“Not necessarily,” Dockson said. “Perhaps they simply meant this as a warning.”
“Perhaps,” Elend said. “Gentlemen, I think this is a sign. I’ve been ignoring the Assembly—we thought that they were taken care of, since I got them to sign that proposal giving me right of parlay. However, we never realized that an easy way for them to get around that proposal was to choose a new king, then have him do as they wished.”
He sighed, shaking his head. “I have to admit, I’ve never been very good at handling the Assembly. They don’t see me as a king, but as a colleague—and because of that, they can easily see themselves taking my place. I’ll bet one of the Assemblymen has convinced the others to put him on the throne instead.”
“So, we just make him disappear,” Ham said. “I’m sure Vin could…”
Elend frowned.
“I’m joking, El,” Ham said.
“You know, Ham,” Breeze noted. “The only funny thing about your jokes is how often they lack any humor whatsoever.”
“You’re only saying that because they usually involve you in the punch line.”
Breeze rolled his eyes.
“You know,” OreSeur muttered quietly, obviously counting on her tin to let Vin hear him, “it seems that these meetings would be more productive if someone forgot to invite those two.”
Vin smiled. “They’re not that bad,” she whispered.
OreSeur raised an eyebrow.
“Okay,” Vin said. “They do distract us a little bit.”
“I could always eat one of them, if you wish,” OreSeur said. “That might speed things up.”
Vin paused.
OreSeur, however, had a strange little smile on his lips. “Kandra humor, Mistress. I apologize. We can be a bit grim.”
Vin smiled. “They probably wouldn’t taste very good anyway. Ham’s far too stringy, and you don’t want to know the kinds of things that Breeze spends his time eating….”
“I’m not sure,” OreSeur said. “One is, after all, named ‘Ham.’ As for the other…” He nodded to the cup of wine in Breeze’s hand. “He does seem quite fond of marinating himself.”
Elend was picking through his stacks of books, pulling out several relevant volumes on law—including the book of Luthadel law that he himself had written.
“Your Majesty,” Tindwyl said, emphasizing the term. “You have two armies on your doorstep, and a group of koloss making their way into the Central Dominance. Do you honestly think that you have time for a protracted legal battle now?”
Elend set down the books and pulled his chair to the table. “Tindwyl,” he said. “I have two armies on my doorstep, koloss coming to pressure them, and I myself am the main obstacle keeping the leaders of this city from handing the kingdom over to one of the invaders. Do you honestly think that it’s a coincidence that I get deposed now?”
Several members of the crew perked up at this, and Vin cocked her head.
“You think one of the invaders might be behind this?” Ham asked, rubbing his chin.
“What would you do, if you were them?” Elend said, opening a book. “You can’t attack the city, because it will cost you too many troops. The siege has already lasted weeks, your troops are getting cold, and the men Dockson hired have been attacking your canal supply barges, threatening your food supply. Add on top of that, you know that a large force of koloss are marching this way…and, well, it makes sense. If Straff and Cett’s spies are any good, they’ll know that the Assembly just about capitulated and gave the city away when that army first arrived. Assassins have failed to kill me, but if there were another way to remove me…”
“Yes,” Breeze said. “This does sound like something Cett would do. Turn the Assembly against you, put a sympathizer on the throne, then get him to open the gates.”
Elend nodded. “And my father seemed hesitant to side with me this evening, as if he felt he had some other way to get the city. I can’t be certain if either monarch is behind this move, Tindwyl, but we certainly can’t ignore the possibility. This isn’t a distraction—this is very much part of the same siege tactics we’ve been fighting since those armies arrived. If I can put myself back on the throne, then Straff and Cett will know that I’m the only one they can work with—and that will, hopefully, make them more likely to side with me in desperation, particularly as those koloss draw near.”
With that, Elend began riffling through a stack of books. His depression seemed to be abating in face of this new academic problem. “There might be a few other clauses of relevance in the law,” he half mumbled. “I need to do some studying. Spook, did you invite Sazed to this meeting?”
Spook shrugged. “I couldn’t get him to wake up.”
“He’s recovering from his trip here,” Tindwyl said, turning away from her study of Elend and his books. “It’s an issue of the Keepers.”
“Needs to refill one of his metalminds?” Ham asked.
Tindwyl paused, her expression darkening. “He explained that to you, then?”
Ham and Breeze nodded.
“I see,” Tindwyl said. “Regardless, he could not help with this problem, Your Majesty. I give you some small aid in the area of government because it is my duty to train leaders in knowledge of the past. However, traveling Keepers such as Sazed do not take sides in political matters.”
“Political matters?” Breeze asked lightly. “You mean, perhaps, like overthrowing the Final Empire?”
Tindwyl closed her mouth, lips growing thin. “You should not encourage him to break his vows,” she finally said. “If you were his friends, you would see that to be true, I think.”
“Oh?” Breeze asked, pointing at her with his cup of wine. “Personally, I think you’re just embarrassed that he disobeyed you all, but then actually ended up freeing your people.”
Tindwyl gave Breeze a flat stare, her eyes narrow, her posture stiff. They sat that way for a long moment. “Push on my emotions all you wish, Soother,” Tindwyl said. “My feelings are my own. You will have no success here.”
Breeze finally turned back to his drink, muttering something about “damn Terrismen.”
Elend, however, wasn’t paying attention to the argument. He already had four books open on the table before him, and was flipping through a fifth. Vin smiled, remembering the days—not so long ago—when his courtship of her had often involved him plopping himself down in a nearby chair and opening a book.
He is the same man, she thought. And that soul, that man, is the one who loved me before he knew I was Mistborn. He loved me even after he discovered I was a thief, and thought I was trying to rob him. I need to remember that.
“Come on,” she whispered to OreSeur, standing as Breeze and Ham got into another argument. She needed time to think, and the mists were still fresh.
This would be a lot easier if I weren’t so skilled, Elend thought with amusement, poking through his books. I set up the law too well.
He followed a particular passage with his finger, rereading it as the crew slowly trailed away. He couldn’t remember if he’d dismissed them or not. Tindwyl would probably chastise him for that.
Here, he thought, tapping the page. I might have grounds to argue for a revote if any of the members of the Assembly arrived late to the meeting, or made their votes in absentia. The vote to depose had to be unanimous—save, of course, for the king being deposed.
He paused, noticing movement. Tindwyl was the only one still in the room with him. He looked up from his books with resignation. I probably have this coming….
“I apologize for treating you with disrespect, Your Majesty,” she said.
Elend frowned. Wasn’t expecting that.
“I have a habit of treating people like children,” Tindwyl said. “It is not something that I should be proud of, I think.”
“It’s—” Elend paused. Tindwyl had taught him never to excuse people’s failings. He could accept people with failings—even forgive them—but if he glossed over the problems, then t
hey would never change. “I accept your apology,” he said.
“You’ve learned quickly, Your Majesty.”
“I haven’t had much choice,” Elend said with a smile. “Of course, I didn’t change fast enough for the Assembly.”
“How did you let this happen?” she asked quietly. “Even considering our disagreement over how a government should be run, I should think that these Assemblymen would be supporters of yours. You gave them their power.”
“I ignored them, Tindwyl. Powerful men, friends or not, never like being ignored.”
She nodded. “Though, perhaps we should pause to take note of your successes, rather than simply focusing on your failings. Vin tells me that your meeting with your father went well.”
Elend smiled. “We scared him into submission. It felt very good to do something like that to Straff. But, I think I might have offended Vin somehow.”
Tindwyl raised an eyebrow.
Elend set down his book, leaning forward with his arms on the desk. “She was in an odd mood on the way back. I could barely get her to talk to me. I’m not sure what it was.”
“Perhaps she was just tired.”
“I’m not convinced that Vin gets tired,” Elend said. “She’s always moving, always doing something. Sometimes, I worry that she thinks I’m lazy. Maybe that’s why…” He trailed off, then shook his head.
“She doesn’t think that you are lazy, Your Majesty,” Tindwyl said. “She refused to marry you because she doesn’t think that she is worthy of you.”
“Nonsense,” Elend said. “Vin’s Mistborn, Tindwyl. She knows she’s worth ten men like me.”
Tindwyl raised an eyebrow. “You understand very little about women, Elend Venture—especially young women. To them, their competence has a surprisingly small amount to do with how they feel about themselves. Vin is insecure. She doesn’t believe that she deserves to be with you—it is less that she doesn’t think she deserves you personally, and more that she isn’t convinced that she deserves to be happy at all. She has led a very confusing, difficult life.”
“How sure are you about this?”
“I’ve raised a number of daughters, Your Majesty,” Tindwyl said. “I understand the things of which I speak.”
“Daughters?” Elend asked. “You have children?”
“Of course.”
“I just…” The Terrismen he’d known were eunuchs, like Sazed. The same couldn’t be true for a woman like Tindwyl, of course, but he’d assumed that the Lord Ruler’s breeding programs would have affected her somehow.
“Regardless,” Tindwyl said curtly, “you must make some decisions, Your Majesty. Your relationship with Vin is going to be difficult. She has certain issues that will provide more problems than you would find in a more conventional woman.”
“We’ve already discussed this,” Elend said. “I’m not looking for a more ‘conventional’ woman. I love Vin.”
“I’m not implying that you shouldn’t,” Tindwyl said calmly. “I am simply giving you instruction, as I have been asked to do. You need to decide how much you’re going to let the girl, and your relationship with her, distract you.”
“What makes you think I’m distracted?”
Tindwyl raised an eyebrow. “I asked you about your success with Lord Venture this evening, and all you wanted to talk about was how Vin felt during the ride home.”
Elend hesitated.
“Which is more important to you, Your Majesty?” Tindwyl asked. “This girl’s love, or the good of your people?”
“I’m not going to answer a question like that,” Elend said.
“Eventually, you may not have a choice,” Tindwyl said. “It is a question most kings face eventually, I fear.”
“No,” Elend said. “There’s no reason that I can’t both love Vin and protect my people. I’ve studied too many hypothetical dilemmas to be caught in a trap like that.”
Tindwyl shrugged, standing. “Believe as you wish, Your Majesty. However, I already see a dilemma, and I find it not at all hypothetical.” She bowed her head slightly in deference, then withdrew from the room, leaving him with his books.
29
There were other proofs to connect Alendi to the Hero of Ages. Smaller things, things that only one trained in the lore of the Anticipation would have noticed. The birthmark on his arm. The way his hair turned gray when he was barely twenty and five years of age. The way he spoke, the way he treated people, the way he ruled.
He simply seemed to fit.
“Tell me, mistress,” Oreseur said, lying lazily, head on paws. “I have been around humans for a goodly number of years. I was under the impression that they needed regular sleep. I guess I was mistaken.”
Vin sat on a wall-top stone ledge, one leg up against her chest, the other dangling over the side of the wall. Keep Hasting’s towers were dark shadows in the mists to her right and to her left. “I sleep,” she said.
“Occasionally.” OreSeur yawned a deep, tongue-stretching yawn. Was he adopting more canine mannerisms?
Vin turned away from the kandra, looking east, over the slumbering city of Luthadel. There was a fire in the distance, a growing light that was too large to be of man’s touch. Dawn had arrived. Another night had passed, making it nearly a week since she and Elend had visited Straff’s army. Zane had yet to appear.
“You’re burning pewter, aren’t you?” OreSeur asked. “To stay awake?”
Vin nodded. Beneath a light burn of pewter, her fatigue was only a mild annoyance. She could feel it deep within her, if she looked hard, but it had no power over her. Her senses were keen, her body strong. Even the night’s cold wasn’t as bothersome. The moment she extinguished her pewter, however, she’d feel the exhaustion in force.
“That cannot be healthy, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “You sleep barely three or four hours a day. Nobody—Mistborn, man, or kandra—can survive on a schedule like that for long.”
Vin looked down. How could she explain her strange insomnia? She should be over that; she no longer had to be frightened of the other crewmembers around her. And yet, no matter how exhausted she grew, she was finding sleep more and more difficult to claim. How could she sleep, with that quiet thumping in the distance?
It seemed to be getting closer, for some reason. Or simply stronger? I hear the thumping sounds from above, the pulsings from the mountains…. Words from the logbook.
How could she sleep, knowing that the spirit watched her from the mist, ominous and hateful? How could she sleep when armies threatened to slaughter her friends, when Elend’s kingdom had been taken from him, when everything she thought she’d known and loved was getting muddled and obscure?
…when I finally lie down, I find sleep elusive. The same thoughts that trouble me during the day are only compounded by the stillness of night….
OreSeur yawned again. “He’s not coming, Mistress.”
Vin turned, frowning. “What do you mean?”
“This is the last place you sparred with Zane,” OreSeur said. “You’re waiting for him to come.”
Vin paused. “I could use a spar,” she finally said.
Light continued to grow in the east, slowly brightening the mists. The mists persisted, however, reticent to give way before the sun.
“You shouldn’t let that man influence you so, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “I do not think he is the person you believe him to be.”
Vin frowned. “He’s my enemy. What else would I believe?”
“You do not treat him like an enemy, Mistress.”
“Well, he hasn’t attacked Elend,” Vin said. “Maybe Zane isn’t fully under Straff’s control.”
OreSeur sat quietly, head on paws. Then he turned away.
“What?” Vin asked.
“Nothing, Mistress. I will believe as I’m told.”
“Oh, no,” Vin said, turning on the ledge to look at him. “You’re not going back to that excuse. What were you thinking?”
OreSeur sighed. “I was thinking,
Mistress, that your fixation with Zane is disconcerting.”
“Fixation?” Vin said. “I’m just keeping an eye on him. I don’t like having another Mistborn—enemy or not—running around in my city. Who knows what he could be up to?”
OreSeur frowned, but said nothing.
“OreSeur,” Vin said, “if you have things to say, speak!”
“I apologize, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “I’m not accustomed to chatting with my masters—especially not candidly.”
“It’s all right. Just speak your mind.”
“Well, Mistress,” OreSeur said, raising his head off his paws, “I do not like this Zane.”
“What do you know of him?”
“Nothing more than you,” OreSeur admitted. “However, most kandra are very good judges of character. When you practice imitation for as long as I have, you learn to see to the hearts of men. I do not like what I have seen of Zane. He seems too pleased with himself. He seems too deliberate in the way he has befriended you. He makes me uncomfortable.”
Vin sat on the ledge, legs parted, hands before her with palms down, resting on the cool stone. He might be right.
But, OreSeur hadn’t flown with Zane, hadn’t sparred in the mists. Through no fault of his own, OreSeur was like Elend. Not an Allomancer. Neither of them could understand what it was to soar on a Push of steel, to flare tin and experience the sudden shock of five heightened senses. They couldn’t know. They couldn’t understand.
Vin leaned back. Then, she regarded the wolfhound in the growing light. There was something she’d been meaning to mention, and now seemed as good a time as any. “OreSeur, you can switch bodies, if you want.”
The wolfhound raised an eyebrow.
“We have those bones that we found in the palace,” Vin said. “You can use those, if you’re tired of being a dog.”
“I couldn’t use them,” OreSeur said. “I haven’t digested their body—I wouldn’t know the proper arrangement of muscles and organs to make the person look correct.”
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