The Mistborn Trilogy (88 page)

Vin caught of one of the bronze statues at the center of the fountain itself and pulled herself to a stop atop it. She crouched on the uneven footing, looking down at her opponent. He stood balanced on one foot at the edge of the fountain, quiet and black in the churning mists. There was a…challenge in his posture.

Can you catch me?
he seemed to ask.

Vin whipped her daggers out and jumped free of the statue. She Pushed herself directly toward the Watcher, using the cool bronze as an anchor.

The Watcher used the statue as well, Pulling himself forward. He shot just beneath Vin, throwing up a wave of water, his incredible speed letting him skid like a stone across the fountain’s still surface. As he jumped clear of the water, he Pushed himself away, shooting across the square.

Vin landed on the fountain lip, chill water spraying across her. She growled, jumping after the Watcher.

As he landed, he spun and whipped out his own daggers. She rolled beneath his first attack, then brought her daggers up in a two-handed double jab. The Watcher jumped quickly out of the way, his daggers sparkling and dropping beads of fountain water. He had a lithe power about him as he came to rest in a crouch. His body looked tense and sure. Capable.

Vin smiled again, breathing quickly. She hadn’t felt like this since…since those nights so long ago, when she’d sparred with Kelsier. She remained in a crouch, waiting, watching the mist curl between her and her opponent. He was of medium height, had a wiry build, and he wore no mistcloak.

Why no cloak?
Mistcloaks were the ubiquitous mark of her kind, a symbol of pride and security.

She was too far away to distinguish his face. She thought she saw a hint of a smile, however, as he jumped backward and Pushed against another statue. The chase began again.

Vin followed him through the city, flaring steel, landing on roofs and streets, Pushing herself in great arcing leaps. The two bounded through Luthadel like children on a playground—Vin trying to cut off her opponent, he cleverly managing to stay just a little bit ahead of her.

He was good. Far better than any Mistborn she had known or faced, save perhaps for Kelsier. However, she’d grown greatly in skill since she’d sparred with the Survivor. Could this newcomer be even better? The thought thrilled her. She’d always considered Kelsier a paradigm of Allomantic ability, and it was easy to forget that he’d had his powers for only a couple of years before the Collapse.

That’s the same amount of time that I’ve been training,
Vin realized as she landed in a small, cramped street. She frowned, crouching, remaining still. She’d seen the Watcher fall toward this street.

Narrow and poorly maintained, the street was practically an alleyway, lined on both sides by three- and four-story buildings. There was no motion—either the Watcher had slipped away or he was hiding nearby. She burned iron, but the iron-lines revealed no motion.

However, there was another way….

Vin pretended to still be looking around, but she turned on her bronze, flaring it, trying to pierce the coppercloud that she thought might be close.

And there he was. Hiding in a room behind the mostly closed shutters of a derelict building. Now that she knew where to look, she saw the bit of metal he’d probably used to jump up to the second story, the latch he must have Pulled on to quickly close the shutters behind him. He’d probably scouted this street beforehand, always intending to lose her here.

Clever,
Vin thought.

He couldn’t have anticipated her ability to pierce copperclouds. But, attacking him now might give away that ability. Vin stood quietly, thinking of him crouching above, tensely waiting for her to move off.

She smiled. Reaching inside, she examined the duralumin reserve. There was a possible way to discover if burning it created some change in the way she looked to another Mistborn. The Watcher was likely burning most of his metals, trying to determine what her next move would be.

So, thinking herself incredibly clever, Vin burned the fourteenth metal.

A massive explosion sounded in her ears. Vin gasped, dropping to her knees in shock. Everything grew bright around her, as if some crack of energy had illuminated the entire street. And she felt cold; frigidly, stunningly cold.

She moaned, trying to make sense of the sound. It…it wasn’t an explosion, but many explosions. A rhythmic thudding, like a drum pounding just beside her. Her heartbeat. And the breeze, loud as a howling wind. The scratchings of a dog searching for food. Someone snoring in their sleep. It was as if her hearing had been magnified a hundred times.

And then…nothing. Vin fell backward against the cobblestones, the sudden rush of light, coldness, and sound evaporating. A form moved in the shadows nearby, but she couldn’t make it out—she couldn’t see in the darkness anymore. Her tin was…

Gone,
she realized, coming to.
My entire store of tin has been burned away. I was…burning it, when I turned on the duralumin.

I burned them both at once. That’s the secret.
The duralumin had burned away all her tin in a single, massive burst. It had made her senses amazingly acute for a very short time, but had stolen away her entire reserve. And, looking, she could see that her bronze and her pewter—the other metals she’d been burning at the time—were gone as well. The onrush of sensory information had been so vast that she hadn’t noticed the effects of the other two.

Think about it later,
Vin told herself, shaking her head. She felt like she should be deafened and blinded, but she wasn’t. She was just a bit stunned.

The dark form moved up beside her in the mists. She didn’t have time to recover; she pushed herself to her feet, stumbling. The form, it was too short to be the Watcher. It was…

“Mistress, do you require assistance?”

Vin paused as OreSeur padded up to her, then sat on his haunches.

“You…managed to follow,” Vin said.

“It was not easy, Mistress,” OreSeur said flatly. “Do you require assistance?”

“What? No, no assistance.” Vin shook her head, clearing her mind. “I guess that’s one thing I didn’t think of by making you a dog. You can’t carry metals for me now.”

The kandra cocked his head, then padded over into an alleyway. He returned a moment later with something in his mouth. Her belt.

He dropped it by her feet, then returned to his waiting position. Vin picked up the belt, pulling off one of her extra metal vials. “Thank you,” she said slowly. “That is very…thoughtful of you.”

“I fulfill my Contract, Mistress,” the kandra said. “Nothing more.”

Well, this is more than you’ve ever done before,
she thought, downing a vial and feeling her reserves return. She burned tin, restoring her night vision, releasing a veil of tension from her mind; since she’d discovered her powers, she’d never had to go out at night in complete darkness.

The shutters of the Watcher’s room were open; he had apparently fled during her fit. Vin sighed.

“Mistress!” OreSeur snapped.

Vin spun. A man landed quietly behind her. He looked…familiar, for some reason. He had a lean face—topped with dark hair—and his head was cocked slightly in confusion. She could see the question in his eyes. Why had she fallen down?

Vin smiled. “Maybe I just did it to lure you closer,” she whispered—softly, yet loud enough that she knew tin-enhanced ears would hear her.

The Mistborn smiled, then tipped his head to her as if in respect.

“Who are you?” Vin asked, stepping forward.

“An enemy,” he replied, holding up a hand to ward her back.

Vin paused. Mist swirled between them on the quiet street. “Why, then, did you help me fight those assassins?”

“Because,” he said. “I’m also insane.”

Vin frowned, eyeing the man. She had seen insanity before in the eyes of beggars. This man was not insane. He stood proudly, eyes controlled as he regarded her in the darkness.

What kind of game is he playing?
she wondered.

Her instincts—a lifetime’s worth of instincts—warned her to be wary. She had only just learned to trust her friends, and she wasn’t about to offer the same privilege to a man she had met in the night.

And yet, it had been over a year since she’d spoken with another Mistborn. There were conflicts within her that she couldn’t explain to the others. Even Mistings, like Ham and Breeze, couldn’t understand the strange dual life of a Mistborn. Part assassin, part bodyguard, part noblewoman…part confused, quiet girl. Did this man have similar troubles with his identity?

Perhaps she could make an ally out of him, bringing a second Mistborn to the defense of the Central Dominance. Even if she couldn’t, she certainly couldn’t afford to fight him. A spar in the night was one thing, but if their contest grew dangerous, atium might come into play.

If that happened, she’d lose.

The Watcher studied her with a careful eye. “Answer something for me,” he said in the mists.

Vin nodded.

“Did you really kill Him?”

“Yes,” Vin whispered. There was only one person he could mean.

He nodded slowly. “Why do you play their games?”

“Whose games?”

The Watcher gestured into the mists, toward Keep Venture.

“Those aren’t games,” Vin said. “It’s no game when the people I love are in danger.”

The Watcher stood quietly, then shook his head, as if…disappointed. Then, he pulled something from his sash.

Vin jumped back immediately. The Watcher, however, simply flipped a coin to the ground between them. It bounced a couple of times, coming to a rest on the cobbles. Then, the Watcher Pushed himself backward into the air.

Vin didn’t follow. She reached up, rubbing her head; she still felt like she should have a headache.

“You’re letting him go?” OreSeur asked.

Vin nodded. “We’re done for tonight. He fought well.”

“You sound almost respectful,” the kandra said.

Vin turned, frowning at the hint of disgust in the kandra’s voice. OreSeur sat patiently, displaying no further emotion.

She sighed, tying her belt around her waist. “We’re going to need to come up with a harness or something for you,” she said. “I want you to carry extra metal vials for me, like you did as a human.”

“A harness won’t be necessary, Mistress,” OreSeur said.

“Oh?”

OreSeur rose, padding forward. “Please get out one of your vials.”

Vin did as requested, pulling out a small glass vial. OreSeur stopped, then turned one shoulder toward her. As she watched, the fur parted and the flesh itself split, showing forth veins and layers of skin. Vin pulled back a bit.

“There is no need to be worried, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “My flesh is not like your own. I have more…control over it, you might say. Place the metal vial inside my shoulder.”

Vin did as asked. The flesh sealed around the vial, obscuring it from view. Experimentally, Vin burned iron. No blue lines appeared pointing toward the hidden vial. Metal inside of a person’s stomach couldn’t be affected by another Allomancer; indeed, metal piercing a body, like Inquisitor spikes or Vin’s own earring, couldn’t be Pushed or Pulled by someone else. Apparently, the same rule applied to metals hidden within a kandra.

“I will deliver this to you in an emergency,” OreSeur said.

“Thank you,” Vin said.

“The Contract, Mistress. Do not give me thanks. I do only what I am required.”

Vin nodded slowly. “Let’s go back to the palace, then,” she said. “I want to check on Elend.”

Marsh had changed. There was something…harder about the former Seeker. Something in the way he always seemed to be staring at things Sazed couldn’t see, something in his blunt responses and terse language.

Of course, Marsh had always been a straightforward man. Sazed eyed his friend as the two strode down the dusty highway. They had no horses; even if Sazed had possessed one, most beasts wouldn’t go near an Inquisitor.

What did Spook say that Marsh’s nickname was?
Sazed thought to himself as they walked.
Before his transformation, they used to call him…Ironeyes.
The name that had turned out to be chillingly prophetic. Most of the others found Marsh’s transformed state discomforting, and had left him isolated. Though Marsh hadn’t seemed to mind the treatment, Sazed had made a special effort to befriend the man.

He still didn’t know if Marsh appreciated the gesture or not. They did seem to get along well; both shared an interest in scholarship and history, and both were interested in the religious climate of the Final Empire.

And, he did come looking for me,
Sazed thought.
Of course, he did claim that he wanted help in case the Inquisitors weren’t all gone from the Conventical of Seran.
It was a weak excuse. Despite his powers as a Feruchemist, Sazed was no warrior.

“You should be in Luthadel,” Marsh said.

Sazed looked up. Marsh had spoken bluntly, as usual, without preamble. “Why do you say that?” Sazed asked.

“They need you there.”

“The rest of the Final Empire has need of me too, Marsh. I am a Keeper—one group of people should not be able to monopolize all of my time.”

Marsh shook his head. “These peasants, they will forget your passing. No one will forget the things that will soon happen in the Central Dominance.”

“You would be surprised, I think, at what men can forget. Wars and kingdoms may seem important now, but even the Final Empire proved mortal. Now that it has fallen, the Keepers have no business being involved in politics.”
Most would say we never had any business being involved in politics at all.

Marsh turned toward him. Those eyes, sockets filled entirely with steel. Sazed did not shiver, but he felt distinctly uncomfortable.

“And your friends?” Marsh asked.

This touched on something more personal. Sazed looked away, thinking of Vin, and of his vow to Kelsier that he would protect her.
She needs little protection now,
he thought.
She’s grown more adept at Allomancy than even Kelsier was.
And yet, Sazed knew that there were modes of protection that didn’t relate to fighting. These things—support, counsel, kindness—were vital to every person, and most especially to Vin. So much rested on that poor girl’s shoulders.

“I have…sent help,” Sazed said. “What help I can.”

“Not good enough,” Marsh said. “The things happening in Luthadel are too important to ignore.”

“I am not ignoring them, Marsh,” Sazed said. “I am simply performing my duty as best I can.”

Marsh finally turned away. “The wrong duty. You will return to Luthadel once we are finished here.”

Sazed opened his mouth to argue, but said nothing. What was there to say? Marsh was right. Though he had no proof, Sazed knew that there
were
important things happening in Luthadel—things that would require his aid to fight. Things that likely affected the future of the entire land once known as the Final Empire.

So, he closed his mouth and trudged after Marsh. He would return to Luthadel, proving himself a rebel once again. Perhaps, in the end, he would realize that there was no ghostly threat facing the world—that he had simply returned because of his own selfish desire to be with his friends.

In fact, he hoped that proved to be the truth. The alternative made him very uncomfortable.