The Mistborn Trilogy (103 page)

Focus!
she told herself. However, the pulses stubbornly refused to yield any further information.

Fine,
she thought.
I’ll cheat.
She turned off her tin—she almost always had it on a little bit—then reached inside and burned the fourteenth metal. Duralumin.

The Allomantic pulses became so loud…so powerful…she swore she could feel their vibrations shaking her apart. They pounded like beats from a massive drum set right beside her. But she got something from them.

Anxiety, nervousness, worry, insecurity, anxiety, nervousness, worry—

It was gone, her bronze expended in one massive flare of power. Vin opened her eyes; no one in the room was looking at her except OreSeur.

She felt drained. The headache she’d predicted before now came in full force, thudding inside her head like the tiny brother of the drum she’d now banished. However, she held to the information she’d gleaned. It hadn’t come in words, but feelings—and her first fear was that Breeze was making these emotions appear. Anxiety, nervousness, worry. However, she immediately realized that Breeze was a Soother. If he focused on emotions, it would be the ones he was
dampening
. The ones he was using his powers to Soothe away.

She looked from him to Elend.
Why…he’s making Elend more confident!
If Elend stood a little taller, it was because Breeze was quietly helping, Soothing away anxiety and worry. And Breeze did this even as he argued and made his usual mocking comments.

Vin studied the plump man, ignoring her headache, feeling a newfound sense of admiration. She’d always wondered just a little at Breeze’s placement in the crew. The other men were all, to an extent, idealists. Even Clubs, beneath his crotchety exterior, had always struck her as a solidly good man.

Breeze was different. Manipulative, a little selfish—he seemed like he’d joined the crew for the challenge, not because he really wanted to help the skaa. But, Kelsier had always claimed that he’d chosen his crew carefully, picking the men for their integrity, not just their skill.

Perhaps Breeze wasn’t an exception after all. Vin watched him pointing his cane at Ham as he said something flippant. And yet, on the inside, he was completely different.

You’re a good man, Breeze,
she thought, smiling to herself.
You just try your best to hide it.

And he also wasn’t the impostor. She’d known that before, of course; Breeze hadn’t been in the city when the kandra had made the switch. However, having a second confirmation lifted a tiny bit of her burden.

Now if she could just eliminate some of the others.

Elend bid the crew farewell after the meeting. Dockson went to pen the requested letters, Ham to go over security, Clubs back to training the soldiers, and Breeze to try and placate the Assembly regarding Elend’s lack of attention.

Vin trailed out of the study, shooting him a glance, then eyeing Tindwyl.
Suspicious of her still, eh?
Elend thought with amusement. He nodded reassuringly, and Vin frowned, looking just a little annoyed. He would have let her stay, but…well, facing Tindwyl was embarrassing enough alone.

Vin left the room, wolfhound kandra at her side.
Looks like she’s growing more attached to the creature,
Elend thought with satisfaction. It was good to know that someone watched over her.

Vin shut the door behind her, and Elend sighed, rubbing his shoulder. Several weeks of training with the sword and cane were taking a lot out of him, and his body was bruised. He tried to keep the pain from showing—or, rather, from letting Tindwyl see him show the pain.
At least I proved that I’m learning,
he thought.
She had to see how well I did today.

“Well?” he asked.

“You are an embarrassment,” Tindwyl said, standing before her chair.

“So you like to say,” Elend said, walking forward to begin piling up a stack of books. Tindwyl said that he needed to let servants keep his study clean, something he’d always resisted. The clutter of books and papers felt right to him, and he certainly didn’t want someone else moving them around.

With her standing there looking at him, however, it was difficult not to feel self-conscious about the mess. He stacked another book on the pile.

“Surely you noticed how well I did,” Elend said. “I got them to let me go into Straff’s camp.”

“You are king, Elend Venture,” Tindwyl said, arms folded. “Nobody ‘lets’ you do anything. The first change in attitude has to be your own—you have to stop thinking that you need permission or agreement from those who follow you.”

“A king should lead by consent of his citizens,” Elend said. “I will not be another Lord Ruler.”

“A king should be strong,” Tindwyl said firmly. “He accepts counsel, but only when he asks for it. He makes it clear that the final decision is his, not his counselors’. You need better control over your advisors. If they don’t respect you, then your enemies won’t either—and the masses never will.”

“Ham and the others respect me.”

Tindwyl raised an eyebrow.

“They do!”

“What do they call you?”

Elend shrugged. “They’re my friends. They use my name.”

“Or a close approximation of it. Right, ‘El’?”

Elend flushed, setting one final book on the stack. “You’d have me force my friends to address me by my title?”

“Yes,” Tindwyl said. “Especially in public. You should be addressed as ‘Your Majesty,’ or at least as ‘my lord.’”

“I doubt Ham would deal well with that,” Elend said. “He has some issues with authority.”

“He will get over them,” Tindwyl said, wiping her finger along a bookcase. She didn’t need to hold it up for Elend to know there would be dust on its tip.

“What about you?” Elend challenged.

“Me?”

“You call me ‘Elend Venture,’ not ‘Your Majesty.’”

“I am different,” Tindwyl said.

“Well, I don’t see why you should be. You can call me ‘Your Majesty’ from now on.”

Tindwyl smiled slyly. “Very well, Your Majesty. You can unclench your fists now. You’re going to have to work on that—a statesman should not give visual clues of his nervousness.”

Elend glanced down, relaxing his hands. “All right.”

“In addition,” Tindwyl continued, “you still hedge too much in your language. It makes you seem timid and hesitant.”

“I’m working on that.”

“Don’t apologize unless you really mean it,” Tindwyl said. “And don’t make excuses. You don’t need them. A leader is often judged by how well he bears responsibility. As king, everything that happens in your kingdom—regardless of who commits the act—is your fault. You are even responsible for unavoidable events such as earthquakes or storms.”

“Or armies,” Elend said.

Tindwyl nodded. “Or armies. It is your responsibility to deal with these things, and if something goes wrong, it is your fault. You simply have to accept this.”

Elend nodded, picking up a book.

“Now, let’s talk about guilt,” Tindwyl said, seating herself. “Stop cleaning. That isn’t a job for a king.”

Elend sighed, setting down the book.

“Guilt,” Tindwyl said, “does not become a king. You have to stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

“You just told me everything that happens in the kingdom is my fault!”

“It is.”

“How can I
not
feel guilty, then?”

“You have to feel confident that your actions are the best,” Tindwyl explained. “You have to know that no matter how bad things get, they would be worse without you. When disaster occurs, you take responsibility, but you don’t wallow or mope. You aren’t allowed that luxury; guilt is for lesser men. You simply need to do what is expected.”

“And that is?”

“To make everything better.”

“Great,” Elend said flatly. “And if I fail?”

“Then you accept responsibility, and make everything better on the second try.”

Elend rolled his eyes. “And what if I can’t ever make things better? What if I’m really not the best man to be king?”

“Then you remove yourself from the position,” Tindwyl said. “Suicide is the preferred method—assuming, of course, that you have an heir. A good king knows not to foul up the succession.”

“Of course,” Elend said. “So, you’re saying I should just kill myself.”

“No. I’m telling you to have pride in yourself, Your Majesty.”

“That’s not what it sounds like. Every day you tell me how poor a king I am, and how my people will suffer because of it! Tindwyl, I’m
not
the best man for this position. He got himself killed by the Lord Ruler.”

“That is enough!” Tindwyl snapped. “Believe it or not, Your Majesty, you
are
the best person for this position.”

Elend snorted.

“You are best,” Tindwyl said, “because you hold the throne now. If there is anything worse than a mediocre king, it is chaos—which is what this kingdom would have if
you
hadn’t taken the throne. The people on both sides, noblemen and skaa, accept you. They may not believe in you, but they accept you. Step down now—or even die accidentally—and there would be confusion, collapse, and destruction. Poorly trained or not, weak of character or not, mocked or not, you are all this country has. You are
king
, Elend Venture.”

Elend paused. “I’m…not sure if you’re making me feel any better about myself, Tindwyl.”

“It’s—”

Elend raised a hand. “Yes, I know. It’s not about how I feel.”

“You have no place for guilt. Accept that you’re king, accept that you can do nothing constructive to change that, and accept responsibility. Whatever you do, be confident—for if you weren’t here, there would be chaos.”

Elend nodded.

“Arrogance, Your Majesty,” Tindwyl said. “Successful leaders all share one common trait—they believe that they can do a better job than the alternatives. Humility is fine when considering your responsibility and duty, but when it comes time to make a decision, you must not question yourself.”

“I’ll try.”

“Good,” Tindwyl said. “Now, perhaps, we can move on to another matter. Tell me, why haven’t you married that young girl?”

Elend frowned.
Wasn’t expecting that….
“That’s a very personal question, Tindwyl.”

“Good.”

Elend deepened his frown, but she sat expectantly, watching him with one of her unrelenting stares.

“I don’t know,” Elend finally said, sitting back in his chair, sighing. “Vin isn’t…like other women.”

Tindwyl raised an eyebrow, her voice softening slightly. “I think that the more women you come to know, Your Majesty, the more you’ll find that statement applies to all of them.”

Elend nodded ruefully.

“Either way,” Tindwyl said, “things are not well as they stand. I will not pry further into your relationship, but—as we’ve discussed—appearances are very important to a king. It isn’t appropriate for you to be seen as having a mistress. I realize that sort of thing was common for imperial nobility. The skaa, however, want to see something better in you. Perhaps because many noblemen were so frivolous with their sexual lives, the skaa have always prized monogamy. They wish desperately for you to respect their values.”

“They’ll just have to be patient with us,” Elend said. “I actually want to marry Vin, but she won’t have it.”

“Do you know why?”

Elend shook his head. “She…doesn’t seem to make sense a lot of the time.”

“Perhaps she isn’t right for a man in your position.”

Elend looked up sharply. “What does that mean?”

“Perhaps you need someone a little more refined,” Tindwyl said. “I’m certain she’s a fine bodyguard, but as a lady, she—”

“Stop,” Elend snapped. “Vin is fine as she is.”

Tindwyl smiled.

“What?” Elend demanded.

“I’ve insulted you all afternoon, Your Majesty, and you barely grew sullen. I mentioned your Mistborn in a mildly disparaging way, and now you’re ready to throw me out.”

“So?”

“So, you do love her?”

“Of course,” Elend said. “I don’t understand her, but yes. I love her.”

Tindwyl nodded. “I apologize, then, Your Majesty. I had to be certain.”

Elend frowned, relaxing in his chair slightly. “So, this was some kind of test, then? You wanted to see how I would react to your words about Vin?”

“You will always be tested by those you meet, Your Majesty. You might as well grow accustomed to it.”

“But, why do you care about my relationship with Vin?”

“Love is not easy for kings, Your Majesty,” Tindwyl said in an uncharacteristically kind voice. “You will find that your affection for the girl can cause far more trouble than any of the other things we’ve discussed.”

“And that’s a reason to give her up?” Elend asked stiffly.

“No,” Tindwyl said. “No, I don’t think so.”

Elend paused, studying the stately Terriswoman with her square features and her stiff posture. “That…seems odd, coming from you. What about kingly duty and appearances?”

“We must make allowances for the occasional exception,” Tindwyl said.

Interesting,
Elend thought. He wouldn’t have considered her the type to agree to any sort of “exceptions.”
Perhaps she’s a little deeper than I’ve assumed.

“Now,” Tindwyl said. “How are your training sessions going?”

Elend rubbed his sore arm. “All right, I suppose. But—”

He was interrupted by a knock at the door. Captain Demoux entered a moment later. “Your Majesty, a visitor has arrived from Lord Cett’s army.”

“A messenger?” Elend said, standing.

Demoux paused, looking a little embarrassed. “Well…sort of. She says she’s Lord Cett’s daughter, and she’s come looking for Breeze.”