VIN WALKED ALONG A STREET in the Cracks—one of Luthadel’s many skaa slums—with her hood up. For some reason, she found the muffled heat of a hood preferable to the oppressive red sunlight.
She walked with a slouch, eyes down, sticking near to the side of the street. The skaa she passed had similar airs of dejection. No one looked up; no one walked with a straight back or an optimistic smile. In the slums,
those things would make one look suspicious.
She’d almost forgotten how oppressive Luthadel could be. Her weeks in Fellise had accustomed her to trees and washed stone. Here, there was nothing white—no creeping aspens, no whitewashed granite. All was black.
Buildings were stained by countless, repetitive ashfalls. Air curled with smoke from the infamous Luthadel smithies and a thousand separate noble kitchens. Cobblestones, doorways, and corners were clogged with soot—the slums were rarely swept clean.
It’s like…things are actually brighter at night than they are during the
day, Vin thought, pulling her patched skaa cloak close, turning a corner. She passed beggars, huddled on corners, hands outstretched and hoping for an offering, their pleadings falling vainly on the ears of people who were
themselves starving. She passed workers, walking with heads and shoulders bowed, caps or hoods pulled down to keep ash out of their eyes.
Occasionally, she passed squads of Garrison town guards, walking with full
armor—breastplate, cap, and black cloak—trying to look as intimidating as possible.
This last group moved through the slums, acting as the Lord Ruler’s hands in an area most obligators found too distasteful to visit. The
Garrisoners kicked at beggars to make certain they were truly invalids, stopped wandering workers to harass them about being on the streets instead of working, and made a general nuisance of themselves. Vin ducked down as a group passed, pulling her hood close. She was old enough that
she should have been either bearing children or working in a mill, but her size often made her look younger in profile.
Either the ruse worked, or this particular squad wasn’t interested in looking for ditchers, for they let her pass with barely a glance. She ducked around a corner, walking down an ash-drifted alley, and approached the soup kitchen at the end of the small street.
Like most of its kind, the kitchen was dingy and poorly maintained. In an economy where workers were rarely, if ever, given direct pay, kitchens had to be supported by the nobility. Some local lords—probably the owners of the mills and forges in the area—paid the kitchen owner to provide food for the local skaa. The workers would be given meal tokens for their time, and would be allowed a short break at midday to go eat. The central kitchen would allow the smaller businesses to avoid the costs of providing on-site meals.
Of course, since the kitchen owner was paid directly, he could pocket whatever he could save on ingredients. In Vin’s experience, kitchen food was about as tasty as ashwater.
Fortunately, she hadn’t come to eat. She joined the line at the door, waiting quietly as workers presented their meal chips. When her turn came, she pulled out a small wooden disk and passed it to the skaa man at the door. He accepted the chip with a smooth motion, nodding almost imperceptibly to his right.
Vin walked in the indicated direction, passing through a filthy dining room, floor scattered with tracked-in ash. As she approached far wall, she could see a splintery wooden door set in the room’s corner. A man seated by the door caught her eyes, nodded slightly, and pushed the door open. Vin passed quickly into the small room beyond.
“Vin, my dear!” Breeze said, lounging at a table near the center of the room. “Welcome! How was Fellise?”
Vin shrugged, taking a seat at the table.
“Ah,” Breeze said. “I’d almost forgotten what a fascinating conversationalist you are. Wine?”
Vin shook her head.
“Well, I would certainly like some.” Breeze wore one of his extravagant suits, dueling cane resting across his lap. The chamber was only lit by a
single lantern, but it was far cleaner than the room outside. Of the four other men in the room, Vin recognized only one—an apprentice from Clubs’s shop. The two by the door were obviously guards. The last man appeared to be a regular skaa worker—complete with blackened jacket and ashen face. His self-confident air, however, proved that he was a member of the underground. Probably one of Yeden’s rebels.
Breeze held up his cup, tapping its side with his fingernail. The rebel regarded it darkly.
“Right now,” Breeze said, “you’re wondering if I’m using Allomancy on you. Perhaps I am, perhaps I am not. Does it matter? I’m here by your leader’s invitation, and he ordered you to see that I was made comfortable. And, I assure you, a cup of wine in my hand is absolutely necessary for my comfort.”
The skaa man waited for a moment, then snatched the cup and stalked away, grumbling under his breath about foolish costs and wasted resources.
Breeze raised an eyebrow, turning to Vin. He seemed quite pleased with himself.
“So, did you Push him?” she asked.
Breeze shook his head. “Waste of brass. Did Kelsier tell you why he asked you to come here today?”
“He told me to watch you,” Vin said, a bit annoyed at being handed off to Breeze. “He said he didn’t have time to train me in all the metals.”
“Well,” Breeze said, “let us begin, then. First, you must understand that Soothing is about more than just Allomancy. It’s about the delicate and
noble art of manipulation.”
“Noble indeed,” Vin said.
“Ah, you sound like one of them,” Breeze said. “Them who?”
“Them everyone else,” Breeze said. “You saw how that skaa gentleman treated me? People don’t like us, my dear. The idea of someone who can play with their emotions, who can ‘mystically’ get them to do certain things,
makes them uncomfortable. What they do not realize—and what you must realize—is that manipulating others is something that all people do. In fact, manipulation is at the core of our social interaction.”
He settled back, raising his dueling cane and gesturing with it slightly as he spoke. “Think about it. What is a man doing when he seeks the affection of a young lady? Why, he is trying to manipulate her to regard him favorably. What happens when two old friends sit down for a drink? They tell stories, trying to impress each other. Life as a human being is about posturing and influence. This isn’t a bad thing—in fact, we depend upon it. These interactions teach us how to respond to others.”
He paused, pointing at Vin with the cane. “The difference between
Soothers and regular people is that we are aware of what we’re doing. We also have a slight…advantage. But, is it really that much more ‘powerful’ than having a charismatic personality or a fine set of teeth? I think not.”
Vin paused.
“Besides,” Breeze added, “as I mentioned, a good Soother must be skilled far beyond his ability to use Allomancy. Allomancy can’t let you read minds or even emotions—in a way, you’re as blind as anyone else. You fire off pulses of emotions, targeted at a single person or in an area, and your subjects will have their emotions altered—hopefully producing the effect that you wished. However, great Soothers are those who can successfully use their eyes and instincts to know how a person is feeling
before they get Soothed.”
“What does it matter how they’re feeling?” Vin said, trying to cover her annoyance. “You’re just going to Soothe them anyway, right? So, when
you’re done, they’ll feel how you want them to.”
Breeze sighed, shaking his head. “What would you say if you knew I’d Soothed you on three separate occasions during our conversation?”
Vin paused. “When?” she demanded.
“Does it matter?” Breeze asked. “This is the lesson you must learn, my dear. If you can’t read how someone is feeling, then you’ll never have a
subtle touch with emotional Allomancy. Push someone too hard, and even
the most blind of skaa will realize that they’re being manipulated somehow. Touch too softly, and you won’t produce a noticeable effect—other, more powerful emotions will still rule your subject.”
Breeze shook his head. “It’s all about understanding people,” he continued. “You have to read how someone is feeling, change that feeling
by nudging it in the proper direction, then channel their newfound emotional state to your advantage. That, my dear, is the challenge in what we do! It is difficult, but for those who can do it well…”
The door opened, and the sullen skaa man returned, bearing an entire bottle of wine. He put it and a cup on the table before Breeze, then went over to stand on the other side of the room, beside peepholes looking into the dining room.
“There are vast rewards,” Breeze said with a quiet smile. He winked at her, then poured some wine.
Vin wasn’t certain what to think. Breeze’s opinion seemed cruel. Yet, Reen had trained her well. If she didn’t have power over this thing, others would gain power over her through it. She started burning copper—as Kelsier had taught her—to shield herself from further manipulations on Breeze’s part.
The door opened again, and a familiar vest-wearing form tromped in. “Hey, Vin,” Ham said with a friendly wave. He walked over to the table, eyeing the wine. “Breeze, you know that the rebellion doesn’t have the money for that kind of thing.”
“Kelsier will reimburse them,” Breeze said with a dismissive wave. “I simply cannot work with a dry throat. How is the area?”
“Secure,” Ham said. “But I’ve got Tineyes on the corners just in case.
Your bolt-exit is behind that hatch in the corner.”
Breeze nodded, and Ham turned, looking at Clubs’s apprentice. “You Smoking back there, Cobble?”
The boy nodded.
“Good lad,” Ham said. “That’s everything, then. Now we just have to wait for Kell’s speech.”
Breeze checked his pocket watch. “He’s not scheduled for another few minutes. Shall I have someone fetch you a cup?”
“I’ll pass,” Ham said.
Breeze shrugged, sipping his wine.
There was a moment of silence. Finally, Ham spoke. “So…” “No,” Breeze interrupted.
“But—”
“Whatever it is, we don’t want to hear about it.”
Ham gave the Soother a flat stare. “You can’t Push me into complacence, Breeze.”
Breeze rolled his eyes, taking a drink.
“What?” Vin asked. “What were you going to say?” “Don’t encourage him, my dear,” Breeze said.
Vin frowned. She glanced at Ham, who smiled.
Breeze sighed. “Just leave me out of it. I’m not in the mood for one of Ham’s inane debates.”
“Ignore him,” Ham said eagerly, pulling his chair a little bit closer to Vin. “So, I’ve been wondering. By overthrowing the Final Empire are we doing something good, or are we doing something bad?”
Vin paused. “Does it matter?”
Ham looked taken aback, but Breeze chuckled. “Well answered,” the Soother said.
Ham glared at Breeze, then turned back to Vin. “Of course it matters.” “Well,” Vin said, “I guess we’re doing something good. The Final
Empire has oppressed the skaa for centuries.”
“Right,” Ham said. “But, there’s a problem. The Lord Ruler is God, right?”
Vin shrugged. “Does it matter?” Ham glared at her.
She rolled her eyes. “All right. The Ministry claims that he is God.” “Actually,” Breeze noted, “the Lord Ruler is only a piece of God. He is
the Sliver of Infinity—not omniscient or omnipresent, but an independent section of a consciousness that is.”
Ham sighed. “I thought you didn’t want to be involved.”
“Just making certain everyone has their facts correct,” Breeze said lightly.
“Anyway,” Ham said. “God is the creator of all things, right? He is the force that dictates the laws of the universe, and is therefore the ultimate
source of ethics. He is absolute morality.” Vin blinked.
“You see the dilemma?” Ham asked. “I see an idiot,” Breeze mumbled.
“I’m confused,” Vin said. “What’s the problem?”
“We claim to be doing good,” Ham said. “But, the Lord Ruler—as God
—defines what is good. So, by opposing him we’re actually evil. But, since he’s doing the wrong thing, does evil actually count as good in this case?”
Vin frowned.
“Well?” Ham asked.
“I think you gave me a headache,” Vin said. “I warned you,” Breeze noted.
Ham sighed. “But, don’t you think it’s worth thinking about?” “I’m not sure.”
“I am,” Breeze said.
Ham shook his head. “No one around here likes to have decent, intelligent discussions.”
The skaa rebel in the corner suddenly perked up. “Kelsier’s here!” Ham raised an eyebrow, then stood. “I should go watch the perimeter.
Think about that question, Vin.”
“All right…” Vin said as Ham left.
“Over here, Vin,” Breeze said, rising. “There are peepholes on the wall for us. Be a dear and bring my chair over, would you?”
Breeze didn’t look back to see if she did as requested. She paused, uncertain. With her copper on, he couldn’t Soothe her, but…Eventually, she sighed and carried both chairs over to the side of the room. Breeze slid back a long, thin slat in the wall, revealing a view of the dining room.
A group of dirtied skaa men sat around tables, wearing brown work
coats or ragged cloaks. They were a dark group, with ash-stained skin and slumped postures. However, their presence at the meeting meant that they were willing to listen. Yeden sat at a table near the front of the room, wearing his usual patched worker’s coat, his curly hair cut short during Vin’s absence.
Vin had expected some kind of grand entrance from Kelsier. Instead, however, he simply walked quietly out of the kitchen. He paused by Yeden’s table, smiling and speaking quietly with the man for a moment, then he stepped up before the seated workers.
Vin had never seen him in such mundane clothing before. He wore a brown skaa coat and tan trousers, like many of the audience. Kelsier’s outfit, however, was clean. No soot stained the cloth, and while it was of the same rough material that skaa commonly used, it bore no patches or tears.
The difference was stark enough, Vin decided—if he’d come in a suit, it would have been too much.
He put his arms behind his back, and slowly the crowd of workers quieted. Vin frowned, watching through the peep slit, wondering at Kelsier’s ability to quiet a room of hungry men by simply standing before
them. Was he using Allomancy, perhaps? Yet, even with her copper on, she felt a…presence from him.
Once the room fell quiet, Kelsier began to speak. “You’ve probably all heard of me, by now,” he said. “And, you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t at least a little bit sympathetic to my cause.”
Beside Vin, Breeze sipped his drink. “Soothing and Rioting aren’t like other kinds of Allomancy,” he said quietly. “With most metals, Pushing and Pulling have opposite effects. With emotions, however, you can often
produce the same result regardless of whether you Soothe or Riot. “This doesn’t hold for extreme emotional states—complete
emotionlessness or utter passion. However, in most cases, it doesn’t matter which power you use. People are not like solid bricks of metal—at any given time, they will have a dozen different emotions churning within them. An experienced Soother can dampen everything but the emotion he wants to remain dominant.”
Breeze turned slightly. “Rudd, send in the blue server, please.”
One of the guards nodded, cracking the door and whispering something to the man outside. A moment later, Vin saw a serving girl wearing a faded blue dress move through the crowd, filling drinks.
“My Soothers are mixed with the crowd,” Breeze said, his voice growing distracted. “The serving girls are a sign, telling my men which emotions to Soothe away. They will work, just as I do….” He trailed off, concentrating as he looked into the crowd.
“Fatigue…” he whispered. “That’s not a necessary emotion right now.
Hunger…distracting. Suspicion…definitely not helpful. Yes, and as the
Soothers work, the Rioters enflame the emotions we want the crowd to be feeling. Curiosity…that’s what they need now. Yes, listen to Kelsier. You’ve heard legends and stories. See the man for yourself, and be impressed.”
“I know why you came today,” Kelsier said quietly. He spoke without much of the flamboyance Vin associated with the man, his tone quiet, but direct. “Twelve-hour days in a mill, mine, or forge. Beatings, lack of pay, poor food. And, for what? So that you can return to your tenements at the day’s end to find another tragedy? A friend, slain by an uncaring taskmaster. A daughter, taken to be some nobleman’s plaything. A brother, dead at the hand of a passing lord who was having an unpleasant day.”
“Yes,” Breeze whispered. “Good. Red, Rudd. Send in the girl in light red.”
Another serving girl entered the room.
“Passion and anger,” Breeze said, his voice almost a mumble. “But just a bit. Just a nudge—a reminder.”
Curious, Vin extinguished her copper for a moment, burning bronze instead, trying to sense Breeze’s use of Allomancy. No pulses came from him.
Of course, she thought. I forgot about Clubs’s apprentice—he’d keep me from sensing any Allomantic pulses. She turned her copper back on.
Kelsier continued to speak. “My friends, you’re not alone in your tragedy. There are millions, just like you. And they need you. I’ve not come to beg—we’ve had enough of that in our lives. I simply ask you to think.
Where would you rather your energy be spent? On forging the Lord Ruler’s weapons? Or, on something more valuable?”
He’s not mentioning our troops, Vin thought. Or even what those who join with him are going to do. He doesn’t want the workers to know details. Probably a good idea—those he recruits can be sent to the army, and the rest won’t be able to give away specific information.
“You know why I am here,” Kelsier said. “You know my friend, Yeden, and what he represents. Every skaa in the city knows about the rebellion.
Perhaps you’ve considered joining it. Most of you will not—most of you will go back to your soot-stained mills, to your burning forges, to your dying homes. You’ll go because this terrible life is familiar. But some of you…some of you will come with me. And those are the men who will be
remembered in the years to come. Remembered for having done something grand.”
Many of the workers shared glances, though some just stared at their half-empty soup bowls. Finally, someone near the back of the room spoke. “You’re a fool,” the man said. “The Lord Ruler will kill you. You don’t rebel against God in his own city.”
The room fell silent. Tense. Vin sat up as Breeze whispered to himself.
In the room, Kelsier stood quietly for a moment. Finally, he reached up and pulled back the sleeves on his jacket, revealing the crisscrossed scars on his arms. “The Lord Ruler is not our god,” he said quietly. “And he cannot kill me. He tried, but he failed. For I am the thing that he can never kill.”
With that, Kelsier turned, walking from the room the way he had come. “Hum,” Breeze said, “well, that was a little dramatic. Rudd, bring back
the red and send out the brown.”
A serving woman in brown walked into the crowd.
“Amazement,” Breeze said. “And, yes, pride. Soothe the anger, for now….”
The crowd sat quietly for a moment, the dining room eerily motionless. Finally, Yeden stood up to speak and give some further encouragement, as well as an explanation of what the men should do, should they wish to hear more. As he talked, the men returned to their meals.
“Green, Rudd,” Breeze said. “Hum, yes. Let’s make you all thoughtful, and give you a nudge of loyalty. We wouldn’t want anyone to run to the obligators, would we? Kell’s covered his tracks quite well, but the less the
authorities hear, the better, eh? Oh, and what about you, Yeden? You’re a bit too nervous. Let’s Soothe that, take away your worries. Leave only that passion of yours—hopefully, it will be enough to cover up that stupid tone in your voice.”
Vin continued to watch. Now that Kelsier had gone, she found it easier to focus on the crowd’s reactions, and on Breeze’s work. As Yeden spoke,
the workers outside seemed to react exactly according to Breeze’s mumbled instructions. Yeden, too, showed effects of the Soothing: He grew more comfortable, his voice more confident, as he spoke.
Curious, Vin let her copper drop again. She concentrated, seeing if she could sense Breeze’s touch on her emotions; she would be included in his general Allomantic projections. He didn’t have time to pick and choose individuals, except maybe Yeden. It was very, very difficult to sense. Yet, as Breeze sat mumbling to himself, she began to feel the exact emotions he described.
Vin couldn’t help but be impressed. The few times that Kelsier had used Allomancy on her emotions, his touch has been like a sudden, blunt punch to the face. He had strength, but very little subtlety.
Breeze’s touch was incredibly delicate. He Soothed certain emotions, dampening them while leaving others unaffected. Vin thought she could sense his men Rioting on her emotions, too, but these touches weren’t nearly as subtle as Breeze’s. She left her copper off, watching for touches
on her emotions as Yeden continued his speech. He explained that the men who joined with them would have to leave family and friends for a time— as long as a year—but would be fed well during that time.
Vin felt her respect for Breeze continue to rise. Suddenly, she didn’t feel so annoyed with Kelsier for handing her off. Breeze could only do one
thing, but he obviously had a great deal of practice at it. Kelsier, as a Mistborn, had to learn all of the Allomantic skills; it made sense that he wouldn’t be as focused in any one power.
I need to make certain he sends me to learn from the others, Vin thought. They’ll be masters at their own powers.
Vin turned her attention back to the dining room as Yeden wrapped up. “You heard Kelsier, the Survivor of Hathsin,” he said. “The rumors about him are true—he’s given up his thieving ways, and turned his considerable attention toward working for the skaa rebellion! Men, we are preparing for something grand. Something that may, indeed, end up being our last
struggle against the Final Empire. Join with us. Join with your brothers. Join with the Survivor himself!”
The dining room fell silent.
“Bright red,” Breeze said. “I want those men to leave feeling passionate about what they’ve heard.”
“The emotions will fade, won’t they?” Vin said as a red-clothed serving girl entered the crowd.
“Yes,” Breeze said, sitting back and sliding the panel closed. “But memories stay. If people associate strong emotion with an event, they’ll remember it better.”
A few moments later, Ham entered through the back door. “That went well. The men are leaving invigorated, and a number of them are staying behind. We’ll have a good set of volunteers to send off to the caves.”
Breeze shook his head. “It’s not enough. Dox takes a few days to
organize each of these meetings, and we only get about twenty men from each one. At this rate, we’ll never hit ten thousand in time.”
“You think we need more meetings?” Ham asked. “That’s going to be
tough—we have to be very careful with these things, so only those who can be reasonably trusted are invited.”
Breeze sat for a moment. Finally, he downed the rest of his wine. “I don’t know—but we’ll have to think of something. For now, let’s return to the shop. I believe Kelsier wishes to hold a progress meeting this evening.”
Kelsier looked to the west. The afternoon sun was a poisonous red, shining angrily through a sky of smoke. Just below it, Kelsier could see the silhouetted tip of a dark peak. Tyrian, closest of the Ashmounts.
He stood on the flat rooftop of Clubs’s shop, listening to the murmur of workers heading home on the streets below. A flat roof required shoveling off ash now and then, which was why most skaa buildings had peaked roofs, but to Kelsier, the view was worth the extra work.
Down below, the skaa workers trudged by in weary lines, their passing footsteps stirring small clouds of ash. Kelsier turned from the streets and looked northward, toward the distant Pits of Hathsin.
Where does it go? he wondered. The atium flows into the city but then vanishes. It’s not the Ministry—we’ve watched closely—and no skaa ever handles the metal. Everyone assumes it’s locked away in the treasury. We hope it is, anyway.
With atium, a Mistborn was nearly unbeatable, making it one of the most precious resources. But Kelsier’s goal was about more than riches. He knew how much atium was harvested at the pits each year, and Dockson had calculated how little the Lord Ruler distributed to the nobility—at an extreme price. Only a fraction of what was mined ever ended up in noble hands.
For a thousand years, ninety percent of the world’s atium had been stockpiled, year after year. With that much of the metal, Kelsier’s crew could challenge even the mightiest noble houses. Yeden’s scheme to seize the palace probably seemed hopeless to most—and, on its own, it was destined to fail. But with Kelsier’s other plans…
He glanced at the small, pale bar in his hand—the Eleventh Metal. The rumors about it had come from him. Now, he only needed to prove them true.
He sighed, turning his gaze eastward to Kredik Shaw, the Lord Ruler’s palace. The name, in the Terris language, meant “The Hill of a Thousand Spires”—fitting, since the palace looked like a field of massive black spears driven into the ground. Some spires spiraled, others were straight. Some were thick and solid, others thin and needle-like. They varied in height, but each towered upward, ending in a sharp point.
Kredik Shaw. That’s where it had ended three years before. And he needed to go back.
The trap door opened, and a figure climbed onto the roof. Kelsier turned with a raised eyebrow as Sazed brushed off his robe, then approached in his characteristically respectful posture. Even a rebellious Terrisman maintained the form of his training.
“Master Kelsier,” Sazed said with a bow.
Kelsier nodded, and Sazed stepped up beside him, looking toward the imperial palace. “Ah,” he said to himself, as if understanding Kelsier’s thoughts.
Kelsier smiled. Sazed had been a valuable find indeed. Keepers were necessarily secretive, for the Lord Ruler had hunted them practically since the Day of Ascension itself. Some legends claimed that the Ruler’s
complete subjugation of the Terris people—including the breeding and stewardship programs—was simply an outgrowth of his hatred for Keepers.
“I wonder what he would think if he knew a Keeper was in Luthadel,” Kelsier said, “barely a short walk from the palace itself.”
“Let us hope we never find out, Master Kelsier,” Sazed said.
“I appreciate your willingness to come here to the city, Saze. I know it’s a risk.”
“This is a good work,” Sazed said. “And this plan is dangerous for all involved. Indeed, simply living is dangerous for me, I think. It is not healthy to belong to a sect that the Lord Ruler himself fears.”
“Fears?” Kelsier asked, turning to look up at Sazed. Despite Kelsier’s above-average height, the Terrisman was still a good head taller. “I’m not sure if he fears anything, Saze.”
“He fears the Keepers,” Sazed said. “Definitely and inexplicably. Perhaps it is because of our powers. We are not Allomancers, but… something else. Something unknown to him.”
Kelsier nodded, turning back toward the city. He had so many plans, so much work to do—and at the core of it all were the skaa. The poor, humble, defeated skaa.
“Tell me about another one, Saze,” Kelsier said. “One with power.” “Power?” Sazed asked. “That is a relative term when applied to
religion, I think. Perhaps you would like to hear of Jaism. Its followers were quite faithful and devout.”
“Tell me about them.”
“Jaism was founded by a single man,” Sazed said. “His true name is lost, though his followers simply called him ‘the Ja.’ He was murdered by a local king for preaching discord—something he was apparently very good at—but that only made his following larger.
“The Jaists thought that they earned happiness proportional to their overt devotion, and were known for frequent and fervent professions of
faith. Apparently, speaking with a Jaist could be frustrating, since they tended to end nearly every sentence with ‘Praise the Ja.’”
“That’s nice, Saze,” Kelsier said. “But power is more than just words.” “Oh, quite indeed,” Sazed agreed. “The Jaists were strong in their faith.
Legends say that the Ministry had to wipe them out completely, since not
one Jaist would accept the Lord Ruler as God. They didn’t last long past the Ascension, but only because they were so blatant that they were easy to hunt down and kill.”
Kelsier nodded, then he smiled, eyeing Sazed. “You didn’t ask me if I wanted to convert.”
“My apologies, Master Kelsier,” Sazed said, “but the religion does not suit you, I think. It has a level of brashness that you might find appealing, but you would find the theology simplistic.”
“You’re getting to know me too well,” Kelsier said, still regarding the city. “In the end, after kingdoms and armies had fallen, the religions were still fighting, weren’t they?”
“Indeed,” Sazed said. “Some of the more resilient religions lasted all the way until the fifth century.”
“What made them so strong?” Kelsier said. “How did they do it, Saze?
What gave these theologies such power over people?”
“It wasn’t any one thing, I think,” Sazed said. “Some were strong through honest faith, others because of the hope they promised. Others were coercive.”
“But they all had passion,” Kelsier said.
“Yes, Master Kelsier,” Sazed said with a nod. “That is a quite true statement.”
“That’s what we’ve lost,” Kelsier said, looking over the city with its
hundreds of thousands, barely a handful of whom would dare fight. “They don’t have faith in the Lord Ruler, they simply fear him. They don’t have anything left to believe in.”
“What do you believe in, if I may ask, Master Kelsier?”
Kelsier raised an eyebrow. “I’m not exactly sure yet,” he admitted. “But overthrowing the Final Empire seems like a good start. Are there any
religions on your list that include the slaughter of noblemen as a holy duty?”
Sazed frowned disapprovingly. “I do not believe so, Master Kelsier.”
“Maybe I should found one,” Kelsier said with an idle smile. “Anyway, have Breeze and Vin returned yet?”
“They arrived just before I came up here.”
“Good,” Kelsier said with a nod. “Tell them I’ll be down in a moment.”
Vin sat in her overstuffed chair in the conference room, legs tucked beneath her, trying to study Marsh out of the corner of her eye.
He looked so much like Kelsier. He was just…stern. He wasn’t angry, nor was he grumpy like Clubs. He just wasn’t happy. He sat in his chair, a neutral expression on his face.
The others had all arrived except for Kelsier, and they were chatting quietly amongst themselves. Vin caught Lestibournes’s eye and waved him over. The teenage boy approached and crouched beside her chair.
“Marsh,” Vin whispered beneath the general hum of the room. “Is that a nickname?”
“Notting without the call of his parents.”
Vin paused, trying to decipher the boy’s eastern dialect. “Not a nickname, then?”
Lestibournes shook his head. “He wasing one though.” “What was it?”
“Ironeyes. Others stopped using it. Too calling close to an iron in the real eyes, eh? Inquisitor.”
Vin glanced at Marsh again. His expression was hard, his eyes unwavering, almost like they were made of iron. She could see why people would stop using the nickname; even referring to a Steel Inquisitor made her shiver.
“Thanks.”
Lestibournes smiled. He was an earnest boy. Strange, intense, and jumpy—but earnest. He retreated to his stool as Kelsier finally arrived.
“All right, crew,” he said. “What’ve we got?” “Besides the bad news?” Breeze asked. “Let’s hear it.”
“It’s been twelve weeks, and we’ve gathered under two thousand men,” Ham said. “Even with the numbers the rebellion already has, we’re going to fall short.”
“Dox?” Kelsier asked. “Can we get more meetings?”
“Probably,” Dockson said from his seat beside a table stacked with ledgers.
“Are you sure you want to take that risk, Kelsier?” Yeden asked. His
attitude had improved during the last few weeks—especially once Kelsier’s recruits had begun to file in. As Reen had always said, results made quick friends.
“We’re already in danger,” Yeden continued. “Rumors are all over the underground. If we make any more of a stir, the Ministry is going to realize that something major is happening.”
“He’s probably right, Kell,” Dockson said. “Besides, there are only so many skaa willing to listen. Luthadel is big, true, but our movement here is limited.”
“All right,” Kelsier said. “So, we’ll start working the other towns in the area. Breeze, can you split your crew into two effective groups?”
“I suppose,” Breeze said hesitantly.
“We can have one team work in Luthadel and the other work in surrounding towns. I can probably make it to all of the meetings, assuming we organize them so they don’t happen at the same time.”
“That many meetings will expose us even more,” Yeden said.
“And that, by the way, brings up another problem,” Ham said. “Weren’t we supposed to be working on infiltrating the Ministry’s ranks?”
“Well?” Kelsier asked, turning to Marsh.
Marsh shook his head. “The Ministry is tight—I need more time.” “It’s not going to happen,” Clubs grumbled. “Rebellion’s already tried
it.”
Yeden nodded. “We’ve tried to get spies into the Inner Ministries a
dozen times. It’s impossible.” The room fell silent.
“I have an idea,” Vin said quietly. Kelsier raised an eyebrow.
“Camon,” she said. “He was working on a job before you recruited me.
Actually, it was the job that got us spotted by the obligators. The core of that plan was organized by another thief, a crewleader named Theron. He was setting up a fake canal convoy to carry Ministry funds to Luthadel.”
“And?” Breeze asked.
“Those same canal boats would have brought new Ministry acolytes to Luthadel for the final part of their training. Theron has a contact along the
route, a lesser obligator who was open to bribes. Maybe we could get him to add an ‘acolyte’ to the group from his local chapter.”
Kelsier nodded thoughtfully. “It’s worth looking into.”
Dockson scribbled something on a sheet with his fountain pen. “I’ll contact Theron and see if his informant is still viable.”
“How are our resources coming?” Kelsier asked.
Dockson shrugged. “Ham found us two ex-soldier instructors. The weapons, however…well, Renoux and I are making contacts and initiating deals, but we can’t move very quickly. Fortunately, when the weapons come, they should come in bulk.”
Kelsier nodded. “That’s everything, right?”
Breeze cleared his throat. “I’ve…been hearing a lot of rumors on the streets, Kelsier,” he said. “The people are talking about this Eleventh Metal of yours.”
“Good,” Kelsier said.
“Aren’t you worried that the Lord Ruler will hear? If he has forewarning of what you’re going to do, it will be much more difficult to… resist him.”
He didn’t say “kill,” Vin thought. They don’t think that Kelsier can do
it.
Kelsier just smiled. “Don’t worry about the Lord Ruler—I’ve got things
under control. In fact, I intend to pay the Lord Ruler a personal visit sometime during the next few days.”
“Visit?” Yeden asked uncomfortably. “You’re going to visit the Lord Ruler? Are you insa…” Yeden trailed off, then glanced at the rest of the room. “Right. I forgot.”
“He’s catching on,” Dockson noted.
Heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway, and one of Ham’s guards entered a moment later. He made his way to Ham’s chair and whispered a brief message.
Ham frowned.
“What?” Kelsier asked. “An incident,” Ham said.
“Incident?” Dockson asked. “What kind of incident?”
“You know that lair we met in a few weeks back?” Ham said. “The one where Kell first introduced his plan?”
Camon’s lair, Vin thought, growing apprehensive.
“Well,” Ham said, “apparently the Ministry found it.”
It seems Rashek represents a growing faction in Terris culture. A large number of the youths think that their unusual powers should be used for more than just fieldwork, husbandry, and stonecarving. They are rowdy,
even violent—far different from the quiet, discerning Terris philosophers and holy men that I have known.
They will have to be watched carefully, these Terrismen. They could be very dangerous, if given the opportunity and the motivation.
