten Gods that those boys
hadn't died. Unfortunately, we can't change that now—we can only use the
opening they gave us.
"The plan is still in motion—the main peacekeeping force in the city is
gone. If a house war starts in earnest, the Lord Ruler will have a difficult time
stopping it. Assuming he wants to. For some reason, he tends to step back
and let the nobility fight each other every hundred years or so. Perhaps he
finds that letting them at each other's throats keeps them away from his
own."
"But, what if the Garrison comes back?" Ham asked.
"If I'm right," Kelsier said, "the Lord Ruler will let them chase stragglers
from our army for several months, giving the nobility a chance to blow off a
little steam. Except, he's going to get a lot more than he expected. When that
house war starts, we're going to use the chaos to seize the palace."
"With what army, my dear man?" Breeze said.
"We still have some troops left," Kelsier said. "Plus, we have time to
recruit more. We'll have to be careful—we can't use the caves, so we'll have
to hide our troops in the city. That will probably mean smaller numbers.
However, that won't be an issue—you see, that garrison is going to return
eventually."
The members of the group shared a look as the executions proceeded
below. Vin sat quietly, trying to decide what Kelsier meant by that statement.
"Exactly, Kell," Ham said slowly. "The Garrison will return, and we won't
have a big enough army to fight them."
"But we will have the Lord Ruler's treasury," Kelsier said, smiling. "What
is it you always say about those Garrisoners, Ham?"
The Thug paused, then smiled too. "That they're mercenaries."
"We seize the Lord Ruler's money," Kelsier said, "and it means we get his
army too. This can still work, gentlemen. We can make it work."
The crew seemed to grow more confident. Vin, however, turned her eyes
back toward the square. The fountains ran so red that they seemed completely
filled with blood. Over it all, the Lord Ruler watched from within his jet-
black carriage. The windows were open, and—with tin—Vin could just
barely see a silhouetted figure sitting within.
That's our real foe, she thought. Not the missing garrison, not the
Inquisitors with their axes. That man. The one from the logbook.
We'll have to find a way to defeat him, otherwise everything else we do
will be pointless.