BEFORE COMING TO MANSION RENOUX, VIN had never seen a
cultivated garden. On burglaries or scouting missions, she had occasionally seen ornamental plants, but she’d never given them much heed—they, like many noble interests, had seemed frivolous to her.
She hadn’t realized how beautiful the plants could be when arranged carefully. Mansion Renoux’s garden balcony was a thin, oval structure that overlooked the grounds below. The gardens weren’t large—they required too much water and attention to form more than a thin perimeter around the back of the building.
Still, they were marvelous. Instead of mundane browns and whites, the cultivated plants were of deeper, more vibrant colors—shades of red, orange, and yellow, with the colors concentrated in their leaves. The
groundskeepers had planted them to make intricate, beautiful patterns. Closer to the balcony, exotic trees with colorful yellow leaves gave shade and protected from ashfalls. It was a very mild winter, and most of the trees still held their leaves. The air felt cool, and the rustling of branches in the wind was soothing.
Almost soothing enough, in fact, to make Vin forget how annoyed she was.
“Would you like more tea, child?” Lord Renoux asked. He didn’t wait for an answer; he simply waved for a servant to rush forward and refill her
cup.
Vin sat on a plush cushion, her wicker chair designed for comfort. During the last four weeks, her every whim and desire had been met.
Servants cleaned up after her, primped her, fed her, and even helped bathe her. Renoux saw that anything she asked for was given her, and she certainly wasn’t expected to do anything strenuous, dangerous, or even slightly inconvenient.
In other words, her life was maddeningly boring. Before, her time at Mansion Renoux had been monopolized by Sazed’s lessons and Kelsier’s training. She’d slept during the days, having only minimal contact with the mansion staff.
Now, however, Allomancy—at least, the nighttime jumping kind—was forbidden her. Her wound was only partially healed, and too much motion reopened it. Sazed still gave her occasional lessons, but his time was dominated by translating the book. He spent long hours in the library, poring over its pages with an uncharacteristically excited air.
He’s found a new bit of lore, Vin thought. To a Keeper, that’s probably as intoxicating as streetspice.
She sipped at her tea with repressed petulance, eyeing the nearby servants. They seemed like scavenger birds, roosting and waiting for any opportunity to make Vin as comfortable—and as frustrated—as possible.
Renoux wasn’t much help either. His idea of “taking lunch” with Vin was to sit and attend to his own duties—making notes on ledgers or dictating letters—while eating. Her attendance seemed important to him, but he rarely paid much attention to her other than to ask how her day had been.
Yet, she forced herself to act the part of a prim noblewoman. Lord Renoux had hired some new servants that didn’t know about the job—not house staff, but gardeners and workmen. Kelsier and Renoux had worried that the other houses would grow suspicious if they couldn’t get at least a
few servant-spies onto the Renoux grounds. Kelsier didn’t see it as a danger to the job, but it did mean that Vin had to maintain her persona whenever possible.
I can’t believe that people live like this, Vin thought as some servants began clearing away the meal. How can noblewomen fill their days with so much nothing? No wonder everyone’s eager to attend those balls!
“Is your respite pleasant, dear?” Renoux asked, pouring over another ledger.
“Yes, Uncle,” Vin said through tight lips. “Quite.”
“You should be up to a shopping trip soon,” Renoux said, looking up at her. “Perhaps you would like to visit Kenton Street? Get some new earrings to replace that pedestrian stud you wear?”
Vin reached a hand to her ear, where her mother’s earring still sat. “No,” she said. “I’ll keep this.”
Renoux frowned, but said no more, for a servant approached and drew
his attention. “My lord,” the servant said to Renoux. “A carriage just arrived from Luthadel.”
Vin perked up. That was the servants’ way of saying that a member of the crew had arrived.
“Ah, very good,” Renoux said. “Show them up, Tawnson.” “Yes, my lord.”
A few minutes later, Kelsier, Breeze, Yeden, and Dockson walked out onto the balcony. Renoux discreetly waved to the servants, who closed the glass balcony doors and left the crew in privacy. Several men took up position just inside, watching to make certain that the wrong people didn’t have an opportunity to eavesdrop.
“Are we interrupting your meal?” Dockson asked.
“No!” Vin said quickly, cutting off Lord Renoux’s reply. “Sit, please.”
Kelsier strolled over to the balcony’s ledge, looking out over the garden and grounds. “Nice view you have here.”
“Kelsier, is that wise?” Renoux asked. “Some of the gardeners are men for whom I cannot vouch.”
Kelsier chuckled. “If they can recognize me from this distance, they deserve more than the Great Houses are paying them.” However, he did
leave the balcony edge, walking over to the table and spinning a chair, then sitting down on it the wrong way. Over the last few weeks, he had mostly returned to his old, familiar self. Yet, there were still changes. He held
meetings more often, discussed more of his plans with the crew. He also still seemed different, more…thoughtful.
Sazed was right, Vin thought. Our attack on the palace might have been near-deadly for me, but it has changed Kelsier for the better.
“We thought we’d have our meeting here this week,” Dockson said, “since you two rarely get to participate.”
“That was most thoughtful of you, Master Dockson,” Lord Renoux said. “But your concern is unnecessary. We are doing just fine—”
“No,” Vin interrupted. “No, we aren’t. Some of us need information.
What’s happening with the crew? How is the recruitment going?”
Renoux eyed her with dissatisfaction. Vin, however, ignored him. He’s not really a lord, she told herself. He’s just another crewmember. My opinion counts as much as his! Now that the servants are gone, I can speak how I want.
Kelsier chuckled. “Well, captivity’s made her a bit more outspoken, if nothing else.”
“I don’t have anything to do,” Vin said. “It’s driving me insane.”
Breeze set his cup of wine on the table. “Some would find your state quite enviable, Vin.”
“Then they must already be insane.”
“Oh, they’re mostly noblemen,” Kelsier said. “So, yes, they’re quite mad.”
“The job,” Vin reminded. “What’s happening?”
“Recruitment is still too slow,” Dockson said. “But we’re improving.”
“We may have to sacrifice further security for numbers, Kelsier,” Yeden said.
That’s a change too, she thought, impressed as she noted Yeden’s civility. He had taken to wearing nicer clothing—not quite a full gentlemen’s suit like Dockson or Breeze, but at least a well-cut jacket and trousers, with a buttoning shirt beneath, all kept clean of soot.
“That can’t be helped, Yeden,” Kelsier said. “Fortunately, Ham’s doing well with the troops. I had a message from him just a few days ago. He’s impressed with their progress.”
Breeze snorted. “Be warned—Hammond does tend to be a bit optimistic about these kinds of things. If the army were made up of one-legged mutes, he would praise their balance and their listening skills.”
“I should like to see the army,” Yeden said eagerly. “Soon,” Kelsier promised.
“We should be able to get Marsh into the Ministry within the month,” Dockson said, nodding to Sazed as the Terrisman passed their sentries and entered the balcony. “Hopefully, Marsh will be able to give some insight as to how to deal with the Steel Inquisitors.”
Vin shivered.
“They are a concern,” Breeze agreed. “Considering what a couple of them did to you two, I don’t envy capturing the palace with them in there. They are as dangerous as Mistborn.”
“More,” Vin said quietly.
“Can the army really fight them?” Yeden asked uncomfortably. “I mean, they’re supposed to be immortal, aren’t they?”
“Marsh will find the answer,” Kelsier promised. Yeden paused, then nodded, accepting Kelsier’s word.
Yes, changed indeed, Vin thought. It appeared that not even Yeden could resist Kelsier’s charisma for an extended period of time.
“In the meantime,” Kelsier said, “I’m hoping to hear what Sazed has learned about the Lord Ruler.”
Sazed sat, laying his tome on the tabletop. “I will tell you what I can, though this is not the book that I first assumed it to be. I thought that
Mistress Vin had recovered some ancient religious text—but it is of a far more mundane nature.”
“Mundane?” Dockson asked. “How?”
“It is a journal, Master Dockson,” Sazed said. “A record that appears to have been penned by the Lord Ruler himself—or, rather, the man who
became the Lord Ruler. Even Ministry teachings agree that before the Ascension, he was a mortal man.
“This book tells of his life just prior to his final battle at the Well of Ascension a thousand years ago. Mostly, it is a record of his travels—a narration of the people he met, the places he visited, and the trials he faced during his quest.”
“Interesting,” Breeze said, “but how does it help us?”
“I am not certain, Master Ladrian,” Sazed said. “However, understanding the real history behind the Ascension will be of use, I think. At the very least, it will give us some insight to the Lord Ruler’s mind.”
Kelsier shrugged. “The Ministry thinks it’s important—Vin said she found it in some kind of shrine in the central palace complex.”
“Which, of course,” Breeze noted, “doesn’t at all raise any questions regarding its authenticity.”
“I do not believe it to be a fabrication, Master Ladrian,” Sazed said. “It contains a remarkable level of detail, especially regarding unimportant
issues—like packmen and supplies. In addition, the Lord Ruler it depicts is
very conflicted. If the Ministry were going to devise a book for worship, they would present their god with more…divinity, I think.”
“I’ll want to read it when you are done, Saze,” Dockson said. “And I,” Breeze said.
“Some of Clubs’s apprentices occasionally work as scribes,” Kelsier said. “We’ll have them make a copy for each of you.”
“Handy lot, those,” Dockson noted.
Kelsier nodded. “So, where does that leave us?”
The group paused, then Dockson nodded to Vin. “With the nobility.” Kelsier frowned slightly.
“I can go back to work,” Vin said quickly. “I’m mostly healed, now.”
Kelsier shot a look at Sazed, who raised an eyebrow. He checked on her wound periodically. Apparently, he didn’t like what he saw.
“Kell,” Vin said. “I’m going insane. I grew up as a thief, scrambling for food and space—I can’t just sit around and let these servants pamper me.” Besides, I have to prove that I can still be useful to this crew.
“Well,” Kelsier said. “You’re one of the reasons we came here today.
There’s a ball this weekend that—” “I’ll go,” Vin said.
Kelsier held up a finger. “Hear me out, Vin. You’ve been through a lot lately, and this infiltration could get dangerous.”
“Kelsier,” Vin said flatly. “My whole life has been dangerous. I’m going.”
Kelsier didn’t look convinced.
“She has to do it, Kell,” Dockson said. “For one thing, the nobility is going to get suspicious if she doesn’t start going to parties again. For another, we need to know what she sees. Having servant spies on the staff isn’t the same as having a spy listening to local plots. You know that.”
“All right, then,” Kelsier finally said. “But you have to promise not to use physical Allomancy until Sazed says otherwise.”
Later that evening, Vin still couldn’t believe how eager she was to go the ball. She stood in her room, looking over the different gown ensembles that Dockson had found for her. Since she had been forced to wear noblewoman’s attire for a good month straight, she was beginning to find
dresses just a shade more comfortable than she once had.
Not that they aren’t frivolous, of course, she thought, inspecting the four gowns. All of that lace, the layers of material…a simple shirt and trousers are so much more practical.
Yet, there was something special about the gowns—something in their beauty, like the gardens outside. When regarded as static items, like a solitary plant, the dresses were only mildly impressive. However, when she considered attending the ball, the gowns took on a new meaning. They were beautiful, and they would make her beautiful. They were the face she would show to the court, and she wanted to choose the right one.
I wonder if Elend Venture will be there…. Didn’t Sazed say that most of the younger aristocrats attended every ball?
She lay a hand on one dress, black with silver embroiderings. It would match her hair, but was it too dark? Most of the other women wore colorful dresses; muted colors seemed reserved for men’s suits. She eyed a yellow gown, but it just seemed a little too…perky. And the white one was too ornate.
That left the red. The neckline was lower—not that she had a lot to show—but it was beautiful. A bit gossamer, with full sleeves that were made of translucent mesh in places, it enticed her. But it seemed so…
blatant. She picked it up, feeling the soft material in her fingers, imagining herself wearing it.
How did I get to this? Vin thought. This thing would be impossible to hide in! These frilly creations, these aren’t me.
And yet…part of her longed to be back at the ball again. The daily life of a noblewoman frustrated her, but her memories of that one night were alluring. The beautiful couples dancing, the perfect atmosphere and music, the marvelous crystalline windows…
I don’t even realize when I’m wearing perfume anymore, she realized with shock. She found it preferable to bathe in scented water each day, and the servants even perfumed her clothing. It was all subtle, of course, but it would be enough to give her away while sneaking.
Her hair had grown longer, and had been carefully cut by Renoux’s stylist so that it fell around her ears, curling just slightly. She no longer looked quite so scrawny in the mirror, despite her lengthy sickness; regular meals had filled her out.
I’m becoming… Vin paused. She didn’t know what she was becoming. Certainly not a noblewoman. Noblewomen didn’t get annoyed when they
couldn’t to go out stalking at night. Yet, she wasn’t really Vin the urchin anymore. She was…
Mistborn.
Vin carefully laid the beautiful red dress back on her bed, then crossed the room to look out the window. The sun was close to setting; soon, the mists would come—though, as usual, Sazed would have guards posted to
make certain that she didn’t go on any unauthorized Allomantic romps. She hadn’t complained at the precautions. He was right: Unwatched, she probably would have broken her promise long ago.
She caught a glimpse of motion to her right, and could just barely make out a figure standing out on the garden balcony. Kelsier. Vin stood for a moment, then left her rooms.
Kelsier turned as she walked onto the balcony. She paused, not wanting to interrupt, but he gave her one of his characteristic smiles. She walked forward, joining him at the carved stone balcony railing.
He turned and looked westward—not at the grounds, but beyond them. Toward the wilderness, lit by a setting sun, outside of town. “Does it ever look wrong to you, Vin?”
“Wrong?” she asked.
Kelsier nodded. “The dry plants, the angry sun, the smoky-black sky.”
Vin shrugged. “How can those things be right or wrong? That’s just the way things are.”
“I suppose,” Kelsier said. “But, I think your mind-set is part of the wrongness. The world shouldn’t look like this.”
Vin frowned. “How do you know that?”
Kelsier reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. He unfolded it with a gentle touch, then handed it to Vin.
She accepted the sheet, holding it carefully; it was so old and worn that it seemed close to breaking at the creases. It didn’t contain any words, just an old, faded picture. It depicted a strange shape—something like a plant, though not one Vin had ever seen. It was too…flimsy. It didn’t have a thick stalk, and its leaves were far too delicate. At its top, it had a strange collection of leaves that were a different color from the rest.
“It’s called a flower,” Kelsier said. “They used to grow on plants, before the Ascension. Descriptions of them appear in the old poems and stories—
things that only Keepers and rebel sages know about anymore. Apparently, these plants were beautiful, and they had a pleasant smell.”
“Plants that smell?” Vin asked. “Like fruit?”
“Something like that, I think. Some of the reports even claim that these flowers grew into fruit, in the days before the Ascension.”
Vin stood quietly, frowning, trying to imagine such a thing. “That picture belonged to my wife, Mare,” Kelsier said quietly.
“Dockson found it in her things after we were taken. He kept it, hoping that we would return. He gave it to me after I escaped.”
Vin looked down at the picture again.
“Mare was fascinated by pre-Ascension times,” Kelsier said, still staring out over the gardens. In the distance, the sun touched the horizon, and grew an even deeper red. “She collected things like that paper: pictures and descriptions of the old times. I think that fascination—along with the fact that she was a Tineye—is part of what led her to the underground, and to me. She’s the one who first introduced me to Sazed, though I didn’t use him in my crew at the time. He wasn’t interested in thieving.”
Vin folded up the paper. “And you keep this picture still? After…what she did to you?”
Kelsier fell silent for a moment. Then he eyed her. “Been listening at doors again, have we? Oh, don’t worry. I suppose it’s common enough
knowledge.” In the distance, the setting sun became a blaze, its ruddy light illuminating clouds and smoke alike.
“Yes, I keep the flower,” Kelsier said. “I’m not really sure why. But… do you stop loving someone just because they betray you? I don’t think so. That’s what makes the betrayal hurt so much—pain, frustration, anger…and I still loved her. I still do.”
“How?” Vin asked. “How can you? And, how can you possibly trust people? Didn’t you learn from what she did to you?”
Kelsier shrugged. “I think…I think given the choice between loving Mare—betrayal included—and never knowing her, I’d choose love. I risked, and I lost, but the risk was still worth it. It’s the same with my friends. Suspicion is healthy in our profession—but only to an extent. I’d rather trust my men than worry about what will happen if they turn on me.”
“That sounds foolish,” Vin said.
“Is happiness foolish?” Kelsier asked, turning toward her. “Where have you been happier, Vin? On my crew, or back with Camon?”
Vin paused.
“I don’t know for sure if Mare betrayed me,” Kelsier said, looking back at the sunset. “She always claimed that she didn’t.”
“And she was sent to the Pits, right?” Vin said. “That doesn’t make sense, if she sided with the Lord Ruler.”
Kelsier shook his head, still staring into the distance. “She showed up at the Pits a few weeks after I was sent there—we were separated, after we
were caught. I don’t know what happened during that time, or why she was eventually sent to Hathsin. The fact that she was sent to die hints that
maybe she really didn’t betray me, but…”
He turned toward Vin. “You didn’t hear him when he caught us, Vin.
The Lord Ruler…he thanked her. Thanked her for betraying me. His words
—spoken with such an eerie sense of honesty—mixed with the way that the plan was set up…well, it was hard to believe Mare. That didn’t change my love, though—not deep down. I nearly died when she did a year later, beaten before the slavemasters at the Pits. That night, after her corpse was taken away, I Snapped.”
“You went mad?” Vin asked.
“No,” Kelsier said. “Snapping is an Allomantic term. Our powers are latent at first—they only come out after some traumatic event. Something intense—something almost deadly. The philosophers say that a man can’t command the metals until he has seen death and rejected it.”
“So…when did it happen to me?” Vin asked.
Kelsier shrugged. “It’s hard to tell. Growing up as you did, there were probably ample opportunities for you to Snap.”
He nodded as if to himself. “For me,” he said, “it was that night. Alone in the Pits, my arms bleeding from the day’s work. Mare was dead, and I feared that I was responsible—that my lack of faith took away her strength and will. She died knowing that I questioned her loyalty. Maybe, if I’d really loved her, I wouldn’t have ever questioned. I don’t know.”
“But, you didn’t die,” Vin said.
Kelsier shook his head. “I decided that I’d see her dream fulfilled. I’d make a world where flowers returned, a world with green plants, a world
where no soot fell from the sky….” He trailed off, then sighed. “I know. I’m insane.”
“Actually,” Vin said quietly, “it kind of makes sense. Finally.”
Kelsier smiled. The sun sank beneath the horizon, and while its light was still a flare in the west, the mists began to appear. They didn’t come
from one specific place, they just sort of…grew. They extended like translucent, twisting vines in the sky—curling back and forth, lengthening, dancing, melding.
“Mare wanted children,” Kelsier said suddenly. “Back when we were first married, a decade and a half ago. I…didn’t agree with her. I wanted to become the most famous skaa thief of all time, and didn’t have time for
things that would slow me down.
“It’s probably a good thing that we didn’t have children. The Lord Ruler might have found and killed them. But, he might not have—Dox and the
others survived. Now, sometimes, I wish that I had a piece of her with me.
A child. A daughter, perhaps, with Mare’s same dark hair and resilient stubbornness.”
He paused, then looked down at Vin. “I don’t want to be responsible for something happening to you, Vin. Not again.”
Vin frowned. “I’m not spending any more time locked in this mansion.” “No, I don’t suppose you will. If we try and keep you in much longer,
you’ll probably just show up at Clubs’s shop one night having done something very foolish. We’re a bit too much alike that way, you and I. Just…be careful.”
Vin nodded. “I will.”
They stood for a few more minutes, watching the mists gather. Finally, Kelsier stood up straight, stretching. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you decided to join us, Vin.”
Vin shrugged. “To tell you the truth, I’d kind of like to see one of those flowers for myself.”
You could say that circumstances forced me to leave my home behind—
certainly, if I had stayed, I would now be dead. During those days—running without knowing why, carrying a burden I didn’t understand—I assumed that I would lose myself in Khlennium and seek a life of indistinction.
I am slowly coming to understand that anonymity, like so many other things, has already been lost to me forever.
