Mistborn

by Brandon Sanderson

  Marsh sighed, turning away. “This isn’t about a ‘cause,’ Kelsier. It’s about revenge. It’s about you, just like everything always is. I’ll believe that you aren’t after the money— I’ll even believe that you intend to deliver Yeden this army he’s apparently paying you for. But I won’t believe that you care.”

  “That’s where you are wrong, Marsh,” Kelsier said quietly. “That’s where you’ve always been wrong about me.”

  Marsh frowned. “Perhaps. How did this start, anyway? Did Yeden come to you, or did you go to him?”

  “Does it matter?” Kelsier asked. “Look, Marsh. I need someone to infiltrate the Ministry. This plan won’t go anywhere if we don’t discover a way to keep an eye on those Inquisitors.”

  Marsh turned. “You actually expect me to help you?”

  Kelsier nodded. “That’s why you came here, no matter what you say. You once told me that you thought I could do great things if I ever applied myself to a worthy goal. Well, that’s what I’m doing now—and you’re going to help.”

  “It’s not that easy anymore, Kell,” Marsh said with a shake of his head. “Some people are different now. Others are... gone.”

  Kelsier let the room grow quiet. Even the hearth’s fire was starting to die out. “I miss her too.”

  “I’m sure that you do—but I have to be honest with you, Kell. Despite what she did... sometimes I wish that you hadn’t been the one to survive the Pits.”

  “I wish the same thing every day.”

  Marsh turned, studying Kelsier with his cold, discerning eyes. The eyes of a Seeker. Whatever he saw reflected inside of Kelsier must have finally met with his approval.

  “I’m leaving,” Marsh said. “But, for some reason you actually seem sincere this time. I’ll come back and listen to whatever insane plan you’ve concocted. Then...well, we’ll see.”

  Kelsier smiled. Beneath it all, Marsh was a good man—a better one than Kelsier had ever been. As Marsh turned toward the door, Kelsier caught a flicker of shadowed movement from beneath the doorway. He immediately burned iron, and the translucent blue lines shot out from his body, connecting him to nearby sources of metal. Marsh, of course, had none on his person—not even any coins. Traveling through skaa sectors of town could be very dangerous for a man who looked even marginally prosperous.

  Someone else, however, hadn’t yet learned not to carry metal on her person. The blue lines were thin and weak—they didn’t do well penetrating wood—but they were just strong enough to let Kelsier locate the belt latch of a person out in the hallway, moving quickly away from the door on silent feet.

  Kelsier smiled to himself. The girl was remarkably skilled. Her time on the streets, however, had also left her with remarkable scars. Hopefully, he would be able to encourage the skills while helping heal the scars.

  “I’ll return tomorrow,” Marsh said as he reached the door.

  “Just don’t come by too early,” Kelsier said with a wink. “I’ve got some things to do tonight.”

  Vin waited quietly in her darkened room, listening to footsteps clomp down the stairs to the ground floor. She crouched beside her door, trying to determine if both sets had continued down the steps or not. The hallway fell silent, and eventually she breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

  A knock sounded on the door just inches from her head.

  Her start of surprise nearly knocked her to the ground. He’s good! she thought.

  She quickly ruffled her hair and rubbed her eyes, trying to make it appear as if she had been sleeping. She untucked her shirt, and waited until the knock came again before pulling open the door.

  Kelsier lounged against the doorframe, backlit by the hallway’s single lantern. The tall man raised an eyebrow at her disheveled state.

  “Yes?” Vin asked, trying to sound drowsy.

  “So, what do you think of Marsh?”

  “I don’t know,” Vin said, “I didn’t see much of him before he kicked us out.”

  Kelsier smiled. “You’re not going to admit that I caught you, are you?”

  Vin almost smiled back. Reen’s training came to her rescue. The man who wants you to trust him is the one you must fear the most. Her brother’s voice almost seemed to whisper in her head. It had grown stronger since she’d met Kelsier, as if her instincts were on edge.

  Kelsier studied her for a moment, then stepped back from the doorframe. “Tuck in that shirt and follow me.”

  Vin frowned. “Where are we going?”

  “To begin your training.”

  “Now?” Vin asked, glancing at the dark shutters to her room.

  “Of course,” Kelsier said. “It’s a perfect night for a stroll.”

  Vin straightened her clothing, joining him in the hallway. If he actually planned to begin teaching her, then she wasn’t going to complain, no matter what the hour. They walked down the steps to the first floor. The workroom was dark, furniture projects lying half finished in the shadows. The kitchen, however, was bright with light.

  “Just a minute,” Kelsier said, walking toward the kitchen.

  Vin paused just inside the shadows of the workroom, letting Kelsier enter the kitchen without her. She could just barely see inside. Dockson, Breeze, and Ham sat with Clubs and his apprentices around a wide table. Wine and ale were present, though in small amounts, and the men were munching on a simple evening snack of puffed barley cakes and battered vegetables.

  Laughter trickled out into the workroom. Not raucous laughter, such as had often sounded from Camon’s table. This was something softer—something indicative of genuine mirth, of good-natured enjoyment.

  Vin wasn’t certain what kept her out of the room. She hesitated—as if the light and the humor were a barrier—and she instead remained in the quiet, solemn workroom. She watched from the darkness, however, and wasn’t completely able to suppress her longing.

  Kelsier returned a moment later, carrying his pack and a small cloth bundle. Vin regarded the bundle with curiosity, and he handed it to her with a smile. “A present.”

  The cloth was slick and soft in Vin’s fingers, and she quickly realized what it was. She let the gray material unroll in her fingers, revealing a Mistborn cloak. Like the garment Kelsier had worn the night before, it was tailored completely from separate, ribbonlike strips of cloth.

  “You look surprised,” Kelsier noted.

  “I... assumed that I’d have to earn this somehow.”

  “What’s there to earn?” Kelsier said, pulling out his own cloak. “This is who you are, Vin.”

  She paused, then threw the cloak over her shoulders and tied it on. It felt...different. Thick and heavy on her shoulders, but light and unconstraining around her arms and legs. The ribbons were sewn together at the top, allowing her to pull it tight by the mantle if she wished. She felt...enveloped. Protected.

  “How does it feel?” Kelsier asked.

  “Good,” Vin said simply.

  Kelsier nodded, pulling out several glass vials. He handed two to her. “Drink one; keep the other in case you need it. I’ll show you how to mix new vials later.”

  Vin nodded, downing the first vial and tucking the second into her belt.

  “I’m having some new clothing tailored for you,” Kelsier said. “You’ll want to get into the habit of wearing things that don’t have any metal on them: belts with no buckles, shoes that slip on and off, trousers without clasps. Perhaps later, if you’re feeling daring, we’ll get you some women’s clothing.”

  Vin flushed slightly.

  Kelsier laughed. “I’m just teasing you. However, you’re entering a new world now—you may find that there are situations where it will be to your advantage to look less like a crew thief and more like a young lady.”

  Vin nodded, following Kelsier as he walked to the shop’s front door. He pushed the portal open, revealing a wall of darkly shifting mists. He stepped out into them. Taking a deep breath, Vin followed.

  Kelsier shut the door behind them. The c
obbled street felt muffled to Vin, the shifting mists making everything just a bit damp. She couldn’t see far in either direction, and the street ends seemed to fade into nothingness, paths into eternity. Above, there was no sky, just swirling currents of gray upon gray.

  “All right, let’s begin,” Kelsier said. His voice felt loud in the quiet, empty street. There was a confidence to his tone, something that—confronted with the mists all around—Vin certainly didn’t feel.

  “Your first lesson,” Kelsier said, strolling down the street, Vin trailing along beside him, “isn’t about Allomancy, but attitude.” He swept his hand forward. “This, Vin. This is ours. The night, the mists—they belong to us. Skaa avoid the mists as if they were death. Thieves and soldiers go out at night, but they fear it nonetheless. Noblemen feign nonchalance, but the mist makes them uncomfortable.”

  He turned, regarding her. “The mists are your friend, Vin. They hide you, they protect you...and they give you power. Ministry doctrine—something rarely shared with skaa— claims that the Mistborn are descendants of the only men who remained true to the Lord Ruler during the days before his Ascension. Other legends whisper that we are something beyond even the Lord Ruler’s power, something that was born on that day when the mists first came upon the land.”

  Vin nodded slightly. It seemed odd to hear Kelsier speak so openly. Buildings filled with sleeping skaa loomed on either side of the street. And yet, the dark shutters and quiet air made Vin feel as if she and Kelsier were alone. Alone in the most densely populated, overcrowded city in all of the Final Empire.

  Kelsier continued to walk, the spring in his step incongruent with the dark gloom.

  “Shouldn’t we be worried about soldiers?” Vin asked quietly. Her crews always had to be careful of nighttime Garrison patrols.

  Kelsier shook his head. “Even if we were careless enough to be spotted, no imperial patrol would dare bother Mistborn. They’d see our cloaks and pretend not to see us. Remember, nearly all Mistborn are members of the Great Houses—and the rest are from lesser Luthadel houses. Either way, they’re very important individuals.”

  Vin frowned. “So, the guards just ignore the Mistborn?”

  Kelsier shrugged. “It’s bad etiquette to acknowledge that the skulking rooftop figure you see is actually a very distinguished and proper high lord—or even high lady. Mistborn are so rare that houses can’t afford to apply gender prejudices to them.

  “Anyway, most Mistborn live two lives—the life of the courtgoing aristocrat, and the life of the sneaking, spying Allomancer. Mistborn identities are closely guarded house secrets—rumors regarding who is Mistborn are always a focus of high noble gossip.”

  Kelsier turned down another street, Vin following, still a bit nervous. She wasn’t certain where he was taking her; it was easy to get lost in the night. Perhaps he didn’t even have a destination, and was just accustoming her to the mists.

  “All right,” Kelsier said, “let’s get you used to the basic metals. Can you feel your metal reserves?”

  Vin paused. If she focused, she could distinguish eight sources of power within her—each one far larger, even, than her two had been on the day when Kelsier had tested her. She had been reticent to use her Luck much since then. She was coming to realize that she had been using a weapon she’d never really understood—a weapon that had accidentally drawn the attention of a Steel Inquisitor.

  “Begin burning them, one at a time,” Kelsier said.

  “Burning?”

  “That’s what we call it when you activate an Allomantic ability,” Kelsier said. “You ‘burn’ the metal associated with that power. You’ll see what I mean. Start with the metals you don’t know about yet—we’ll work on Soothing and Raging emotions some other time.”

  Vin nodded, pausing in the middle of the street. Tentatively, she reached out to one of the new sources of power. One of them was slightly familiar to her. Had she used it before without realizing it? What would it do?

  Only one way to find out... Uncertain what, exactly, she was supposed to do, Vin gripped the source of power and tried to use it.

  Immediately, she felt a flare of heat from within her chest. It wasn’t discomforting, but it was obvious and distinct. Along with the warmth came something else—a feeling of rejuvenation, and of power. She felt... more solid, somehow.

  “What happened?” Kelsier asked.

  “I feel different,” Vin said. She held up her hand, and it seemed as if the limb reacted just a bit too quickly. The muscles were eager. “My body is strange. I don’t feel tired anymore, and I feel alert.”

  “Ah,” Kelsier said. “That’s pewter. It enhances your physical abilities, making you stronger, more able to resist fatigue and pain. You’ll react more quickly when you’re burning it, and your body will be tougher.”

  Vin flexed experimentally. Her muscles didn’t seem any bigger, yet she could feel their strength. It wasn’t just in her muscles, however—it was everything about her. Her bones, her flesh, her skin. She reached out to her reserve, and could feel it shrinking.

  “I’m running out,” she said.

  Kelsier nodded. “Pewter burns relatively quickly. The vial I gave you was measured to contain about ten minutes’ worth of continuous burning—though it will go faster if you flare often and slower if you are careful about when you use it.”

  “Flare?”

  “You can burn your metals a little more powerfully if you try,” Kelsier said. “It makes them run out much faster, and it’s difficult to maintain, but it can give you an extra boost.”

  Vin frowned, trying to do as he said. With a push of effort, she was able to stoke the flames within her chest, flaring the pewter.

  It was like the inhaled breath before a daring leap. A sudden rush of strength and power. Her body grew tense with anticipation, and for just a moment she felt invincible. Then it passed, her body relaxing slowly.

  Interesting, she thought, noting how quickly her pewter had burned during that brief moment.

  “Now, there’s something you need to know about Allomantic metals,” Kelsier said as they strolled forward in the mists. “The more pure they are, the more effective they are. The vials we prepare contain absolutely pure metals, prepared and sold specifically for Allomancers.

  “Alloys—like pewter—are even trickier, since the metal percentages have to be mixed just right, if you want maximum power. In fact, if you aren’t careful when you buy your metals, you could end up with the wrong alloy entirely.”

  Vin frowned. “You mean, someone might scam me?”

  “Not intentionally,” Kelsier said. “The thing is, most of the terms that people use—words like ‘brass,’ ‘pewter,’ and ‘bronze’—are really quite vague, when you get down to it. Pewter, for instance, is generally accepted as an alloy of tin mixed with lead, with perhaps some copper or silver, depending on the use and the circumstances. Allomancer’s pewter, however, is an alloy of ninety-one percent tin, nine percent lead. If you want maximum strength from your metal, you have to use those percentages.”

  “And...if you burn the wrong percentage?” Vin asked.

  “If the mixture is only off by a bit, you’ll still get some power out of it,” Kelsier said. “However, if it’s too far off, burning it will make you sick.”

  Vin nodded slowly. “I... think I’ve burned this metal before. Once in a while, in very small amounts.”

  “Trace metals,” Kelsier said. “From drinking water contaminated by metals, or by eating with pewter utensils.”

  Vin nodded. Some of the mugs in Camon’s lair had been pewter.

  “All right,” Kelsier said. “Extinguish the pewter and let’s move on to another metal.”

  Vin did as asked. The withdrawal of power left her feeling weak, tired, and exposed.

  “Now,” Kelsier said, “you should be able to notice a kind of pairing between your reserves of metal.”

  “Like the two emotion metals,” Vin said.

  �
��Exactly. Find the metal linked to pewter.”

  “I see it,” Vin said.

  “There are two metals for every power,” Kelsier said. “One Pushes, one Pulls—the second is usually an alloy of the first. For emotions—the external mental powers—you Pull with zinc and Push with brass. You just used pewter to Push your body. That’s one of the internal physical powers.”

  “Like Ham,” Vin said. “He burns pewter.”

  Kelsier nodded. “Mistings who can burn pewter are called Thugs. A crude term, I suppose—but they tend to be rather crude people. Our dear Hammond is something of an exception to that rule.”

  “So, what does the other internal physical metal do?”

  “Try it and see.”

  Vin did so eagerly, and the world suddenly became brighter around her. Or...well, that wasn’t quite right. She could see better, and she could see farther, but the mists were still there. They were just . . . more translucent. The ambient light around her seemed brighter, somehow.

  There were other changes. She could feel her clothing. She realized that she had always been able to feel it, but she usually ignored it. Now, however, it felt closer. She could sense the textures, and was acutely aware of the places where the cloth was tight on her.

  She was hungry. That, too, she had been ignoring—yet now her hunger seemed far more pressing. Her skin felt wetter, and she could smell the crisp air mixed with scents of dirt, soot, and refuse.

  “Tin enhances your senses,” Kelsier said, his voice suddenly seeming quite loud. “And it’s one of the slowest-burning metals—the tin in that vial is enough to keep you going for hours. Most Mistborn leave their tin on whenever they’re out in the mists—I’ve had mine on since we left the shop.”

  Vin nodded. The wealth of sensations was nearly overwhelming. She could hear creaks and scuffles in the darkness, and they made her want to jump in alarm, certain that someone was sneaking up behind her.

  This is going to take some getting used to.