The Mistborn Trilogy

by Brandon Sanderson

  “Various reasons,” said the obligator king.

  Vin studied him, then raised the cup to take another drink. The motion jangled her manacles, which she eyed in annoyance as they again restricted her movement.

  “They’re made of silver,” Yomen said. “A particularly frustrating metal for Mistborn, or so I am told.”

  Silver. Useless, unburnable silver. Like lead, it was one of the metals that provided no Allomantic powers at all.

  “An unpopular metal indeed . . .” Yomen said, nodding to the side. A servant approached Vin, bearing something on a small platter. Her mother’s earring. It was a dull thing, Allomantically, made of bronze with some silver plating. Much of the gilding had worn off years ago, and the brownish bronze showed through, making the earring look to be the cheap bauble it was.

  “Which is why,” Yomen continued, “I am so curious as to why you would bother with an ornament such as this. I have had it tested. Silver on the outside, bronze on the inside. Why those metals? One useless to Allomancers, the other granting what is considered the weakest of Allomantic powers. Would not an earring of steel or of pewter make more sense?”

  Vin eyed the earring. Her fingers itched to grab it, if only to feel metal between her fingers. If she’d had steel, she could have Pushed on the earring, using it as a weapon. Kelsier had once told her to keep wearing it for that simple reason. Yet, it had been given to her by her mother. A woman Vin had never known. A woman who had tried to kill her.

  Vin snatched the earring. Yomen watched curiously as she stuck it in her ear. He seemed . . . wary. As if waiting for something.

  If I really did have some trick planned, she thought, he’d be dead in an instant. How can he stand there so calmly? Why give me my earring? Even if it isn’t made of useful metals, I might find a way to use it against him.

  Her instincts told her he was trying an old street ploy—kind of like throwing your enemy a dagger to make him attack. Yomen wanted to spring any traps she was planning. It seemed a silly move. How could he possibly hope to best a Mistborn?

  Unless he himself is a Mistborn, Vin thought. He feels he can beat me.

  He has atium, and is ready to burn it when I try something.

  Vin did nothing; made no attack. She wasn’t certain if her instincts about Yomen were right, but that didn’t really matter. She couldn’t attack, for the earring had no hidden secret. The truth was, she simply wanted it back because it felt comfortable in her ear. She was accustomed to wearing it.

  “Interesting,” Yomen said. “Regardless, you are about to discover one of the reasons I have left you without a gag . . .” With that, he raised a hand toward the door. He clasped his hands behind his back as a servant opened the door, showing in an unarmed soldier in the white and brown of Elend’s livery.

  You should kill him, Ruin whispered in her mind. All of them.

  “Lady Venture,” Yomen said without looking at her. “I must ask you not to speak to this man except when I indicate, and answer only as I request. Otherwise, he will have to be executed, and a fresh messenger sent for from your army.”

  The soldier paled. Vin just frowned, eyeing the obligator king. Yomen was obviously a calm man, and he wanted to appear harsh. How much of it was an act?

  “You can see that she is alive, as promised,” Yomen said to the soldier.

  “How do we know this is not a kandra in disguise?” the soldier asked.

  “You can ask your question,” Yomen said.

  “Lady Venture,” the soldier said, “what did you have for dinner the night before you went to the party inside the city?”

  It was a good question to ask. A kandra would have interrogated her about important moments—such as her first meeting with Elend. Something like a meal, however, was so random that no kandra would have thought to ask about it. Now, if Vin could remember. . . .

  She looked at Yomen. He nodded—she could answer. “Eggs,” she said. “Fresh eggs that I bought in the city, during one of my spying trips.”

  The man nodded.

  “You have your answer, soldier,” Yomen said. “Report to your king that his wife is still alive.”

  The soldier withdrew and the servants closed the door. Vin sat back on the bench, waiting for a gag.

  Yomen remained where he was, looking at her.

  Vin looked back. Finally, she spoke. “How long do you think that you can keep Elend placated? If you know anything of him at all, then you will realize that he is a king first, and a man second. He will do what he needs to do, even if it means my death.”

  “Eventually, perhaps,” Yomen said. “However, for now, the stall is effective. They say that you are a blunt woman, and appreciate brevity. Therefore, I will be straightforward with you. My purpose in capturing you was not to use you as leverage against your husband.”

  “Is that so,” she said flatly. “Why did you capture me, then?”

  “It is simple, Lady Venture,” Yomen said. “I captured you so that I could execute you.”

  If he expected surprise from her, she didn’t give it. She just shrugged. “Sounds like an unnecessarily formal term. Why not just cut my throat while I was drugged?”

  “This city is a place of law,” Yomen said. “We do not kill indiscriminately.”

  “This is war,” Vin said. “If you wait for ‘discrimination’ before you kill, you’ll have a lot of unhappy soldiers.”

  “Your crime is not one of war, Lady Venture.”

  “Oh? And am I to know this crime, then?”

  “It is the most simple of all crimes. Murder.”

  Vin raised an eyebrow. Had she killed someone close to this man? Perhaps one of the noble soldiers in Cett’s retinue, back a year ago when she’d assaulted Keep Hasting?

  Yomen met her eyes, and she saw something in them. A loathing that he kept hidden behind the calm front. No, she hadn’t killed one of his friends or relatives. She’d killed someone far more important to him.

  “The Lord Ruler,” she said.

  Yomen turned away again.

  “You can’t honestly intend to try me for that,” Vin said. “It’s ridiculous.”

  “There will be no trial,” Yomen said. “I am the authority in this city, and need no ceremony to give me direction or permission.”

  Vin snorted. “I thought you said this was a place of law.”

  “And I am that law,” Yomen said calmly. “I believe in letting a person speak for themselves before I make my decision. I will give you time to prepare your thoughts—however, the men who will be guarding you have orders to kill you if it ever looks like you are putting something unapproved into your mouth.”

  Yomen glanced back at her. “I’d be very careful while I eat or drink, if I were you. Your guards have been told to err on the side of safety, and they know that I will not punish them if they accidentally kill you.”

  Vin paused, cup of water still held lightly in her fingers.

  Kill him, Ruin’s voice whispered. You could do it. Take a weapon from one of those soldiers, then use it on Yomen.

  Vin frowned. Ruin still used Reen’s voice—it was familiar, something that had always seemed a part of her. Discovering that it belonged to that thing . . . it was like finding out that her reflection really belonged to someone else, and that she’d never actually seen herself.

  She ignored the voice. She wasn’t sure why Ruin would want her to try killing Yomen. After all, Yomen had captured her—the obligator king was working on Ruin’s side. Plus, Vin doubted her ability to cause the man any harm. Chained, lacking offensive metals . . . she’d be a fool to attack.

  She also didn’t trust Yomen’s comments about keeping her alive so that she could “speak” in her defense. He was up to something. Yet, she couldn’t fathom what it might be. Why leave her alive? He was too clever a man to lack a reason.

  Giving no hint of his motivations, Yomen turned away from her again, looking back out his window. “Take her away.”

  By sacrificing most of
his consciousness, Preservation created Ruin’s prison, breaking their deal and trying to keep Ruin from destroying what they had created. This event left their powers again nearly balanced—Ruin imprisoned, only a trace of himself capable of leaking out. Preservation reduced to a mere wisp of what he once was, barely capable of thought and action.

  These two minds were, of course, independent of the raw force of their powers. Actually, I am uncertain of how thoughts and personalities came to be attached to the powers in the first place—but I believe they were not there originally. For both powers could be detached from the minds that ruled them.

  55

  IT TOOK ELEND MUCH LONGER to get back from the village than it had taken to get there. For one thing, he had left a lot of his coins with the villagers. He wasn’t certain how much good money would do them in the coming weeks, but he’d felt that he had to do something. They were going to have a rough time of it the next few months. Their food stores nearly depleted, their homes burned by koloss, their water sources contaminated by ash, their capital—and king—besieged by Elend himself . . .

  I have to stay focused, he told himself, walking through the falling ash. I can’t help every village. I have to worry about the larger picture.

  A picture that included using a force of koloss to destroy another man’s city. Elend gritted his teeth, continuing to walk. The sun was creeping toward the horizon, and the mists had already started to appear, lit by the blazing fire of red sunlight. Behind him tromped some thirty thousand koloss. His new army.

  That was another reason it took him a bit longer to get back. He wanted to walk with the koloss army, rather than jumping ahead of them, in case their Inquisitor appeared to steal them back. He still couldn’t believe that such a large group hadn’t been under any kind of direction.

  I attacked a koloss army on my own, he thought as he slogged through a patch of thigh-deep ash. I did it without Vin’s help, intent on defeating their Inquisitor by myself.

  How had he thought to fight an Inquisitor on his own? Kelsier himself had only barely been able to defeat one of the things.

  Vin has killed three now, he thought. We took them on together, but she was the one who killed each one.

  He didn’t begrudge her the abilities she had, but he did feel occasional glimmers of envy. That amused him. It had never bothered him when he’d been an ordinary man, but now that he was Mistborn too, he found himself coveting her skill.

  And even with her skill, she had been captured. Elend tromped along, feeling a weight he couldn’t shake. Everything just seemed wrong to him. Vin imprisoned, while he was free. Mist and ash suffocating the land. Elend, despite all his powers, was unable to do anything to protect the people—and the woman—he loved.

  And that was the third reason that he walked ploddingly with his koloss, rather than returning immediately to his camp. He needed some time to think. Some time alone. Perhaps that was what had driven him to leave in the first place.

  He’d known that their work was dangerous, but he’d never really thought that he might lose her. She was Vin. She always got out. She survived.

  But what if, this time, she didn’t?

  He’d always been the vulnerable one—the common person in a world of Mistborn and koloss. The scholar who couldn’t fight, who had to depend on Vin for protection. Even during the last year of fighting, she’d stayed close to him. If she’d been in danger, he’d been in danger, and there hadn’t really been time to think about what would happen if he survived and she didn’t.

  He shook his head, pushing through the ash. He could have used koloss to force a trail for him. For the moment, however, he wanted to be apart even from them. So, he walked ahead, a lone figure in black on a field of solid ash backlit by a setting red sun.

  The ashfalls were getting far worse. Before he’d left the village, he’d spent a day having his koloss clear the streets and rebuild some of the homes. Yet, with the rate at which the ash was falling, the mist and even the possibility of other wandering koloss were becoming secondary problems. The ash. It alone would kill them. Already, it buried trees and hills. It was up to his waist in places.

  Perhaps if I’d stayed in Luthadel, he thought, working with my scholars, we could have discovered a way to stop this. . . .

  No, that was foolish. What would they do? Plug the ashmounts? Find a way to wash all of the ash out into the sea? In the distance ahead of him through the evening mists, he could see a red glow in the sky, even though the sun set on the opposite horizon. He could only assume that the light to the east came from fire and lava rising out of the ashmounts.

  What did he do about a dying sky, ash so thick he could barely move through it, and erupting volcanoes? So far, his way of dealing with these things had been to ignore them.

  Or, rather, to let Vin worry about them.

  That’s really what has me worried, he thought. Losing the woman I love is bad enough. But, losing the one I trusted to fix all this . . . that’s truly frightening.

  It was an odd realization. The deep truth was, he really did trust Vin as more than a person. She was more like a force. Almost a god, even? It seemed silly, thinking about that directly. She was his wife. Even if he was a member of the Church of the Survivor, it felt wrong to worship her, to think her divine.

  And he didn’t, not really. But he did trust her. Vin was a person of instinct, while Elend was one of logic and thought. Sometimes, it seemed she could do the impossible simply because she didn’t stop to think about how impossible it really was. If Elend came to a cliff, he stopped, gauging the distance to the other side. Vin just jumped.

  What would happen on the day she didn’t reach the other side? What if the events they were tied up in were bigger than two people could hope to solve, even if one of those people was Vin? As he considered it, even the possibility of discovering helpful information in the cache at Fadrex had been a slim hope.

  We need help, Elend thought with frustration. He stopped in the ash, the darkness closing around him as night proper finally fell. The mists swirled.

  Help. So, what did that mean? Help from some mysterious god like the ones that Sazed had once preached about? Elend had never known a god other than the Lord Ruler. And he’d never really had faith in that creature—though, meeting Yomen had changed his perspective on how some people worshipped the Lord Ruler.

  Elend stood, looking up at the sky, watching the flakes of ash fall. Continuing their silent, yet ceaseless, barrage against the land. Like the raven feathers of a soft pillow used to suffocate a sleeping victim.

  We are doomed, he thought. Behind him, the koloss stopped their march, waiting upon his silent order. That’s it. It’s all going to end.

  The realization wasn’t crushing. It was gentle, like a final tendril of smoke from a dying candle. He suddenly knew that they couldn’t fight—that everything they’d done over the last year had been pointless.

  Elend slumped to his knees. The ash came up to his chest. Perhaps this was one final reason why he’d wanted to walk home alone. When others were around, he felt as if he had to be optimistic. But, alone, he could face the truth.

  And there, in the ash, he finally just gave up.

  Someone knelt down beside him.

  Elend jumped backward, scrambling to his feet and scattering ash. He flared pewter belatedly, giving himself the tense strength of a Mistborn about to attack. But, there was nobody beside him. He froze, wondering if he’d been imagining things. And then, burning tin and squinting in the darkness of the ashen night, he finally saw it. A creature of mist.

  It wasn’t really composed of mist. Rather, it was outlined in mist. The random shiftings suggested its figure, which was roughly that of a man. Elend had seen this creature twice before. The first time, it had appeared to him in the wilderness of the Northern Dominance.

  The second time, it had stabbed him in the gut, leaving him to bleed to death.

  Yet, that had been an attempt to get Vin to take the power at the We
ll of Ascension and use it to heal Elend. The thing’s intentions had been good, even if it had nearly killed Elend. Plus, Vin said that this creature had led her to the bit of metal that had somehow turned Elend into an Allomancer.

  The mist spirit watched him, its figure barely distinguishable in the patterns of flowing mists.

  “What?” Elend asked. “What do you want of me?”

  The mist spirit raised its arm and pointed to the northeast.

  That’s what it did the first time it met me. It just pointed, as if trying to get me to go somewhere. I didn’t understand what it meant then either.

  “Look,” Elend said, suddenly feeling exhausted. “If you want to say something, why not just say it?”

  The mist spirit stood quietly in the mists.

  “At least write it,” Elend said. “The pointing just isn’t working.” He knew that the creature—whatever it was—had some corporeality. After all, it had managed to stab Elend handily enough.

  He expected the creature to just continue standing there. However, to Elend’s surprise, it followed the command, kneeling down in the ash. It reached out with a misty hand, and began to scratch in the ash. Elend took a step forward, cocking his head to see what the thing was writing.

  I will kill you, the words said. Death, death, death.

  “Well . . . that’s pleasant,” Elend said, feeling an eerie chill.

  The mist spirit seemed to slump. It knelt in the ash, making no impression in the ground.

  Such odd words to write, Elend thought, when it seemed to be trying to get me to trust it . . . “It can change your words, can’t it?” Elend asked. “The other force. It can rewrite pieces of text on paper, so why not things scratched in ash?”

  The mist spirit looked up.

  “That’s why you ripped the corners off of Sazed’s papers,” Elend said. “You couldn’t write him a note, because the words would just get changed. So, you had to do other things. More blunt things—like pointing.”