Mistborn

by Brandon Sanderson

  “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?” Menni
s 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.