The soldier toppled, unconscious, to the ground. The Inquisitor bounced
off the iron cage, falling to its hands and knees. A line of blood ran down the
creature's face, across its eye tattoos, but it looked up, smiling. It didn't seem
the least bit dizzy as it stood.
Kelsier landed, cursing quietly to himself.
With an incredible burst of speed, the Inquisitor grabbed the empty,
boxlike prison cell by a pair of bars, then ripped the entire thing free of the
cartwheels.
Bloody hell!
The creature spun and hurled the massive iron cage at Kelsier, who stood
only a few feet away. There was no time to dodge. A building stood right
behind him; if he Pushed himself back, he'd be crushed.
The cage crashed toward him, and he jumped, using a Steelpush to guide
his body through the open doorway of the spinning cage. He twisted within
the cell, Pushing outward in all directions, holding himself in the metal
cage's exact center as it smashed into the wall, then bounced free.
The cage rolled, then began to skid across the ground. Kelsier let himself
drop, landing on the underside of the roof as the cage slowly slid to a halt.
Through the bars, he could see the Inquisitor watching him amid a sea of
fighting soldiers, its body surrounded by a twisting, dashing, moving cloud of
atium-images. The Inquisitor nodded its head to Kelsier in a slight sign of
respect.
Kelsier Pushed out with a yell, flaring pewter to keep from crushing
himself. The cage exploded, the metal top flipping into the air, the bars
ripping free and bursting outward. Kelsier Pulled the bars behind him and
Pushed the ones in front of him, sending a stream of metal shooting toward
the Inquisitor.
The creature raised a hand, expertly dividing the large missiles. Kelsier,
however, followed the bars with his own body—shooting himself toward the
Inquisitor with a Steelpush. The Inquisitor Pulled himself to the side, using
an unfortunate soldier as an anchor. The man cried out as he was wrenched
away from his duel—but he choked off as the Inquisitor jumped, Pushing
against the soldier and crushing the man to the ground.
The Inquisitor shot into the air. Kelsier slowed himself with a Push against
a group of soldiers, tracking the Inquisitor. Behind him, the top of the cage
crashed back to the ground, throwing up chips of stone. Kelsier blasted
against it and hurled himself upward, after the Inquisitor.
Flakes of ash streaked past him. Ahead, the Inquisitor turned, Pulling
against something below. The creature switched directions immediately,
instead hurling toward Kelsier.
Head-on collision. Bad idea for the guy without spikes in his head. Kelsier
frantically Pulled against a soldier, lurching downward as the Inquisitor
passed diagonally overhead.
Kelsier flared pewter, then crashed into the soldier he had Pulled up toward
him. The two of them spun in midair. Fortunately, the soldier wasn't one of
Ham's.
"Sorry, friend," Kelsier said conversationally, Pushing himself to the side.
The soldier shot away, eventually smashing into the side of a building as
Kelsier used him to soar over the battlefield. Below, Ham's main squad had
finally reached the last prison cart. Unfortunately, several more groups of
imperial soldiers had pushed their way through the gawking skaa crowds.
One of them was a large team of archers—armed with obsidian-tipped
arrows.
Kelsier cursed, letting himself fall. The archers set up, obviously preparing
to fire straight into the fighting crowd. They would kill some of their own
soldiers, but the brunt of their attack would be borne by the fleeing prisoners.
Kelsier dropped to the cobblestones. He reached to the side, Pulling against
some discarded bars from the cage he had destroyed. They flew toward him.
The archers drew. But he could see their atium-shadows.
Kelsier released the bars and Pushed himself to the side just slightly,
allowing the bars to fly between the archers and the fleeing prisoners.
The archers fired.
Kelsier grabbed the bars, flaring both steel and iron, Pushing against one
tip of each bar and Pulling against the opposite tip. The bars lurched in the
air, immediately beginning to spin like furious, lunatic windmills. Most of the
flying arrows were sprayed to the side by the spinning rods of iron.
The bars clanged to the ground amid the scattered, discarded arrows. The
archers stood, stupefied, as Kelsier jumped to the side again, then Pulled
lightly on the bars, flipping them up into the air in front of him. He Pushed,
sending the bars crashing toward the archers. He turned away as men
screamed and died, his eyes seeking his true foe.
Where is that creature hiding?
He looked into a scene of chaos. Men fought, ran, fled, and died—each one
bearing a prophetic atium-shadow to Kelsier's eyes. In this case, however,
the shadows effectively doubled the number of people moving on the
battlefield, and only served to increase the sense of confusion.
More and more soldiers were arriving. Many of Ham's men were down,
most of the rest were retreating—fortunately, they could simply discard their
armor and blend into the skaa crowds. Kelsier was more worried about that
last prisoner cart—the one with Renoux and Spook in it. The trajectory at
which Ham's group had entered the battle had required them to move up the
line of carts, back to front. Trying to get to Renoux first would have required
passing by the five other carts, leaving their people still trapped.
Ham obviously didn't intend to leave until Spook and Renoux were free.
And, where Ham fought, the rebel soldiers held. There was a reason
Pewterarms were also called Thugs: there was no subtlety to their fighting, no
clever Ironpulls or Steelpushes. Ham simply attacked with raw strength and
speed, throwing enemy soldiers out of his way, laying waste to their ranks,
leading his squad of fifty men toward the final prison cart. As they reached it,
Ham stepped back to fight off a group of enemy soldiers as one of his men
broke the cart's lock.
Kelsier smiled with pride, eyes still searching for the Inquisitor. His men
were few, but the enemy soldiers seemed visibly unsettled by the skaa rebels'
determination. Kelsier's men fought with passion—despite their other,
numerous hindrances, they still had this one advantage.
This is what happens when you finally convince them to fight. This is what
hides within them all. It's just so hard to release. . . .
Renoux exited the cart, then stepped to the side, watching as his servants
rushed free from their cage. Suddenly, a well-dressed figure burst from the
melee, grabbing Renoux by the front of his suit.
"Where's Valette?" Elend Venture demanded, his desperate voice carrying
to Kelsier's tin-enhanced ears. "Which cage was she in?"
Kid, you're really starting to annoy me, Kelsier thought, Pushing himself a
path through the soldiers as he ran toward the cart.
The Inquisitor appeared, leaping out from behind a pile of soldiers. It
landed on top of the cage, shaking the entire structure, an obsidian axe
grasped in each clawlike hand. The creature met Kelsier's eyes and smiled,
then dropped from the top of the cage and buried an axe in Renoux's back.
The kandra jerked, eyes opening wide. The Inquisitor turned toward Elend
next. Kelsier wasn't certain if the creature recognized the boy. Perhaps the
Inquisitor thought Elend to be a member of Renoux's family. Perhaps it
didn't care.
Kelsier paused for just a moment.
The Inquisitor raised his axe to strike.
She loves him.
Kelsier flared steel within, stoking it, raging it until his chest burned like
the Ashmounts themselves. He blasted against the soldiers behind him—
throwing dozens of them backward—and streaked toward the Inquisitor. He
crashed into the creature as it began to swing.
The discarded axe clicked against the stones a few feet away. Kelsier
gripped the Inquisitor by its neck as the two hit the ground; then he began to
squeeze with pewter-enhanced muscles. The Inquisitor reached up, grabbing
Kelsier's hands, desperately trying to force them apart.
Marsh was right, Kelsier thought through the chaos. It fears for its life. It
can be killed.
The Inquisitor gasped raggedly, the metal spikeheads protruding from its
eyes just inches from Kelsier's face. To his side Kelsier saw Elend Venture
stumble back.
"The girl is fine!" Kelsier said through gritted teeth. "She wasn't on the
Renoux barges. Go!"
Elend paused uncertainly; then one of his bodyguards finally appeared.
The boy let himself get dragged away.
Can't believe I just saved a nobleman, Kelsier thought, struggling to choke
the Inquisitor. You'd better appreciate this, girl.
Slowly, with straining muscles, the Inquisitor forced Kelsier's hands apart.
The creature began to smile again.
They're so strong!
The Inquisitor pushed Kelsier back, then Pulled against a soldier, yanking
itself in a skidding motion across the cobblestones. The Inquisitor hit a corpse
and flipped backward, up to its feet. Its neck was red from Kelsier's grip, bits
of flesh torn by his fingernails, but it smiled still.
Kelsier Pushed against a soldier, flipping himself up as well. To his side,
he saw Renoux leaning against the cart. Kelsier caught the kandra's eyes and
nodded slightly.
Renoux dropped to the ground with a sigh, axe in his back.
"Kelsier!" Ham yelled over the crowd.
"Go!" Kelsier told him. "Renoux is dead."
Ham glanced at Renoux's body, then nodded. He turned to his men, calling
orders.
"Survivor," a rasping voice said.
Kelsier spun. The Inquisitor strode forward, stepping with pewter's lithe
power, surrounded by a haze of atium-shadows.
"Survivor of Hathsin," it said. "You promised me a fight. Must I kill more
skaa?"
Kelsier flared his metals. "I never said we were done." Then, he smiled. He
was worried, he was pained, but he was also exhilarated. All of his life, there
had been a piece of him that had wished to stand and fight.
He'd always wanted to see if he could take an Inquisitor.
Vin stood, trying desperately to see over the crowd.
"What?" Dockson asked.
"I thought I saw Elend!"
"Here? That sounds a bit ridiculous, don't you think?"
Vin flushed. Probably. "Regardless, I'm going to try and get a better
view." She grabbed the side of the alleyway.
"Be careful," Dox said. "If that Inquisitor sees you . . ."
Vin nodded, scrambling up the bricks. Once she got high enough, she
scanned the intersection for familiar figures. Dockson was right: Elend was
nowhere to be seen. One of the carts—the one off of which the Inquisitor had
ripped the cage—lay on its side. Horses stomped about, hedged in by the
fighting and the skaa crowds.
"What do you see?" Dox called up.
"Renoux is down!" Vin said, squinting and burning tin. "Looks like an axe
in his back."
"That may or may not be fatal for him," Dockson said cryptically. "I don't
know a lot about kandra."
Kandra?
"What about the prisoners?" Dox called.
"They're all free," Vin said. "The cages are empty. Dox, there are a lot of
skaa out there!" It looked like the entire population from the fountain square
had crowded down to the small intersection. The area was in a small
depression, and Vin could see thousands of skaa packing the streets sloping
upward in all directions.
"Ham's free!" Vin said. "I don't see him—alive or dead—anywhere!
Spook's gone too."
"And Kell?" Dockson asked urgently.
Vin paused. "He's still fighting the Inquisitor."
Kelsier flared his pewter, punching the Inquisitor, careful to avoid the flat
disks of metal sticking out the front of its eyes. The creature stumbled, and
Kelsier buried his fist in its stomach. The Inquisitor growled and slapped
Kelsier across the face, throwing him down with one blow.
Kelsier shook his head. What does it take to kill this thing? he thought,
Pushing himself up to his feet, backing away.
The Inquisitor strode forward. Some of the soldiers were trying to search
the crowd for Ham and his men, but many just stood still. A fight between
two powerful Allomancers was something whispered about, but never seen.
Soldier and peasant stood dumbfounded, watching the battle with awe.
He's stronger than I am, Kelsier acknowledged, watching the Inquisitor
warily. But strength isn't everything.
Kelsier reached out, grabbing smaller metal sources and Pulling them away
from their owners—metal caps, fine steel swords, coin pouches, daggers. He
threw them at the Inquisitor—carefully manipulating Steelpushes and
Ironpulls—and kept his atium burning so that each item he controlled would
have a fanning multitude of atium-images in the Inquisitor's eyes.
The Inquisitor cursed quietly as it deflected the swarming bits of metal.
Kelsier, however, just used the Inquisitor's own Pushes against it, Pulling
each item back, whipping them around at the creature. The Inquisitor blasted
outward, Pushing against all the items at once, and Kelsier let them go. As
soon as the Inquisitor stopped Pushing, however, Kelsier Pulled his weapons
back.
The imperial soldiers formed a ring, watching warily. Kelsier used them,
Pushing against breastplates, lurching himself back and forth in the air. The
quick changes in position let him move constantly, disorienting the
Inquisitor, allowing him to Push his different flying pieces of metal where he
wanted them.
"Keep an eye on my belt buckle," Dockson asked, wobbling slightly as he
clung to the bricks beside Vin. "If I fall off, give me a Pull to slow the fall,
eh?"
Vin nodded, but she wasn't paying much attention to Dox. She was
watching Kelsier. "He's incredible!"
Kelsier lurched back and forth in the air, his feet never touching the
ground. Bits of metal buzzed around him, responding to his Pushes and Pulls.
He controlled them with such skill, one would have thought they were living
things. The Inquisitor slapped them away with a fury, but was obviously
having trouble keeping track of them all.
I underestimated Kelsier, Vin thought. I assumed that he was less skilled
than the Mistings because he'd spread himself too thin. But that wasn't it at
all. This. This is his specialty—Pushing and Pulling with expert control.
And iron and steel are the metals he personally trained me in. Maybe he
understood all along.
Kelsier spun and flew amid a maelstrom of metal. Every time something hit
the ground, he flicked it back up. The items always flew in straight lines, but
he kept moving, Pushing himself around, keeping them in the air,
periodically shooting them at the Inquisitor.
The creature spun, confused. It tried to Push itself upward, but Kelsier shot
several larger pieces of metal over the creature's head, and it had to Push
against them, throwing off its jump.
An iron bar hit the Inquisitor in the face.
The creature stumbled, blood marring the tattoos on the side of its face. A
steel helmet struck it in the side, tossing it backward.
Kelsier began to shoot pieces of metal quickly, feeling his rage and anger
mount. "Were you the one who killed Marsh?" he yelled, not bothering to
listen for an answer. "Were you there when I was condemned, years ago?"
The Inquisitor raised a warding hand, Pushing away the next swarm of
metals. It limped backward, putting its back against the overturned wooden
cart.
Kelsier heard the creature growl, and a sudden Push of strength washed
through the crowd, toppling soldiers, causing Kelsier's metal weapons to
shoot away.
Kelsier let them go. He dashed forward, rushing the disoriented Inquisitor,
scooping up a loose cobblestone.
The creature turned toward him, and Kelsier yelled, swinging the
cobblestone, his strength fueled almost more by rage than by pewter.
He hit the Inquisitor square in the eyes. The creature's head snapped back,
smacking against the bottom of the overturned cart. Kelsier struck again,
yelling, repeatedly smashing his cobblestone into the creature's face.
The Inquisitor howled in pain, reaching clawlike hands for Kelsier, moving
as if to jump forward. Then it suddenly jerked to a stop, its head stuck against
the cart's wood. The spike tips that jutted from the back of its skull had been
pounded into the wood by Kelsier's attack.
Kelsier smiled as the creature screamed in rage, struggling to pull its head
free from the wood. Kelsier turned to the side, seeking an item he had seen on
the ground a few moments before. He kicked over a corpse, snatching the
obsidian axe off the ground, its rough-chipped blade glittering in the red
sunlight.
"I'm glad you talked me into this," he said quietly. Then he swung with a
two-handed blow, slamming the axehead through the Inquisitor's neck and
into the wood behind.
The Inquisitor's body slumped to the cobblestones. The head remained
where it was, staring out with its eerie, tattooed, unnatural gaze—pinned to
the wood by its own spikes.
Kelsier turned to face the crowd, suddenly feeling incredibly wearied. His
body ached from dozens of bruises and cuts, and he didn't even know when
his cloak had ripped free. He faced the soldiers defiantly, however, his
scarred arms plainly visible.
"The Survivor of Hathsin!" one whispered.
"He killed an Inquisitor. . . ." said another.
And then the chanting began. The skaa in the surrounding streets began to
scream his name. The soldiers looked around, realizing with horror that they
were surrounded. The peasants began to press in, and Kelsier could feel their
anger and hope.
Maybe this doesn't have to go the way I assumed, Kelsier thought
triumphantly. Maybe I don't have—
Then it hit. Like a cloud moving before the sun, like a sudden storm on a
quiet night, like a pair of fingers snuffing a candle. An oppressive hand
stifled the budding skaa emotions. The people cringed, and their cries died
out. The fire Kelsier had built within them was too new.
So close . . . he thought.
Up ahead, a single, black carriage crested the hill and began to move down
from the fountain square.
The Lord Ruler had arrived.
Vin nearly lost her grip as the wave of depression hit her. She flared her
copper, but—as always—she could still slightly feel the Lord Ruler's
oppressive hand.
"Lord Ruler!" Dockson said, though Vin couldn't tell if it was a curse or
an observation. Skaa that had been packed in to view the fight somehow
managed to make room for the dark carriage. It rolled down a corridor of
people toward the corpse-littered square.
Soldiers pulled back, and Kelsier stepped away from the fallen cart,
moving out to face the oncoming carriage.
"What is he doing?" Vin asked, turning toward Dockson, who had propped
himself up on a small outcropping. "Why doesn't he run? This is no
Inquisitor—this isn't something to fight!"
"This is it, Vin," Dockson said, awed. "This is what he's been waiting for.
A chance to face the Lord Ruler—a chance to prove those legends of his."
Vin turned back toward the square. The carriage rolled to a stop.
"But . . ." she said quietly. "The Eleventh Metal. Did he bring it?"
"He must have."
Kelsier always said that the Lord Ruler was his task, Vin thought. He let
the rest of us work on the nobility, the Garrison, and the Ministry. But this . .
. Kelsier always planned to do this himself.
The Lord Ruler stepped from his carriage, and Vin leaned forward, burning
tin. He looked like . . .
A man.
He was dressed in a black and white uniform somewhat like a nobleman's
suit, but far more exaggerated. The coat reached all the way to his feet, and
trailed behind him as he walked. His vest wasn't colored, but a pure black,
though it was accented with brilliant white markings. As Vin had heard, his
fingers glittered with rings, the symbol of his power.
I'm so much stronger than you, the rings proclaimed, that it doesn't matter
if I wear metal.
Handsome, with jet black hair and pale skin, the Lord Ruler was tall, thin,
and confident. And he was young—younger than Vin would have expected,
even younger than Kelsier. He strode across the square, avoiding corpses, his
soldiers pulling back and forcing the skaa away.
Suddenly, a small group of figures burst through the line of soldiers. They
wore the mismatched armor of rebels, and the man leading them looked just a
bit familiar. He was one of Ham's Thugs.
"For my wife!" the Thug said, holding up a spear and charging.
"For Lord Kelsier!" yelled the other four.
Oh no . . . Vin thought.
The Lord Ruler, however, ignored the men. The lead rebel bellowed in
defiance, then rammed his spear through the Lord Ruler's chest.
The Lord Ruler just continued to walk, passing the soldier, spear sticking
all the way through his body.
The rebel paused, then grabbed a spear from one of his friends and drove
this one through the Lord Ruler's back. Again, the Lord Ruler ignored the
men—as if they, and their weapons, were completely beneath his contempt.
The lead rebel stumbled back, then spun as his friends began to scream
under an Inquisitor's axe. He joined them shortly, and the Inquisitor stood
above the corpses for a moment, hacking gleefully.
The Lord Ruler continued forward, two spears sticking—as if unnoticed—
from his body. Kelsier stood waiting. He looked ragged in his ripped skaa
clothing. Yet, he was proud. He didn't bend or bow beneath the weight of the
Lord Ruler's Soothing.
The Lord Ruler stopped a few feet away, one of the spears nearly touching
Kelsier's chest. Black ash fell lightly around the two men, bits of it curling
and blowing in the faint wind. The square fell horribly silent—even the
Inquisitor stopped his gruesome work. Vin leaned forward, clinging
precariously to the rough brickwork.
Do something, Kelsier! Use the metal!
The Lord Ruler glanced at the Inquisitor that Kelsier had killed. "Those are
very hard to replace." His accented voice carried easily to Vin's tin-enhanced
ears.
Even from a distance, she could see Kelsier smile.
"I killed you, once," the Lord Ruler said, turning back to Kelsier.
"You tried," Kelsier replied, his voice loud and firm, carrying across the
square. "But you can't kill me, Lord Tyrant. I represent that thing you've
never been able to kill, no matter how hard you try. I am hope."
The Lord Ruler snorted in disdain. He raised a casual arm, then
backhanded Kelsier with a blow so powerful that Vin could hear the crack
resound through the square.
Kelsier lurched and spun, spraying blood as he fell.
"NO!" Vin screamed.
The Lord Ruler ripped one of the spears from his own body, then slammed
it down through Kelsier's chest. "Let the executions begin," he said, turning
toward his carriage and ripping out the second spear, then tossing it aside.
Chaos followed. Prompted by the Inquisitor, the soldiers turned and
attacked the crowd. Other Inquisitors appeared from the square above, riding
black horses, ebony axes glistening in the afternoon light.
Vin ignored it all. "Kelsier!" she screamed. His body lay where it had
fallen, spear jutting from his chest, scarlet blood pooling around him.
No. No. NO! She jumped from the building, Pushing against some people
and throwing herself over the massacre. She landed in the center of the oddly
empty square—Lord Ruler gone, Inquisitors busy killing skaa. She scrambled
to Kelsier's side.
There was almost nothing remaining of the left side of his face. The right
side, however . . . it still smiled faintly, single dead eye staring up into the
red-black sky. Bits of ash fell lightly on his face.
"Kelsier, no . . ." Vin said, tears streaming down her face. She prodded his
body, feeling for a pulse. There was none.
"You said you couldn't be killed!" she cried. "What of your plans? What
of the Eleventh Metal? What of me?"
He didn't move. Vin had trouble seeing through the tears. It's impossible.
He always said we aren't invincible . . . but that meant me. Not him. Not
Kelsier. He was invincible.
He should have been.
Someone grabbed her and she squirmed, crying out.
"Time to go, kid," Ham said. He paused, looking at Kelsier, assuring for
himself that the crewleader was dead.
Then he towed her away. Vin continued to struggle weakly, but she was
growing numb. In the back of her mind, she heard Reen's voice.
See. I told you he would leave you. I warned you. I promised you. . . .
THE END OF PART FOUR
PART FIVE
BELIEVERS IN A
FORGOTTEN WORLD
I know what will happen if I make the wrong choice. I must be strong; I must not take the power
for myself.
For I have seen what will happen if I do.
35
TO WORK WITH ME, KELSIER had said, I only ask that you promise one thing—to
trust me.
Vin hung in the mist, immobile. It flowed around her like a quiet stream.
Above, ahead, to the sides, and beneath. Mist all around her.
Trust me, Vin, he'd said. You trusted me enough to jump off the wall, and I
caught you. You're going to have to trust me this time too.
I'll catch you.
I'll catch you. . . .
It was as if she were nowhere. Among, and of, the mist. How she envied it.
It didn't think. Didn't worry.
Didn't hurt.
I trusted you, Kelsier, she thought. I actually did—but you let me fall. You
promised that your crews had no betrayals. What of this? What of your
betrayal?
She hung, her tin extinguished to let her better see the mists. They were
slightly wet, cool upon her skin. Like the tears of a dead man.
Why does it matter, anymore? she thought, staring upward. Why does
anything matter? What was it you said to me, Kelsier? That I never really
understood? That I still needed to learn about friendship? What about you?
You didn't even fight him.
He stood there again, in her mind. The Lord Ruler struck him down with a
disdainful blow. The Survivor had died like any other man.
Is this why you were so hesitant to promise that you wouldn't abandon me?
She wished she could just . . . go. Float away. Become mist. She'd once
wished for freedom—and then had assumed she'd found it. She'd been
wrong. This wasn't freedom, this grief, this hole within her.
It was the same as before, when Reen had abandoned her. What was the
difference? At least Reen had been honest. He'd always promised that he
would leave. Kelsier had led her along, telling her to trust and to love, but
Reen had always been the truthful one.
"I don't want to do this anymore," she whispered to the mists. "Can't you
just take me?"
The mists gave no answer. They continued to spin playfully, uncaring.
Always changing—yet somehow, always the same.
"Mistress?" called an uncertain voice from below. "Mistress, is that you up
there?"
Vin sighed, burning tin, then extinguishing steel and letting herself drop.
Her mistcloak fluttered as she fell through the mists; she landed quietly on
the rooftop above their safe house. Sazed stood a short distance away, beside
the steel ladder that the lookouts had been using to get atop the building.
"Yes, Saze?" she asked tiredly, reaching out to Pull up the three coins
she'd been using as anchors to stabilize her like the legs of a tripod. One of
them was twisted and bent—the same coin she and Kelsier had gotten into a
Pushing match over so many months ago.
"I'm sorry, Mistress," Sazed said. "I simply wondered where you had
gone."
She shrugged.
"It is a strangely quiet night, I think," Sazed said.
"A mournful night." Hundreds of skaa had been massacred following
Kelsier's death, and hundreds more had been trampled during the rush to
escape.
"I wonder if his death even meant anything," she said quietly. "We
probably saved a lot fewer than were killed."
"Slain by evil men, Mistress."
"Ham often asks if there even is such a thing as 'evil.' "
"Master Hammond likes to ask questions," Sazed said, "but even he
doesn't question the answers. There are evil men . . . just as there are good
men."
Vin shook her head. "I was wrong about Kelsier. He wasn't a good man—
he was just a liar. He never had a plan for defeating the Lord Ruler."
"Perhaps," Sazed said. "Or, perhaps he never had an opportunity to fulfill
that plan. Perhaps we just don't understand the plan."
"You sound like you still believe in him." Vin turned and walked to the
edge of the flat-topped roof, staring out over the quiet, shadowy city.
"I do, Mistress," Sazed said.
"How? How can you?"
Sazed shook his head, walking over to stand beside her. "Belief isn't
simply a thing for fair times and bright days, I think. What is belief—what is
faith—if you don't continue in it after failure?"
Vin frowned.
"Anyone can believe in someone, or something, that always succeeds,
Mistress. But failure . . . ah, now, that is hard to believe in, certainly and
truly. Difficult enough to have value, I think."
Vin shook her head. "Kelsier doesn't deserve it."
"You don't mean that, Mistress," Sazed said calmly. "You're angry
because of what happened. You hurt."
"Oh, I mean it," Vin said, feeling a tear on her cheek. "He doesn't deserve
our belief. He never did."
"The skaa think differently—their legends about him are growing quickly.
I shall have to return here soon and collect them."
Vin frowned. "You would gather stories about Kelsier?"
"Of course," Sazed said. "I collect all religions."
Vin snorted. "This is no religion we're talking about, Sazed. This is
Kelsier."
"I disagree. He is certainly a religious figure to the skaa."
"But, we knew him," Vin said. "He was no prophet or god. He was just a
man."
"So many of them are, I think," Sazed said quietly.
Vin just shook her head. They stood there for a moment, watching the
night. "What of the others?" she finally asked.
"They are discussing what to do next," Sazed said. "I believe it has been
decided that they will leave Luthadel separately and seek refuge in other
towns."
"And . . . you?"
"I must travel north—to my homeland, to the place of the Keepers—so that
I can share the knowledge that I possess. I must tell my brethren and sisters
of the logbook—especially the words regarding our ancestor, the man named
Rashek. There is much to learn in this story, I think."
He paused, then glanced at her. "This is not a journey I can take with
another, Mistress. The places of the Keepers must remain secret, even from
you."
Of course, Vin thought. Of course he'd go too.
"I will return," he promised.
Sure you will. Just like all of the others have.
The crew had made her feel needed for a time, but she'd always known it
would end. It was time to go back to the streets. Time to be alone again.
"Mistress . . ." Sazed said slowly. "Do you hear that?"
She shrugged. But . . . there was something. Voices. Vin frowned, walking
to the other side of the building. They grew louder, becoming easily distinct
even without tin. She peered over the side of the rooftop.
A group of skaa men, perhaps ten in number, stood in the street below. A
thieving crew? Vin wondered as Sazed joined her. The group's numbers were
swelling as more skaa timidly left their dwellings.
"Come," said a skaa man who stood at the front of the group. "Fear not the
mist! Didn't the Survivor name himself Lord of the Mists? Did he not say
that we have nothing to fear from them? Indeed, they will protect us, give us
safety. Give us power, even!"
As more and more skaa left their homes without obvious repercussion, the
group began to swell even further.
"Go get the others," Vin said.
"Good idea," Sazed said, moving quickly to the ladder.
"Your friends, your children, your fathers, your mothers, wives, and
lovers," the skaa man said, lighting a lantern and holding it up. "They lie
dead in the street not a half hour from here. The Lord Ruler doesn't even
have the decency to clean up his slaughter!"
The crowd began to mutter in agreement.
"Even when the cleaning occurs," the man said, "will it be the Lord
Ruler's hands that dig the graves? No! It will be our hands. Lord Kelsier
spoke of this."
"Lord Kelsier!" several men agreed. The group was getting large now,
being joined by women and youths.
Clanking on the ladder announced Ham's arrival. He was joined shortly by
Sazed, then Breeze, Dockson, Spook, and even Clubs.
"Lord Kelsier!" proclaimed the man below. Others lit torches, brightening
the mists. "Lord Kelsier fought for us today! He slew an immortal
Inquisitor!"
The crowd grumbled in assent.
"But then he died!" someone yelled.
Silence.
"And what did we do to help him?" the leader asked. "Many of us were
there—thousands of us. Did we help? No! We waited and watched, even as
he fought for us. We stood dumbly and let him fall. We watched him die!
"Or did we? What did the Survivor say—that the Lord Ruler could never
really kill him? Kelsier is the Lord of the Mists! Is he not with us now?"
Vin turned to the others. Ham was watching carefully, but Breeze just
shrugged. "The man's obviously insane. A religious nut."
"I tell you, friends!" screamed the man below. The crowd was still
growing, more and more torches being lit. "I tell you the truth! Lord Kelsier
appeared to me this very night! He said that he would always be with us. Will
we let him down again?"
"No!" came the reply.
Breeze shook his head. "I didn't think they had it in them. Too bad it's
such a small—"
"What's that?" Dox asked.
Vin turned, frowning. There was a pocket of light in the distance. Like . . .
torches, lit in the mists. Another one appeared to the east, near a skaa slum. A
third appeared. Then a fourth. In a matter of moments, it seemed like the
entire city was glowing.
"You insane genius . . ." Dockson whispered.
"What?" Clubs asked, frowning.
"We missed it," Dox said. "The atium, the army, the nobility . . . that
wasn't the job Kelsier was planning. This was his job! Our crew was never
supposed to topple the Final Empire—we were too small. An entire city's
population, however . . ."
"You're saying he did this on purpose?" Breeze asked.
"He always asked me the same question," Sazed said from behind. "He
always asked what gave religions so much power. Each time, I answered him
the same. . . ." Sazed looked at them, cocking his head. "I told him that it was
because their believers had something they felt passionate about. Something .
. . or someone."
"But, why not tell us?" Breeze asked.
"Because he knew," Dox said quietly. "He knew something we would
never agree to. He knew that he would have to die."
Breeze shook his head. "I don't buy it. Why even bother with us, then? He
could have done this on his own."
Why even bother . . . "Dox," Vin said, turning. "Where's that warehouse
Kelsier rented, the one where he held his informant meetings?"
Dockson paused. "Not far away, actually. Two streets down. He said he
wanted it to be near the bolt-lair. . . ."
"Show me!" Vin said, scrambling over the side of the building. The
gathered skaa continued to yell, each cry louder than the one before. The
entire street blazed with light, flickering torches turning the mist into a
brilliant haze.
Dockson led her down the street, the rest of the crew trailing behind. The
warehouse was a large, run-down structure squatting disconsolately in the
slum's industrial section. Vin walked up to it, then flared pewter and smashed
off the lock.
The door slowly swung open. Dockson held up a lantern, and its light
revealed sparkling piles of metal. Weapons. Swords, axes, staves, and
helmets glittered in the light—an incredible silvery hoard.
The crew stared at the room in wonder.
"This is the reason," Vin said quietly. "He needed the Renoux front to buy
weapons in such numbers. He knew his rebellion would need these if they
were going to succeed in taking the city."
"Why gather an army, then?" Ham said. "Was it just a front too?"
"I guess," Vin said.
"Wrong," a voice said, echoing through the cavernous warehouse. "There
was so much more to it than that."
The crew jumped, and Vin flared her metals . . . until she recognized the
voice. "Renoux?"
Dockson held his lantern higher. "Show yourself, creature."
A figure moved in the far back of the warehouse, staying to shadow.
However, when it spoke, its voice was unmistakable. "He needed the army to
provide a core of trained men for the rebellion. That part of his plan was . . .
hampered by events. That was only one bit of why he needed you, however.
The noble houses needed to fall to leave a void in the political structure. The
Garrison needed to leave the town so that the skaa wouldn't be slaughtered."
"He planned this all from the start," Ham said with wonder. "Kelsier knew
that the skaa wouldn't rise up. They'd been beaten down for so long, trained
to think that the Lord Ruler owned both their bodies and their souls. He
understood that they would never rebel . . . not unless he gave them a new
god."
"Yes," Renoux said, stepping forward. The light glittered off his face, and
Vin gasped in surprise.
"Kelsier!" she screamed.
Ham grabbed her shoulder. "Careful, child. It's not him."
The creature looked at her. It wore Kelsier's face, but the eyes . . . they
were different. The face didn't bear Kelsier's characteristic smile. It seemed
hollow. Dead.
"I apologize," it said. "This was to be my part in the plan, and is the reason
Kelsier originally contracted with me. I was to take his bones once he was
dead, then appear to his followers to give them faith and strength."
"What are you?" Vin asked with horror.
Renoux-Kelsier looked at her, and then his face shimmered, becoming
transparent. She could see his bones through the gelatinous skin. It reminded
her of . . .
"A mistwraith."
"A kandra," the creature said, its skin losing its transparency. "A
mistwraith that has . . . grown up, you might say."
Vin turned away in revulsion, remembering the creatures she had seen in
the mist. Scavengers, Kelsier had said . . . creatures that digested the bodies
of the dead, stealing their skeletons and images. The legends are even more
true than I thought.
"You were part of this plan too," the kandra said. "All of you. You ask
why he needed a crew? He needed men of virtue, men who could learn to
worry more for the people than for coin. He put you before armies and
crowds, letting you practice leadership. He was using you . . . but he was also
training you."
The creature looked to Dockson, Breeze, then Ham. "Bureaucrat,
politician, general. For a new nation to be born, it will need men of your
individual talents." The kandra nodded to a large sheet of paper affixed to a
table a short distance away. "That is for you to follow. I have other business
to be about."
It turned as if to leave, then paused beside Vin, turning toward her with its
disturbingly Kelsier-like face. Yet, the creature itself wasn't like Renoux or
Kelsier. It seemed passionless.
The kandra held up a small pouch. "He asked me to give you this." It
dropped the pouch into her hand, then continued on, the crew giving it a wide
berth as it left the warehouse.
Breeze started toward the table first, but Ham and Dockson beat him to it.
Vin looked down at the bag. She was . . . afraid to see what it contained. She
hurried forward, joining the crew.
The sheet was a map of the city, apparently copied from the one Marsh had