فصل 46

46

Breeze could smell intrigue from two streets away. Unlike many of his fellow thieves, he hadn’t grown up impoverished, nor had he been forced to live in the underground. He’d grown up in a place far more cutthroat: an aristocratic court. Fortunately, the other crewmembers didn’t treat him differently because of his full-blooded noble origin.

That was, of course, because they didn’t know about it.

His upbringing afforded him certain understandings. Things that he doubted any skaa thief, no matter how competent, knew. Skaa intrigue made a brutal kind of sense; it was a matter of naked life and death. You betrayed your allies for money, for power, or to protect yourself.

In the noble courts, intrigue was more abstract. Betrayals wouldn’t often end with either party dead, but the ramifications could span generations. It was a game—so much of one, in fact, that the young Breeze had found the open brutality of the skaa underground to be refreshing.

He sipped his warm mug of mulled wine, eyeing the note in his fingers. He’d come to believe that he wouldn’t have to worry about intracrew conspiracies anymore: Kelsier’s crew was an almost sickeningly tight group, and Breeze did everything within his Allomantic powers to keep it that way. He’d seen what infighting could do to a family.

That was why he was so surprised to receive this letter. Despite its mock innocence, he could easily pick out the signs. The hurried pace of the writing, smudged in places but not rewritten. Phrases like “No need to tell others of this” and “do not wish to cause alarm.” The extra drops of sealing wax, spread gratuitously on the lip of the letter, as if to give extra protection against prying eyes.

There was no mistaking the tone of the missive. Breeze had been invited to a conspiratorial conference. But, why in the Lord Ruler’s name would Sazed, of all people, want to meet in secret?

Breeze sighed, pulling out his dueling cane and using it to steady himself. He grew light-headed sometimes when he stood; it was a minor malady he’d always had, though it seemed to have grown worse during the last few years. He glanced over his shoulder as his vision cleared, toward where Allrianne slept in his bed.

I should probably feel more guilty about her, he thought, smiling despite himself and reaching to put his vest and jacket on over his trousers and shirt. But…well, we’re all going to be dead in a few days anyway. An afternoon spent speaking with Clubs could certainly put one’s life in perspective.

Breeze wandered out into the hallway, making his way though the gloomy, inadequately lit Venture passageways. Honestly, he thought, I understand the value in saving lamp oil, but things are depressing enough right now without the dark corridors.

The meeting place was only a few short twists away. Breeze located it easily because of the two soldiers standing watch outside the door. Demoux’s men—soldiers who reported to the captain religiously, as well as vocationally.

Interesting, Breeze thought, remaining hidden in the side hallway. He quested out with his Allomantic powers and Soothed the men, taking away their relaxation and certainty, leaving behind anxiety and nervousness. The guards began to grow restless, shuffling. Finally, one turned and opened the door, checking on the room inside. The motion gave Breeze a full view of the room’s contents. Only one man sat within. Sazed.

Breeze stood quietly, trying to decide his next course of action. There was nothing incriminating in the letter; this couldn’t all simply be a trap on Elend’s part, could it? An obscure attempt at finding out which crewmembers would betray him and which wouldn’t? Seemed like too distrustful a move for the good-natured boy. Besides, if that were the case, Sazed would have to try and get Breeze to do more than simply meet in a clandestine location.

The door swung closed, the soldier returning to his place. I can trust Sazed, can’t I? Breeze thought. But, if that was the case, why the quiet meeting? Was Breeze overreacting?

No, the guards proved that Sazed worried about this meeting being discovered. It was suspicious. If it were anyone else, Breeze would have gone straight to Elend. But Sazed… Breeze sighed, then wandered into the hallway, dueling cane clicking against the floor. Might as well see what he has to say. Besides, if he is planning something devious, it’d almost be worth the danger to see it. Despite the letter, despite the strange circumstances, Breeze had trouble imagining a Terrisman being involved in something that wasn’t completely honest.

Perhaps the Lord Ruler had had the same problem.

Breeze nodded to the soldiers, Soothing away their anxiety and restoring them to a more temperate humor. There was another reason why he was willing to chance the meeting. Breeze was only just beginning to realize how dangerous his predicament was. Luthadel would soon fall. Every instinct he’d nurtured during thirty years in the underground was telling him to run.

That feeling made him more likely to take risks. The Breeze of a few years earlier would already have abandoned the city. Damn you, Kelsier, he thought as he pushed open the door.

Sazed looked up with surprise from his table. The room was sparse, with several chairs and only two lamps. “You’re early, Lord Breeze,” Sazed said, standing quickly.

“Of course I am,” Breeze snapped. “I had to make certain this wasn’t a trap of some sort.” He paused. “This isn’t a trap of some sort, right?” “Trap?” Sazed asked. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, don’t sound so shocked,” Breeze said. “This is no simple meeting.”

Sazed wilted slightly. “It’s…that obvious, is it?”

Breeze sat, laying his cane across his lap, and eyed Sazed tellingly, Soothing the man to make him feel a little more self-conscious. “You may have helped us overthrow the Lord Ruler, my dear man—but you have a lot to learn about being sneaky.” “I apologize,” Sazed said, sitting. “I simply wanted to meet quickly, to discuss certain…sensitive issues.” “Well, I’d recommend getting rid of those guards,” Breeze said. “They make the room stand out. Then, light a few more lamps and get us something to eat or drink. If Elend walks in—I assume it’s Elend we’re hiding from?” “Yes.”

“Well, if he comes and sees us sitting here in the dark, eyeing each other insidiously, he’ll know something is up. The less natural the occasion, the more natural you want to appear.” “Ah, I see,” Sazed said. “Thank you.”

The door opened and Clubs hobbled in. He eyed Breeze, then Sazed, then wandered over toward a chair. Breeze glanced at Sazed—no surprise there. Clubs was obviously invited as well.

“Lose those guards,” Clubs snapped.

“Immediately, Lord Cladent,” Sazed said, standing and shuffling over to the door. He spoke briefly with the guards, then returned. As Sazed was sitting, Ham poked his head into the room, looking suspicious.

“Wait a minute,” Breeze said. “How many people are coming to this secret meeting?” Sazed gestured for Ham to sit. “All of the more…experienced members of the crew.” “You mean everyone but Elend and Vin,” Breeze said.

“I did not invite Lord Lestibournes either,” Sazed said.

Yes, but Spook isn’t the one we’re hiding from.

Ham sat down hesitantly, shooting a questioning glance at Breeze. “So…why exactly are we meeting behind the backs of our Mistborn and our king?” “King no longer,” a voice noted from the door. Dockson walked in and sat. “In fact, it could be argued that Elend isn’t leader of this crew anymore. He fell into that position by happenstance—just like he fell into the throne.” Ham flushed. “I know you don’t like him, Dox, but I’m not here to talk treason.” “There’s no treason if there’s no throne to betray,” Dockson said, sitting. “What are we going to do—stay here and be servants in his house? Elend doesn’t need us. Perhaps it’s time to transfer our services to Lord Penrod.” “Penrod is a nobleman, too,” Ham said. “You can’t tell me you like him any better than you do Elend.” Dockson thumped the table quietly with his fist. “It’s not about who I like, Ham. It’s about seeing that this damn kingdom Kelsier threw at us remains standing! We’ve spent a year and a half cleaning up his mess. Do you want to see that work wasted?” “Please, gentlemen,” Sazed said, trying—without success—to break into the conversation.

“Work, Dox?” Ham said, flushed. “What work have you done? I haven’t seen you do much of anything besides sit and complain every time someone offers a plan.” “Complain?” Dockson snapped. “Do you have any idea how much administrative work it has taken to keep this city from falling upon itself? What have you done, Ham? You refused to take command of the army. All you do is drink and spar with your friends!” That’s enough of that, Breeze thought, Soothing the men. At this rate, we’ll strangle each other before Straff can have us executed.

Dockson settled back in his chair, waving a dismissive hand at Ham, who still sat red-faced. Sazed waited, obviously chagrined by the outbreak. Breeze Soothed away his insecurity. You’re in charge here, Sazed. Tell us what is going on.

“Please,” Sazed said. “I did not bring us together so that we could argue. I understand that you are all tense—that is understandable, considering the circumstances.” “Penrod is going to give our city to Straff,” Ham said.

“That’s better than letting him slaughter us,” Dockson countered.

“Actually,” Breeze said, “I don’t think we have to worry about Straff slaughtering us.” “No?” Dockson asked, frowning. “Do you have some information you haven’t been sharing with us, Breeze?” “Oh, get over yourself, Dox,” Ham snapped. “You’ve never been happy that you didn’t end up in charge when Kell died. That’s the real reason you never liked Elend, isn’t it?” Dockson flushed, and Breeze sighed, slapping both of them with a powerful blanket Soothing. They both jumped slightly, as if they’d been stung—though the sensation would be quite the opposite. Their emotions, once volatile, would suddenly have become numb and unresponsive.

Both looked at Breeze.

“Yes,” he said, “of course I’m Soothing you. Honestly, I know Hammond is a bit immature—but you, Dockson?” Dockson sat back, rubbing his forehead. “You can let go, Breeze,” he said after a moment. “I’ll keep my tongue.” Ham just grumbled, settling one hand on the table. Sazed watched the exchange with a little bit of shock.

This is what cornered men are like, my dear Terrisman, Breeze thought. This is what happens when they lose hope. They might be able to keep up appearances in front of the soldiers, but put them alone with their friends… Sazed was a Terrisman; his entire life had been one of oppression and loss. But these men, Breeze himself included, were accustomed to success. Even against overwhelming odds, they were confident. They were the type of men who could go up against a god, and expect to win. They wouldn’t deal well with losing. Of course, when losing meant death, who would?

“Straff’s armies are getting ready to break camp,” Clubs finally said. “He’s doing it subtly, but the signs are there.” “So, he’s coming for the city,” Dockson said. “My men in Penrod’s palace say the Assembly has been sending missive after missive to Straff, all but begging him to come take up occupation of Luthadel.” “He’s not going to take the city,” Clubs said. “At least, not if he’s smart.” “Vin is still a threat,” Breeze said. “And it doesn’t look like Straff has a Mistborn to protect him. If he came into Luthadel, I doubt there is a single thing he could do to keep her from slitting his throat. So, he’ll do something else.” Dockson frowned, and glanced at Ham, who shrugged.

“It’s really quite simple,” Breeze said, tapping the table with his dueling cane. “Why, even I figured it out.” Clubs snorted at this. “If Straff makes it look like he’s withdrawing, the koloss will probably attack Luthadel for him. They’re too literal to understand the threat of a hidden army.” “If Straff withdraws,” Clubs said, “Jastes won’t be able to keep them from the city.” Dockson blinked. “But they’d…”

“Slaughter?” Clubs asked. “Yes. They’d pillage the richest sectors of the town—probably end up killing most of the noblemen in the city.” “Eliminating the men that Straff has been forced—against his will, knowing that man’s pride—to work with,” Breeze added. “In fact, there’s a good chance the creatures will kill Vin. Can you imagine her not joining the fight if koloss broke in?” The room fell silent.

“But, that doesn’t really help Straff get the city,” Dockson said. “He’ll still have to fight the koloss.” “Yes,” Clubs said, scowling. “But, they’ll probably take down some of the city gates, not to mention level a lot of the homes. That will leave Straff with a clear field to attack a weakened foe. Plus, koloss don’t strategize—for them, city walls won’t be much help. Straff couldn’t ask for a better setup.” “He’d be seen as a liberator,” Breeze said quietly. “If he returns at the right time—after the koloss have broken into the city and fought the soldiers, but before they’ve done serious damage to the skaa quarter—he could free the people and establish himself as their protector, not their conqueror. Knowing how the people feel, I think they’d welcome him. Right now, a strong leader would mean more to them than coins in their pockets and rights in the Assembly.” As the group thought on this, Breeze eyed Sazed, who still sat quietly. He’d said so little; what was his game? Why gather the crew? Was he subtle enough to know that they’d simply needed to have an honest discussion like this, without Elend’s morals to clutter things up?

“We could just let Straff have it,” Dockson finally said. “The city, I mean. We could promise to call Vin off. If that is where this is heading anyway…” “Dox,” Ham said quietly, “what would Kell think, to hear you talk like that?” “We could give the city to Jastes Lekal,” Breeze said. “Perhaps he can be persuaded to treat the skaa with dignity.” “And let twenty thousand koloss into the city?” Ham asked. “Breeze, have you ever seen what those things can do?” Dockson pounded the table. “I’m just giving options, Ham. What else are we going to do?” “Fight,” Clubs said. “And die.”

The room fell silent again.

“You sure know how to kill a conversation, my friend,” Breeze finally said.

“It needed to be said,” Clubs muttered. “No use fooling yourselves anymore. We can’t win a fight, and a fight is where this was always going. The city is going to get attacked. We’re going to defend it. And we’ll lose.

“You wonder if we should just give up. Well, we’re not going to do that. Kell wouldn’t let us, and so we won’t let ourselves. We’ll fight, and we’ll die with dignity. Then, the city will burn—but we’ll have said something. The Lord Ruler pushed us around for a thousand years, but now we skaa have pride. We fight. We resist. And we die.” “What was this all worth, then?” Ham said with frustration. “Why overthrow the Final Empire? Why kill the Lord Ruler? Why do anything, if it was just going to end like this? Tyrants ruling every dominance, Luthadel smashed to rubble, our crew dead?” “Because,” Sazed said softly, “someone had to begin it. While the Lord Ruler ruled, society could not progress. He kept a stabilizing hand on the empire, but it was an oppressive hand as well. Fashion stayed remarkably unchanged for a thousand years, the noblemen always trying to fit the Lord Ruler’s ideals. Architecture and science did not progress, for the Lord Ruler frowned on change and invention.

“And the skaa could not be free, for he would not let them. However, killing him did not free our peoples, my friends. Only time will do that. It will take centuries, perhaps—centuries of fighting, learning, and growth. At the beginning, unfortunately and unavoidably, things will be very difficult. Worse even than they were beneath the Lord Ruler.” “And we die for nothing,” Ham said with a scowl.

“No,” Sazed said. “Not nothing, Lord Hammond. We will die to show that there are skaa who will not be bullied, who will not back down. This is a very important precedent, I think. In the histories and legends, this is the kind of event that inspires. If the skaa are ever to take rule of themselves, there will need to be sacrifices they can look to for motivation. Sacrifices like that of the Survivor himself.” The men sat in silence.

“Breeze,” Ham said, “I could use a little more confidence right now.”

“Of course,” Breeze said, carefully Soothing away the man’s anxiety and fear. His face lost some of its pale pallor, and he sat up a little straighter. Just for good measure, Breeze gave the rest of the crew a little of the same treatment.

“How long have you known?” Dockson asked Sazed.

“For some time now, Lord Dockson,” Sazed said.

“But, you couldn’t have known that Straff would pull back and give us to the koloss. Only Clubs figured that out.” “My knowledge was general, Lord Breeze,” Sazed said in his even voice. “It did not relate to the koloss specifically. I have thought for some time that this city would fall. In all honesty, I am deeply impressed with your efforts. This people should long since have been defeated, I think. You have done something grand—something that will be remembered for centuries.” “Assuming anyone survives to tell the story,” Clubs noted.

Sazed nodded. “That, actually, is why I called this gathering. There is little chance of those of us who remain in the city surviving—we will be needed to help with defenses, and if we do survive the koloss attack, Straff will try to execute us. However, it is not necessary for us all to remain in Luthadel for its fall—someone, perhaps, should be sent out to organize further resistance against the warlords.” “I won’t leave my men,” Clubs grumbled.

“Nor I,” Ham said. “Though I did send my family to ground yesterday.” The simple phrase meant that he’d had them leave, perhaps to hide in the city’s underground, perhaps to escape through one of the passwalls. Ham wouldn’t know—and that way he couldn’t betray their location. Old habits died hard.

“If this city falls,” Dockson said, “I’ll be here with it. That’s what Kell would expect. I’m not leaving.” “I’ll go,” Breeze said, looking at Sazed. “Is it too early to volunteer?”

“Um, actually, Lord Breeze,” Sazed said, “I wasn’t—”

Breeze held up a hand. “It’s all right, Sazed. I believe it’s obvious whom you think should be sent away. You didn’t invite them to the meeting.” Dockson frowned. “We’re going to defend Luthadel to the death, and you want to send away our only Mistborn?” Sazed nodded his head. “My lords,” he said softly, “the men of this city will need our leadership. We gave them this city and put them in this predicament. We cannot abandon them now. But…there are great things at work in this world. Greater things than us, I think. I am convinced that Mistress Vin is part of them.

“Even if these matters are delusions on my part, then Lady Vin still must not be allowed to die in this city. She is the people’s most personal and powerful link to the Survivor. She has become a symbol to them, and her skills as a Mistborn give her the best chance of being able to get away, then survive the attacks Straff will undoubtedly send. She will be a great value in the fight to come—she can move quickly and stealthily, and can fight alone, doing much damage, as she proved last night.” Sazed bowed his head. “My lords, I called you here today so that we could decide how to convince her to run, when the rest of us stay to fight. It will not be an easy task, I think.” “She won’t leave Elend,” Ham said. “He’ll have to go, too.”

“My thoughts as well, Lord Hammond,” Sazed said.

Clubs chewed his lip in thought. “That boy won’t be easily convinced to flee. He still thinks we can win this fight.” “And we may yet,” Sazed said. “My lords, my purpose is not to leave you without any hope at all. But, the dire circumstances, the likelihood of success…” “We know, Sazed,” Breeze said. “We understand.”

“There have to be others of the crew who can go,” Ham said, looking down. “More than just the two.” “I would send Tindwyl with them,” Sazed said. “She will carry to my people many discoveries of great importance. I also plan to send Lord Lestibournes. He would do little good in the battle, and his abilities as a spy could be of help to Lady Vin and Lord Elend as they try to rally resistance among the skaa.

“However, those four will not be the only ones who survive. Most of the skaa should be safe—Jastes Lekal seems to be able to control his koloss somehow. Even if he cannot, then Straff should arrive in time to protect the city’s people.” “Assuming Straff is planning what Clubs thinks he is,” Ham said. “He could actually be withdrawing, cutting his losses and leaving Luthadel behind.” “Either way,” Clubs said. “Not many can get out. Neither Straff nor Jastes are likely to allow large groups of people to flee the city. Right now, confusion and fear in the streets will serve their purposes far better than depopulation. We might be able to get a few riders on horseback out—especially if one of those riders is Vin. The rest of the people will have to take their chances with the koloss.” Breeze felt his stomach turn. Clubs spoke so bluntly…so callously. But that was Clubs. He wasn’t even really a pessimist; he just said the things that he didn’t think others wanted to acknowledge.

Some of the skaa will survive to become slaves for Straff Venture, Breeze thought. But those who fight—and those who have led the city this last year—are doomed. That includes me.

It’s true. This time there really is no way out.

“Well?” Sazed asked, hands spread before him. “Are we in agreement that these four should go?” The members of the group nodded.

“Let us discuss, then,” Sazed said, “and devise a plan for sending them away.” “We could just make Elend think that the danger isn’t that great,” Dockson said. “If he believes that the city is in for a long siege, he might be willing to go with Vin on a mission somewhere. They wouldn’t realize what was happening back here until it was too late.” “A good suggestion, Lord Dockson,” Sazed said. “I think, also, that we could work with Vin’s concept of the Well of Ascension.” The discussion continued, and Breeze sat back, satisfied. Vin, Elend, and Spook will survive, he thought. I’ll have to convince Sazed to let Allrianne go with them. He glanced around the room, noticing a release of tension in the postures of the others. Dockson and Ham seemed at peace, and even Clubs was nodding quietly to himself, looking satisfied as they talked through suggestions.

The disaster was still coming. But, somehow, the possibility that some would escape—the youngest crewmembers, the ones still inexperienced enough to hope—made everything else a little easier to accept.

Vin stood quietly in the mists, looking up at the dark spires, columns, and towers of Kredik Shaw. In her head, two sounds thumped. The mist spirit and the larger, vaster sound.

It was growing more and more demanding.

She continued forward, ignoring the thumps as she approached Kredik Shaw. The Hill of a Thousand Spires, once home of the Lord Ruler. It had been abandoned for well over a year, but no vagrants had made their home here. It was too ominous. Too terrible. Too much a reminder of him.

The Lord Ruler had been a monster. Vin remembered well the night, over a year before, when she had come to this palace intending to kill him. To do the job that Kelsier had unwittingly trained her to do. She had walked through this very courtyard, had passed guards at the doors before her.

And she had let them live. Kelsier would have just fought his way in. But Vin had talked them into leaving, into joining the rebellion. That act had saved her life when one of those very men, Goradel, had led Elend to the palace dungeons to help rescue Vin.

In a way, the Final Empire had been overthrown because she hadn’t acted like Kelsier.

And yet, could she base future decisions upon a coincidence like that? Looking back, it seemed too perfectly allegorical. Like a neat little tale told to children, intended to teach a lesson.

Vin had never heard those tales as a child. And, she had survived when so many others had died. For every lesson like the one with Goradel, it seemed that there were a dozen that ended in tragedy.

And then there was Kelsier. He’d been right, in the end. His lesson was very different from the ones taught by the children’s tales. Kelsier had been bold, even excited, when he executed those who stood in his path. Ruthless. He had looked toward the greater good; he’d always had his eyes focused on the fall of the empire, and the eventual rise of a kingdom like Elend’s.

He had succeeded. Why couldn’t she kill as he had, knowing she was doing her duty, never feeling guilt? She’d always been frightened by the edge of danger Kelsier had displayed. Yet, wasn’t that very edge the thing that had let him succeed?

She passed into the tunnel-like corridors of the palace, feet and mistcloak tassels trailing marks in the dust. The mists, as always, remained behind. They didn’t enter buildings—or, if they did, they usually didn’t remain for long. With them, she left behind the mist spirit.

She had to make a decision. She didn’t like the decision, but she was accustomed to doing things she didn’t like. That was life. She hadn’t wanted to fight the Lord Ruler, but she had.

It soon became too dark even for Mistborn eyes, and she had to light a lantern. When she did, she was surprised to see that her footsteps weren’t the only ones in the dust. Apparently, someone else had been haunting the corridors. However, whoever it was, she didn’t encounter them as she walked through the hallways.

She entered the chamber a few moments later. She wasn’t sure what had drawn her to Kredik Shaw, let alone the hidden chamber at its center. It seemed, however, that she had been feeling a kinship with the Lord Ruler lately. Her walkings had brought her here, to a place she hadn’t visited since that night when she’d slain the only God she’d ever known.

He had spent a lot of time in this hidden chamber, a place he had apparently built to remind him of his homeland. The chamber had a domed roof that arced overhead. The walls were filled with silvery murals and the floor was filled with metallic inlays. She ignored these, walking forward toward the room’s central feature—a small stone building that had been built within the larger chamber.

It was here that Kelsier and his wife had been captured many years before, during Kelsier’s first attempt to rob the Lord Ruler. Mare had been murdered at the Pits. But Kelsier had survived.

It was here, in this same chamber, that Vin had first faced an Inquisitor, and had nearly been killed herself. It was also here that she had come months later in her first attempt to kill the Lord Ruler. She had been defeated that time, too.

She stepped into the small building-within-a-building. It had only one room. The floor had been torn up by Elend’s crews, searching for the atium. The walls were still hung, however, with the trappings the Lord Ruler had left behind. She raised her lantern, looking at them.

Rugs. Furs. A small wooden flute. The things of his people, the Terris people, from a thousand years before. Why had he built his new city of Luthadel here, to the south, when his homeland—and the Well of Ascension itself—had been to the north? Vin had never really understood that.

Perhaps it came down to decision. Rashek, the Lord Ruler, had been forced to make a decision, too. He could have continued as he was, the pastoral villager. He would probably have had a happy life with his people.

But he had decided to become something more. In doing so, he had committed terrible atrocities. Yet, could she blame him for the decision itself? He had become what he’d thought he needed to be.

Her decision seemed more mundane, but she knew that other things—the Well of Ascension, the protection of Luthadel—could not be considered until she was certain what she wanted and who she was. And yet, standing in that room where Rashek had spent much of his time, thinking about the Well, the demanding thumps in her head sounded louder than they ever had before.

She had to decide. Elend was the one she wanted to be with. He represented peace. Happiness. Zane, however, represented what she felt she had to become. For the good of everyone involved.

The Lord Ruler’s palace held no clues or answers for her. A few moments later, frustrated and baffled at why she had even come, she left it behind, walking back out into the mists.

Zane awoke to the sound of a tent spike being pounded in a specific rhythm. His reaction was immediate.

He burned steel and pewter. He always swallowed a new bit of each before sleeping. He knew the habit would probably kill him someday; metals were poisonous if allowed to linger.

Dying someday was better, in Zane’s opinion, than dying today.

He flipped out of his cot, tossing his blanket toward the opening tent flap. He could barely see in the darkness of night. Even as he jumped, he heard something ripping. The tent walls being slit.

“Kill them!” God screamed.

Zane thumped to the ground and grabbed a handful of coins from the bowl beside his bed. He heard cries of surprise as he spun, throwing coins in a spinning spray around him.

He Pushed. Tiny plunks of sound thumped around him as coins met canvas, then continued on.

And men began to scream.

Zane fell to a crouch, waiting silently as the tent collapsed around him. Someone was thrashing the cloth to his right. He shot a few coins, and heard a satisfying grunt of pain. In the stillness, canvas resting atop him like a blanket, he heard footsteps running away.

He sighed, relaxing, and used a dagger to slice away the top of his tent. He emerged to a misty night. He’d gone to sleep later today than he usually did; it was probably near midnight. Time to be up anyway.

He strode across the fallen top of his tent—moving over to the now cloaked form of his cot—and cut a hole so he could reach through and pluck out the vial of metal he’d stored in a pocket beneath it. He downed the metals, and tin brought near light to his surroundings. Four men lay dying or dead around his tent. They were soldiers, of course—Straff’s soldiers. The attack had come later than Zane had expected.

Straff trusts me more than I assumed. Zane stepped over the dead form of an assassin and cut his way into a storage chest, then pulled out his clothing. He changed quietly, then removed a small bag of coins from the chest. It must have been the attack on Cett’s keep, he thought. It finally convinced Straff that I was too dangerous to let live.

Zane found his man working quietly beside a tent a short distance away, ostensibly testing the strength of a tent cord. He watched every night, paid to pound on a tent spike should anyone approach Zane’s tent. Zane tossed the man a bag of coins, then moved off into the darkness, passing the canal waters with their supply barges on his way to Straff’s tent.

His father had some few limitations. Straff was fine at large-scale planning, but the details—the subtleties—often got away from him. He could organize an army and crush his enemies. He, however, liked to play with dangerous tools. Like the atium mines at the Pits of Hathsin. Like Zane.

Those tools often ended up burning him.

Zane walked up to the side of Straff’s tent, then ripped a hole in the canvas and strode in. Straff waited for him. Zane gave the man credit: Straff watched his death coming with defiance in his eyes. Zane stopped in the middle of the room, in front of Straff, who sat in his hard wooden chair.

“Kill him,” God commanded.

Lamps burned in the corners, illuminating the canvas. The cushions and blankets in the corner were rumpled; Straff had taken one last romp with his favorite mistresses before sending his assassins. The king displayed his characteristic air of strong defiance, but Zane saw more. He saw a face too slick with sweat, and he saw hands trembling, as if from a disease.

“I have atium for you,” Straff said. “Buried in a place only I know.”

Zane stood quietly, staring at his father.

“I will proclaim you openly,” Straff said. “Name you my heir. Tomorrow, if you wish.” Zane didn’t respond. Straff continued to sweat.

“The city is yours,” Zane finally said, turning away.

He was rewarded with a startled gasp from behind.

Zane glanced back. He’d never seen such a look of shock on his father’s face. That alone was almost worth everything.

“Pull your men back, as you are planning,” Zane said, “but don’t return to the Northern Dominance. Wait for those koloss to invade the city, let them take down the defenses and kill the defenders. Then, you can sweep in and rescue Luthadel.” “But, Elend’s Mistborn…”

“Will be gone,” Zane said. “She’s leaving with me, tonight. Farewell, Father.” He turned and left through the slit he’d made.

“Zane?” Straff called from inside the tent.

Zane paused again.

“Why?” Straff asked, looking out through the slit. “I sent assassins to kill you. Why are you letting me live?” “Because you’re my father,” Zane said. He turned away, looking into the mists. “A man shouldn’t kill his father.” With that, Zane bid a final farewell to the man who had created him. A man whom Zane—despite his insanity, despite the abuse he’d known over the years—loved.

In the dark mists he threw down a coin and shot out over the camp. Outside its confines, he landed and easily located the bend in the canal he used as a marker. From the hollow of a small tree there, he pulled a bundle of cloth. A mistcloak, the first gift Straff had given him, years before when Zane had first Snapped. To him, it was too precious to wear around, to soil and use.

He knew himself a fool. However, he could not help how he felt. One could not use emotional Allomancy on one’s self.

He unwrapped the mistcloak and withdrew the things it protected—several vials of metal and a pouch filled with beads. Atium.

He knelt there for a long moment. Then, he reached up to his chest, feeling the space just above his rib cages. Where his heart thumped.

There was a large bump there. There always had been. He didn’t think about it often; his mind seemed to get distracted when he did. It, however, was the real reason he never wore cloaks.

He didn’t like the way that cloaks rubbed against the small point of the spike that stuck out of his back just between the shoulder blades. The head was against his sternum, and couldn’t be seen beneath clothing.

“It is time to go,” God said.

Zane stood, leaving the mistcloak behind. He turned from his father’s camp, leaving behind that which he had known, instead seeking the woman who would save him.

Alendi believes as they do.