Lord Ruler some thousand years before as a reward for their loyalty. It was
basic Ministry doctrine; even a skaa like Vin knew that much. The nobility
had Allomancy and privilege because of their ancestors; the skaa were
punished for the same reason.
The truth was, however, that she didn't really know what Allomancy was.
It had something to do with fighting, she'd always assumed. One "Misting,"
as they were called, was said to be dangerous enough to kill an entire thieving
team. Yet, the skaa she knew spoke of the power in whispered, uncertain
tones. Before this moment, she'd never even paused to consider the
possibility that it might simply be the same thing as her Luck.
"Tell me, Vin," Kelsier said, leaning forward with interest. "Do you realize
what you did to that obligator in the Canton of Finance?"
"I used my Luck," Vin said quietly. "I use it to make people less angry."
"Or less suspicious," Kelsier said. "Easier to scam."
Vin nodded.
Kelsier held up a finger. "There are a lot of things you're going to have to
learn. Techniques, rules, and exercises. One lesson, however, cannot wait.
Never use emotional Allomancy on an obligator. They're all trained to
recognize when their passions are being manipulated. Even the high nobility
are forbidden from Pulling or Pushing the emotions of an obligator. You are
what caused that obligator to send for an Inquisitor."
"Pray the creature never catches your trail again, lass," Dockson said
quietly, sipping his wine.
Vin paled. "You didn't kill the Inquisitor?"
Kelsier shook his head. "I just distracted him for a bit—which was quite
dangerous enough, I might add. Don't worry, many of the rumors about them
aren't true. Now that he's lost your trail, he won't be able to find you again."
"Most likely," Dockson said.
Vin glanced at the shorter man apprehensively.
"Most likely," Kelsier agreed. "There are a lot of things we don't know
about the Inquisitors—they don't seem to follow the normal rules. Those
spikes through their eyes, for instance, should kill them. Nothing I've learned
about Allomancy has ever provided an explanation for how those creatures
keep living. If it were only a regular Misting Seeker on your trail, we
wouldn't need to worry. An Inquistor . . . well, you'll want to keep your eyes
open. Of course, you already seem pretty good at that."
Vin sat uncomfortably for a moment. Eventually, Kelsier nodded to her
mug of ale. "You aren't drinking."
"You might have slipped something in it," Vin said.
"Oh, there was no need for me to sneak something into your drink,"
Kelsier said with a smile, pulling an object out of his suit coat pocket. "After
all, you're going to drink this vial of mysterious liquid quite willingly."
He set a small glass vial on the tabletop. Vin frowned, regarding the liquid
within. There was a dark residue at its bottom. "What is it?" she asked.
"If I told you, it wouldn't be mysterious," Kelsier said with a smile.
Dockson rolled his eyes. "The vial is filled with an alcohol solution and
some flakes of metal, Vin."
"Metal?" she asked with a frown.
"Two of the eight basic Allomantic metals," Kelsier said. "We need to do
some tests."
Vin eyed the vial.
Kelsier shrugged. "You'll have to drink it if you want to know any more
about this Luck of yours."
"You drink half first," Vin said.
Kelsier raised an eyebrow. "A bit on the paranoid side, I see."
Vin didn't respond.
Finally, he sighed, picking up the vial and pulling off the plug.
"Shake it up first," Vin said. "So you get some of the sediment."
Kelsier rolled his eyes, but did as requested, shaking the vial, then downing
half of its contents. He set it back on the table with a click.
Vin frowned. Then she eyed Kelsier, who smiled. He knew that he had her.
He had shown off his power, had tempted her with it. The only reason to be
subservient to those with power is so that you can learn to someday take what
they have.
Reen's words.
Vin reached out and took the vial, then she downed its contents. She sat,
waiting for some magical transformation or surge of power—or even signs of
poison. She felt nothing.
How . . . anticlimactic. She frowned, leaning back in her chair. Out of
curiosity, she felt at her Luck.
And felt her eyes widen in shock.
It was there, like a massive golden hoard. A storage of power so incredible
that it stretched her understanding. Always before, she had needed to be a
scrimp with her Luck, holding it in reserve, using up morsels sparingly. Now
she felt like a starving woman invited to a high nobleman's feast. She sat,
stunned, regarding the enormous wealth within her.
"So," Kelsier said with a prodding voice. "Try it. Soothe me."
Vin reached out, tentatively touching her newfound mass of Luck. She
took a bit, and directed it at Kelsier.
"Good." Kelsier leaned forward eagerly. "But we already knew you could
do that. Now the real test, Vin. Can you go the other way? You can dampen
my emotions, but can you enflame them too?"
Vin frowned. She'd never used her Luck in such a way; she hadn't even
realized that she could. Why was he so eager?
Suspicious, Vin reached for her source of Luck. As she did so, she noticed
something interesting. What she had first interpreted as one massive source
of power was actually two different sources of power. There were different
types of Luck.
Eight. He'd said there were eight of them. But . . . what do the others do?
Kelsier was still waiting. Vin reached to the second, unfamiliar source of
Luck, doing as she'd done before and directing it at him.
Kelsier's smile deepened, and he sat back, glancing at Dockson. "That's it
then. She did it."
Dockson shook his head. "To be honest, Kell, I'm not sure what to think.
Having one of you around was unsettling enough. Two, though . . ."
Vin regarded them with narrowed, dubious eyes. "Two what?"
"Even among the nobility, Vin, Allomancy is modestly rare," Kelsier said.
"True, it's a hereditary skill, with most of its powerful lines among the high
nobility. However, breeding alone doesn't guarantee Allomantic strength.
"Many high noblemen only have access to a single Allomantic skill.
People like that—those who can only perform Allomancy in one of its eight
basic aspects—are called Mistings. Sometimes these abilities appear in skaa
—but only if that skaa has noble blood in his or her near ancestry. You can
usually find one Misting in . . . oh, about ten thousand mixed-breed skaa. The
better, and closer, the noble ancestry, the more likely the skaa is to be a
Misting."
"Who were your parents, Vin?" Dockson asked. "Do you remember
them?"
"I was raised by my half brother, Reen," Vin said quietly, uncomfortable.
These were not things she discussed with others.
"Did he speak of your mother and father?" Dockson asked.
"Occasionally," she admitted. "Reen said that our mother was a whore.
Not out of choice, but the underworld . . ." She trailed off. Her mother had
tried to kill her, once, when she was very young. She vaguely remembered
the event. Reen had saved her.
"What about your father, Vin?" Dockson asked.
Vin looked up. "He is a high prelan in the Steel Ministry."
Kelsier whistled softly. "Now, that's a slightly ironic breach of duty."
Vin looked down at the table. Finally, she reached over and took a healthy
pull on her mug of ale.
Kelsier smiled. "Most ranking obligators in the Ministry are high
noblemen. Your father gave you a rare gift in that blood of yours."
"So . . . I'm one of these Mistings you mentioned?"
Kelsier shook his head. "Actually, no. You see, this is what made you so
interesting to us, Vin. Mistings only have access to one Allomantic skill. You
just proved you have two. And, if you have access to at least two of the eight,
then you have access to the rest as well. That's the way it works—if you're
an Allomancer, you either get one skill or you get them all."
Kelsier leaned forward. "You, Vin, are what is generally called a Mistborn.
Even amongst the nobility, they're incredibly rare. Amongst skaa . . . well,
let's just say I've only met one other skaa Mistborn in my entire life."
Somehow, the room seemed to grow more quiet. More still. Vin stared at
her mug with distracted, uncomfortable eyes. Mistborn. She'd heard the
stories, of course. The legends.
Kelsier and Dockson sat quietly, letting her think. Eventually, she spoke.
"So . . . what does this all mean?"
Kelsier smiled. "It means that you, Vin, are a very special person. You
have a power that most high noblemen envy. It is a power that, had you been
born an aristocrat, would have made you one of the most deadly and
influential people in all of the Final Empire."
Kelsier leaned forward again. "But, you weren't born an aristocrat. You're
not noble, Vin. You don't have to play by their rules—and that makes you
even more powerful."
Apparently, the next stage of my quest will take us up into the highlands of Terris. This is said to
be a cold, unforgiving place—a land where the mountains themselves are made of ice.
Our normal attendants will not do for such a trip. We should probably hire some Terris
packmen to carry our gear.
4
"YOU HEARD WHAT HE SAID! He's planning a job." Ulef's eyes shone with
excitement. "I wonder which of the Great Houses he's going to strike."
"It'll be one of the most powerful ones," said Disten, one of Camon's head
pointmen. He was missing a hand, but his eyes and ears were among the
keenest in the crew. "Kelsier never bothers himself with small-time jobs."
Vin sat quietly, her mug of ale—the same one Kelsier had given her—still
sitting mostly full on the tabletop. Her table was crowded with people;
Kelsier had let the thieves return to their home for a bit before his meeting
began. Vin, however, would have preferred to remain by herself. Life with
Reen had accustomed her to loneliness—if you let someone get too close, it
would just give them better opportunities to betray you.
Even after Reen's disappearance, Vin had kept to herself. She hadn't been
willing to leave; however, she also hadn't felt the need to become familiar
with the other crewmembers. They had, in turn, been perfectly willing to let
her alone. Vin's position had been precarious, and associating with her could
have tainted them by association. Only Ulef had made any moves to befriend
her.
If you let someone get close to you, it will only hurt more when they betray
you, Reen seemed to whisper in her mind.
Had Ulef even really been her friend? He'd certainly sold her out quickly
enough. In addition, the crewmembers had taken Vin's beating and sudden
rescue in stride, never mentioning their betrayal or refusal to help her. They'd
only done what was expected.
"The Survivor hasn't bothered himself with any jobs lately," said Harmon,
an older, scraggly-bearded burglar. "He's barely been seen in Luthadel a
handful of times during the last few years. In fact, he hasn't pulled any jobs
since . . ."
"This is the first one?" Ulef asked eagerly. "The first since he escaped the
Pits? Then it's bound to be something spectacular!"
"Did he say anything about it, Vin?" Disten asked. "Vin?" He waved a
stumpy arm in her direction, catching her attention.
"What?" she asked, looking up. She had cleaned herself slightly since her
beating at Camon's hand, finally accepting a handkerchief from Dockson to
wipe the blood from her face. There was little she could do about the bruises,
however. Those still throbbed. Hopefully, nothing was broken.
"Kelsier," Disten repeated. "Did he say anything about the job he's
planning?"
Vin shook her head. She glanced down at the bloodied handkerchief.
Kelsier and Dockson had left a short time ago, promising to return after she'd
had some time to think about the things they had told her. There was an
implication in their words, however—an offer. Whatever job they were
planning, she was invited to participate.
"Why'd he pick you to be his twixt, anyway, Vin?" Ulef asked. "Did he
say anything about that?"
That's what the crew assumed—that Kelsier had chosen her to be his
contact with Camon's . . . Milev's . . . crew.
There were two sides to the Luthadel underground. There were the regular
crews, like Camon's. Then there were . . . the special ones. Groups composed
of the extremely skillful, the extremely foolhardy, or the extremely talented.
Allomancers.
The two sides of the underworld didn't mix; regular thieves left their
betters alone. However, occasionally one of these Misting crews hired a
regular team to do some of its more mundane work, and they would choose a
twixt—a go-between—to work with both crews. Hence Ulef's assumption
about Vin.
Milev's crewmembers noticed her unresponsiveness, and turned to another
topic: Mistings. They spoke of Allomancy with uncertain, whispered tones,
and she listened, uncomfortable. How could she be associated with
something they held in such awe? Her Luck . . . her Allomancy . . . was
something small, something she used to survive, but something really quite
unimportant.
But, such power . . . she thought, looking in at her Luck reserve.
"What's Kelsier been doing these last few years, I wonder?" Ulef asked.
He had seemed a bit uncomfortable around her at the beginning of the
conversation, but that had passed quickly. He'd betrayed her, but this was the
underworld. No friends.
It didn't seem that way between Kelsier and Dockson. They appeared to
trust each other. A front? Or were they simply one of those rare teams that
actually didn't worry about each other's betrayal?
The most unsettling thing about Kelsier and Dockson had been their
openness with her. They seemed willing to trust, even accept, Vin after a
relatively short time. It couldn't be genuine—no one could survive in the
underworld following such tactics. Still, their friendliness was disconcerting.
"Two years . . ." said Hrud, a flat-faced, quiet thug. "He must have spent
the entire time planning for this job."
"It must be some job indeed. . . ." Ulef said.
"Tell me about him," Vin said quietly.
"Kelsier?" Disten asked.
Vin nodded.
"They didn't talk about Kelsier down south?"
Vin shook her head.
"He was the best crewleader in Luthadel," Ulef explained. "A legend, even
among the Mistings. He robbed some of the wealthiest Great Houses in the
city."
"And?" Vin asked.
"Someone betrayed him," Harmon said in a quiet voice.
Of course, Vin thought.
"The Lord Ruler himself caught Kelsier," Ulef said. "Sent Kelsier and his
wife to the Pits of Hathsin. But he escaped. He escaped from the Pits, Vin!
He's the only one who ever has."
"And the wife?" Vin asked.
Ulef glanced at Harmon, who shook his head. "She didn't make it."
So, he's lost someone too. How can he laugh so much? So honestly?
"That's where he got those scars, you know," Disten said. "The ones on his
arms. He got them at the Pits, from the rocks on a sheer wall he had to climb
to escape."
Harmon snorted. "That's not how he got them. He killed an Inquisitor
while escaping—that's where he got the scars."
"I heard he got them fighting one of the monsters that guard the Pits," Ulef
said. "He reached into its mouth and strangled it from the inside. The teeth
scraped his arms."
Disten frowned. "How do you strangle someone from the inside?"
Ulef shrugged. "That's just what I heard."
"The man isn't natural," Hrud muttered. "Something happened to him in
the Pits, something bad. He wasn't an Allomancer before then, you know. He
entered the Pits a regular skaa, and now . . . Well, he's a Misting for sure—if
he's even human anymore. Been out in the mists a lot, that one has. Some say
that the real Kelsier is dead, that the thing wearing his face is . . . something
else."
Harmon shook his head. "Now, that's just plantation-skaa foolishness.
We've all gone out in the mists."
"Not in the mists outside the city," Hrud insisted. "The mistwraiths are out
there. They'll grab a man and take his face, sure as the Lord Ruler."
Harmon rolled his eyes.
"Hrud's right about one thing," Disten said. "That man isn't human. He
might not be a mistwraith, but he's not skaa either. I've heard of him doing
things, things like only they can do. The ones that come out at night. You saw
what he did to Camon."
"Mistborn," Harmon muttered.
Mistborn. Vin had heard the term before Kelsier had mentioned it to her, of
course. Who hadn't? Yet, the rumors about Mistborn made stories of
Inquisitors and Mistings seem rational. It was said that Mistborn were heralds
of the mists themselves, endowed with great powers by the Lord Ruler. Only
high noblemen could be Mistborn; they were said to be a secret sect of
assassins who served him, only going out at night. Reen had always taught
her that they were a myth, and Vin had assumed he was right.
And Kelsier says I—like he himself—am one of them. How could she be
what he said? Child of a prostitute, she was nobody. She was nothing.
Never trust a man who tells you good news, Reen had always said. It's the
oldest, but easiest, way to con someone.
Yet, she did have her Luck. Her Allomancy. She could still sense the
reserves Kelsier's vial had given her, and had tested her powers on the
crewmembers. No longer limited to just a bit of Luck a day, she found she
could produce far more striking effects.
Vin was coming to realize that her old goal in life—simply staying alive—
was uninspired. There was so much more she could be doing. She had been a
slave to Reen; she had been a slave to Camon. She would be a slave to this
Kelsier too, if it would lead her to eventual freedom.
At his table, Milev looked at his pocket watch, then stood. "All right,
everyone out."
The room began to clear in preparation for Kelsier's meeting. Vin
remained where she was; Kelsier had made it quite clear to the others that she
was invited. She sat quietly for a bit, the room feeling far more comfortable
to her now that it was empty. Kelsier's friends began to arrive a short time
later.
The first man down the steps had the build of a soldier. He wore a loose,
sleeveless shirt that exposed a pair of well-sculpted arms. He was
impressively muscular, but not massive, and had close-cropped hair that
stuck up slightly on his head.
The soldier's companion was a sharply dressed man in a nobleman's suit—
plum vest, gold buttons, black overcoat—complete with short-brimmed hat
and dueling cane. He was older than the soldier, and was a bit portly. He
removed his hat upon entering the room, revealing a head of well-styled
black hair. The two men were chatting amiably as they walked, but they
paused when they saw the empty room.
"Ah, this must be our twixt," said the man in the suit. "Has Kelsier arrived
yet, my dear?" He spoke with a simple familiarity, as if they were longtime
friends. Suddenly, despite herself, Vin found herself liking this well-dressed,
articulate man.
"No," she said quietly. Though overalls and a work shirt had always suited
her, she suddenly wished that she owned something nicer. This man's very
bearing seemed to demand a more formal atmosphere.
"Should have known that Kell would be late to his own meeting," the
soldier said, sitting down at one of the tables near the center of the room.
"Indeed," said the suited man. "I suppose his tardiness leaves us with a
chance for some refreshment. I could so use something to drink. . . ."
"Let me get you something," Vin said quickly, jumping to her feet.
"How gracious of you," the suited man said, choosing a chair next to the
soldier. He sat with one leg crossed over the other, his dueling cane held to
the side, tip against the floor, one hand resting on the top.
Vin walked to the bar and began rummaging for drinks.
"Breeze . . ." the soldier said with a warning tone as Vin selected a bottle
of Camon's most expensive wine and began pouring a cup.
"Hum . . .?" the suited man said, raising an eyebrow.
The soldier nodded toward Vin.
"Oh, very well," the suited man said with a sigh.
Vin paused, wine half poured, and frowned slightly. What am I doing?
"I swear, Ham," the suited man said, "you are dreadfully stiff sometimes."
"Just because you can Push someone around doesn't mean you should,
Breeze."
Vin stood, dumbfounded. He . . . used Luck on me. When Kelsier had tried
to manipulate her, she'd felt his touch and had been able to resist. This time,
however, she hadn't even realized what she was doing.
She looked up at the man, thinning her eyes. "Mistborn."
The suited man, Breeze, chuckled. "Hardly. Kelsier's the only skaa
Mistborn you're likely to ever meet, my dear—and pray you never are in a
situation where you meet a noble one. No, I am just an ordinary, humble
Misting."
"Humble?" Ham asked.
Breeze shrugged.
Vin looked down at the half-full cup of wine. "You Pulled on my
emotions. With . . . Allomancy, I mean."
"I Pushed on them, actually," Breeze said. "Pulling makes a person less
trusting and more determined. Pushing on emotions—Soothing them—makes
a person more trusting."
"Regardless, you controlled me," Vin said. "You made me fetch you a
drink."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that I made you do it," Breeze said. "I just altered your
emotions slightly, putting you in a frame of mind where you'd be more likely
to do as I wished."
Ham rubbed his chin. "I don't know, Breeze. It's an interesting question.
By influencing her emotions, did you take away her ability to choose? If, for
instance, she were to kill or steal while under your control, would the crime
be hers or yours?"
Breeze rolled his eyes. "There's really no question to it at all. You
shouldn't think about such things, Hammond—you'll hurt your brain. I
offered her encouragement, I simply did it through an irregular means."
"But—"
"I'm not going to argue it with you, Ham."
The beefy man sighed, looking a little bit forlorn.
"Are you going to bring me the drink . . .?" Breeze asked hopefully,
looking at Vin. "I mean, you're already up, and you're going to have to come
back this direction to reach your seat anyway. . . ."
Vin examined her emotions. Did she feel irregularly drawn to do as the
man asked? Was he manipulating her again? Finally, she simply walked
away from the bar, leaving the drink where it was.
Breeze sighed. He didn't stand to go get the drink himself, however.
Vin walked tentatively toward the two men's table. She was accustomed to
shadows and corners—close enough to eavesdrop, but far enough away to
escape. Yet, she couldn't hide from these men—not while the room was so
empty. So, she chose a chair at the table beside the one that the two men were
using, then sat cautiously. She needed information—as long as she was
ignorant, she was going to be at a severe disadvantage in this new world of
Misting crews.
Breeze chuckled. "Nervous little thing, aren't you?"
Vin ignored the comment. "You," Vin said, nodding to Ham. "You're a . . .
a Misting too?"
Ham nodded. "I'm a Thug."
Vin frowned in confusion.
"I burn pewter," Ham said.
Again, Vin looked at him questioningly.
"He can make himself stronger, my dear," Breeze said. "He hits things—
particularly other people—who try to interfere with what the rest of us are
doing."
"There's much more to it than that," Ham said. "I run general security for
jobs, providing my crewleader with manpower and warriors, assuming such
are necessary."
"And he'll try and bore you with random philosophy when it isn't," Breeze
added.
Ham sighed. "Breeze, honestly, sometimes I don't know why I . . ." Ham
trailed off as the door opened again, admitting another man.
The newcomer wore a dull tan overcoat, a pair of brown trousers, and a
simple white shirt. However, his face was far more distinctive than his
clothing. It was knotted and gnarled, like a twisted piece of wood, and his
eyes shone with the level of disapproving dissatisfaction only the elderly can
display. Vin couldn't quite place his age—he was young enough that he
wasn't stooped over, yet he was old enough that he made even the middle-
aged Breeze look youthful.
The newcomer looked over Vin and the others, huffed disdainfully, then
walked to a table on the other side of the room and sat down. His steps were
marked by a distinct limp.
Breeze sighed. "I'm going to miss Trap."
"We all will," Ham said quietly. "Clubs is very good, though. I've worked
with him before."
Breeze studied the newcomer. "I wonder if I could get him to bring my
drink over. . . ."
Ham chuckled. "I'd pay money to see you try it."
"I'm sure you would," Breeze said.
Vin eyed the newcomer, who seemed perfectly content to ignore her and
the other two men. "What's he?"
"Clubs?" Breeze asked. "He, my dear, is a Smoker. He is what will keep
the rest of us from being discovered by an Inquisitor."
Vin chewed on her lip, digesting the new information as she studied Clubs.
The man shot her a glare, and she looked away. As she turned, she noticed
that Ham was looking at her.
"I like you, kid," he said. "The other twixts I've worked with have either
been too intimidated to talk to us, or they've been jealous of us for moving
into their territory."
"Indeed," Breeze said. "You're not like most crumbs. Of course, I'd like
you a great deal more if you'd go fetch me that glass of wine. . . ."
Vin ignored him, glancing at Ham. "Crumb?"
"That's what some of the more self-important members of our society call
lesser thieves," Ham said. "They call you crumbs, since you tend to be
involved with . . . less inspired projects."
"No offense intended, of course," Breeze said.
"Oh, I wouldn't ever take offense at—" Vin paused, feeling an irregular
desire to please the well-dressed man. She glared at Breeze. "Stop that!"
"See, there," Breeze said, glancing at Ham. "She still retains her ability to
choose."
"You're hopeless."
They assume I'm a twixt, Vin thought. So Kelsier hasn't told them what I
am. Why? Time constraints? Or, was the secret too valuable to share? How
trustworthy were these men? And, if they thought her a simple "crumb," why
were they being so nice to her?
"Who else are we waiting upon?" Breeze asked, glancing at the doorway.
"Besides Kell and Dox, I mean."
"Yeden," Ham said.
Breeze frowned with a sour expression. "Ah, yes."
"I agree," Ham said. "But, I'd be willing to bet that he feels the same way
about us."
"I don't even see why he was invited," Breeze said.
Ham shrugged. "Something to do with Kell's plan, obviously."
"Ah, the infamous 'plan,' " Breeze said musingly. "What job could it be,
what indeed . . .?"
Ham shook his head. "Kell and his cursed sense of drama."
"Indeed."
The door opened a few moments later, and the one they had spoken of,
Yeden, entered. He turned out to be an unassuming man, and Vin had trouble
understanding why the other two were so displeased about his attendance.
Short with curly brown hair, Yeden was dressed in simple gray skaa clothing
and a patched, soot-stained brown worker's coat. He regarded the
surroundings with a look of disapproval, but he was nowhere near as openly
hostile as Clubs, who still sat on the other side of the room scowling at
anyone who looked in his direction.
Not a very big crew, Vin thought. With Kelsier and Dockson, that makes
six of them. Of course, Ham had said that he led a group of "Thugs." Were
the men at this meeting simply representatives? The leaders of smaller, more
specialized groups? Some crews worked that way.
Breeze checked his pocket watch three more times before Kelsier finally
arrived. The Mistborn crewleader burst through the door with his cheery
enthusiasm, Dockson sauntering along behind. Ham stood immediately,
smiling broadly and clasping hands with Kelsier. Breeze stood as well, and
while his greeting was a bit more reserved, Vin had to admit that she had
never seen any crewleader welcomed so happily by his men.
"Ah," Kelsier said, looking toward the other side of the room. "Clubs and
Yeden too. So, everyone's here. Good—I absolutely loathe being made to
wait."
Breeze raised an eyebrow as he and Ham settled back into their chairs,
Dockson taking a seat at the same table. "Are we to receive any explanation
for your tardiness?"
"Dockson and I were visiting my brother," Kelsier explained, walking
toward the front of the lair. He turned and leaned back against the bar,
scanning the room. When Kelsier's eyes fell on Vin, he winked.
"Your brother?" Ham said. "Is Marsh coming to the meeting?"
Kelsier and Dockson shared a look. "Not tonight," Kelsier said. "But he'll
join the crew eventually."
Vin studied the others. They were skeptical. Tension between Kelsier and
his brother, perhaps?
Breeze raised his dueling cane, pointing the tip at Kelsier. "All right,
Kelsier, you've kept this 'job' secret from us for eight months now. We know
it's big, we know you're excited, and we're all properly annoyed at you for
being so secretive. So, why don't you just go ahead and tell us what it is?"
Kelsier smiled. Then he stood up straight, waving a hand toward the dirty,
plain-looking Yeden. "Gentlemen, meet your new employer."
This was, apparently, quite a shocking statement.
"Him?" Ham asked.
"Him," Kelsier said with a nod.
"What?" Yeden asked, speaking for the first time. "You have trouble
working with someone who actually has morals?"
"It's not that, my dear man," Breeze said, setting his dueling cane across
his lap. "It's just that, well, I was under the strange impression that you didn't
like our types very much."
"I don't," Yeden said flatly. "You're selfish, undisciplined, and you've
turned your backs on the rest of the skaa. You dress nicely, but on the inside
you're dirty as ash."
Ham snorted. "I can already see that this job is going to be great for crew
morale."
Vin watched quietly, chewing on her lip. Yeden was obviously a skaa
worker, probably a member of a forge or textile mill. What connection did he
have with the underground? And . . . how would he be able to afford the
services of a thieving crew, especially one as apparently specialized as
Kelsier's team?
Perhaps Kelsier noticed her confusion, for she found him looking at her as
the others continued to speak.
"I'm still a little confused," Ham said. "Yeden, we're all aware of how you
regard thieves. So . . . why hire us?"
Yeden squirmed a bit. "Because," he finally said, "everyone knows how
effective you are."
Breeze chuckled. "Disapproving of our morals doesn't make you unwilling
to make use of our skills, I see. So, what is the job, then? What does the skaa
rebellion wish of us?"
Skaa rebellion? Vin thought, a piece of the conversation falling into place.
There were two sides to the underworld. The far larger portion was made up
of the thieves, crews, whores, and beggars who tried to survive outside of
mainstream skaa culture.
And then there were the rebels. The people who worked against the Final
Empire. Reen had always called them fools—a sentiment shared by most of
the people, both underworlders and regular skaa, that Vin had met.
All eyes slowly turned to Kelsier, who leaned back against the bar again.
"The skaa rebellion, courtesy of its leader, Yeden, has hired us for something
very specific."
"What?" Ham asked. "Robbery? Assassination?"
"A little of both," Kelsier said, "and, at the same time, neither one.
Gentlemen, this isn't going to be a regular job. It's going to be different from
anything any crew has ever tried to pull. We're going to help Yeden
overthrow the Final Empire."
Silence.
"Excuse me?" Ham asked.
"You heard me right, Ham," Kelsier said. "That's the job I've been
planning—the destruction of the Final Empire. Or, at least, its center of
government. Yeden has hired us to supply him with an army, then provide
him with a favorable opportunity to seize control of this city."
Ham sat back, then shared a glance with Breeze. Both men turned toward
Dockson, who nodded solemnly. The room remained quiet for a moment
longer; then the silence was broken as Yeden began to laugh ruefully to
himself.
"I should never have agreed to this," Yeden said, shaking his head. "Now
that you say it, I realize how ridiculous it all sounds."
"Trust me, Yeden," Kelsier said. "These men have made a habit of pulling
off plans that seem ridiculous at first glance."
"That may be true, Kell," Breeze said. "But, in this case, I find myself
agreeing with our disapproving friend. Overthrow the Final Empire . . . that is
something that skaa rebels have been working toward for a thousand years!
What makes you think that we can achieve anything where those men have
failed?"
Kelsier smiled. "We'll succeed because we have vision, Breeze. That's
something the rebellion has always lacked."
"Excuse me?" Yeden said indignantly.
"It's true, unfortunately," Kelsier said. "The rebellion condemns people
like us because of our greed, but for all their high morals—which, by the
way, I respect—they never get anything done. Yeden, your men hide in
woods and in hills, plotting how they'll someday rise up and lead a glorious
war against the Final Empire. But your kind has no idea how to develop and
execute a proper plan."
Yeden's expression grew dark. "And you have no idea what you are
talking about."
"Oh?" Kelsier said lightly. "Tell me, what has your rebellion accomplished
during its thousand-year struggle? Where are your successes and your
victories? The Massacre of Tougier three centuries ago, where seven
thousand skaa rebels were slaughtered? The occasional raid of a traveling
canal boat or the kidnapping of a minor noble official?"
Yeden flushed. "That's the best we can manage with the people we have!
Don't blame my men for their failures—blame the rest of the skaa. We can't
ever get them to help. They've been beaten down for a millennium; they
haven't got any spirit left. It's difficult enough to get one in a thousand to
listen to us, let alone rebel!"
"Peace, Yeden," Kelsier said, holding up a hand. "I'm not trying to insult
your courage. We're on the same side, remember? You came to me
specifically because you were having trouble recruiting people for your
army."
"I'm regretting that decision more and more, thief," Yeden said.
"Well, you've already paid us," Kelsier said. "So it's a little late to back
out now. But, we'll get you that army, Yeden. The men in this room are the
most capable, most clever, and most skilled Allomancers in the city. You'll
see."
The room grew quiet again. Vin sat at her table, watching the interaction
with a frown. What is your game, Kelsier? His words about overthrowing the
Final Empire were obviously a front. It seemed most likely to her that he
intended to scam the skaa rebellion. But . . . if he'd already been paid, then
why continue the charade?
Kelsier turned from Yeden to Breeze and Ham. "All right, gentlemen.
What do you think?"
The two men shared a look. Finally Breeze spoke. "Lord Ruler knows, I've
never been one to turn down a challenge. But, Kell, I do question your
reasoning. Are you sure we can do this?"
"I'm positive," Kelsier said. "Previous attempts to overthrow the Lord
Ruler have failed because they lacked proper organization and planning.
We're thieves, gentlemen—and we're extraordinarily good ones. We can rob
the unrobbable and fool the unfoolable. We know how to take an incredibly
large task and break it down to manageable pieces, then deal with each of
those pieces. We know how to get what we want. These things make us
perfect for this particular task."
Breeze frowned. "And . . . how much are we getting paid for achieving the
impossible?"
"Thirty thousand boxings," Yeden said. "Half now, half when you deliver
the army."
"Thirty thousand?" Ham said. "For an operation this big? That will barely
cover expenses. We'll need a spy among the nobility to watch for rumors,
we'll need a couple of safe houses, not to mention someplace big enough to
hide and train an entire army. . . ."
"No use haggling now, thief," Yeden snapped. "Thirty thousand may not
sound like much to your type, but it's the result of decades of saving on our
part. We can't pay you more because we don't have anything more."
"It's good work, gentlemen," Dockson noted, joining the conversation for
the first time.
"Yes, well, that's all great," Breeze said. "I consider myself a nice enough
fellow. But . . . this just seems a bit too altruistic. Not to mention stupid."
"Well . . ." Kelsier said, "there might be a little bit more in it for us. . . ."
Vin perked up, and Breeze smiled.
"The Lord Ruler's treasury," Kelsier said. "The plan, as it stands now, is to
provide Yeden with an army and an opportunity to seize the city. Once he
takes the palace, he'll capture the treasury and use its funds to secure power.
And, central to that treasury . . ."
"Is the Lord Ruler's atium," Breeze said.
Kelsier nodded. "Our agreement with Yeden promises us half of the atium
reserves we find in the palace, no matter how vast they may be."
Atium. Vin had heard of the metal, but she had never actually seen any. It
was incredibly rare, supposedly used only by noblemen.
Ham was smiling. "Well, now," he said slowly, "that's almost a big
enough prize to be tempting."
"That atium stockpile is supposed to be enormous," Kelsier said. "The
Lord Ruler sells the metal only in small bits, charging outrageous sums to the
nobility. He has to keep a huge reserve of it to make certain he controls the
market, and to make certain he has enough wealth for emergencies."
"True . . ." Breeze said. "But, are you sure you want to try something like
this so soon after . . . what happened the last time we tried getting into the
palace?"
"We're going to do things differently this time," Kelsier said. "Gentlemen,
I'll be frank with you. This isn't going to be an easy job, but it can work. The
plan is simple. We're going to find a way to neutralize the Luthadel Garrison
—leaving the area without a policing force. Then, we're going to throw the
city into chaos."
"We've got a couple of options on how to do that," Dockson said. "But we
can talk about that later."
Kelsier nodded. "Then, in that chaos, Yeden will march his army into
Luthadel and seize the palace, taking the Lord Ruler prisoner. While Yeden
secures the city, we'll pilfer the atium. We'll give half to him, then disappear
with the other half. After that, it's his job to hang on to what he's grabbed."
"Sounds a little dangerous for you, Yeden," Ham noted, glancing at the
rebel leader.
He shrugged. "Perhaps. But, if we do, by some miracle, end up in control
of the palace, then we'll have at least done something no skaa rebellion has
ever achieved before. For my men, this isn't just about riches—it isn't even
about surviving. It's about doing something grand, something wonderful, to
give the skaa hope. But, I don't expect you people to understand things like
that."
Kelsier shot a quieting glance at Yeden, and the man sniffed and sat back.
Did he use Allomancy? Vin wondered. She'd seen employer-crew
relationships before, and it seemed that Yeden was much more in Kelsier's
pocket than the other way around.
Kelsier turned back to Ham and Breeze. "There's more to all this than
simply a show of daring. If we do manage to steal that atium, it will be a
sound blow to the Lord Ruler's financial foundation. He depends on the
money that atium provides—without it, he could very well be left without the
means to pay his armies.
"Even if he escapes our trap—or, if we decide to take the city when he's
gone to minimize having to deal with him—he'll be financially ruined. He
won't be able to march soldiers in to take the city away from Yeden. If this
works right, we'll have the city in chaos anyway, and the nobility will be too
weak to react against the rebel forces. The Lord Ruler will be left confused,
and unable to mount a sizable army."
"And the koloss?" Ham asked quietly.
Kelsier paused. "If he marches those creatures on his own capital city, the
destruction it would cause could be even more dangerous than financial
instability. In the chaos, the provincial noblemen will rebel and set
themselves up as kings, and the Lord Ruler won't have the troops to bring
them into line. Yeden's rebels will be able to hold Luthadel, and we, my
friends, will be very, very rich. Everyone gets what they want."
"You're forgetting the Steel Ministry," Clubs snapped, sitting almost
forgotten at the side of the room. "Those Inquisitors won't just let us throw
their pretty theocracy into chaos."
Kelsier paused, turning toward the gnarled man. "We will have to find a
way to deal with the Ministry—I've got a few plans for that. Either way,
problems like that are the things that we—as a crew—will have to work out.
We have to get rid of the Luthadel Garrison—there's no way we'll be able to
get anything done with them policing the streets. We'll have to come up with
an appropriate way to throw the city into chaos, and we'll have to find a way
to keep the obligators off our trail.
"But, if we play this right, we might be able to force the Lord Ruler to send
the palace guard—maybe even the Inquisitors—into the city to restore order.
That will leave the palace itself exposed, giving Yeden a perfect opportunity
to strike. After that, it won't matter what happens with the Ministry or the
Garrison—the Lord Ruler won't have the money to maintain control of his
empire."
"I don't know, Kell," Breeze said, shaking his head. His flippancy was
subdued; he seemed to be honestly considering the plan. "The Lord Ruler got
that atium somewhere. What if he just goes and mines some more?"
Ham nodded. "No one even knows where the atium mine is."
"I wouldn't say no one," Kelsier said with a smile.
Breeze and Ham shared a look.
"You know?" Ham asked.
"Of course," Kelsier said. "I spent a year of my life working there."
"The Pits?" Ham asked with surprise.
Kelsier nodded. "That's why the Lord Ruler makes certain nobody
survives working there—he can't afford to let his secret out. It's not just a
penal colony, not just a hellhole where skaa are sent to die. It's a mine."
"Of course . . ." Breeze said.
Kelsier stood up straight, stepping away from the bar and walking toward
Ham and Breeze's table. "We have a chance here, gentlemen. A chance to do
something great—something no other thieving crew has ever done. We'll rob
from the Lord Ruler himself!
"But, there's more. The Pits nearly killed me, and I've seen things . . .
differently since I escaped. I see the skaa, working without hope. I see the
thieving crews, trying to survive on aristocratic leavings, often getting
themselves—and other skaa—killed in the process. I see the skaa rebellion
trying so hard to resist the Lord Ruler, and never making any progress.
"The rebellion fails because it's too unwieldy and spread out. Anytime one
of its many pieces gains momentum, the Steel Ministry crushes it. That's not
the way to defeat the Final Empire, gentlemen. But, a small team—
specialized and highly skilled—has a hope. We can work without great risk
of exposure. We know how to avoid the Steel Ministry's tendrils. We
understand how the high nobility thinks, and how to exploit its members. We
can do this!"
He paused beside Breeze and Ham's table.
"I don't know, Kell," Ham said. "It's not that I'm disagreeing with your
motives. It's just that . . . well, this seems a bit foolhardy."
Kelsier smiled. "I know it does. But you're going to go along with it
anyway, aren't you?"
Ham paused, then nodded. "You know I'll join your crew no matter what
the job. This sounds crazy, but so do most of your plans. Just . . . just tell me.
Are you serious about overthrowing the Lord Ruler?"
Kelsier nodded. For some reason, Vin was almost tempted to believe him.
Ham nodded firmly. "All right, then. I'm in."
"Breeze?" Kelsier asked.
The well-dressed man shook his head. "I'm not sure, Kell. This is a bit
extreme, even for you."
"We need you, Breeze," Kell said. "No one can Soothe a crowd like you
can. If we're going to raise an army, we'll need your Allomancers—and your
powers."
"Well, that much is true," Breeze said. "But, even still . . ."
Kelsier smiled, then he set something on the table—the cup of wine Vin
had poured for Breeze. She hadn't even noticed that Kelsier had grabbed it
off of the bar.
"Think of the challenge, Breeze," Kelsier said.
Breeze glanced at the cup, then looked up at Kelsier. Finally, he laughed,
reaching for the wine. "Fine. I'm in."
"It's impossible," a gruff voice said from the back of the room. Clubs sat
with folded arms, regarding Kelsier with a scowl. "What are you really
planning, Kelsier?"
"I'm being honest," Kelsier replied. "I plan to take the Lord Ruler's atium
and overthrow his empire."
"You can't," the man said. "It's idiocy. The Inquisitors will hang us all by
hooks through our throats."
"Perhaps," Kelsier said. "But think of the reward if we succeed. Wealth,
power, and a land where the skaa can live like men, rather than slaves."
Clubs snorted loudly. Then he stood, his chair toppling backward onto the
floor behind him. "No reward would be enough. The Lord Ruler tried to have
you killed once—I see that you won't be satisfied until he gets it right." With
that, the older man turned and stalked in a limping gait from the room,
slamming the door behind him.
The lair grew quiet.
"Well, guess we'll need a different Smoker," Dockson said.
"You're just going to let him go?" Yeden demanded. "He knows
everything!"
Breeze chuckled. "Aren't you supposed to be the moral one in this little
group?"
"Morals doesn't have anything to do with it," Yeden said. "Letting
someone go like that is foolish! He could bring the obligators down on us in
minutes."
Vin nodded in agreement, but Kelsier just shook his head. "I don't work
that way, Yeden. I invited Clubs to a meeting where I outlined a dangerous
plan—one some people might even call stupid. I'm not going to have him
assassinated because he decided it was too dangerous. If you do things like
that, pretty soon nobody will come listen to your plans in the first place."
"Besides," Dockson said. "We wouldn't invite someone to one of these
meetings unless we trusted him not to betray us."
Impossible, Vin thought, frowning. He had to be bluffing to keep up crew
morale; nobody was that trusting. After all, hadn't the others said that
Kelsier's failure a few years before—the event that had sent him to the Pits of
Hathsin—had come because of a betrayal? He probably had assassins
following Clubs at that very moment, watching to make certain he didn't go
to the authorities.
"All right, Yeden," Kelsier said, getting back to business. "They accepted.
The plan is on. Are you still in?"
"Will you give the rebellion's money back if I say no?" Yeden asked.
The only response to that was a quiet chuckle from Ham. Yeden's
expression darkened, but he just shook his head. "If I had any other option . .
."
"Oh, stop complaining," Kelsier said. "You're officially part of a thieving
crew now, so you might as well come over here and sit with us."
Yeden paused for a moment, then sighed and walked over to sit at Breeze,
Ham, and Dockson's table, beside which Kelsier was still standing. Vin still
sat at the next table over.
Kelsier turned, looking over toward Vin. "What about you, Vin?"
She paused. Why is he asking me? He already knows he has a hold over
me. The job doesn't matter, as long as I learn what he knows.
Kelsier waited expectantly.
"I'm in," Vin said, assuming that was what he wanted to hear.
She must have guessed correctly, for Kelsier smiled, then nodded to the
last chair at the table.
Vin sighed, but did as he indicated, standing and walking over to take the
last seat.
"Who is the child?" Yeden asked.
"Twixt," Breeze said.
Kelsier cocked an eyebrow. "Actually, Vin is something of a new recruit.
My brother caught her Soothing his emotions a few months back."
"Soother, eh?" Ham asked. "Guess we can always use another of those."
"Actually," Kelsier noted, "it seems she can Riot people's emotions as
well."
Breeze started.
"Really?" Ham asked.
Kelsier nodded. "Dox and I tested her just a few hours ago."
Breeze chuckled. "And here I was telling her that she'd probably never
meet another Mistborn besides yourself."
"A second Mistborn on the team . . ." Ham said appreciatively. "Well, that
increases our chances somewhat."
"What are you saying?" Yeden sputtered. "Skaa can't be Mistborn. I'm not
even sure if Mistborn exist! I've certainly never met one."
Breeze raised an eyebrow, then laid a hand on Yeden's shoulder. "You
should try not to talk so much, friend," he suggested. "You'll sound far less
stupid that way."
Yeden shook off Breeze's hand, and Ham laughed. Vin, however, sat
quietly, considering the implications of what Kelsier had said. The part about
stealing the atium reserves was tempting, but seizing the city to do it? Were
these men really that reckless?
Kelsier pulled a chair over to the table for himself and sat down on it the
wrong way, resting his arms on the seatback. "All right," he said. "We have a
crew. We'll plan specifics at the next meeting, but I want you all to be
thinking about the job. I have some plans, but I want fresh minds to consider
our task. We'll need to discuss ways to get the Luthadel Garrison out of the
city, and ways that we can throw this place into so much chaos that the Great
Houses can't mobilize their forces to stop Yeden's army when it attacks."
The members of the group, save Yeden, nodded.
"Before we end for the evening, however," Kelsier continued, "there is one
more part of the plan I want to warn you about."
"More?" Breeze asked with a chuckle. "Stealing the Lord Ruler's fortune
and overthrowing his empire aren't enough?"
"No," Kelsier said. "If I can, I'm going to kill him too."
Silence.
"Kelsier," Ham said slowly. "The Lord Ruler is the Sliver of Infinity. He's
a piece of God Himself. You can't kill him. Even capturing him will
probably prove impossible."
Kelsier didn't reply. His eyes, however, were determined.
That's it, Vin thought. He has to be insane.
"The Lord Ruler and I," Kelsier said quietly, "we have an unsettled debt.
He took Mare from me, and he nearly took my own sanity as well. I'll admit
to you all that part of my reason for this plan is to get revenge on him. We're
going to take his government, his home, and his fortune from him.
"However, for that to work, we'll have to get rid of him. Perhaps imprison
him in his own dungeons—at the very least, we'll have to get him out of the
city. However, I can think of something far better than either option. Down
those pits where he sent me, I Snapped and came to an awakening of my
Allomantic powers. Now I intend to use them to kill him."
Kelsier reached into his suit pocket and pulled something out. He set it on
the table.
"In the north, they have a legend," Kelsier said. "It teaches that the Lord
Ruler isn't immortal—not completely. They say he can be killed with the
right metal. The Eleventh Metal. That metal."
Eyes turned toward the object on the table. It was a thin bar of metal,
perhaps as long and wide as Vin's small finger, with straight sides. It was
silvery white in color.
"The Eleventh Metal?" Breeze asked uncertainly. "I've heard of no such
legend."
"The Lord Ruler has suppressed it," Kelsier said. "But it can still be found,
if you know where to look. Allomantic theory teaches of ten metals: the eight
basic metals, and the two high metals. There is another one, however,
unknown to most. One far more powerful, even, than the other ten."
Breeze frowned skeptically.
Yeden, however, appeared intrigued. "And, this metal can somehow kill
the Lord Ruler?"
Kelsier nodded. "It's his weakness. The Steel Ministry wants you to
believe that he's immortal, but even he can be killed—by an Allomancer
burning this."
Ham reached out, picking up the thin bar of metal. "Where did you get it?"
"In the north," Kelsier said. "In a land near the Far Peninsula, a land where
people still remember what their old kingdom was called in the days before
the Ascension."
"How does it work?" Breeze asked.
"I'm not sure," Kelsier said frankly. "But I intend to find out."
Ham regarded the porcelain-colored metal, turning it over his fingers.
Kill the Lord Ruler? Vin thought. The Lord Ruler was a force, like the
winds or the mists. One did not kill such things. They didn't live, really. They
simply were.
"Regardless," Kelsier said, accepting the metal back from Ham, "you don't
need to worry about this. Killing the Lord Ruler is my task. If it proves
impossible, we'll settle for tricking him outside of the city, then robbing him
silly. I just thought that you should know what I'm planning."
I've bound myself to a madman, Vin thought with resignation. But that
didn't really matter—not as long as he taught her Allomancy.
I don't even understand what I'm supposed to do. The Terris philosophers claim that I'll know
my duty when the time comes, but that's a small comfort.
The Deepness must be destroyed, and apparently I'm the only one who can do so. It ravages
the world even now. If I don't stop it soon, there will be nothing left of this land but bones and
dust.
5
"AHA!" KELSIER'S TRIUMPHANT FIGURE POPPED UP from behind Camon's bar, a
look of satisfaction on his face. He brought his arm up and thunked a dusty
wine bottle down on the countertop.
Dockson looked over with amusement. "Where'd you find it?"
"One of the secret drawers," Kelsier said, dusting off the bottle.
"I thought I'd found all of those," Dockson said.
"You did. One of them had a false back."
Dockson chuckled. "Clever."
Kelsier nodded, unstoppering the bottle and pouring out three cups. "The
trick is to never stop looking. There's always another secret." He gathered up
the three cups and walked over to join Vin and Dockson at the table.
Vin accepted her cup with a tentative hand. The meeting had ended a short
time earlier, Breeze, Ham, and Yeden leaving to ponder the things Kelsier
had told them. Vin felt that she should have left as well, but she had nowhere
to go. Dockson and Kelsier seemed to take it for granted that she would
remain with them.
Kelsier took a long sip of the rubicund wine, then smiled. "Ah, that's much
better."
Dockson nodded in agreement, but Vin didn't taste her own drink.
"We're going to need another Smoker," Dockson noted.
Kelsier nodded. "The others seemed to take it well, though."
"Breeze is still uncertain," Dockson said.
"He won't back out. Breeze likes a challenge, and he'll never find a
challenge greater than this one." Kelsier smiled. "Besides, it'd drive him
insane to know that we were pulling a job that he wasn't in on."
"Still, he's right to be apprehensive," Dockson said. "I'm a little worried
myself."
Kelsier nodded his agreement, and Vin frowned. So, are they serious about
the plan? Or is this still a show for my sake? The two men seemed so
competent. Yet, overthrowing the Final Empire? They'd sooner stop the
mists from flowing or the sun from rising.
"When do your other friends get here?" Dockson asked.
"A couple days," Kelsier said. "We'll need to have another Smoker by
then. I'm also going to need some more atium."
Dockson frowned. "Already?"
Kelsier nodded. "I spent most of it buying OreSeur's Contract, then used
my last bit at Tresting's plantation."
Tresting. The nobleman who had been killed in his manor the week before.
How was Kelsier involved? And, what was it Kelsier said before about
atium? He'd claimed that the Lord Ruler kept control of the high nobility by
maintaining a monopoly on the metal.
Dockson rubbed his bearded chin. "Atium's not easy to come by, Kell. It
took nearly eight months of planning to steal you that last bit."
"That's because you had to be delicate," Kelsier said with a devious smile.
Dockson eyed Kelsier with a look of slight apprehension. Kelsier just
smiled more broadly, and finally Dockson rolled his eyes, sighing. Then he
glanced at Vin. "You haven't touched your drink."
Vin shook her head.
Dockson waited for an explanation, and eventually Vin was forced to
respond. "I don't like to drink anything I didn't prepare myself."
Kelsier chuckled. "She reminds me of Vent."
"Vent?" Dockson said with a snort. "The lass is a bit paranoid, but she's
not that bad. I swear, that man was so jumpy that his own heartbeat could
startle him."
The two men shared a laugh. Vin, however, was only made more
uncomfortable by the friendly air. What do they expect from me? Am I to be
an apprentice of some sort?
"Well, then," Dockson said, "are you going to tell me how you plan on
getting yourself some atium?"
Kelsier opened his mouth to respond, but the stairs clattered with the sound
of someone coming down. Kelsier and Dockson turned; Vin, of course, had
seated herself so she could see both entrances to the room without having to
move.
Vin expected the newcomer to be one of Camon's crewmembers, sent to
see if Kelsier was done with the lair yet. Therefore, she was completely
surprised when the door swung open to reveal the surly, gnarled face of the
man called Clubs.
Kelsier smiled, eyes twinkling.
He's not surprised. Pleased, perhaps, but not surprised.
"Clubs," Kelsier said.
Clubs stood in the doorway, giving the three of them an impressively
disapproving stare. Finally, he hobbled into the room. A thin, awkward-
looking teenage boy followed him.
The boy fetched Clubs a chair and put it by Kelsier's table. Clubs settled
down, grumbling slightly to himself. Finally, he eyed Kelsier with a
squinting, wrinkle-nosed expression. "The Soother is gone?"
"Breeze?" Kelsier asked. "Yes, he left."
Clubs grunted. Then he eyed the bottle of wine.
"Help yourself," Kelsier said.
Clubs waved for the boy to go fetch him a cup from the bar, then turned
back to Kelsier. "I had to be sure," he said. "Never can trust yourself when a
Soother is around—especially one like him."
"You're a Smoker, Clubs," Kelsier said. "He couldn't do much to you, not
if you didn't want him to."
Clubs shrugged. "I don't like Soothers. It's not just Allomancy—men like
that . . . well, you can't trust that you aren't being manipulated when they are
around. Copper or no copper."
"I wouldn't rely on something like that to get your loyalty," Kelsier said.
"So I've heard," Clubs said as the boy poured him a cup of wine. "Had to
be sure, though. Had to think about things without that Breeze around." He
scowled, though Vin had trouble determining why, then took the cup and
downed half of it in one gulp.
"Good wine," he said with a grunt. Then he looked over at Kelsier. "So,
the Pits really did drive you insane, eh?"
"Completely," Kelsier said with a straight face.
Clubs smiled, though on his face the expression had a decidedly twisted
look. "You mean to go through with this, then? This so-called job of yours?"
Kelsier nodded solemnly.
Clubs downed the rest of his wine. "You've got yourself a Smoker then.
Not for the money, though. If you're really serious about toppling this
government, then I'm in."
Kelsier smiled.
"And don't smile at me," Clubs snapped. "I hate that."
"I wouldn't dare."
"Well," Dockson said, pouring himself another drink, "that solves the
Smoker problem."
"Won't matter much," Clubs said. "You're going to fail. I've spent my life
trying to hide Mistings from the Lord Ruler and his obligators. He gets them
all eventually anyway."
"Why bother helping us, then?" Dockson asked.
"Because," Clubs said, standing. "The Lord's going to get me sooner or
later. At least this way, I'll be able to spit in his face as I go. Overthrowing
the Final Empire . . ." He smiled. "It's got style. Let's go, kid. We've got to
get the shop ready for visitors."
Vin watched them go, Clubs limping out the door, the boy pulling it closed
behind them. Then she glanced at Kelsier. "You knew he'd come back."
He shrugged, standing and stretching. "I hoped. People are attracted to
vision. The job I'm proposing . . . well, it just isn't the sort of thing you walk
away from—at least, not if you're a bored old man who's generally annoyed
at life. Now, Vin, I assume that your crew owns this entire building?"
Vin nodded. "The shop upstairs is a front."
"Good," Kelsier said, checking his pocket watch, then handing it to
Dockson. "Tell your friends that they can have their lair back—the mists are
probably already coming out."
"And us?" Dockson asked.
Kelsier smiled. "We're going to the roof. Like I told you, I have to fetch
some atium."
By day, Luthadel was a blackened city, scorched by soot and red sunlight. It
was hard, distinct, and oppressive.
At night, however, the mists came to blur and obscure. High noble keeps
became ghostly, looming silhouettes. Streets seemed to grow more narrow in
the fog, every thoroughfare becoming a lonely, dangerous alleyway. Even
noblemen and thieves were apprehensive about going out at night—it took a
strong heart to brave the foreboding, misty silence. The dark city at night was
a place for the desperate and the foolhardy; it was a land of swirling mystery
and strange creatures.
Strange creatures like me, Kelsier thought. He stood upon the ledge that
ran around the lip of the flat-roofed lair. Shadowed buildings loomed in the
night around him, and the mists made everything seem to shift and move in
the darkness. Weak lights peeked from the occasional window, but the tiny
beads of illumination were huddled, frightened things.
A cool breeze slipped across the rooftop, shifting the haze, brushing
against Kelsier's mist-wetted cheek like an exhaled breath. In days past—
back before everything had gone wrong—he had always sought out a rooftop
on the evening before a job, wishing to overlook the city. He didn't realize he
was observing his old custom this night until he glanced to the side,
expecting Mare to be there next to him, as she always had been.
Instead, he found only the empty air. Lonely. Silent. The mists had
replaced her. Poorly.
He sighed and turned. Vin and Dockson stood behind him on the rooftop.
Both looked apprehensive to be out in the mists, but they dealt with their fear.
One did not get far in the underworld without learning to stomach the mists.
Kelsier had learned to do far more than "stomach" them. He had gone