The Mistborn Trilogy (12 page)

Kelsier reached into his suit pocket and pulled something out. He set it on the table.

“In the north, they have a legend,” Kelsier said. “It teaches that the Lord Ruler isn’t immortal—not completely. They say he can be killed with the right metal. The Eleventh Metal. That metal.”

Eyes turned toward the object on the table. It was a thin bar of metal, perhaps as long and wide as Vin’s small finger, with straight sides. It was silvery white in color.

“The Eleventh Metal?” Breeze asked uncertainly. “I’ve heard of no such legend.”

“The Lord Ruler has suppressed it,” Kelsier said. “But it can still be found, if you know where to look. Allomantic theory teaches of ten metals: the eight basic metals, and the two high metals. There is another one, however, unknown to most. One far more powerful, even, than the other ten.”

Breeze frowned skeptically.

Yeden, however, appeared intrigued. “And, this metal can somehow kill the Lord Ruler?”

Kelsier nodded. “It’s his weakness. The Steel Ministry wants you to believe that he’s immortal, but even he can be killed—by an Allomancer burning this.”

Ham reached out, picking up the thin bar of metal. “Where did you get it?”

“In the north,” Kelsier said. “In a land near the Far Peninsula, a land where people still remember what their old kingdom was called in the days before the Ascension.”

“How does it work?” Breeze asked.

“I’m not sure,” Kelsier said frankly. “But I intend to find out.”

Ham regarded the porcelain-colored metal, turning it over his fingers.

Kill the Lord Ruler?
Vin thought. The Lord Ruler was a force, like the winds or the mists. One did not kill such things. They didn’t live, really. They simply
were.

“Regardless,” Kelsier said, accepting the metal back from Ham, “you don’t need to worry about this. Killing the Lord Ruler is my task. If it proves impossible, we’ll settle for tricking him outside of the city, then robbing him silly. I just thought that you should know what I’m planning.”

I’ve bound myself to a madman,
Vin thought with resignation. But that didn’t really matter—not as long as he taught her Allomancy.

“AHA!” KELSIER’S TRIUMPHANT FIGURE POPPED UP
from behind Camon’s bar, a look of satisfaction on his face. He brought his arm up and thunked a dusty wine bottle down on the countertop.

Dockson looked over with amusement. “Where’d you find it?”

“One of the secret drawers,” Kelsier said, dusting off the bottle.

“I thought I’d found all of those,” Dockson said.

“You did. One of them had a false back.”

Dockson chuckled. “Clever.”

Kelsier nodded, unstoppering the bottle and pouring out three cups. “The trick is to never stop looking. There’s
always
another secret.” He gathered up the three cups and walked over to join Vin and Dockson at the table.

Vin accepted her cup with a tentative hand. The meeting had ended a short time earlier, Breeze, Ham, and Yeden leaving to ponder the things Kelsier had told them. Vin felt that she should have left as well, but she had nowhere to go. Dockson and Kelsier seemed to take it for granted that she would remain with them.

Kelsier took a long sip of the rubicund wine, then smiled. “Ah, that’s
much
better.”

Dockson nodded in agreement, but Vin didn’t taste her own drink.

“We’re going to need another Smoker,” Dockson noted.

Kelsier nodded. “The others seemed to take it well, though.”

“Breeze is still uncertain,” Dockson said.

“He won’t back out. Breeze likes a challenge, and he’ll never find a challenge greater than this one.” Kelsier smiled. “Besides, it’d drive him insane to know that we were pulling a job that he wasn’t in on.”

“Still, he’s right to be apprehensive,” Dockson said. “I’m a little worried myself.”

Kelsier nodded his agreement, and Vin frowned.
So, are they serious about the plan? Or is this still a show for my sake?
The two men seemed so competent. Yet, overthrowing the Final Empire? They’d sooner stop the mists from flowing or the sun from rising.

“When do your other friends get here?” Dockson asked.

“A couple days,” Kelsier said. “We’ll need to have another Smoker by then. I’m also going to need some more atium.”

Dockson frowned. “Already?”

Kelsier nodded. “I spent most of it buying OreSeur’s Contract, then used my last bit at Tresting’s plantation.”

Tresting.
The nobleman who had been killed in his manor the week before.
How was Kelsier involved? And, what was it Kelsier said before about atium?
He’d claimed that the Lord Ruler kept control of the high nobility by maintaining a monopoly on the metal.

Dockson rubbed his bearded chin. “Atium’s not easy to come by, Kell. It took nearly eight months of planning to steal you that last bit.”

“That’s because you had to be delicate,” Kelsier said with a devious smile.

Dockson eyed Kelsier with a look of slight apprehension. Kelsier just smiled more broadly, and finally Dockson rolled his eyes, sighing. Then he glanced at Vin. “You haven’t touched your drink.”

Vin shook her head.

Dockson waited for an explanation, and eventually Vin was forced to respond. “I don’t like to drink anything I didn’t prepare myself.”

Kelsier chuckled. “She reminds me of Vent.”

“Vent?” Dockson said with a snort. “The lass is a bit paranoid, but she’s not
that
bad. I swear, that man was so jumpy that his own heartbeat could startle him.”

The two men shared a laugh. Vin, however, was only made more uncomfortable by the friendly air.
What do they expect from me? Am I to be an apprentice of some sort?

“Well, then,” Dockson said, “are you going to tell me how you plan on getting yourself some atium?”

Kelsier opened his mouth to respond, but the stairs clattered with the sound of someone coming down. Kelsier and Dockson turned; Vin, of course, had seated herself so she could see both entrances to the room without having to move.

Vin expected the newcomer to be one of Camon’s crewmembers, sent to see if Kelsier was done with the lair yet. Therefore, she was completely surprised when the door swung open to reveal the surly, gnarled face of the man called Clubs.

Kelsier smiled, eyes twinkling.

He’s not surprised. Pleased, perhaps, but not surprised.

“Clubs,” Kelsier said.

Clubs stood in the doorway, giving the three of them an impressively disapproving stare. Finally, he hobbled into the room. A thin, awkward-looking teenage boy followed him.

The boy fetched Clubs a chair and put it by Kelsier’s table. Clubs settled down, grumbling slightly to himself. Finally, he eyed Kelsier with a squinting, wrinkle-nosed expression. “The Soother is gone?”

“Breeze?” Kelsier asked. “Yes, he left.”

Clubs grunted. Then he eyed the bottle of wine.

“Help yourself,” Kelsier said.

Clubs waved for the boy to go fetch him a cup from the bar, then turned back to Kelsier. “I had to be sure,” he said. “Never can trust yourself when a Soother is around—especially one like him.”

“You’re a Smoker, Clubs,” Kelsier said. “He couldn’t do much to you, not if you didn’t want him to.”

Clubs shrugged. “I don’t like Soothers. It’s not just Allomancy—men like that…well, you can’t trust that you aren’t being manipulated when they are around. Copper or no copper.”

“I wouldn’t rely on something like that to get your loyalty,” Kelsier said.

“So I’ve heard,” Clubs said as the boy poured him a cup of wine. “Had to be sure, though. Had to think about things without that Breeze around.” He scowled, though Vin had trouble determining why, then took the cup and downed half of it in one gulp.

“Good wine,” he said with a grunt. Then he looked over at Kelsier. “So, the Pits really did drive you insane, eh?”

“Completely,” Kelsier said with a straight face.

Clubs smiled, though on his face the expression had a decidedly twisted look. “You mean to go through with this, then? This so-called job of yours?”

Kelsier nodded solemnly.

Clubs downed the rest of his wine. “You’ve got yourself a Smoker then. Not for the money, though. If you’re really serious about toppling this government, then I’m in.”

Kelsier smiled.

“And don’t smile at me,” Clubs snapped. “I hate that.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“Well,” Dockson said, pouring himself another drink, “that solves the Smoker problem.”

“Won’t matter much,” Clubs said. “You’re going to fail. I’ve spent my life trying to hide Mistings from the Lord Ruler and his obligators. He gets them all eventually anyway.”

“Why bother helping us, then?” Dockson asked.

“Because,” Clubs said, standing. “The Lord’s going to get me sooner or later. At least this way, I’ll be able to spit in his face as I go. Overthrowing the Final Empire…” He smiled. “It’s got style. Let’s go, kid. We’ve got to get the shop ready for visitors.”

Vin watched them go, Clubs limping out the door, the boy pulling it closed behind them. Then she glanced at Kelsier. “You knew he’d come back.”

He shrugged, standing and stretching. “I hoped. People are attracted to vision. The job I’m proposing…well, it just isn’t the sort of thing you walk away from—at least, not if you’re a bored old man who’s generally annoyed at life. Now, Vin, I assume that your crew owns this entire building?”

Vin nodded. “The shop upstairs is a front.”

“Good,” Kelsier said, checking his pocket watch, then handing it to Dockson. “Tell your friends that they can have their lair back—the mists are probably already coming out.”

“And us?” Dockson asked.

Kelsier smiled. “We’re going to the roof. Like I told you, I have to fetch some atium.”

By day Luthadel was a blackened city, scorched by soot and red sunlight. It was hard, distinct, and oppressive.

At night, however, the mists came to blur and obscure. High noble keeps became ghostly, looming silhouettes. Streets seemed to grow more narrow in the fog, every thoroughfare becoming a lonely, dangerous alleyway. Even noblemen and thieves were apprehensive about going out at night—it took a strong heart to brave the foreboding, misty silence. The dark city at night was a place for the desperate and the foolhardy; it was a land of swirling mystery and strange creatures.

Strange creatures like me,
Kelsier thought. He stood upon the ledge that ran around the lip of the flat-roofed lair. Shadowed buildings loomed in the night around him, and the mists made everything seem to shift and move in the darkness. Weak lights peeked from the occasional window, but the tiny beads of illumination were huddled, frightened things.

A cool breeze slipped across the rooftop, shifting the haze, brushing against Kelsier’s mist-wetted cheek like an exhaled breath. In days past—back before everything had gone wrong—he had always sought out a rooftop on the evening before a job, wishing to overlook the city. He didn’t realize he was observing his old custom this night until he glanced to the side, expecting Mare to be there next to him, as she always had been.

Instead, he found only the empty air. Lonely. Silent. The mists had replaced her. Poorly.

He sighed and turned. Vin and Dockson stood behind him on the rooftop. Both looked apprehensive to be out in the mists, but they dealt with their fear. One did not get far in the underworld without learning to stomach the mists.

Kelsier had learned to do far more than “stomach” them. He had gone among them so often during the last few years that he was beginning to feel more comfortable at night, within the mists’ obscuring embrace, than he did at day.

“Kell,” Dockson said, “do you
have
to stand on the ledge like that? Our plans may be a bit crazy, but I’d rather not have them end with you splattered across the cobblestones down there.”

Kelsier smiled.
He still doesn’t think of me as a Mistborn
, he thought.
It will take some getting used to for all of them.

Years before, he had become the most infamous crewleader in Luthadel, and he had done it without even being an Allomancer. Mare had been a Tineye, but he and Dockson…they had just been regular men. One a half-breed with no powers, the other a runaway plantation skaa. Together, they had brought Great Houses to their knees, stealing brashly from the most powerful men in the Final Empire.

Now Kelsier was more, so much more. Once he had dreamed of Allomancy, wishing for a power like Mare’s. She had been dead before he’d Snapped, coming to his powers. She would never see what he would do with them.

Before, the high nobility had feared him. It had taken a trap set by the Lord Ruler himself to capture Kelsier. Now…the Final Empire itself would shake before he was finished with it.

He scanned the city once more, breathing in the mists, then hopped down off the ledge and strolled over to join Dockson and Vin. They carried no lights; ambient starlight diffused by the mists was enough to see by in most cases.

Kelsier took off his jacket and vest, handing them to Dockson, then he untucked his shirt, letting the long garment hang loose. The fabric was dark enough that it wouldn’t give him away in the night.

“All right,” Kelsier said. “Who should I try?”

Dockson frowned. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

Kelsier smiled.

Dockson sighed. “Houses Urbain and Teniert have been hit recently, though not for their atium.”

“Which house is the strongest right now?” Kelsier asked, squatting down and undoing the ties on his pack, which rested by Dockson’s feet. “Who would no one consider hitting?”

Dockson paused. “Venture,” he finally said. “They’ve been on top for the last few years. They keep a standing force of several hundred men, and the local house nobility includes a good two dozen Mistings.”

Kelsier nodded. “Well, that’s where I’ll go, then. They’re certain to have some atium.” He pulled open the pack, then whipped out a dark gray cloak. Large and enveloping, the cloak wasn’t constructed from a single piece of cloth—rather, it was made up of hundreds of long, ribbonlike strips. They were sewn together at the shoulders and across the chest, but mostly they hung separate from one another, like overlapping streamers.

Kelsier threw on the garment, its strips of cloth twisting and curling, almost like the mists themselves.

Dockson exhaled softly. “I’ve never been so close to someone wearing one of those.”

“What is it?” Vin asked, her quiet voice almost haunting in the night mists.

“A Mistborn cloak,” Dockson said. “They all wear the things—it’s kind of like a…sign of membership in their club.”

“It’s colored and constructed to hide you in the mist,” Kelsier said. “And it warns city guards and other Mistborn not to bother you.” He spun, letting the cloak flare dramatically. “I think it suits me.”

Dockson rolled his eyes.

“All right,” Kelsier said, bending down and pulling a cloth belt from his pack. “House Venture. Is there anything I need to know?”

“Lord Venture supposedly has a safe in his study,” Dockson said. “That’s where he’d probably keep his atium stash. You’ll find the study on the third floor, three rooms in from the upper southern balcony. Be careful, House Venture keeps about a dozen hazekillers in addition to its regular troops and Mistings.”

Kelsier nodded, tying on the belt—it had no buckle, but it did contain two small sheaths. He pulled a pair of glass daggers from the bag, checked them for nicks, and slid them into the sheaths. He kicked off his shoes and stripped off his stockings, leaving himself barefoot on the chill stones. With the shoes also went the last bit of metal on his person save for his coin pouch and the three vials of metals in his belt. He selected the largest one, downed its contents, then handed the empty vial to Dockson.

“That it?” Kelsier asked.

Dockson nodded. “Good luck.”

Beside him, the girl Vin was watching Kelsier’s preparations with intense curiosity. She was a quiet, small thing, but she hid an intensity that he found impressive. She was paranoid, true, but not timid.