فصل 25

25

Vin was a very light sleeper—a heritage from her youth. Thieving crews worked together out of necessity, and any man who couldn’t guard his own possessions was considered to be unworthy of them. Vin, of course, had been at the very bottom of the hierarchy—and while she hadn’t had many possessions to protect, being a young girl in a primarily male environment gave her other reasons to be a light sleeper.

So it was that when she awoke to a quiet bark of warning, she reacted without thinking. She tossed off her covers, reaching immediately for the vial on her bedstand. She didn’t sleep with metals inside of her; many of the Allomantic metals were, to some small extent, poisonous. It was unavoidable that she’d have to deal with some of that danger, but she had been warned to burn away excess metals at the end of each day.

She downed this vial even as she reached for the obsidian daggers hidden beneath her pillow. The door to her sleeping chamber swung open, and Tindwyl walked in. The Terriswoman froze in midstep as she saw Vin crouching on the bed’s footboard a few feet away, twin daggers glistening, body tense.

Tindwyl raised an eyebrow. “So you are awake.”

“Now.”

The Terriswoman smiled.

“What are you doing in my rooms?” Vin demanded.

“I came to wake you. I thought we might go shopping.”

“Shopping?”

“Yes, dear,” Tindwyl said, walking over to pull open the curtains. It was far earlier in the day than Vin usually rose. “From what I hear, you’re going to meet with His Majesty’s father on the morrow. You’ll want a suitable dress for the occasion, I assume?” “I don’t wear dresses anymore.” What is your game?

Tindwyl turned, eyeing Vin. “You sleep in your clothing?” Vin nodded.

“You don’t keep any ladies-in-waiting?”

Vin shook her head.

“Very well, then,” Tindwyl said, turning to walk from the room. “Bathe and change. We’ll leave when you’re ready.” “I don’t take commands from you.”

Tindwyl paused by the door, turning. Then her face softened. “I know you don’t, child. You may come with me if you wish—the choice is yours. However, do you really want to meet with Straff Venture in trousers and a shirt?” Vin hesitated.

“At least come browse,” Tindwyl said. “It will help take your mind off things.” Finally, Vin nodded. Tindwyl smiled again, then left.

Vin glanced at OreSeur, who sat beside her bed. “Thanks for the warning.” The kandra shrugged.

Once, Vin wouldn’t have been able to imagine living in a place like Keep Venture. The young Vin had been accustomed to hidden lairs, skaa hovels, and the occasional alley. Now she lived in a building bespeckled with stained glass, bounded by mighty walls and grand archways.

Of course, Vin thought as she left the stairwell, many things have happened that I didn’t expect. Why think about them now?

Her youth in the thieving crews had been much on her mind of late, and Zane’s comments—ridiculous though they were—itched in her mind. Did Vin belong in a place like this keep? She had a great many skills, but few of them were beautiful hallway kinds of skills. They were more…ash-stained alleyway kinds of skills.

She sighed, OreSeur at her side as she made her way to the southern entryway, where Tindwyl said she’d be waiting. The hallway here grew wide and grand, and opened directly into the courtyard. Usually, coaches came right up into the entryway to pick up their occupants—that way the noblemen wouldn’t be exposed to the elements.

As she approached, her tin let her hear voices. One was Tindwyl, the other… “I didn’t bring much,” Allrianne said. “A couple hundred boxings. But I do so need something to wear. I can’t survive on borrowed gowns forever!” Vin paused as she turned into the last part of the hallway.

“The king’s gift will surely be enough to pay for a dress, dear,” Tindwyl said, noticing Vin. “Ah, here she is.” A sullen-looking Spook stood with the two women. He had on his palace guard’s uniform, though he wore the jacket undone and the trousers loose. Vin walked forward slowly. “I wasn’t expecting company,” she said.

“Young Allrianne was trained as a courtly noblewoman,” Tindwyl said. “She will know the current fashions, and will be able to advise on your purchases.” “And Spook?”

Tindwyl turned, eyeing the boy. “Packman.”

Well, that explains his mood, Vin thought.

“Come,” Tindwyl said, walking toward the courtyard. Allrianne followed quickly, walking with a light, graceful step. Vin glanced at Spook, who shrugged, and they followed as well.

“How did you get pulled into this?” Vin whispered to Spook.

“Was up too early, sneaking food,” Spook grumbled. “Miss Imposing there noticed me, smiled like a wolfhound, and said, ‘We’ll be needing your services this afternoon, young man.’” Vin nodded. “Stay alert and keep your tin burning. Remember, we’re at war.” Spook obediently did what she said. Standing close to him as she was, Vin easily picked up and identified his tin’s Allomantic pulses—meaning he wasn’t the spy.

Another one off the list, Vin thought. At least this trip won’t be a total waste.

A coach waited for them by the front keep gates. Spook climbed up beside the coachman, and the women piled into the back. Vin sat down inside, and OreSeur climbed in and took the seat next to her. Allrianne and Tindwyl sat across from her, and Allrianne eyed OreSeur with a frown, wrinkling her nose. “Does the animal have to sit on the seats with us?” “Yes,” Vin said as the carriage started moving.

Allrianne obviously expected more of an explanation, but Vin didn’t give one. Finally, Allrianne turned to look out the window. “Are you sure we’ll be safe, traveling with only one manservant, Tindwyl?” Tindwyl eyed Vin. “Oh, I think that we’ll be all right.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Allrianne said, looking back at Vin. “You’re an Allomancer! Are the things they say true?” “What things?” Vin asked quietly.

“Well, they say you killed the Lord Ruler, for one. And that you’re kind of…um…well.” Allrianne bit her lip. “Well, just a little bit rickety.” “Rickety?”

“And dangerous,” Allrianne said. “But, well, that can’t be true. I mean, you’re going shopping with us, right?” Is she trying to provoke me on purpose?

“Do you always wear clothing like that?” Allrianne asked.

Vin was in her standard gray trousers and tan shirt. “It’s easy to fight in.” “Yes, but…well.” Allrianne smiled. “I guess that’s why we’re here today, right, Tindwyl?” “Yes, dear,” Tindwyl said. She’d been studying Vin through the entire conversation.

Like what you see? Vin thought. What is it you want?

“You have to be the strangest noblewoman I’ve ever met,” Allrianne declared. “Did you grow up far from court? I did, but my mother was quite certain to train me well. Of course, she was just trying to make me into a good catch so Father could auction me off to make an alliance.” Allrianne smiled. It had been a while since Vin had been forced to deal with women like her. She remembered hours spent at court, smiling, pretending to be Valette Renoux. Often when she thought of those days, she remembered the bad things. The spite she’d faced from court members, her own lack of comfort in the role.

But, there had also been good things. Elend was one. She would never have met him if she hadn’t been pretending to be a noblewoman. And the balls—with their colors, their music, and their gowns—had held a certain transfixing charm. The graceful dancing, the careful interactions, the perfectly decorated rooms… Those things are gone now, she told herself. We don’t have time for silly balls and gatherings, not when the dominance is on the verge of collapse.

Tindwyl was still watching her.

“Well?” Allrianne asked.

“What?” Vin asked.

“Did you grow up far from court?”

“I’m not noble, Allrianne. I’m skaa.”

Allrianne paled, then flushed, then raised her fingers to her lips. “Oh! You poor thing!” Vin’s augmented ears heard something beside her—a light chuckling from OreSeur, soft enough that only an Allomancer could have heard him.

She resisted the urge to shoot the kandra a flat look. “It wasn’t so bad,” she said.

“But, well, no wonder you don’t know how to dress!” Allrianne said.

“I know how to dress,” Vin said. “I even own a few gowns.” Not that I’ve put one on in months….

Allrianne nodded, though she obviously didn’t believe Vin’s comment. “Breezy is skaa, too,” she said quietly. “Or, half skaa. He told me. Good thing he didn’t tell Father—Father never has been very nice to skaa.” Vin didn’t reply.

Eventually, they reached Kenton Street, and the crowds made the carriage a liability. Vin climbed out first, OreSeur hopping down to the cobblestones beside her. The market street was busy, though not as packed as it had been the last time she’d visited. Vin glanced over the prices at some nearby shops as the others exited the coach.

Five boxings for a bin of aging apples, Vin thought with dissatisfaction. Food is already going at a premium. Elend had stores, fortunately. But how long would they last before the siege? Not through the approaching winter, certainly—not with so much of the dominance’s grain still unharvested in the outer plantations.

Time may be our friend now, Vin thought, but it will turn on us eventually. They had to get those armies to fight each other. Otherwise, the city’s people might die of starvation before the soldiers even tried to take the walls.

Spook hopped down from the carriage, joining them as Tindwyl surveyed the street. Vin eyed the bustling crowds. The people were obviously trying to go about their daily activities, despite the threat from outside. What else could they do? The siege had already lasted for weeks. Life had to go on.

“There,” Tindwyl said, pointing to a dressmaker’s shop.

Allrianne scampered forward. Tindwyl followed behind, walking with modest decorum. “Eager young thing, isn’t she?” the Terriswoman asked.

Vin shrugged. The blond noblewoman had already gotten Spook’s attention; he was following her with a lively step. Of course, it wasn’t hard to get Spook’s attention. You just had to have breasts and smell nice—and the second was sometimes optional.

Tindwyl smiled. “She probably hasn’t had an opportunity to go shopping since she left with her father’s army weeks ago.” “You sound like you think she went through some awful ordeal,” Vin said. “Just because she couldn’t go shopping.” “She obviously enjoys it,” Tindwyl said. “Surely you can understand being taken from that which you love.” Vin shrugged as they reached the shop. “I have trouble feeling sympathy for a courtly puff who is tragically taken from her dresses.” Tindwyl frowned slightly as they entered the shop, OreSeur settling down to wait outside. “Do not be so hard on the child. She is a product of her upbringing, just as you are. If you judge her worth based on frivolities, then you are doing the same as those who judge you based on your simple clothing.” “I like it when people judge me based on my simple clothing,” Vin said. “Then they don’t expect too much.” “I see,” Tindwyl said. “Then, you haven’t missed this at all?” She nodded toward the shop’s inner room.

Vin paused. The room burst with colors and fabric, lace and velvet, bodices and skirts. Everything was powdered with a light perfume. Standing before the dressing dummies in their brilliant hues, Vin was—for just a moment—again taken back to the balls. Back to when she was Valette. Back to when she had an excuse to be Valette.

“They say you enjoyed noble society,” Tindwyl said lightly, walking forward. Allrianne was already standing near the front of the room, running her fingers across a bolt of fabric, talking to the dressmaker in a firm voice.

“Who told you that?” Vin asked.

Tindwyl turned back. “Why, your friends, dear. It’s quite curious—they say you stopped wearing dresses a few months after the Collapse. They all wonder why. They say you seemed to like dressing like a woman, but I guess they were wrong.” “No,” Vin said quietly. “They were right.”

Tindwyl raised an eyebrow, pausing beside a dressmaker’s dummy in a bright green dress, edged with lace, the bottom flaring wide with several underskirts.

Vin approached, looking up at the gorgeous costume. “I was beginning to like dressing like this. That was the problem.” “I don’t see a problem in that, dear.”

Vin turned away from the gown. “This isn’t me. It never was—it was just an act. When wearing a dress like that, it’s too easy to forget who you really are.” “And these dresses can’t be part of who you really are?”

Vin shook her head. “Dresses and gowns are part of who she is.” She nodded toward Allrianne. “I need to be something else. Something harder.” I shouldn’t have come here.

Tindwyl laid a hand on Vin’s shoulder. “Why haven’t you married him, child?” Vin looked up sharply. “What kind of question is that?”

“An honest one,” Tindwyl said. She seemed far less harsh than she had been the other times Vin had met her. Of course, during those times, she had mostly been addressing Elend.

“That topic is not your concern,” Vin said.

“The king has asked me to help him improve his image,” Tindwyl said. “And I have taken it upon myself to do more than that—I want to make a real king of him, if I can. There is some great potential in him, I think. However, he’s not going to be able to realize it until he’s more sure about certain things in his life. You in particular.” “I…” Vin closed her eyes, remembering his marriage proposal. That night, on the balcony, ash lightly falling in the night. She remembered her terror. She’d known, of course, where the relationship was going. Why had she been so frightened?

That was the day she’d stopped wearing dresses.

“He shouldn’t have asked me,” Vin said quietly, opening her eyes. “He can’t marry me.” “He loves you, child,” Tindwyl said. “In a way, that is unfortunate—this would all be much easier if he could feel otherwise. However, as things stand…” Vin shook her head. “I’m wrong for him.”

“Ah,” Tindwyl said. “I see.”

“He needs something else,” Vin said. “Something better. A woman who can be a queen, not just a bodyguard. Someone…” Vin’s stomach twisted. “Someone more like her.” Tindwyl glanced toward Allrianne, who laughed at a comment made by the elderly dressmaker as he took her measurements.

“You are the one he fell in love with, child,” Tindwyl said.

“When I was pretending to be like her.”

Tindwyl smiled. “Somehow, I doubt that you could be like Allrianne, no matter how hard you practiced.” “Perhaps,” Vin said. “Either way, it was my courtly performance that he loved. He didn’t know what I really was.” “And has he abandoned you now that he does know of it?”

“Well, no. But—”

“All people are more complex than they first appear,” Tindwyl said. “Allrianne, for instance, is eager and young—perhaps a bit too outspoken. But she knows more of the court than many would expect, and she seems to know how to recognize what is good in a person. That is a talent many lack.

“Your king is a humble scholar and thinker, but he has the will of a warrior. He is a man who has the nerve to fight, and I think—perhaps—you have yet to see the best of him. The Soother Breeze is a cynical, mocking man—until he looks at young Allrianne. Then he softens, and one wonders how much of his harsh unconcern is an act.” Tindwyl paused, looking at Vin. “And you. You are so much more than you are willing to accept, child. Why look at only one side of yourself, when your Elend sees so much more?” “Is that what this is all about?” Vin said. “You trying to turn me into a queen for Elend?” “No, child,” Tindwyl said. “I wish to help you turn into whoever you are. Now, go let the man take your measurements so you can try on some stock dresses.” Whoever I am? Vin thought, frowning. However, she let the tall Terriswoman push her forward, and the elderly dressmaker took his tape and began to measure.

A few moments and a changing room later, Vin stepped back into the room wearing a memory. Silky blue with white lace, the gown was tight at the waist and through the bust, but had a large, flowing bottom. The numerous skirts made it flare out, tapering down in a triangular shape, her feet completely covered, the bottom of the skirt flush with the floor.

It was terribly impractical. It rustled when she moved, and she had to be careful where she stepped to keep it from catching or brushing a dirty surface. But it was beautiful, and it made her feel beautiful. She almost expected a band to start playing, Sazed to stand over her shoulder like a protective sentry, and Elend to appear in the distance, lounging and watching couples dance as he flipped through a book.

Vin walked forward, letting the dressmaker watch where the garment pinched and where it bunched, and Allrianne let out an “Ooo” as she saw Vin. The old dressmaker leaned on his cane, dictating notes to a young assistant. “Move around a bit more, my lady,” he requested. “Let me see how it fits when you do more than just walk in a straight line.” Vin spun slightly, turning on one foot, trying to remember the dancing moves Sazed had taught her.

I never did get to dance with Elend, she realized, stepping to the side, as if to music she could only faintly remember. He always found an excuse to wiggle out of it.

She twirled, getting a feel for the dress. She would have thought that her instincts would have decayed. Now that she had one on again, however, she was surprised at how easy it was to fall back into those habits—stepping lightly, turning so that the bottom of the dress flared just a bit….

She paused. The dressmaker was no longer dictating. He watched her quietly, smiling.

“What?” Vin asked, flushing.

“I’m sorry, my lady,” he said, turning to tap on his assistant’s notebook, sending the boy away with a point of his finger. “But I don’t rightly think I’ve ever seen someone move so gracefully. Like a…passing breath.” “You flatter me,” Vin said.

“No, child,” Tindwyl said, standing to the side. “He’s right. You move with a grace that most women can only envy.” The dressmaker smiled again, turning as his assistant approached with a group of square cloth color samples. The old man began to sort through them with a wizened hand, and Vin stepped over to Tindwyl, holding her hands at the sides, trying not to let the traitorous dress take control of her again.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Vin demanded quietly.

“Why shouldn’t I be?” Tindwyl asked.

“Because you’re mean to Elend,” Vin said. “Don’t deny it—I’ve listened in on your lessons. You spend the time insulting and disparaging him. But now you’re pretending to be nice.” Tindwyl smiled. “I am not pretending, child.”

“Then why are you so mean to Elend?”

“The lad grew up as a pampered son of a great lord,” Tindwyl said. “Now that he’s king, he needs a little harsh truth, I think.” She paused, glancing down at Vin. “I sense that you’ve had quite enough of that in your life.” The dressmaker approached with his swatches, spreading them out on a low table. “Now, my lady,” he said, tapping one group with a bent finger. “I think your coloring would look particularly good with dark cloth. A nice maroon, perhaps?” “What about a black?” Vin asked.

“Heavens, no,” Tindwyl said. “Absolutely no more black or gray for you, child.” “What about this one, then?” Vin asked, pulling out a royal blue swatch. It was nearly the shade she’d worn the first night she’d met Elend, so long ago.

“Ah, yes,” the dressmaker said. “That would look wonderful against that light skin and dark hair. Hum, yes. Now, we’ll have to pick a style. You need this by tomorrow evening, the Terriswoman said?” Vin nodded.

“Ah, then. We’ll have to modify one of the stock dresses, but I think I have one in this color. We’ll have to take it in quite a bit, but we can work through the night for a beauty like yourself, can’t we, lad? Now, as for the style…” “This is fine, I guess,” Vin said, looking down. The gown was the standard cut of those she’d worn at previous balls.

“Well, we’re not looking for ‘fine,’ now, are we?” the dressmaker said with a smile.

“What if we removed some of the pettiskirts?” Tindwyl said, pulling at the sides of Vin’s dress. “And perhaps raised the hem just a bit, so that she could move more freely?” Vin paused. “You could do that?”

“Of course,” the dressmaker said. “The lad says thinner skirts are more popular to the south, though they tend to lag in fashion a bit behind Luthadel.” He paused. “Though, I don’t know that Luthadel even really has a fashion anymore….” “Make cuffs of the sleeves wide,” Tindwyl said. “And sew a couple of pockets into them for certain personal items.” The old man nodded as his quiet assistant scribbled down the suggestion.

“The chest and waist can be tight,” Tindwyl continued, “but not restrictive. Lady Vin needs to be able to move freely.” The old man paused. “Lady Vin?” he asked. He looked a little closer at Vin, squinting, then turned to his assistant. The boy nodded quietly.

“I see…” the man said, paling, hand shaking just a little bit more. He placed it on the top of his cane, as if to give himself a little more stability. “I’m…I’m sorry if I offended you, my lady. I didn’t know.” Vin flushed again. Another reason why I shouldn’t go shopping. “No,” she said, reassuring the man. “It’s all right. You haven’t offended me.” He relaxed slightly, and Vin noticed Spook strolling over.

“Looks like we’ve been found,” Spook said, nodding to the front windows.

Vin glanced past dressing dummies and bales of cloth to see a crowd gathering outside. Tindwyl watched Vin with curiosity.

Spook shook his head. “Why do you get to be so popular?”

“I killed their god,” Vin said quietly, ducking around a dressing dummy, hiding from the dozens of peeking eyes.

“I helped too,” Spook said. “I even got my nickname from Kelsier himself! But nobody cares about poor little Spook.” Vin scanned the room for windows. There’s got to be a back door. Of course, there might be people in the alley.

“What are you doing?” Tindwyl asked.

“I have to go,” Vin said. “Get away from them.”

“Why don’t you go out and talk to them?” Tindwyl asked. “They’re obviously very interested in seeing you.” Allrianne emerged from a dressing room—wearing a gown of yellow and blue—and twirled dramatically. She was obviously put out when she didn’t even get Spook’s attention.

“I’m not going out there,” Vin said. “Why would I want to do something like that?” “They need hope,” Tindwyl said. “Hope you can give them.” “A false hope,” Vin said. “I’d only encourage them to think of me as some object of worship.” “That’s not true,” Allrianne said suddenly, walking forward, looking out the windows without the least bit of embarrassment. “Hiding in corners, wearing strange clothing, and being mysterious—that’s what has gotten you this amazing reputation. If people knew how ordinary you were, they wouldn’t be so crazy to get a look at you.” She paused, then looked back. “I…uh, didn’t mean that like I think it sounded.” Vin flushed. “I’m not Kelsier, Tindwyl. I don’t want people to worship me. I just want to be left alone.” “Some people don’t have that choice, child,” Tindwyl said. “You struck down the Lord Ruler. You were trained by the Survivor, and you are the king’s consort.” “I’m not his consort,” Vin said, flushing. “We’re just…” Lord, even I don’t understand our relationship. How am I supposed to explain it?

Tindwyl raised an eyebrow.

“All right,” Vin said, sighing and walking forward.

“I’ll go with you,” Allrianne said, grabbing Vin’s arm as if they had been friends since childhood. Vin resisted, but couldn’t figure a way to pry her off without making a scene.

They stepped out of the shop. The crowd was already large, and the periphery was filling as more and more people came to investigate. Most were skaa in brown, ash-stained work coats or simple gray dresses. The ones in the front backed away as Vin stepped out, giving her a little ring of empty space, and a murmur of awed excitement moved through the crowd.

“Wow,” Allrianne said quietly. “There sure are a lot of them….” Vin nodded. OreSeur sat where he had before, near the door, and he watched her with a curious canine expression.

Allrianne smiled at the crowd, waving with a sudden hesitance. “You can, you know, fight them off or something if this turns messy, right?” “That won’t be necessary,” Vin said, finally slipping her arm free of Allrianne’s grasp and giving the crowd a bit of a Soothing to calm them. After that, she stepped forward, trying to push down her sense of itching nervousness. She’d grown to no longer feel she needed to hide when she went out in public, but standing before a crowd like this…well, she almost turned and slinked back into the dressmaker’s shop.

A voice, however, stopped her. The speaker was a middle-aged man with an ash-stained beard and a dirty black cap held nervously in his hands. He was a strong man, probably a mill worker. His quiet voice seemed a contrast to his powerful build. “Lady Heir. What will become of us?” The terror—the uncertainty—in the large man’s voice was so piteous that Vin hesitated. He regarded her with hopeful eyes, as did most of the others.

So many, Vin thought. I thought the Church of the Survivor was small. She looked at the man, who stood wringing his cap. She opened her mouth, but then…couldn’t do it. She couldn’t tell him that she didn’t know what would happen; she couldn’t explain to those eyes that she wasn’t the savior that he needed.

“Everything will be all right,” Vin heard herself say, increasing her Soothing, trying to take away some of their fear.

“But the armies, Lady Heir!” one of the women said.

“They’re trying to intimidate us,” Vin said. “But the king won’t let them. Our walls are strong, as are our soldiers. We can outlast this siege.” The crowd was silent.

“One of those armies is led by Elend’s father, Straff Venture,” Vin said. “Elend and I are going to go meet with Straff tomorrow. We will persuade him to be our ally.” “The king is going to surrender!” a voice said. “I heard it. He’s going to trade the city for his life.” “No,” Vin said. “He would never do that!!”

“He won’t fight for us!” a voice called. “He’s not a soldier. He’s a politician!” Other voices called out in agreement. Reverence disappeared as people began to yell out concerns, while others began to demand help. The dissidents continued to rail against Elend, yelling that there was no way he could protect them.

Vin raised her hands to her ears. Trying to ward off the crowd, the chaos. “Stop!” she yelled, Pushing out with steel and brass. Several people stumbled back away from her, and she could see a wave in the crowd as buttons, coins, and buckles suddenly pressed backward.

The people grew suddenly quiet.

“I will suffer no ill words spoken of our king!” Vin said, flaring her brass and increasing her Soothing. “He is a good man, and a good leader. He has sacrificed much for you—your freedom comes because of his long hours spent drafting laws, and your livelihoods come because of his work securing trade routes and agreements with merchants.” Many members of the crowd looked down. The bearded man at the front continued to twist his cap, however, looking at Vin. “They’re just right frightened, Lady Heir. Right frightened.” “We’ll protect you,” Vin said. What am I saying? “Elend and I, we’ll find a way. We stopped the Lord Ruler. We can stop these armies…” She trailed off, feeling foolish.

Yet, the crowd responded. Some were obviously still unsatisfied, but many seemed calmed. The crowd began to break up, though some of its members came forward, leading or carrying small children. Vin paused nervously. Kelsier had often met with and held the children of the skaa, as if giving them his blessing. She bid the group a hasty farewell and ducked back into the shop, pulling Allrianne after her.

Tindwyl waited inside, nodding with satisfaction.

“I lied,” Vin said, pushing the door closed.

“No you didn’t,” Tindwyl said. “You were optimistic. The truth or fiction of what you said has yet to be proven.” “It won’t happen,” Vin said. “Elend can’t defeat three armies, not even with my help.” Tindwyl raised an eyebrow. “Then you should leave. Run away, leave the people to deal with the armies themselves.” “I didn’t mean that,” Vin said.

“Well, make a decision then,” Tindwyl said. “Either give up on the city or believe in it. Honestly, the pair of you….” She shook her head.

“I thought you weren’t going to be harsh with me,” Vin noted.

“I have trouble with that sometimes,” Tindwyl said. “Come, Allrianne. Let’s finish your fitting.” They moved to do so. However, at that moment—as if to belie Vin’s assurances of safety—several warning drums began to beat atop the city wall.

Vin froze, glancing through the window, out over the anxious crowd.

One of the armies was attacking. Cursing the delay, she rushed into the back of the shop to change out of the bulky dress.

Elend scrambled up the steps to the city wall, nearly tripping on his dueling cane in his haste. He stumbled out of the stairwell, moving onto the wall top, rearranging the cane at his side with a curse.

The wall top was in chaos. Men scrambled about, calling to each other. Some had forgotten their armor, others their bows. So many tried to get up after Elend that the stairwell got clogged, and he watched hopelessly as men crowded around the openings below, creating an even larger jam of bodies in the courtyard.

Elend spun, watching a large group of Straff’s men—thousands of them—rush toward the wall. Elend stood near Tin Gate, at the north of the city, nearest Straff’s army. He could see a separate group of soldiers rushing toward Pewter Gate, a little to the east.

“Archers!” Elend yelled. “Men, where are your bows?”

His voice, however, was lost in the shouting. Captains moved about, trying to organize the men, but apparently too many footmen had come to the wall, leaving a lot of the archers trapped in the courtyard below.

Why? Elend thought desperately, turning back toward the charging army. Why is he attacking? We had an a agreement to meet!

Had he, perhaps, gotten wind of Elend’s plan to play both sides of the conflict? Perhaps there really was a spy in the inner crew.

Either way, Elend could only watch hopelessly as the army approached his wall. One captain managed to get off a pathetic volley of arrows, but it didn’t do much good. As the army approached, arrows began to zip up toward the wall, mixed with flying coins. Straff had Allomancers in the group.

Elend cursed, ducking down below a merlon as coins bounced against the stonework. A few soldiers fell. Elend’s soldiers. Killed because he’d been too proud to surrender the city.

He peeked carefully over the wall. A group of men carrying a battering ram were approaching, their bodies carefully protected by men with shields. The care probably meant that the rammers were Thugs, a suspicion confirmed by the sound the ram made when it smashed into the gate. That was not the blow of ordinary men.

Hooks followed next. Shot up toward the wall by Coinshots below, falling far more accurately than if they’d been thrown. Soldiers moved to pull them off, but coins shot up, taking the men almost as quickly as they made the attempt. The gate continued to thump beneath him, and he doubted it would last for long.

And so we fall, Elend thought. With barely a hint of resistance.

And there was nothing he could do. He felt impotent, forced to keep ducking down lest his white uniform make him a target. All of his politicking, all of his preparations, all of his dreams and his plans. Gone.

And then Vin was there. She landed atop the wall, breathing hard, amid a group of wounded men. Coins and arrows that came near to her deflected back out into the air. Men rallied around her, moving to remove hooks and pull the wounded to safety. Her knives cut ropes, dropping them back down below. She met Elend’s eyes, looking determined, then moved as if to leap over the side of the wall and confront the Thugs with their battering ram.

Elend raised a hand, but someone else spoke.

“Vin, wait!” Clubs bellowed, bursting out of the stairwell.

She paused. Elend had never heard such a forceful command from the gnarled general.

Arrows stopped flying. The booming calmed. Elend stood hesitantly, watching with a frown as the army retreated back across the ash-strewn fields toward their camp. They left a couple of corpses behind; Elend’s men had actually managed to hit a few with their arrows. His own army had taken far heavier casualties: some two dozen men appeared to be wounded.

“What…?” Elend asked, turning to Clubs.

“They weren’t putting up scaling ladders,” Clubs said, eyeing the retreating force. “This wasn’t an actual attack.” “What was it then?” Vin asked, frowning.

“A test,” Clubs said. “It’s common in warfare—a quick skirmish to see how your enemy responds, to feel out their tactics and preparations.” Elend turned, watching the disorganized soldiers make way for healers to care for the wounded. “A test,” he said, glancing at Clubs. “My guess is that we didn’t do very well.” Clubs shrugged. “Far worse than we should have. Maybe this will scare the lads into paying better attention during drills.” He paused, and Elend could see something he wasn’t expressing. Worry.

Elend glanced out over the wall, watching the retreating army. Suddenly, it made sense. It was exactly the kind of move that his father liked to make.

The meeting with Straff would take place as planned. However, before it happened, Straff wanted Elend to know something.

I can take this city any time, the attack seemed to say. It’s mine, no matter what you do. Remember that.

He was forced into war by a misunderstanding—and always claimed he was no warrior—yet he came to fight as well as any man.