The Mistborn Trilogy

by Brandon Sanderson

  “Those reports are true,” Elend said. “But that doesn’t mean that my pride is completely gone.”

  “Good,” Tindwyl said, nodding to a chair. “Seat yourself, if you wish.”

  Elend nodded, pulling the chair over before the two and sitting. “I need advice.”

  “I’ve given you what I can already,” Tindwyl said. “In fact, I’ve perhaps given you too much. My continued presence here makes it seem that I’m taking sides.”

  “I’m not king anymore,” Elend said. “Therefore, I have no side. I’m just a man seeking truth.”

  Tindwyl smiled. “Ask your questions, then.”

  Sazed watched the exchange with obvious interest.

  I know, Elend thought, I’m not sure I understand our relationship either. “Here is my problem,” he said. “I lost the throne, essentially, because I wasn’t willing to lie.”

  “Explain,” Tindwyl said.

  “I had a chance to obscure a piece of the law,” Elend said. “At the last moment, I could have made the Assembly take me as king. Instead, I gave them a bit of information that was true, but which ended up costing me the throne.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Tindwyl said.

  “I doubted that you would be,” Elend said. “Now, do you think I was foolish to do as I did?”

  “Yes.”

  Elend nodded.

  “But,” Tindwyl said, “that moment isn’t what cost you the throne, Elend Venture. That moment was a small thing, far too simple to credit with your large-scale failure. You lost the throne because you wouldn’t command your armies to secure the city, because you insisted on giving the Assembly too much freedom, and because you don’t employ assassins or other forms of pressure. In short, Elend Venture, you lost the throne because you are a good man.”

  Elend shook his head. “Can you not be both a man who follows his conscience and a good king, then?”

  Tindwyl frowned in thought.

  “You ask an age-old question, Elend,” Sazed said quietly. “A question that monarchs, priests, and humble men of destiny have always asked. I do not know that there is an answer.”

  “Should I have told the lie, Sazed?” Elend asked.

  “No,” Sazed said, smiling. “Perhaps another man should have, in your same position. But, a man must be cohesive with himself. You have made your decisions in life, and changing yourself at the last moment—telling this lie—would have been against who you are. It is better for you to have done as you did and lost the throne, I think.”

  Tindwyl frowned. “His ideals are nice, Sazed. But what of the people? What if they die because Elend wasn’t capable of controlling his own conscience?”

  “I do not wish to argue with you, Tindwyl,” Sazed said. “It is simply my opinion that he chose well. It is his right to follow his conscience, then trust in providence to fill in the holes caused by the conflict between morality and logic.”

  Providence. “You mean God,” Elend said.

  “I do.”

  Elend shook his head. “What is God, Sazed, but a device used by obligators?”

  “Why do you make the choices that you do, Elend Venture?”

  “Because they’re right,” Elend said.

  “And why are these things right?”

  “I don’t know,” Elend said with a sigh, leaning back. He caught a disapproving glance from Tindwyl at his posture, but he ignored her. He wasn’t king; he could slouch if he wanted to. “You talk of God, Sazed, but don’t you preach of a hundred different religions?”

  “Three hundred, actually,” Sazed said.

  “Well, which one do you believe?” Elend asked.

  “I believe them all.”

  Elend shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense. You’ve only pitched a half-dozen to me, but I can already see that they’re incompatible.”

  “It is not my position to judge truth, Lord Venture,” Sazed said, smiling. “I simply carry it.”

  Elend sighed. Priests… he thought. Sometimes, talking to Sazed is like talking to an obligator.

  “Elend,” Tindwyl said, her tone softening. “I think you handled this situation in the wrong way. However, Sazed does have a point. You were true to your own convictions, and that is a regal attribute, I think.”

  “And what should I do now?” he asked.

  “Whatever you wish,” Tindwyl said. “It was never my place to tell you what to do. I simply gave you knowledge of what men in your place did in the past.”

  “And what would they have done?” Elend asked. “These great leaders of yours, how would they have reacted to my situation?”

  “It is a meaningless question,” she said. “They would not have found themselves in this situation, for they would not have lost their titles in the first place.”

  “Is that what it’s about, then?” Elend asked. “The title?”

  “Isn’t that what we were discussing?” Tindwyl asked.

  Elend didn’t answer. What do you think makes a man a good king? he had once asked of Tindwyl. Trust, she had replied. A good king is one who is trusted by his people—and one who deserves that trust.

  Elend stood up. “Thank you, Tindwyl,” he said.

  Tindwyl frowned in confusion, then turned to Sazed. He looked up and met Elend’s eyes, cocking his head slightly. Then he smiled. “Come, Tindwyl,” he said. “We should return to our studies. His Majesty has work to do, I think.”

  Tindwyl continued to frown as Elend left the room. His guards followed behind as he quickly strode down the hallway.

  I won’t go back to the way I was, Elend thought. I won’t continue to fret and worry. Tindwyl taught me better than that, even if she never really understood me.

  Elend arrived at his rooms a few moments later. He stalked directly in, then opened his closet. The clothing Tindwyl had chosen for him—the clothing of a king—waited inside.

  42

  Some of you may know of my fabled memory. It is true; I need not a Feruchemist’s metalmind to memorize a sheet of words in an instant.

  “Good,” Elend said, using a charcoal stick to circle another section on the city map before him. “What about here?”

  Demoux scratched his chin. “Grainfield? That’s a nobleman’s neighborhood, my lord.”

  “It used to be,” Elend said. “Grainfield was filled with cousin houses to the Ventures. When my father pulled out of the city, so did most of them.”

  “Then we’ll probably find the homes filled with skaa transients, I’d guess.”

  Elend nodded. “Move them out.”

  “Excuse me, my lord?” Demoux said. The two stood in Keep Venture’s large carriage landing. Soldiers moved in a bustle through the spacious room. Many of them didn’t wear uniforms; they weren’t on official city business. Elend was no longer king, but they had still come at his request.

  That said something, at least.

  “We need to move the skaa out of those homes,” Elend continued. “Noblemen’s houses are mostly stone mansions with a lot of small rooms. They’re extremely hard to heat, requiring a separate hearth or a stove for every room. The skaa tenements are depressing, but they have massive hearths and open rooms.”

  Demoux nodded slowly.

  “The Lord Ruler couldn’t have his workers freezing,” Elend said. “Those tenements are the best way to efficiently look after a large population of people with limited resources.”

  “I understand, my lord,” Demoux said.

  “Don’t force them, Demoux,” Elend said. “My personal guard—even augmented with army volunteers—has no official authority in the city. If a family wants to stay in their pilfered aristocratic house, let them. Just make certain that they know there’s an alternative to freezing.”

  Demoux nodded, then moved over to pass on the commands. Elend turned as a messenger arrived. The man had to weave his way through an organized jumble of soldiers receiving orders and making plans.

  Elend nodded to the newcomer. “You’re on the demolitions scout gr
oup, correct?”

  The man nodded as he bowed. He wasn’t in uniform; he was a soldier, not one of Elend’s guards. He was a younger man, with a square jaw, balding head, and honest smile.

  “Don’t I know you?” Elend said.

  “I helped you a year ago, my lord,” the man said. “I led you into the Lord Ruler’s palace to help rescue Lady Vin….”

  “Goradel,” Elend said, remembering. “You used to be in the Lord Ruler’s personal guard.”

  The man nodded. “I joined up in your army after that day. Seemed like the thing to do.”

  Elend smiled. “Not my army anymore, Goradel, but I do appreciate you coming to help us today. What’s your report?”

  “You were right, my lord,” Goradel said, “the skaa have already robbed the empty homes for furniture. But, not many thought of the walls. A good half of the abandoned mansions have wooden walls on the inside, and a lot of the tenements were made of wood. Most all of them have wooden roofs.”

  “Good,” Elend said. He surveyed the gathering mass of men. He hadn’t told them his plans; he’d simply asked for volunteers to help him with some manual labor. He hadn’t expected the response to number in the hundreds.

  “It looks like we’re gathering quite a group, my lord,” Demoux said, rejoining Elend.

  Elend nodded, giving leave for Goradel to withdraw. “We’ll be able to try an even more ambitious project than I’d planned.”

  “My lord,” Demoux said. “Are you certain you want to start tearing the city down around ourselves?”

  “We either lose buildings or we lose people, Demoux,” Elend said. “The buildings go.”

  “And if the king tries to stop us?”

  “Then we obey,” Elend said. “But I don’t think Lord Penrod will object. He’s too busy trying to get a bill through the Assembly that hands the city over to my father. Besides, it’s probably better for him to have these men here, working, than it is to have them sitting and worrying in the barracks.”

  Demoux fell silent. Elend did as well; both knew how precarious their position was. Only a short time had passed since the assassination attempt and the transfer of power, and the city was in shock. Cett was still holed up inside of Keep Hasting, and his armies had moved into position to attack the city. Luthadel was like a man with a knife pressed very closely to his throat. Each breath cut the skin.

  I can’t do much about that now, Elend thought. I have to make certain the people don’t freeze these next few nights. He could feel the bitter cold, despite the daylight, his cloak, and the shelter. There were a lot of people in Luthadel, but if he could get enough men tearing down enough buildings, he just might be able to do some good.

  “My lord!”

  Elend turned as a short man with a drooping mustache approached. “Ah, Felt,” he said. “You have news?” The man was working on the poisoned-food problem—specifically how the city was being breached.

  The scout nodded. “I do indeed, my lord. We interrogated the refugees with a Rioter, and we came up dry. Then, however, I started thinking. The refugees seemed too obvious to me. Strangers in the city? Of course they’d be the first ones we’d suspect. I figured, with how much has been going wrong with the wells and the food and the like, someone has to be sneaking in and out of the city.”

  Elend nodded. They’d been watching Cett’s soldiers inside Keep Hasting very carefully, and none of them was responsible. Straff’s Mistborn was still a possibility, but Vin had never believed that he was behind the poisoning. Elend hoped that the trail—if it could be found—would lead back to someone in his own palace, hopefully revealing who on his serving staff had been replaced by a kandra.

  “Well?” Elend asked.

  “I interrogated the people who run passwalls,” Felt continued. “I don’t think they’re to blame.”

  “Passwalls?”

  Felt nodded. “Covert passages out of the city. Tunnels or the like.”

  “Such things exist?” Elend asked with surprise.

  “Of course, my lord,” Felt said. “Moving between cities was very difficult for skaa thieves during the Lord Ruler’s reign. Everyone who entered Luthadel was subject to interview and interrogation. So, ways to get into the city covertly were very prevalent. Most of those have shut down—the ones who used to lower people up and down by ropes over the walls. A few are still running, but I don’t think they are letting the spies in. Once that first well was poisoned, the passwalls all got paranoid that you’d come after them. Since then, they’ve only been letting people out of the city—ones who want to run from the besieged city and the like.”

  Elend frowned. He wasn’t certain what he thought of the fact that people were disobeying his order that the gates be shut, with no passage out.

  “Next,” Felt said, “I tried the river.”

  “We thought of that,” Elend said. “The grates covering the water are all secure.”

  Felt smiled. “That they are. I sent some men down under the water to search about, and we found several locks down below, keeping the river grates in place.”

  “What?”

  “Someone pried the grates free, my lord,” Felt said, “then locked them back into place so it wouldn’t look suspicious. That way, they could swim in and out at their leisure.”

  Elend raised an eyebrow.

  “You want us to replace the grates?” Felt asked.

  “No,” Elend said. “No, just replace those locks with new ones, then post men to watch. Next time those prisoners try and get into the city, I want them to find themselves trapped.”

  Felt nodded, retreating with a happy smile on his face. His talents as a spy hadn’t been put to much good use lately, and he seemed to be enjoying the tasks Elend was giving him. Elend made a mental note to think about putting Felt to work on locating the kandra spy—assuming, of course, that Felt himself wasn’t the spy.

  “My lord,” Demoux said, approaching. “I think I might be able to offer a second opinion on how the poisonings are occurring.”

  Elend turned. “Oh?”

  Demoux nodded, waving for a man to approach from the side of the room. He was younger, perhaps eighteen, and had the dirty face and clothing of a skaa worker.

  “This is Larn,” Demoux said. “A member of my congregation.”

  The young man bowed to Elend, posture nervous.

  “You may speak, Larn,” Demoux said. “Tell Lord Venture what you saw.”

  “Well, my lord,” the young man said. “I tried to go tell this to the king. The new king, I mean.” He flushed, embarrassed.

  “It’s all right,” Elend said. “Continue.”

  “Well, the men there turned me away. Said the king didn’t have time for me. So, I came to Lord Demoux. I figured he might believe me.”

  “About what?” Elend asked.

  “Inquisitor, my lord,” the man said quietly. “I saw one in the city.”

  Elend felt a chill. “You’re sure?”

  The young man nodded. “I’ve lived in Luthadel all my life, my lord. Watched executions a number of times. I’d recognize one of those monsters, sure I would. I saw him. Spikes through the eyes, tall and robed, slinking about at night. Near the center squares of the city. I promise you.”

  Elend shared a look with Demoux.

  “He’s not the only one, my lord,” Demoux said quietly. “Some other members of my congregation claimed to have seen an Inquisitor hanging around Kredik Shaw. I dismissed the first few, but Larn, he’s trustworthy. If he said he saw something, he did. Eyes nearly as good as a Tineye, that one.”

  Elend nodded slowly, and ordered a patrol from his personal guard to keep watch in the area indicated. After that, he turned his attention back to the wood-gathering effort. He gave the orders, organizing the men into teams, sending some to begin working, others to gather recruits. Without fuel, many of the city’s forges had shut down, and the workers were idle. They could use something to occupy their time.

  Elend saw energy in the men’s
eyes as they began to split up. Elend knew that determination, that firmness of eye and arm. It came from the satisfaction of doing something, of not just sitting around and waiting for fate—or kings—to act.

  Elend turned back to the map, making a few notations. From the corner of his eye, he saw Ham saunter in. “So this is where they all went!” Ham said. “The sparring grounds are empty.”

  Elend looked up, smiling.

  “You’re back to the uniform, then?” Ham asked.

  Elend glanced down at his white outfit. Designed to stand out, to set him apart from a city stained by ash. “Yes.”

  “Too bad,” Ham said with a sigh. “Nobody should have to wear a uniform.”

  Elend raised an eyebrow. In the face of undeniable winter, Ham had finally taken to wearing a shirt beneath his vest. He wore no cloak or coat, however.

  Elend turned back to the map. “The clothing suits me,” he said. “It just feels right. Anyway, that vest of yours is as much a uniform as this is.”

  “No it’s not.”

  “Oh?” Elend asked. “Nothing screams Thug like a man who goes about in the winter without a coat, Ham. You’ve used your clothing to change how people react to you, to let them know who you are and what you represent—which is essentially what a uniform does.”

  Ham paused. “That’s an interesting way of looking at it.”

  “What?” Elend said. “You never argued about something like this with Breeze?”

  Ham shook his head as he turned to look over the groups of men, listening to the men Elend had appointed to give orders.

  He’s changed, Elend thought. Running this city, dealing with all of this, it’s even changed him. The Thug was more solemn, now—more focused. Of course, he had even more stake in the city’s safety than the rest of the crew. It was sometimes hard to remember that the free-spirited Thug was a family man. Ham tended to not talk much about Mardra or his two children. Elend suspected it was habit; Ham had spent much of his marriage living apart from his family in order to keep them safe.

  This whole city is my family, Elend thought, watching the soldiers leave to do their work. Some might have thought something as simple as gathering firewood to be a mundane task, of little relevance in a city threatened by three armies. However, Elend knew that the freezing skaa people would receive the fuel with as much appreciation as they would salvation from the armies.