فصل 36

36

Once this warehouse had held swords and armor, scattered across its floor in heaps, like some mythical treasure. Sazed remembered walking through it, marveling at the preparations Kelsier had made without alerting any of his crewmembers. Those weapons had armed the rebellion on the eve of the Survivor’s own death, letting it take the city.

Those weapons were now stored in lockers and armories. In their place, a desperate, beaten people huddled in what blankets they could find. There were very few men, none of fighting quality; Straff had pressed those into his army. These others—the weak, the sickly, the wounded—he had allowed to Luthadel, knowing that Elend wouldn’t turn them away.

Sazed moved among them, offering what comfort he could. They had no furniture, and even changes of clothing were becoming scarce in the city. The merchants, realizing that warmth would be a premium for the upcoming winter, had begun raising prices on all their wares, not just foodstuffs.

Sazed knelt beside a crying woman. “Peace, Genedere,” he said, his coppermind reminding him of her name.

She shook her head. She had lost three children in the koloss attack, two more in the flight to Luthadel. Now the final one—the babe she had carried the entire way—was sick. Sazed took the child from her arms, carefully studying his symptoms. Little had changed from the day before.

“Is there hope, Master Terrisman?” Genedere asked.

Sazed glanced down at the thin, glassy-eyed baby. The chances were not good. How could he tell her such a thing?

“As long as he breathes, there is hope, dear woman,” Sazed said. “I will ask the king to increase your portion of food—you need strength to give suck. You must keep him warm. Stay near the fires, and use a damp cloth to drip water in his mouth even when he is not eating. He has great need of liquids.” Genedere nodded dully, taking back the baby. How Sazed wished he could give her more. A dozen different religions passed through his mind. He had spent his entire life trying to encourage people to believe in something other than the Lord Ruler. Yet, for some reason, at this moment he found it difficult to preach one of them to Genedere.

It had been different before the Collapse. Each time he’d spoken of a religion, Sazed had felt a subtle sense of rebellion. Even if people hadn’t accepted the things he taught—and they rarely had—his words had reminded them that there had once been beliefs other than the doctrines of the Steel Ministry.

Now there was nothing to rebel against. In the face of the terrible grief he saw in Genedere’s eyes, he found it difficult to speak of religions long dead, gods long forgotten. Esoterica would not ease this woman’s pain.

Sazed stood, moving on to the next group of people.

“Sazed?”

Sazed turned. He hadn’t noticed Tindwyl entering the warehouse. The doors of the large structure were closed against approaching night, and the firepits gave an inconsistent light. Holes had been knocked in the roof to let out the smoke; if one looked up, trails of mist could be seen creeping into the room, though they evaporated before they reached halfway to the floor.

The refugees didn’t often look up.

“You’ve been here nearly all day,” Tindwyl said. The room was remarkably quiet, considering its occupancy. Fires crackled, and people lay silent in their pain or numbness.

“There are many wounded here,” Sazed said. “I am the best one to look after them, I think. I am not alone—the king has sent others and Lord Breeze is here, Soothing the people’s despair.” Sazed nodded to the side, where Breeze sat in a chair, ostensibly reading a book. He looked terribly out of place in the room, wearing his fine three-piece suit. Yet, his mere presence said something remarkable, in Sazed’s estimation.

These poor people, Sazed thought. Their lives were terrible under the Lord Ruler. Now even what little they had has been taken from them. And they were only a tiny number—four hundred compared with the hundreds of thousands who still lived in Luthadel.

What would happen when the final stores of food ran out? Rumors were already abroad regarding the poisoned wells, and Sazed had just heard that some of their stored food had been sabotaged as well. What would happen to these people? How long could the siege continue?

In fact, what would happen when the siege ended? What would happen when the armies finally began to attack and pillage? What destruction, what grief, would the soldiers cause in searching for hidden atium?

“You do care for them,” Tindwyl said quietly, stepping up.

Sazed turned toward her. Then he looked down. “Not as much as I should, perhaps.” “No,” Tindwyl said. “I can see it. You confuse me, Sazed.”

“I seem to have a talent in that area.”

“You look tired. Where is your bronzemind?”

Suddenly, Sazed felt the fatigue. He’d been ignoring it, but her words seemed to bring it in like a wave, rolling over him.

He sighed. “I used most of my wakefulness in my run to Luthadel. I was so eager to get here….” His studies had languished recently. With the problems in the city, and the arrival of the refugees, he hadn’t had much time. Besides, he had already transcribed the rubbing. Further work would require detailed cross-referencing to other works, searching for clues. He probably wouldn’t even have time to… He frowned, noting the odd look in Tindwyl’s eyes.

“All right,” she said, sighing. “Show me.”

“Show you?”

“Whatever it was you found,” she said. “The discovery that prompted you to run across two dominances. Show it to me.” Suddenly, everything seemed to lighten. His fatigue, his worry, even his sorrow. “I would love to,” he said quietly.

Another job well done, Breeze thought, congratulating himself as he watched the two Terrismen leave the warehouse.

Most people, even noblemen, misunderstood Soothing. They thought of it as some kind of mind control, and even those who knew more presumed that Soothing was an invasive, terrible thing.

Breeze had never seen it that way. Soothing wasn’t invasive. If it was, then ordinary interaction with another person was comparably invasive. Soothing, when done right, was no more a violation of another person than it was for a woman to wear a low-cut gown or speak in a commanding voice. All three produced common, understandable, and—most important—natural reactions in people.

Take Sazed, for example. Was it “invasive” to make the man less fatigued, so he could better go about his ministrations? Was it wrong to Soothe away his pain—just a bit—thereby making him better able to cope with the suffering?

Tindwyl was an even better example. Perhaps some would call Breeze a meddler for Soothing her sense of responsibility, and her disappointment, when she saw Sazed. But, Breeze had not created the emotions that the disappointment had been overshadowing. Emotions like curiosity. Respect. Love.

No, if Soothing were simple “mind control,” Tindwyl would have turned away from Sazed as soon as the two left Breeze’s area of influence. But Breeze knew that she wouldn’t. A crucial decision had been made, and Breeze had not made that decision for her. The moment had been building for weeks; it would have occurred with or without Breeze.

He had just helped it happen sooner.

Smiling to himself, Breeze checked his pocket watch. He still had a few more minutes, and he settled back in his chair, sending out a general Soothing wave, lessening people’s grief and pain. Focusing on so many at once, he couldn’t be very specific; some would find themselves made a little emotionally numb as he Pushed too strongly against them. But, it would be good for the group as a whole.

He didn’t read his book; in truth, he couldn’t understand how Elend and the rest spent so much time with them. Dreadfully boring things. Breeze could only see himself reading if there were no people around. Instead, he went back to what he’d been doing before Sazed had drawn his attention. He studied the refugees, trying to decide what each one was feeling.

This was the other great misunderstanding about Soothing. Allomancy wasn’t nearly as important as observational talent. True, having a subtle touch certainly helped. However, Soothing didn’t give an Allomancer the ability to know someone’s feelings. Those, Breeze had to guess on his own.

It all came back to what was natural. Even the most inexperienced skaa would realize they were being Soothed if unexpected emotions began bouncing around inside of them. True subtlety in Soothing was about encouraging natural emotions, all done by carefully making the right other emotions less powerful. People were a patchwork of feelings; usually, what they thought they were “feeling” at the moment only related to which emotions were currently most dominant within them.

The careful Soother saw what was beneath the surface. He understood what a man was feeling, even when that man himself didn’t understand—or acknowledge—those emotions. Such was the case with Sazed and Tindwyl.

Odd pair, that one, Breeze thought to himself, idly Soothing one of the skaa to make him more relaxed as he tried to sleep. The rest of the crew is convinced that those two are enemies. But, hatred rarely creates that measure of bitterness and frustration. No, those two emotions come from an entirely different set of problems.

Of course, isn’t Sazed supposed to be a eunuch? I wonder how this all came about….

His speculations trailed off as the warehouse doors opened. Elend walked in—Ham, unfortunately, accompanying him. Elend was wearing one of his white uniforms, complete with white gloves and a sword. The white was an important symbol; with all of the ash and soot in the city, a man in white was quite striking. Elend’s uniforms had to been crafted of special fabrics designed to be resistant to ash, and they still had to be scrubbed every day. The effect was worth the effort.

Breeze immediately picked at Elend’s emotions, making the man less tired, less uncertain—though the second was becoming almost unnecessary. That was partially the Terriswoman’s doing; Breeze had been impressed with her ability to change how people felt, considering her lack of Allomancy.

Breeze left Elend’s emotions of disgust and pity; both were appropriate considering the environment. He did, however, give Ham a nudge to make him less argumentative; Breeze wasn’t in a mood to deal with the man’s prattlings at the moment.

He stood as the two men approached. People perked up as they saw Elend, his presence somehow bringing them a hope that Breeze couldn’t emulate with Allomancy. They whispered, calling Elend King.

“Breeze,” Elend said, nodding. “Is Sazed here?”

“He just left, I’m afraid,” Breeze said.

Elend seemed distracted. “Ah, well,” he said. “I’ll find him later.” Elend looked around the room, lips downturned. “Ham, tomorrow, I want you to round up the clothing merchants on Kenton Street and bring them here to see this.” “They might not like that, Elend,” Ham said.

“I hope they don’t,” Elend said. “But we’ll see how they feel about their prices once they visit this room. I can understand food’s expense, considering its scarcity.

However, there is no reason but greed to deny the people clothing.” Ham nodded, but Breeze could see the reticence in his posture. Did the others realize how strangely nonconfrontational Ham was? He liked to argue with friends, but he rarely actually came to any conclusions in his philosophizing. Plus, he absolutely hated fighting with strangers; Breeze had always found that an odd attribute in one who was hired, essentially, to hit people. He gave Ham a bit of a Soothing to make him less worried about confronting the merchants.

“You aren’t going to stay here all night, are you, Breeze?” Elend asked.

“Lord Ruler, no!” Breeze said. “My dear man, you’re lucky you managed to get me to come at all. Honestly, this is no place for a gentleman. The dirt, the depressing atmosphere—and that’s not even making mention of the smell!” Ham frowned. “Breeze, someday you’re going to have to learn to think about other people.” “As long as I can think about them from a distance, Hammond, I shall be happy to engage in the activity.” Ham shook his head. “You’re hopeless.”

“Are you heading back to the palace then?” Elend asked.

“Yes, actually,” Breeze said, checking his pocket watch.

“Do you need a ride?”

“I brought my own carriage,” Breeze said.

Elend nodded, then turned to Ham, and the two retreated the way they had come, talking about Elend’s next meeting with one of the other Assemblymen.

Breeze wandered into the palace a short time later. He nodded to the door guards, Soothing away their mental fatigue. They perked up in response, watching the mists with renewed vigilance. It wouldn’t last long, but little touches like that were second nature to Breeze.

It was getting late, and few people were in the hallways. He made his way through the kitchens, Nudging the scullery maids to make them more chatty. It would make their cleaning pass more quickly. Beyond the kitchens he found a small stone room, lit by a couple of plain lamps, set with a small table. It was one of the palace’s boothlike, solitary dining rooms.

Clubs sat in one corner of the booth, gimped leg stretched out on the bench. He eyed Breeze with a scowl. “You’re late.” “You’re early,” Breeze said, sliding into the bench across from Clubs.

“Same thing,” Clubs grumbled.

There was a second cup on the table, along with a bottle of wine. Breeze unbuttoned his vest, sighed quietly, and poured himself a cup as he leaned back with his legs up on his bench.

Clubs sipped his wine.

“You have your cloud up?” Breeze asked.

“Around you?” Clubs said. “Always.”

Breeze smiled, taking a sip, and relaxed. Though he rarely had opportunities to use his powers anymore, Clubs was a Smoker. When he was burning copper, every Allomancer’s abilities were invisible to those burning bronze. But more important—at least to Breeze—burning copper made Clubs immune to any form of emotional Allomancy.

“Don’t see why that makes you so happy,” Clubs said. “I thought you liked playing with emotions.” “I do,” Breeze said.

“Then why come drink with me every night?” Clubs asked.

“You mind the company?”

Clubs didn’t answer. That was pretty much his way of saying he didn’t mind. Breeze eyed the grumpy general. Most of the other crewmembers stayed away from Clubs; Kelsier had brought him in at the last moment, since the Coppercloud they usually used had died.

“Do you know what it’s like, Clubs?” Breeze asked. “Being a Soother?” “No.”

“It gives you remarkable control. It’s a wonderful feeling, being able to influence those around you, always feeling like you have a handle on how people will react.” “Sounds delightful,” Clubs said flatly.

“And yet, it does things to you. I spend most of my time watching people—tweaking, Nudging, and Soothing. That’s changed me. I don’t…look at people the same way. It’s hard to just be friends with someone when you see them as something to be influenced and changed.” Clubs grunted. “So that’s why we never used to see you with women.” Breeze nodded. “I can’t help it anymore. I always touch the emotions of everyone around me. And so, when a woman comes to love me…” He liked to think he wasn’t invasive. Yet, how could he trust anyone who said they loved him? Was it he, or his Allomancy, that they responded to?

Clubs filled his cup. “You’re a lot sillier than you act.”

Breeze smiled. Clubs was one of the few people who was completely immune to his touch. Emotional Allomancy wouldn’t work on him, and he was always completely forthcoming with his emotions: everything made him grumpy. Manipulating him through non-Allomantic means had proven to be a fruitless waste of time.

Breeze regarded his wine. “The amusing thing is, you almost didn’t join the crew because of me.” “Damn Soothers,” Clubs muttered.

“But you’re immune to us.”

“To your Allomancy, maybe,” Clubs said. “But that isn’t the only way you people do things. A man always has to watch himself around Soothers.” “Then why let me join you every evening for wine?”

Clubs was silent for a moment, and Breeze almost thought he wasn’t going to respond. Finally, Clubs muttered, “You’re not as bad as most.” Breeze took a gulp of wine. “That is as honest a compliment as I think I’ve ever received.” “Don’t let it ruin you,” Clubs said.

“Oh, I think I’m too late for ruining,” Breeze said, topping off his cup. “This crew…Kell’s plan…has already done a thorough job of that.” Clubs nodded in agreement.

“What happened to us, Clubs?” Breeze asked. “I joined Kell for the challenge. I never did know why you joined.” “Money.”

Breeze nodded. “His plan fell apart, his army got destroyed, and we stayed. Then he died, and we still stayed. This blasted kingdom of Elend’s is doomed, you know.” “We won’t last another month,” Clubs said. It wasn’t idle pessimism; Breeze knew people well enough to tell when they were serious.

“And yet, here we are,” Breeze said. “I spent all day making skaa feel better about the fact that their families had been slaughtered. You spent all day training soldiers that—with or without your help—will barely last a few heartbeats against a determined foe. We follow a boy of a king who doesn’t seem to have a shade of a clue just how bad his predicament is. Why?” Clubs shook his head. “Kelsier. Gave us a city, made us think we were responsible for protecting it.” “But we aren’t that kind of people,” Breeze said. “We’re thieves and scammers. We shouldn’t care. I mean…I’ve gotten so bad that I Soothe scullery maids so that they’ll have a happier time at work! I might as well start dressing in pink and carrying around flowers. I could probably make quite a bundle at weddings.” Clubs snorted. Then he raised his cup. “To the Survivor,” he said. “May he be damned for knowing us better than we knew ourselves.” Breeze raised his own cup. “Damn him,” he agreed quietly.

The two fell silent. Talking to Clubs tended to turn into…well, not talking. However, Breeze felt a simple contentment. Soothing was wonderful; it made him who he was. But it was also work. Even birds couldn’t fly all the time.

“There you are.”

Breeze snapped his eyes open. Allrianne stood at the entrance to the room, just at the edge of the table. She wore light blue; where had she gotten so many dresses? Her makeup was, of course, immaculate—and there was a bow in her hair. That long blond hair—common in the West but almost unheard of in the Central Dominance—and that perky, inviting figure.

Desire immediately blossomed inside of him. No! Breeze thought. She’s half your age. You’re a dirty old man. Dirty! “Allrianne,” he said uncomfortably, “shouldn’t you be in bed or something?” She rolled her eyes, shooing his legs out of the way so she could sit on the bench beside him. “It’s only nine o’clock, Breeze. I’m eighteen, not ten.” You might as well be, he thought, looking away from her, trying to focus on something else. He knew that he should be stronger, shouldn’t let the girl get near him, but he did nothing as she slid up to him and took a drink from his cup.

He sighed, putting his arm around her shoulders. Clubs just shook his head, the hint of a smile on his lips.

“Well,” Vin said quietly, “that answers one question.”

“Mistress?” OreSeur said, sitting across the table from her in the dark room. With her Allomancer’s ears, she could hear exactly what was going on in the next boothlike room over.

“Allrianne is an Allomancer,” Vin said.

“Really?”

Vin nodded. “She’s been Rioting Breeze’s emotions ever since she arrived, making him more attracted to her.” “One would think that he’d notice,” OreSeur said.

“You’d think,” Vin said. She probably shouldn’t feel as amused as she did. The girl could be a Mistborn—though the idea of that puff flying through the mists seemed ridiculous.

Which is probably exactly how she wants me to think, Vin thought. I have to remember Kliss and Shan—neither one of them turned out to be the person I thought they were.

“Breeze probably just doesn’t think his emotions are unnatural,” Vin said. “He must be attracted to her already.” OreSeur closed his mouth and cocked his head—his dog’s version of a frown.

“I know,” Vin agreed. “But, at least we know he isn’t the one using Allomancy to seduce her. Either way, that’s irrelevant. Clubs isn’t the kandra.” “How could you possibly know that, Mistress?”

Vin paused. Clubs always turned his copper on around Breeze; it was one of the few times he used it. However, it was difficult to tell if someone was burning copper. After all, if they turned on their metal, they hid themselves by default.

But Vin could pierce copperclouds. She could sense Allrianne’s Rioting; she could even sense a faint thumping coming from Clubs himself, copper’s own Allomantic pulse, something that Vin suspected few people beyond herself and the Lord Ruler had ever heard.

“I just know,” Vin said.

“If you say so, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “But…didn’t you already decide the spy was Demoux?” “I wanted to check Clubs anyway,” she said. “Before I did anything drastic.” “Drastic?”

Vin sat quietly for a moment. She didn’t have much proof, but she did have her instincts—and those instincts told her Demoux was the spy. That sneaking way he’d gone out the other night…the obvious logic of choosing him…it all fit.

She stood. Things were getting too dangerous, too sensitive. She couldn’t ignore it any longer. “Come on,” she said, leaving the booth behind. “It’s time to put Demoux in prison.” “What do you mean you lost him?” Vin asked, standing outside the door to Demoux’s room.

The servant flushed. “My lady, I’m sorry. I watched him, like you told me—but he went out on patrol. Should I have followed? I mean, don’t you think that would have looked suspicious?” Vin cursed quietly to herself. She knew that she didn’t have much right to be angry, however. I should have told Ham straight off, she thought with frustration.

“My lady, he only left a few minutes ago,” the servant said.

Vin glanced at OreSeur, then took off down the corridor. As soon as they reached a window, Vin leaped out into the dark night, OreSeur following behind her, dropping the short distance to the courtyard.

Last time, I saw him come back in through the gates to the palace grounds, she thought, running through the mist. She found a couple of soldiers there, guarding.

“Did Captain Demoux come this way?” she demanded, bursting into their ring of torchlight.

They perked up, at first shocked, then confused.

“Lady Heir?” one of them said. “Yes, he just went out, on patrol just a minute or two ago.” “By himself?” Vin asked.

They nodded.

“Isn’t that a little odd?”

They shrugged. “He goes by himself sometimes,” one said. “We don’t question. He’s our superior, after all.” “Which way?” Vin demanded.

One pointed, and Vin took off, OreSeur at her side. I should have watched better. I should have hired real spies to keep an eye on him. I should have— She froze. Up ahead, walking down a quite street in the mists, was a figure, walking into the city. Demoux.

Vin dropped a coin and threw herself into the air, passing far over his head, landing on top of a building. He continued, oblivious. Demoux or kandra, neither would have Allomantic powers.

Vin paused, daggers out, ready to spring. But…she still didn’t have any real proof. The part of her that Kelsier had transformed, the part that had come to trust, thought of the Demoux she knew.

Do I really believe he’s the kandra? she thought. Or do I just want him to be the kandra, so that I don’t have to suspect my real friends?

He continued to walk below, her tin-enhanced ears easily picking out his footfalls. Behind, OreSeur scrambled up onto the top of the roof, then padded over and sat down beside her.

I can’t just attack, she thought. I need to at least watch, see where he’s going. Get proof. Perhaps learn something in the process.

She waved to OreSeur, and they quietly followed along the rooftops, trailing Demoux. Soon, Vin noticed something odd—a flicker of firelight illuminating the mists a few streets over, making haunted shadows of buildings. Vin glanced at Demoux, trailing him with her eyes as he wandered down an alleyway, moving toward the illumination.

What…?

Vin threw herself off the roof. It took only three bounds for her to reach the source of the light. A modest bonfire crackled in the center of a small square. Skaa huddled around it for warmth, looking a little frightened in the mists. Vin was surprised to see them. She hadn’t seen skaa go out in the mists since the night of the Collapse.

Demoux approached down a side street, greeting several of the others. In the firelight she could confirm for certain that it was him—or, at least, a kandra with his face.

There were, perhaps, two hundred people in the square. Demoux moved as if to sit on the cobblestones, but someone quickly approached with a chair. A young woman brought him a mug of something steaming, which he received gratefully.

Vin leaped to a rooftop, staying low to keep from being exposed by the firelight. More skaa arrived, mostly in groups, but some brave individuals came alone.

A sound came from behind her, and Vin turned as OreSeur—apparently having barely made the jump—scrambled the last few feet over the edge onto the roof. He glanced down at the street below, shook his head, then padded over to join her. She raised a finger to her lips, nodding down at the growing group of people. OreSeur cocked his head at the sight, but said nothing.

Finally, Demoux stood, holding the still steaming cup in his hands. People gathered around, sitting on the cold cobblestones, huddled beneath blankets or cloaks.

“We shouldn’t fear the mists, my friends,” Demoux said. His wasn’t the voice of a strong leader or forceful battle commander—it was the voice of hardened youth, a little hesitant, but compelling nonetheless.

“The Survivor taught us of this,” he continued. “I know it’s very hard to think of the mists without remembering stories of mistwraiths or other horrors. But, the Survivor gave the mists to us. We should try and remember him, through them.” Lord Ruler… Vin thought with shock. He’s one of them—a member of the Church of the Survivor! She wavered, uncertain what to think. Was he the kandra or wasn’t he? Why would the kandra meet with a group of people like this? But…why would Demoux himself do it?

“I know it’s hard,” Demoux said below, “without the Survivor. I know you’re afraid of the armies. Trust me, I know. I see them too. I know you suffer beneath this siege. I…don’t know if I can even tell you not to worry. The Survivor himself knew great hardship—the death of his wife, his imprisonment in the Pits of Hathsin. But he survived. That’s the point, isn’t it? We have to live on, no matter how hard this all gets. We’ll win, in the end. Just like he did.” He stood with his mug in his hands, looking nothing like the skaa preachers Vin had seen. Kelsier had chosen a passionate man to found his religion—or, more precisely, to found the revolution the religion had come from. Kelsier had needed leaders who could enflame supporters, whip them up into a destructive upheaval.

Demoux was something different. He didn’t shout, but spoke calmly. Yet, people paid attention. They sat on the stones around him, looking up with hopeful—even worshipful—eyes.

“The Lady Heir,” one of them whispered. “What of her?”

“Lady Vin bears a great responsibility,” Demoux said. “You can see the weight bowing her down, and how frustrated she is with the problems in the city. She is a straightforward woman, and I don’t think she likes the Assembly’s politicking.” “But, she’ll protect us, right?” one asked.

“Yes,” Demoux said. “Yes, I believe she will. Sometimes, I think that she’s even more powerful than the Survivor was. You know that he only had two years to practice as a Mistborn? She’s barely had that much time herself.” Vin turned away. It comes back to that, she thought. They sound rational until they talk about me, and then… “She’ll bring us peace, someday,” Demoux said. “The heir will bring back the sun, stop the ash from falling. But we have to survive until then. And we have to fight. The Survivor’s entire work was to see the Lord Ruler dead and make us free. What gratitude do we show if we run now that armies have come?

“Go and tell your Assemblymen that you don’t want Lord Cett, or even Lord Penrod, to be your king. The vote happens in one day, and we need to make certain the right man is made king. The Survivor chose Elend Venture, and that is whom we must follow.” That’s new, Vin thought.

“Lord Elend is weak,” one of the people said. “He won’t defend us.” “Lady Vin loves him,” Demoux said. “She wouldn’t love a weak man. Penrod and Cett treat you like the skaa used to be treated, and that’s why you think they’re strong. But that’s not strength—it’s oppression. We have to be better than that! We have to trust the Survivor’s judgment!” Vin relaxed against the lip of the roof, tension melting a bit. If Demoux really was the spy, then he wasn’t going to give her any evidence this night. So, she put her knives away, then rested with her arms folded on the rooftop’s edge. The fire crackled in the cool winter evening, sending billows of smoke to mix with the mists, and Demoux continued to speak in his quiet, reassuring voice, teaching the people about Kelsier.

It’s not even really a religion, Vin thought as she listened. The theology is so simple—not at all like the complex beliefs that Sazed speaks about.

Demoux taught basic concepts. He held up Kelsier as a model, talking about survival, and about enduring hardships. Vin could see why the direct words would appeal to the skaa. The people really only had two choices: to struggle on, or to give up. Demoux’s teachings gave them an excuse to keep living.

The skaa didn’t need rituals, prayers, or codes. Not yet. They were too inexperienced with religion in general, too frightened of it, to want such things. But, the more she listened, the more Vin understood the Church of the Survivor. It was what they needed; it took what the skaa already knew—a life filled with hardship—and elevated it to a higher, more optimistic plane.

And the teachings were still evolving. The deification of Kelsier she had expected; even the reverence for her was understandable. But, where did Demoux get the promises that Vin would stop the ash and bring back the sun? How did he know to preach of green grasses and blue skies, describing the world as it was known only in some of the world’s most obscure texts?

He described a strange world of colors and beauty—a place foreign and difficult to conceive, but somehow wonderful all the same. Flowers and green plants were strange, alien things to these people; even Vin had trouble visualizing them, and she had heard Sazed’s descriptions.

Demoux was giving the skaa a paradise. It had to be something completely removed from normal experience, for the mundane world was not a place of hope. Not with a foodless winter approaching, not with armies threatening and the government in turmoil.

Vin pulled back as Demoux finally ended the meeting. She lay for a moment, trying to decide how she felt. She’d been near certain about Demoux, but now her suspicions seemed unfounded. He’d gone out at night, true, but she saw now what he was doing. Plus, he’d acted so suspiciously when sneaking out. It seemed to her, as she reflected, that a kandra would know how to go about things in a much more natural way.

It’s not him, she thought. Or, if it is, he’s not going to be as easy to unmask as I thought. She frowned in frustration. Finally, she just sighed, rising, and walked to the other side of the roof. OreSeur followed, and Vin glanced at him. “When Kelsier told you to take his body,” she said, “what did he want you to preach to these people?” “Mistress?” OreSeur asked.

“He had you appear, as if you were him returned from the grave.” “Yes.”

“Well, what did he have you say?”

OreSeur shrugged. “Very simple things, Mistress. I told them that the time for rebellion had arrived. I told them that I—Kelsier—had returned to give them hope for victory.” I represent that thing you’ve never been able to kill, no matter how hard you try. They had been Kelsier’s final words, spoken face-to-face with the Lord Ruler. I am hope.

I am hope.

Was it any wonder that this concept would become central to the church that sprang up around him? “Did he have you teach things like we just heard Demoux say?” Vin asked. “About the ash no longer falling, and the sun turning yellow?” “No, Mistress.”

“That’s what I thought,” Vin said as she heard rustling on the stones below. She glanced over the side of the building, and saw Demoux returning to the palace.

Vin dropped to the alleyway floor behind him. To the man’s credit, he heard her, and he spun, hand on dueling cane.

“Peace, Captain,” she said, rising.

“Lady Vin?” he asked with surprise.

She nodded, approaching closer so that he’d be able to see her better in the night. Fading torchlight still lit the air from behind, swirls of mist playing with shadows.

“I didn’t know you were a member of the Church of the Survivor,” she said softly.

He looked down. Though he was easily two hands taller than she, he seemed to shrink a bit before her. “I…I know it makes you uncomfortable. I’m sorry.” “It’s all right,” she said. “You do a good thing for the people. Elend will appreciate hearing of your loyalty.” Demoux looked up. “Do you have to tell him?”

“He needs to know what the people believe, Captain. Why would you want me to keep it quiet?” Demoux sighed. “I just…I don’t want the crew to think I’m out here pandering to the people. Ham thinks preaching about the Survivor is silly, and Lord Breeze says the only reason to encourage the church is to make people more pliant.” Vin regarded him in the darkness. “You really believe, don’t you?” “Yes, my lady.”

“But you knew Kelsier,” she said. “You were with us from near the beginning. You know he’s no god.” Demoux looked up, a bit of a challenge in his eyes. “He died to overthrow the Lord Ruler.” “That doesn’t make him divine.”

“He taught us how to survive, to have hope.”

“You survived before,” Vin said. “People had hope before Kelsier got thrown in those pits.” “Not like we do now,” Demoux said. “Besides…he had power, my lady. I felt it.” Vin paused. She knew the story; Kelsier had used Demoux as an example to the rest of the army in a fight with a skeptic, directing his blows with Allomancy, making Demoux seem as if he had supernatural powers.

“Oh, I know about Allomancy now,” Demoux said. “But…I felt him Pushing on my sword that day. I felt him use me, making me more than I was. I think I can still feel him, sometimes. Strengthening my arm, guiding my blade….” Vin frowned. “Do you remember the first time we met?”

Demoux nodded. “Yes. You came to the caverns where we were hiding on the day when the army was destroyed. I was on guard duty. You know, my lady—even then, I knew that Kelsier would come for us. I knew that he’d come and get those of us who had been faithful and guide us back to Luthadel.” He went to those caves because I forced him to. He wanted to get himself killed fighting an army on his own.

“The destruction of the army was a test,” Demoux said, looking up into the mists. “These armies…the siege…they’re just tests. To see if we will survive or not.” “And the ash?” Vin asked. “Where did you hear that it would stop falling?” Demoux turned back to her. “The Survivor taught that, didn’t he?” Vin shook her head.

“A lot of the people are saying it,” Demoux said. “It must be true. It fits with everything else—the yellow sun, the blue sky, the plants….” “Yes, but where did you first hear those things?”

“I’m not sure, my lady.”

Where did you hear that I would be the one to bring them about? she thought, but she somehow couldn’t bring herself to voice the question. Regardless, she knew the answer: Demoux wouldn’t know. Rumors were propagating. It would be difficult indeed to trace them back to their source now.

“Go back to the palace,” Vin said. “I have to tell Elend what I saw, but I’ll ask him not to tell the rest of the crew.” “Thank you, my lady,” Demoux said, bowing. He turned and hurried away. A second later, Vin heard a thump from behind: OreSeur, jumping down to the street.

She turned. “I was sure it was him.”

“Mistress?”

“The kandra,” Vin said, turning back toward the disappearing Demoux. “I thought I’d discovered him.” “And?”

She shook her head. “It’s like Dockson—I think Demoux knows too much to be faking. He feels…real to me.” “My brethren—”

“Are quite skilled,” Vin said with a sigh. “Yes, I know. But we’re not going to arrest him. Not tonight, at least. We’ll keep an eye on him, but I just don’t think it’s him anymore.” OreSeur nodded.

“Come on,” she said. “I want to check on Elend.”

And so, I come to the focus of my argument. I apologize. Even forcing my words into steel, sitting and scratching in this frozen cave, I am prone to ramble.