Chapter 4 - 4

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.

You'll get your chance, kid, he thought. Just not tonight.

"Well," he said, pulling a coin from his pouch and tossing it off the side of

the building. "Guess I'll be going. I'll meet you back at Clubs's shop in a

bit."

Dockson nodded.

Kelsier turned and walked back up onto the roof's ledge. Then he jumped

off the building.

Mist curled in the air around him. He burned steel, second of the basic

Allomantic metals. Translucent blue lines sprang into existence around him,

visible only to his eyes. Each one led from the center of his chest out to a

nearby source of metal. The lines were all relatively faint—a sign that they

pointed to metal sources that were small: door hinges, nails, and other bits.

The type of source metal didn't matter. Burning iron or steel would point

blue lines at all kinds of metal, assuming they were close enough and large

enough to be noticeable.

Kelsier chose the line that pointed directly beneath him, toward his coin.

Burning steel, he Pushed against the coin.

His descent immediately stopped, and he was thrown back up into the air

in the opposite direction along the blue line. He reached out to the side,

selected a passing window clasp, and Pushed against it, angling himself to the

side. The careful nudge sent him up and over the lip of the building directly

across the street from Vin's lair.

Kelsier landed with a lithe step, falling into a crouch and running across

the building's peaked roof. He paused in the darkness at the other side,

peering through the swirling air. He burned tin, and felt it flare to life in his

chest, enhancing his senses. Suddenly the mists seemed less deep. It wasn't

that the night around him grew any lighter; his ability to perceive simply

increased. In the distance to the north, he could just barely make out a large

structure. Keep Venture.

Kelsier left his tin on—it burned slowly, and he probably didn't need to

worry about running out. As he stood, the mists curled slightly around his

body. They twisted and spun, running in a slight, barely noticeable current

beside him. The mists knew him; they claimed him. They could sense

Allomancy.

He jumped, Pushing against a metal chimney behind him, sending himself

in a wide horizontal leap. He tossed a coin even as he jumped, the tiny bit of

metal flickering through the darkness and fog. He Pushed against the coin

before it hit the ground, the force of his weight driving it downward in a

sharp motion. As soon as it hit the cobblestones, Kelsier's Pushing forced

him upward, turning the second half of his leap into a graceful arc.

Kelsier landed on another peaked wooden rooftop. Steel-pushing and

Ironpulling were the first things that Gemmel had taught him. When you Push

on something, it's like you're throwing your weight against it, the old lunatic

had said. And you can't change how much you weigh—you're an Allomancer,

not some northern mystic. Don't Pull on something that weighs less than you

unless you want it to come flying at you, and don't Push on something

heavier than you unless you want to get tossed in the other direction.

Kelsier scratched his scars, then pulled his mistcloak tight as he crouched

on the roof, the wooden grain biting his unshod toes. He often wished that

burning tin didn't enhance all of the senses—or, at least, not all of them at

once. He needed the improved eyesight to see in the darkness, and he made

good use of the improved hearing as well. However, burning tin made the

night seem even more chilly to his overly sensitive skin, and his feet

registered every pebble and wooden ripple they touched.

Keep Venture rose before him. Compared with the murky city, the keep

seemed to blaze with light. High nobles kept different schedules from regular

people; the ability to afford, even squander, lamp oil and candles meant that

the wealthy didn't have to bow before the whims of season or sun.

The keep was majestic—that much was visible simply from the

architecture. While it maintained a defensive wall around the grounds, the

keep itself was more an artistic construction than a fortification. Sturdy

buttressings arched out from the sides, allowing for intricate windows and

delicate spires. Brilliant stained-glass windows stretched high along the sides

of the rectangular building, and they shone with light from within, giving the

surrounding mists a variegated glow.

Kelsier burned iron, flaring it strong and searching the night for large

sources of metal. He was too far away from the keep to use small items like

coins or hinges. He'd need a larger anchor to cover this distance.

Most of the blue lines were faint. Kelsier marked a couple of them moving

in a slow pattern up ahead—probably a pair of guards standing on the

rooftop. Kelsier would be sensing their breastplates and weapons. Despite

Allomantic considerations, most noblemen still armed their soldiers with

metal. Mistings who could Push or Pull metals were uncommon, and full

Mistborn were even more so. Many lords thought it impractical to leave one's

soldiers and guards relatively defenseless in order to counter such a small

segment of the population.

No, most high noblemen relied on other means to deal with Allomancers.

Kelsier smiled. Dockson had said that Lord Venture kept a squad of

hazekillers; if that was true, Kelsier would probably meet them before the

night was through. He ignored the soldiers for the moment, instead focusing

on a solid line of blue pointing toward the keep's lofty top. It likely had

bronze or copper sheeting on the roof. Kelsier flared his iron, took a deep

breath, and Pulled on the line.

With a sudden jerk, he was yanked into the air.

Kelsier continued to burn iron, pulling himself toward the keep at a

tremendous speed. Some rumors claimed that Mistborn could fly, but that

was a wistful exaggeration. Pulling and Pushing against metals usually felt

less like flying than it did like falling—only in the wrong direction. An

Allomancer had to Pull hard in order to get the proper momentum, and this

sent him hurtling toward his anchor at daunting speeds.

Kelsier shot toward the keep, mists curling around him. He easily cleared

the protective wall surrounding the keep's grounds, but his body dropped

slightly toward the ground as he moved. It was his pesky weight again; it

tugged him down. Even the swiftest of arrows angled slightly toward the

ground as it flew.

The drag of his weight meant that instead of shooting right up to the roof,

he swung in an arc. He approached the keep wall several dozen feet below

the rooftop, still traveling at a terrible speed.

Taking a deep breath, Kelsier burned pewter, using it to enhance his

physical strength much in the same way that tin enhanced his senses. He

turned himself in the air, hitting the stone wall feet-first. Even his

strengthened muscles protested at the treatment, but he stopped without

breaking any bones. He immediately released his hold on the roof, dropping a

coin and Pushing against it even as he began to fall. He reached out, selecting

a source of metal above him—one of the wire housings of a stained-glass

window—and Pulled on it.

The coin hit the ground below and was suddenly able to support his

weight. Kelsier launched himself upward, Pushing on the coin and Pulling on

the window at the same time. Then, extinguishing both metals, he let

momentum carry him the last few feet up through the dark mists. Cloak

flapping quietly, he crested the lip of the keep's upper service walkway,

flipped himself up over the stone railing, and landed quietly on the ledge.

A startled guard stood not three paces away. Kelsier was upon the man in a

second, jumping into the air, Pulling slightly on the guard's steel breastplate

and throwing the man off balance. Kelsier whipped out one of his glass

daggers, allowing the strength of his Ironpull to bring him toward the guard.

He landed with both feet against the man's chest, then crouched and sliced

with a pewter-enhanced swing.

The guard collapsed with a slit throat. Kelsier landed lithely beside him,

ears straining in the night, listening for sounds of alarm. There were none.

Kelsier left the guard to his gurgling demise. The man was likely a lesser

nobleman. The enemy. If he were, instead, a skaa soldier—enticed into

betraying his people in exchange for a few coins . . . Well, then, Kelsier was

even happier to send such men into their eternity.

He Pushed off the dying man's breastplate, hopping up off the stone

service walkway and onto the rooftop itself. The bronze roof was chill and

slick beneath his feet. He scurried along it, heading toward the southern side

of the building, looking for the balcony Dockson had mentioned. He wasn't

too worried about being spotted; one purpose of this evening was to steal

some atium, the tenth and most powerful of the generally known Allomantic

metals. His other purpose, however, was to cause a commotion.

He found the balcony with ease. Wide and broad, it was probably a sitting

balcony, used to entertain small groups. It was quiet at the moment, however

—empty save for two guards. Kelsier crouched silently in the night mists

above the balcony, furled gray cloak obscuring him, toes curling out over the

side of the roof's metallic lip. The two guards chatted unwittingly below.

Time to make a bit of noise.

Kelsier dropped to the ledge directly between the guards. Burning pewter

to strengthen his body, he reached out and fiercely Steelpushed against both

men at the same time. Braced as he was at the center, his Push threw the

guards away in opposite directions. The men cried out in surprise as the

sudden force threw them backward, hurling them over the balcony railing

into the darkness beyond.

The guards screamed as they fell. Kelsier threw open the balcony doors,

letting a wall of mist fall inward around him, its tendrils creeping forward to

claim the darkened room beyond.

Third room in, Kelsier thought, moving forward in a crouching run. The

second room was a quiet, greenhouse-like conservatory. Low beds containing

cultivated bushes and small trees ran through the room, and one wall was

made up of enormous floor-to-ceiling windows to provide sunlight for the

plants. Though it was dark, Kelsier knew that the plants would all be of

slightly different colors than the typical brown—some would be white, others

ruddy, and perhaps even a few light yellow. Plants that weren't brown were a

rarity cultivated and kept by the nobility.

Kelsier moved quickly through the conservatory. He paused at the next

doorway, noting its lighted outline. He extinguished his tin lest his enhanced

eyes be blinded when he entered the lit room, and threw open the door.

He ducked inside, blinking against the light, a glass dagger in each hand.

The room, however, was empty. It was obviously a study; a lantern burned on

each wall beside bookcases, and it had a desk in the corner.

Kelsier replaced his knives, burning steel and searching for sources of

metal. There was a large safe in the corner of the room, but it was too

obvious. Sure enough, another strong source of metal shone from inside the

eastern wall. Kelsier approached, running his fingers along the plaster. Like

many walls in noble keeps, this one was painted with a soft mural. Foreign

creatures lounged beneath a red sun. The false section of wall was under two

feet square, and it had been placed so that its cracks were obscured by the

mural.

There's always another secret, Kelsier thought. He didn't bother trying to

figure out how to open the contraption. He simply burned steel, reaching in

and tugging against the weak source of metal that he assumed was the

trapdoor's locking mechanism. It resisted at first, pulling him against the

wall, but he burned pewter and yanked harder. The lock snapped, and the

panel swung open, revealing a small safe embedded in the wall.

Kelsier smiled. It looked small enough for a pewter-enhanced man to

carry, assuming he could get it out of the wall.

He jumped up, Ironpulling against the safe, and landed with his feet

against the wall, one foot on either side of the open panel. He continued to

Pull, holding himself in place, and flared his pewter. Strength flooded his

legs, and he flared his steel as well, Pulling against the safe.

He strained, grunting slightly at the exertion. It was a test to see which

would give out first—the safe, or his legs.

The safe shifted in its mountings. Kelsier Pulled harder, muscles

protesting. For an extended moment, nothing happened. Then the safe shook

and ripped free of the wall. Kelsier fell backward, burning steel and Pushing

against the safe to get out of the way. He landed maladroitly, sweat dripping

from his brow as the safe crashed to the wooden floor, throwing up splinters.

A pair of startled guards burst into the room.

"About time," Kelsier noted, raising a hand and Pulling on one of the

soldier's swords. It whipped out of the sheath, spinning in the air and

streaking toward Kelsier point-first. He extinguished his iron, stepping to the

side and catching the sword by its hilt as momentum carried it past.

"Mistborn!" the guard screamed.

Kelsier smiled and jumped forward.

The guard pulled out a dagger. Kelsier Pushed it, tearing the weapon out of

the man's hand, then swung, shearing the guard's head from his body. The

second guard cursed, tugging free the release tie on his breastplate.

Kelsier Pushed on his own sword even as he completed his swing. The

sword ripped from his fingers and hissed directly toward the second guard.

The man's armor dropped free—preventing Kelsier from Pushing against it—

just as the first guard's corpse fell to the ground. A moment later, Kelsier's

sword planted itself in the second guard's now unarmored chest. The man

stumbled quietly, then collapsed.

Kelsier turned from the bodies, cloak rustling. His anger was quiet, not as

fierce as it had been the night he'd killed Lord Tresting. But he felt it still, felt

it in the itching of his scars and in the remembered screams of the woman he

loved. As far as Kelsier was concerned, any man who upheld the Final

Empire also forfeited his right to live.

He flared his pewter, strengthening his body, then squatted down and lifted

the safe. He teetered for a second beneath its weight, then got his balance and

began to shuffle back toward the balcony. Perhaps the safe held atium;

perhaps it didn't. However, he didn't have time to search out other options.

He was halfway through the conservatory when he heard footsteps from

behind. He turned to see the study flooding with figures. There were eight of

them, each one wearing a loose gray robe and carrying a dueling cane and a

shield instead of a sword. Hazekillers.

Kelsier let the safe drop to the ground. Hazekillers weren't Allomancers,

but they were trained to fight Mistings and Mistborn. There wouldn't be a

single bit of metal on their bodies, and they would be ready for his tricks.

Kelsier stepped back, stretching and smiling. The eight men fanned into

the study, moving with quiet precision.

This should be interesting.

The hazekillers attacked, dashing by twos into the conservatory. Kelsier

pulled out his daggers, ducking beneath the first attack and slicing at a man's

chest. The hazekiller jumped back, however, and forced Kelsier away with a

swing of his cane.

Kelsier flared his pewter, letting strengthened legs carry him back in a

powerful jump. With one hand, he whipped out a handful of coins and

Pushed them against his opponents. The metal disks shot forward, zipping

through the air, but his enemies were ready for this: They raised their shields,

and the coins bounced off the wood, throwing up splinters but leaving the

men unharmed.

Kelsier eyed the other hazekillers as they filled the room, advancing on

him. They couldn't hope to fight him in an extended battle—their tactic

would be to rush him at once, hoping for a quick end to the fight, or to at

least stall him until Allomancers could be awakened and brought to fight. He

glanced at the safe as he landed.

He couldn't leave without it. He needed to end the fight quickly as well.

Flaring pewter, he jumped forward, trying an experimental dagger swipe, but

he couldn't get inside his opponent's defenses. Kelsier barely ducked away in

time to avoid getting cracked on the head by the end of a cane.

Three of the hazekillers dashed behind him, cutting off his retreat into the

balcony room. Great, Kelsier thought, trying to keep an eye on all eight men

at once. They advanced on him with careful precision, working as a team.

Gritting his teeth, Kelsier flared his pewter again; it was running low, he

noticed. Pewter was the fastest-burning of the basic eight metals.

No time to worry about that now. The men behind him attacked, and

Kelsier jumped out of the way—Pulling on the safe to tug himself toward the

center of the room. He Pushed as soon as he hit the ground near the safe,

launching himself into the air at an angle. He tucked, flipping over the heads

of two attackers, and landed on the ground beside a well-cultivated tree bed.

He spun, flaring his pewter and raising his arm in defense against the swing

he knew would come.

The dueling cane connected with his arm. A burst of pain ran down his

forearm, but his pewter-enhanced bone held. Kelsier kept moving, driving his

other hand forward and slamming a dagger into his opponent's chest.

The man stumbled back in surprise, the motion ripping away Kelsier's

dagger. A second hazekiller attacked, but Kelsier ducked, then reached down

with his free hand, ripping his coin pouch off of his belt. The hazekiller

prepared to block Kelsier's remaining dagger, but Kelsier raised his other

hand instead, slamming the coin pouch into the man's shield.

Then he Pushed on the coins inside.

The hazekiller cried out, the force of the intense Steelpush throwing him

backward. Kelsier flared his steel, Pushing so hard that he tossed himself

backward as well—away from the pair of men who tried to attack him.

Kelsier and his enemy flew away from each other, hurled in opposite

directions. Kelsier collided with the far wall, but kept Pushing, smashing his

opponent—pouch, shield, and all—against one of the massive conservatory

windows.

Glass shattered, sparkles of lanternlight from the study playing across its

shards. The hazekiller's desperate face disappeared into the darkness beyond,

and mist—quiet, yet ominous—began to creep in through the shattered

window.

The other six men advanced relentlessly, and Kelsier was forced to ignore

the pain in his arm as he ducked two swings. He spun out of the way,

brushing past a small tree, but a third hazekiller attacked, smashing his cane

into Kelsier's side.

The attack threw Kelsier into the tree bed. He tripped, then collapsed near

the entrance to the lit study, dropping his dagger. He gasped in pain, rolling

to his knees and holding his side. The blow would have broken another man's

ribs. Even Kelsier would have a massive bruise.

The six men moved forward, spreading to surround him again. Kelsier

stumbled to his feet, vision growing dizzy from pain and exertion. He gritted

his teeth, reaching down and pulling out one of his remaining vials of metal.

He downed its contents in a single gulp, replenishing his pewter, then burned

tin. The light nearly blinded him, and the pain in his arm and side suddenly

seemed more acute, but the burst of enhanced senses cleared his head.

The six hazekillers advanced in a sudden, coordinated attack.

Kelsier whipped his hand to the side, burning iron and searching for metal.

The closest source was a thick silvery paperweight on a desk just inside the

study. Kelsier flipped it into his hand, then turned, arm held toward the

advancing men, falling into an offensive stance.

"All right," he growled.

Kelsier burned steel with a flash of strength. The rectangular ingot ripped

from his hand, streaking through the air. The foremost hazekiller raised his

shield, but he moved too slowly. The ingot hit the man's shoulder with a

crunch, and he dropped, crying out.

Kelsier spun to the side, ducking a staff swing and putting a hazekiller

between himself and the fallen man. He burned iron, Pulling the ingot back

toward him. It whipped through the air, cracking the second hazekiller in the

side of the head. The man collapsed as the ingot flipped into the air.

One of the remaining men cursed, rushing forward to attack. Kelsier

Pushed the still airborne ingot, flipping it away from him—and away from

the attacking hazekiller, who had his shield raised. Kelsier heard the ingot hit

the ground behind him, and he reached up—burning pewter—and caught the

hazekiller's cane mid-swing.

The hazekiller grunted, struggling against Kelsier's enhanced strength.

Kelsier didn't bother trying to pull the weapon free; instead he Pulled sharply

on the ingot behind him, bringing it toward his own back at a deadly speed.

He twisted at the last moment, using his momentum to spin the hazekiller

around—right into the ingot's path.

The man dropped.

Kelsier flared pewter, steadying himself against attacks. Sure enough, a

cane smashed against his shoulders. He stumbled to his knees as the wood

cracked, but flared tin kept him conscious. Pain and lucidity flashed through

his mind. He Pulled on the ingot—ripping it out of the dying man's back—

and stepped to the side, letting the impromptu weapon shoot past him.

The two hazekillers nearest him crouched warily. The ingot snapped into

one of the men's shields, but Kelsier didn't continue Pushing, lest he throw

himself off balance. Instead, he burned iron, wrenching the ingot back toward

himself. He ducked, extinguishing iron and feeling the ingot whoosh through

the air above him. There was a crack as it collided with the man who had

been sneaking up on him.

Kelsier spun, burning iron then steel to send the ingot soaring toward the

final two men. They stepped out of the way, but Kelsier tugged on the ingot,

dropping it to the ground directly in front of them. The men regarded it

warily, distracted as Kelsier ran and jumped, Steelpushing himself against the

ingot and flipping over the men's heads. The hazekillers cursed, spinning. As

Kelsier landed, he Pulled the ingot again, bringing it up to smash into a man's

skull from behind.

The hazekiller fell silently. The ingot flipped a few times in the darkness,

and Kelsier snatched it from the air, its cool surface slick with blood. Mist

from the shattered window flowed by his feet, curling up around his legs. He

brought his hand down, pointing it directly at the last remaining hazekiller.

Somewhere in the room, a fallen man groaned.

The remaining hazekiller stepped back, then dropped his weapon and

dashed away. Kelsier smiled, lowering his hand.

Suddenly, the ingot was Pushed from his fingers. It shot across the room,

smashing through another window. Kelsier cursed, spinning to see another,

larger group of men pouring into the study. They wore the clothing of

noblemen. Allomancers.

Several of them raised hands, and a flurry of coins shot toward Kelsier. He

flared steel, Pushing the coins out of the way. Windows shattered and wood

splintered as the room was sprayed with coins. Kelsier felt a tug on his belt as

his final vial of metal was ripped away, Pulled toward the other room.

Several burly men ran forward in a crouch, staying beneath the shooting

coins. Thugs—Mistings who, like Ham, could burn pewter.

Time to go, Kelsier thought, deflecting another wave of coins, gritting his

teeth against the pain in his side and arm. He glanced behind him; he had a

few moments, but he was never going to make it back to the balcony. As

more Mistings advanced, Kelsier took a deep breath and dashed toward one

of the broken, floor-to-ceiling windows. He leapt out into the mists, turning

in the air as he fell, and reached out to Pull firmly on the fallen safe.

He jerked in midair, swinging down toward the side of the building as if

tied to the safe by a tether. He felt the safe slide forward, grinding against the

floor of the conservatory as Kelsier's weight pulled against it. He slammed

against the side of the building, but continued to Pull, catching himself on the

upper side of a windowsill. He strained, standing upside down in the window

well, Pulling on the safe.

The safe appeared over the lip of the floor above. It teetered, then fell out

the window and began to plummet directly toward Kelsier. He smiled,

extinguishing his iron and pushing away from the building with his legs,

throwing himself out into the mists like some insane diver. He fell backward

through the darkness, barely catching sight of an angry face poking out of the

broken window above.

Kelsier Pulled carefully against the safe, moving himself in the air. Mists

curled around him, obscuring his vision, making him feel as if he weren't

falling at all—but hanging in the middle of nothingness.

He reached the safe, then twisted in the air and Pushed against it, throwing

himself upward.

The safe crashed into the cobblestones just below. Kelsier Pushed against

the safe slightly, slowing himself until he eventually jerked to a halt in the air

just a few feet above the ground. He hung in the mists for a moment, ribbons

from his cloak curling and flapping in the wind, then let himself drop to the

ground beside the safe.

The strongbox had been shattered by the fall. Kelsier pried open its

mangled front, tin-enhanced ears listening to calls of alarm from the building

above. Inside the safe, he found a small pouch of gemstones and a couple of

ten-thousand boxing letters of credit, all of which he pocketed. He felt around

inside, suddenly worried that the night's work had been for naught. Then his

fingers found it—a small pouch at the very back.

He pulled it open, revealing a grouping of dark, beadlike bits of metal.

Atium. His scars flared, memories of his time in the Pits returning to him.

He pulled the pouch tight and stood. With amusement, he noticed a twisted

form lying on the cobblestones a short distance away—the mangled remains

of the hazekiller he'd thrown out the window. Kelsier walked over, and

retrieved his coin pouch with a tug of Ironpulling.

No, this night was not a waste. Even if he hadn't found the atium, any

night that ended with a group of dead noblemen was a successful one, in

Kelsier's opinion.

He gripped his pouch in one hand and the bag of atium in the other. He

kept his pewter burning—without the strength it lent his body, he'd probably

collapse from the pain of his wounds—and dashed off into the night, heading

toward Clubs's shop.

I never wanted this, true. But somebody has to stop the Deepness. And, apparently, Terris is the

only place this can be done.

On this fact, however, I don't have to take the word of the philosophers. I can feel our goal

now, can sense it, though the others cannot. It . . . pulses, in my mind, far off in the mountains.

6

VIN AWOKE TO A QUIET room, red morning sunlight peeking through cracks in

the shutters. She lay in bed for a moment, unsettled. Something felt wrong. It

wasn't that she was waking up in an unfamiliar place—traveling with Reen

had accustomed her to a nomadic lifestyle. It took her a moment to realize the

source of her discomfort.

The room was empty.

Not only was it empty, it was open. Uncrowded. And it was . . .

comfortable. She lay on an actual mattress, raised on posts, with sheets and a

plush quilt. The room was decorated with a sturdy wooden armoire, and even

had a circular rug. Perhaps another might have found the room cramped and

spartan, but to Vin it seemed lavish.

She sat up, frowning. It felt wrong to have a room all to herself. She had

always been crammed into tight bunkrooms filled with crewmembers. Even

while traveling, she had slept in beggars' alleys or rebel caves, and Reen had

been there with her. She had always been forced to fight to find privacy.

Being given it so easily seemed to devalue the years she had spent relishing

her brief moments of solitude.

She slipped out of bed, not bothering to open the shutters. The sunlight was

faint, which meant it was still early morning, but she could already hear

people moving in the hallway. She crept to the door, creaking it open and

peeking out.

After leaving Kelsier the night before, Dockson had led Vin to Clubs's

shop. Because of the late hour, Clubs had immediately led them to their

separate rooms. Vin, however, had not gone to bed immediately. She had

waited until everyone was asleep, then had snuck out to inspect her

surroundings.

The residence was almost more of an inn than it was a shop. Though it had

a showroom below and a large workshop in the back, the building's second

floor was dominated by several long hallways lined with guestrooms. There

was a third floor, and the doors were more widely spaced there, implying

larger rooms. She hadn't tapped for trapdoors or false walls—the noise might

have awakened someone—but experience told her that it wouldn't be a

proper lair if it didn't have at least a secret basement and some bolt-holes.

Overall, she was impressed. The carpentry equipment and half-finished

projects below indicated a reputable, working front. The lair was secure, well

stocked, and well maintained. Watching through the crack in her door, Vin

made out a group of about six groggy young men coming out of the hallway

opposite her own. They wore simple clothing, and made their way down the

stairs toward the workroom.

Apprentice carpenters, Vin thought. That's Clubs's front—he's a skaa

craftsman. Most skaa lived lives of drudgery on the plantations; even those

who lived in a city were generally forced to do menial labor. However, some

talented few were allowed a trade. They were still skaa; they were paid

poorly and were always subject to the whims of the nobility. However, they

had a measure of freedom that most skaa would envy.

Clubs was probably a master carpenter. What would entice such a man—

one who had, by skaa standards, an amazing life—to risk joining the

underground?

He is a Misting, Vin thought. Kelsier and Dockson called him a "Smoker."

She would probably have to figure out what that meant on her own;

experience told her that a powerful man like Kelsier would withhold

knowledge from her as long as he could, stringing her along with occasional

tidbits. His knowledge was what bound her to him—it would be unwise to

give away too much too quickly.

Footsteps sounded outside, and Vin continued to peek through the crack.

"You'll want to get ready, Vin," Dockson said as he passed her door. He

wore a nobleman's dress shirt and slacks, and he already looked awake and

trim. He paused, continuing. "There's a fresh bath for you in the room at the

end of the hallway, and I had Clubs scrounge you up a few changes of

clothing. They should fit well enough until we can get you something more

appropriate. Take your time in the bath—Kell's planned a meeting for this

afternoon, but we can't start until Breeze and Ham arrive."

Dockson smiled, eyeing her through the cracked door, then continued on

down the hallway. Vin flushed at being caught. These are observant men. I'm

going to have to remember that.

The hallway grew quiet. She slipped out her door and crept down to the

indicated room, and was half surprised to find that there was indeed a warm

bath waiting for her. She frowned, studying the tiled chamber and metal tub.

The water smelled scented, after the fashion of noble ladies.

These men are more like noblemen than skaa, Vin thought. She wasn't

certain what she thought of that. However, they obviously expected her to do

as they did, so she closed and bolted the door, then disrobed and crawled into

the tub.

She smelled funny.

Even though the scent was faint, Vin still caught whiffs of herself

occasionally. It was the smell of a passing noblewoman, the scent of a

perfumed drawer opened by her brother's burgling fingers. The smell grew

less noticeable as the morning progressed, but it still worried her. It would

distinguish her from other skaa. If this crew expected her to take those baths

regularly, she would have to request that the perfumes be removed.

The morning meal was more up to her expectations. Several skaa women

of various ages worked the shop's kitchen, preparing baywraps—rolls of thin,

flat bread stuffed with boiled barley and vegetables. Vin stood by the kitchen

doorway, watching the women work. None of them smelled like she did,

though they were far more cleanly and well groomed than average skaa.

In fact, there was an odd sense of cleanliness to the entire building. She

hadn't noticed it the night before, because of the darkness, but the floor was

scrubbed clean. All of the workers—kitchen women or apprentices—had

clean faces and hands. It felt odd to Vin. She was accustomed to her own

fingers being black with ashstains; with Reen, if she'd ever washed her face,

she had quickly rubbed it with ash again. A clean face stood out on the

streets.

No ash in the corners, she thought, eyeing the floor. The room is kept

swept. She'd never lived in such a place before. It was almost like living in

some nobleman's house.

She glanced back at the kitchen women. They wore simple dresses of

white and gray, with scarves around the tops of their heads and long tails of

hair hanging out the back. Vin fingered her own hair. She kept it short, like a

boy's—her current, ragged cut had been given by one of the other

crewmembers. She wasn't like these women—she never had been. By Reen's

command, Vin had lived so that other crewmembers would think of her as a

thief first and a girl second.

But, what am I now? Perfumed by her bath, yet wearing the tan trousers

and buttoning shirt of an apprentice craftsman, she felt distinctly out of place.

And that was bad—if she felt awkward, then she undoubtedly looked

awkward too. Something else to make her stand out.

Vin turned, eyeing the workroom. The apprentices were already about their

morning labors, working on various bits of furniture. They stayed in the back

while Clubs worked in the main showroom, putting detailed finishing touches

on the pieces.

The back kitchen door suddenly slammed open. Vin slipped reflexively to

the side, putting her back to a wall and peeking around into the kitchen.

Ham stood in the kitchen doorway, framed by red sunlight. He wore a

loose shirt and vest, both sleeveless, and carried several large packs. He

wasn't dirtied by soot—none of the crew had ever been, the few times Vin

had seen them.

Ham walked through the kitchen and into the workroom. "So," he said,

dropping his packs, "anyone know which room is mine?"

"I'll ask Master Cladent," one of the apprentices said, moving into the

front room.

Ham smiled, stretching, then turned toward Vin. "Morning, Vin. You

know, you don't have to hide from me. We're on the same team."

Vin relaxed but remained where she was, standing beside a line of mostly

finished chairs. "You're going to live here too?"

"It always pays to stay near the Smoker," Ham said, turning and

disappearing back into the kitchen. He returned a moment later with a stack

of four large baywraps. "Anyone know where Kell is?"

"Sleeping," Vin said. "He came in late last night, and hasn't gotten up yet."

Ham grunted, taking a bite of a baywrap. "Dox?"

"In his room on the third floor," Vin said. "He got up early, came down to

get something to eat, and went back upstairs." She didn't add that she knew,

from peeking through the keyhole, that he was sitting at his desk scribbling

on some papers.

Ham raised an eyebrow. "You always keep track of where everyone is like

that?"

"Yes."

Ham paused, then chuckled. "You're an odd kid, Vin." He gathered up his

packs as the apprentice returned, and the two moved up the stairs. Vin stood,

listening to their footsteps. They stopped about halfway down the first

hallway, perhaps a few doors from her room.

The scent of steamed barley enticed her. Vin eyed the kitchen. Ham had

gone in and taken food. Was she allowed to do the same?

Trying to look confident, Vin strode into the kitchen. A pile of baywraps

sat on a platter, probably to be delivered to the apprentices as they worked.

Vin picked up two of them. None of the women objected; in fact, a few of

them even nodded respectfully toward her.

I'm an important person now, she thought with a measure of discomfort.

Did they know that she was . . . Mistborn? Or was she simply treated with

respect because she was a guest?

Eventually, Vin took a third baywrap and fled to her room. It was more

food than she could possibly eat; however, she intended to scrape out the

barley and save the flatbread, which would keep well should she need it later.

A knock came at her door. Vin answered it, pulling the door open with a

careful motion. A young man stood outside—the boy who had been with

Clubs back at Camon's lair the night before.

Thin, tall, and awkward-looking, he was dressed in gray clothing. He was

perhaps fourteen, though his height might have made him look older than he

was. He seemed nervous for some reason.

"Yes?" Vin asked.

"Um . . ."

Vin frowned. "What?"

"You're wanted," he said in a thick Eastern accent. "Ups in the where

above with the doing. With Master Jumps to the third floor. Uh, I've gotta

go." The boy blushed, then turned and hurried away, scrambling up the stairs.

Vin stood in the doorway of her room, dumbfounded. Was that supposed

to make any sense? she wondered.

She peeked into the hallway. The boy had seemed like he expected her to

follow him. Finally, she decided to do so, carefully making her way up the

steps.

Voices were coming from an open door at the end of the hallway. Vin

approached and peeked around the corner to find a well-decorated room, set

with a fine rug and comfortable-looking chairs. A hearth burned at the side of

the room, and the chairs were arranged to point toward a large charcoal

writing board set atop an easel.

Kelsier stood, leaning one elbow resting against the brick hearth, a cup of

wine in his hand. Angling herself slightly, Vin could see that he was talking

to Breeze. The Soother had arrived well into midday, and had appropriated

half of Clubs's apprentices to unload his possessions. Vin had watched from

her window as the apprentices had carried the luggage—disguised as boxes

of lumber scraps—up to Breeze's room. Breeze himself hadn't bothered to

help.

Ham was there, as was Dockson, and Clubs was settling himself into the

large, overstuffed chair farthest from Breeze. The boy who had fetched Vin

sat on a stool beside Clubs, and he was obviously making a point of trying

not to look at her. The final occupied chair held the man Yeden, dressed—as

before—in common skaa worker's clothing. He sat in his chair without

resting against its back, as if he disapproved of its plushness. His face was

darkened with soot, as Vin expected of a skaa worker.

There were two empty chairs. Kelsier noticed Vin standing by the

doorway, and gave her one of his inviting smiles. "Well, there she is. Come

in."

Vin scanned the room. There was a window, though its shutters were

closed against approaching gloom. The only chairs were the ones in Kelsier's

half circle. Resigned, she moved forward and took the empty chair beside

Dockson. It was too big for her, and she settled into it with her knees folded

beneath her.

"That's all of us," Kelsier said.

"Who's the last chair for?" Ham asked.

Kelsier smiled, winked, but ignored the question. "All right, let's talk.

We've got something of a task ahead of ourselves, and the sooner we begin

outlining a plan, the better."

"I thought you had a plan," Yeden said uncomfortably.

"I have a framework," Kelsier said. "I know what needs to happen, and I

have a few ideas on how to do it. But, you don't gather a group like this and

just tell them what to do. We need to work this out together, beginning with a

list of problems we need to deal with if we want the plan to work."

"Well," Ham said, "let me get the framework straight first. The plan is to

gather Yeden an army, cause chaos in Luthadel, secure the palace, steal the

Lord Ruler's atium, then leave the government to collapse?"

"Essentially," Kelsier said.

"Then," Ham said, "our main problem is the Garrison. If we want chaos in

Luthadel, then we can't have twenty thousand troops here to keep the peace.

Not to mention the fact that Yeden's troops will never take the city while

there is any sort of armed resistance on the walls."

Kelsier nodded. Picking up a piece of chalk, he wrote Luthadel Garrison

up on the board. "What else?"

"We'll need a way to make said chaos in Luthadel," Breeze said, gesturing

with a cup of wine. "Your instincts are right, my dear man. This city is where

the Ministry makes its headquarters and the Great Houses run their

mercantile empires. We'll need to bring Luthadel down if we want to break

the Lord Ruler's ability to govern."

"Mentioning the nobility brings up another point," Dockson added. "The

Great Houses all have guard forces in the city, not to mention their

Allomancers. If we're going to deliver the city to Yeden, we'll have to deal

with those noblemen."

Kelsier nodded, writing Chaos and Great Houses beside Luthadel

Garrison on his board.

"The Ministry," Clubs said, leaning back in his plush chair so much that

Vin almost couldn't see his grumpy face. "There'll be no change in

government as long as the Steel Inquisitors have anything to say about it."

Kelsier added Ministry to the board. "What else?"

"Atium," Ham said. "You might as well write it up there—we'll need to

secure the palace quickly, once general mayhem starts, and make certain

nobody else takes the opportunity to slip into the treasury."

Kelsier nodded, writing Atium: Secure Treasury on the board.

"We will need to find a way to gather Yeden's troops," Breeze added.

"We'll have to be quiet, but quick, and train them somewhere that the Lord

Ruler won't find them."

"We also might want to make certain that the skaa rebellion is ready to

take control of Luthadel," Dockson added. "Seizing the palace and digging in

will make for a spectacular story, but it would be nice if Yeden and his

people were actually ready to govern, once this is all over."

Troops and Skaa Rebellion were added to the board. "And," Kelsier said,

"I'm going to add 'Lord Ruler.' We'll at least want a plan to get him out of

the city, should other options fail." After writing Lord Ruler on the list, he

turned back toward the group. "Did I forget anything?"

"Well," Yeden said dryly, "if you're listing problems we'll have to

overcome, you should write up there that we're all bloody insane—though I

doubt we can fix that fact."

The group chuckled, and Kelsier wrote Yeden's Bad Attitude on the board.

Then he stepped back, looking over the list. "When you break it down like

that, it doesn't sound so bad, does it?"

Vin frowned, trying to decide if Kelsier was attempting a joke or not. The

list wasn't just daunting—it was disturbing. Twenty thousand imperial

soldiers? The collected forces and power of the high nobility? The Ministry?

One Steel Inquisitor was said to be more powerful than a thousand troops.

More discomforting, however, was how matter-of-factly they regarded the

issues. How could they even think of resisting the Lord Ruler? He was . . .

well, he was the Lord. He ruled all of the world. He was the creator,

protector, and punisher of mankind. He had saved them from the Deepness,

then had brought the ash and the mists as a punishment for the people's lack

of faith. Vin wasn't particularly religious—intelligent thieves knew to avoid

the Steel Ministry—but even she knew the legends.

And yet, the group regarded their list of "problems" with determination.

There was a grim mirth about them—as if they understood that they had a

better chance of making the sun rise at night than they did of overthrowing

the Final Empire. Yet, they were still going to try.

"By the Lord Ruler," Vin whispered. "You're serious. You really mean to

do this."

"Don't use his name as an oath, Vin," Kelsier said. "Even blasphemy

honors him—when you curse by that creature's name, you acknowledge him

as your god."

Vin fell silent, sitting back in her chair, a bit numb.

"Anyway," Kelsier said, smiling lightly. "Anyone have any ideas on how

to overcome these problems? Besides Yeden's attitude, of course—we all

know he's hopeless."

The room was quiet and thoughtful.

"Thoughts?" Kelsier asked. "Angles? Impressions?"

Breeze shook his head. "Now that it's all up there, I can't help wondering

if the child has a point. This is a daunting task."

"But it can be done," Kelsier said. "Let's start by talking about how to

break the city. What can we do that would be so threatening that it would

throw the nobility into chaos, maybe even get the palace guard out into the

city, exposing them to our troops? Something that would distract the

Ministry, and the Lord Ruler himself, while we move our troops in to

attack?"

"Well, a general revolution among the populace comes to mind," Ham

said.

"Won't work," Yeden said firmly.

"Why not?" Ham asked. "You know how the people are treated. They live

in slums, work in mills and smithies the entire day, and half of them still

starve."

Yeden shook his head. "Don't you understand? The rebellion has been

trying for a thousand years to get the skaa in this city to rise up. It never

works. They're too beaten down—they don't have the will or the hope to

resist. That's why I had to come to you to get an army."

The room fell still. Vin, however, slowly nodded her head. She'd seen it—

she'd felt it. One didn't fight the Lord Ruler. Even living as a thief, crouching

at the edge of society, she knew that. There would be no rebellion.

"He's right, I'm afraid," Kelsier said. "The skaa won't rise up, not in their

current state. If we're going to overthrow this government, we'll need to do it

without the help of the masses. We can probably recruit our soldiers from

among them, but we can't count on the general populace."

"Could we cause a disaster of some sort?" Ham asked. "A fire maybe?"

Kelsier shook his head. "It might disrupt trade for a while, but I doubt it

would have the effect we want. Besides, the cost in skaa lives would be too

high. The slums would burn, not stone nobleman keeps."

Breeze sighed. "What, then, would you have us do?"

Kelsier smiled, eyes twinkling. "What if we turned the Great Houses

against each other?"

Breeze paused. "A house war . . ." he said, taking a speculative sip of his

wine. "It's been a while since the city had one of those."

"Which means that tensions have had plenty of time to brew," Kelsier said.

"The high nobility are growing increasingly powerful—the Lord Ruler barely

has control over them anymore, which is why we have a chance of shattering

his grip. Luthadel's Great Houses are the key—they control imperial trade,

not to mention enslave the greatest majority of the skaa."

Kelsier pointed at the board, moving his finger between the line that said

Chaos and the line that said Great Houses.

"If we can turn the houses inside Luthadel against each other, we can bring

down the city. Mistborn will start assassinating house leaders. Fortunes will

collapse. It won't take long before there is open warfare in the streets. Part of

our contract with Yeden states that we'll give him an opening to seize the city

for himself. Can you think of a better one than that?"

Breeze nodded with a smile. "It has flair—and I do like the idea of having

the noblemen kill each other."

"You always like it better when someone else does the work, Breeze,"

Ham noted.

"My dear friend," Breeze replied, "the entire point of life is to find ways to

get others to do your work for you. Don't you know anything about basic

economics?"

Ham raised an eyebrow. "Actually, I—"

"It was a rhetorical question, Ham," Breeze interrupted, rolling his eyes.

"Those are the best kind!" Ham replied.

"Philosophy later, Ham," Kelsier said. "Stay on task. What do you think of

my suggestion?"

"It could work," Ham said, settling back. "But I can't see the Lord Ruler

letting things go that far."

"It's our job to see that he doesn't have a choice," Kelsier said. "He's

known to let his nobility squabble, probably to keep them off-balance. We

fan those tensions, then we somehow force the Garrison to pull out. When the

houses start fighting in earnest, the Lord Ruler won't be able to do anything

to stop them—except, perhaps, send his palace guard into the streets, which is

exactly what we want him to do."

"He could also send for a koloss army," Ham noted.

"True," Kelsier said. "But they're stationed a moderate distance away.

That's a flaw we need to exploit. Koloss troops make wonderful grunts, but

they have to be kept away from civilized cities. The very center of the Final

Empire is exposed, yet the Lord Ruler is confident in his strength—and why

shouldn't he be? He hasn't faced a serious threat in centuries. Most cities

only need small policing forces."

"Twenty thousand men is hardly a 'small' number," Breeze said.

"It is on a national scale," Kelsier said, holding up a finger. "The Lord

Ruler keeps most of his troops on the edges of his empire, where the threat of

rebellion is strongest. That's why we're going to strike him here, in Luthadel

itself—and that's why we're going to succeed."

"Assuming we can deal with that Garrison," Dockson noted.

Kelsier nodded, turning to write House War underneath Great Houses and

Chaos. "All right, then. Let's talk about the Garrison. What are we going to

do about it?"

"Well," Ham said speculatively, "historically, the best way to deal with a

large force of soldiers is to have your own large force of soldiers. We're

going to raise Yeden an army—why not let them attack the Garrison? Isn't

that kind of the point of raising the army in the first place?"

"That won't work, Hammond," Breeze said. He regarded his empty cup of

wine, then held it up toward the boy sitting beside Clubs, who immediately

scurried over to refill it.

"If we wanted to defeat the Garrison," Breeze continued, "we'd need our

own force of at least its same size. We'd probably want one much larger,

since our men will be newly trained. We might be able to raise Yeden an

army—we might even be able to get him one large enough to hold the city for

a while. But, getting him one large enough to take on the Garrison inside its

fortifications? We might as well give up now, if that's our plan."

The group fell silent. Vin squirmed in her chair, looking over each man in

turn. Breeze's words had a profound effect. Ham opened his mouth to speak,

then closed it again, sitting back to reconsider.

"All right," Kelsier finally said. "We'll get back to the Garrison in a

moment. Let's look at our own army. How can we raise one of substantial

size and hide it from the Lord Ruler?"

"Again, that will be difficult," Breeze said. "There is a very good reason

why the Lord Ruler feels safe in the Central Dominance. There are constant

patrols on the roadways and canals, and you can hardly spend a day traveling

without running into a village or plantation. This isn't the sort of place where

you can raise an army without attracting notice."

"The rebellion has those caves up to the north," Dockson said. "We might

be able to hide some men there."

Yeden paled. "You know about the Arguois caverns?"

Kelsier rolled his eyes. "Even the Lord Ruler knows about them, Yeden.

The rebels there just aren't dangerous enough to bother him yet."

"How many people do you have, Yeden?" Ham asked. "In Luthadel and

around it, caves included? What do we have to start with?"

Yeden shrugged. "Maybe three hundred—including women and children."

"And how many do you think those caves could hide?" Ham asked.

Yeden shrugged again.

"The caves could support a larger group, for certain," Kelsier said.

"Perhaps ten thousand. I've been there—the rebellion has been hiding people

in them for years, and the Lord Ruler has never bothered to destroy them."

"I can imagine why," Ham said. "Cave fighting is nasty business,

especially for the aggressor. The Lord Ruler likes to keep defeats to a

minimum—he's nothing if not vain. Anyway, ten thousand. That's a decent

number. It could hold the palace with ease—might even be able to hold the

city, if it had the walls."

Dockson turned to Yeden. "When you asked for an army, what size were

you thinking?"

"Ten thousand sounds like a good number, I suppose," Yeden said.

"Actually . . . it's a bit larger than I was thinking."

Breeze tipped his cup slightly, swirling the wine. "I hate to sound contrary

again—that's usually Hammond's job—but I do have to return to our earlier

problem. Ten thousand men. That won't even frighten the Garrison. We're

talking about twenty thousand well-armed, well-trained troops."

"He has a point, Kell," Dockson said. He had found a small book

somewhere, and had begun taking notes on the meeting.

Kelsier frowned.

Ham nodded. "Any way you look at it, Kell, that Garrison is going to be a

tough stone to break. Perhaps we should just focus on the nobility. Maybe we

can cause enough chaos that even the Garrison won't be able to suppress it."

Kelsier shook his head. "Doubtful. The Garrison's primary duty is to

maintain order in the city. If we can't deal with those troops, we'll never pull

this off." He paused, then eyed Vin. "What do you think, Vin? Any

suggestions?"

She froze. Camon had never asked her opinion. What did Kelsier want

from her? She pulled back into her chair slightly as she realized that the other

members of the crew had turned, looking at her.

"I . . ." Vin said slowly.

"Oh, don't intimidate the poor thing, Kelsier," Breeze said with a wave of

his hand.

Vin nodded, but Kelsier didn't turn away from her. "No, really. Tell me

what you're thinking, Vin. You've got a much larger enemy threatening you.

What do you do?"

"Well," she said slowly. "You don't fight him, that's for certain. Even if

you won somehow, you'd be so hurt and broken that you couldn't fight off

anyone else."

"Makes sense," Dockson said. "But we might not have a choice. We have

to get rid of that army somehow."

"And if it just left the city?" she asked. "That would work too? If I had to

deal with someone big, I'd try and distract him first, get him to leave me

alone."

Ham chuckled. "Good luck getting the Garrison to leave Luthadel. The

Lord Ruler sends squads out on patrol sometimes, but the only time I know of

the entire Garrison leaving was when that skaa rebellion broke out down in

Courteline a half century ago."

Dockson shook his head. "Vin's idea is too good to dismiss that easily, I

think. Really, we can't fight the Garrison—at least, not while they're

entrenched. So, we need to get them to leave the city somehow."

"Yes," Breeze said, "but it would take a particular crisis to require

involving the Garrison. If the problem weren't threatening enough, the Lord

Ruler wouldn't send the entire Garrison. If it were too dangerous, he'd

hunker down and send for his koloss."

"A rebellion in one of the nearby cities?" Ham suggested.

"That leaves us with the same problem as before," Kelsier said, shaking his

head. "If we can't get the skaa here to rebel, we'll never get ones outside the

city to do so."

"What about a feint of some sort, then?" Ham asked. "We're assuming that

we'll be able to raise a sizable group of soldiers. If they pretend to attack

someplace nearby, perhaps the Lord Ruler would send the Garrison out to

help."

"I doubt he'd send them away to protect another city," Breeze said. "Not if

it left him exposed in Luthadel."

The group fell silent, thinking again. Vin glanced around, then found

Kelsier's eyes on her.

"What?" he asked.

She squirmed a bit, glancing down. "How far away are the Pits of

Hathsin?" she finally asked.

The crew paused.

Finally, Breeze laughed. "Oh, now that's devious. The nobility don't know

that the Pits produce atium, so the Lord Ruler couldn't make much of a fuss

—not without revealing that there's something very special about those Pits.

That means no koloss."

"They wouldn't arrive in time anyway," Ham said. "The Pits are only a

couple of days away. If they were threatened, the Lord Ruler would have to

respond quickly. The Garrison would be the only force in striking distance."

Kelsier smiled, eyes alight. "And it wouldn't take much of an army to

threaten the Pits, either. A thousand men could do it. We send them to attack,

then when the Garrison leaves, we march our second, larger force in and

seize Luthadel itself. By the time the Garrison realized that they'd been

duped, they wouldn't be able to get back in time to stop us from taking the

city walls."

"Could we keep them, though?" Yeden asked apprehensively.

Ham nodded eagerly. "With ten thousand skaa, I could hold this city

against the Garrison. The Lord Ruler would have to send for his koloss."

"By then, we'd have the atium," Kelsier said. "And the Great Houses

won't be in any position to stop us—they'll be weakened and frail because of

their internal fighting."

Dockson was scribbling furiously on his pad. "We'll need to use Yeden's

caves, then. They're within striking distance of both our targets, and they're

closer to Luthadel than the Pits are. If our army left from there, it could get

here before the Garrison could return from the Pits."

Kelsier nodded.

Dockson continued to scribble. "I'll have to start stockpiling supplies in

those caves, maybe make a trip out to check conditions there."

"And, how are we going to get the soldiers there?" Yeden asked. "That's a

week outside the city—and skaa aren't allowed to travel on their own."

"I've already got someone who can help us there," Kelsier said, writing

Attack Pits of Hathsin beneath Luthadel Garrison on his board. "I have a

friend that can give us a front to run canal boats to the north."

"Assuming," Yeden said, "you can even make good on your first and

primary promise. I paid you to gather me an army. Ten thousand men is a

great number, but I've still to see an adequate explanation of how you're

going to raise them. I've already told you the kinds of problems we've had

trying to recruit in Luthadel."

"We won't need the general population to support us," Kelsier said. "Just a

small percentage of them—there are nearly a million workers in and around

Luthadel. This should actually be the easiest part of the plan, since we happen

to be in the presence of one of the world's greatest Soothers. Breeze, I'm

counting on you and your Allomancers to force us up a nice selection of

recruits."

Breeze sipped his wine. "Kelsier, my good man. I wish you wouldn't use

words like 'force' in reference to my talents. I simply encourage people."

"Well, can you encourage us up an army?" Dockson asked.

"How much time do I have?" Breeze asked.

"A year," Kelsier said. "We'll plan this to go off next fall. Assuming the

Lord Ruler does gather his forces to attack Yeden once we take the city, we

might as well make him do it in the winter."

"Ten thousand men," Breeze said with a smile, "gathered from a resistant

population in less than a year. It would certainly be a challenge."

Kelsier chuckled. "From you, that's as good as a yes. Start in Luthadel,

then move to the surrounding cities. We need people who are close enough to

gather at the caves."

Breeze nodded.

"We'll also need weapons and supplies," Ham said. "And we'll need to

train the men."

"I've already got a plan to get weapons," Kelsier said. "Can you find some

men to do the training?"

Ham paused thoughtfully. "Probably. I know some skaa soldiers who

fought in one of the Lord Ruler's Suppression Campaigns."

Yeden paled. "Traitors!"

Ham shrugged. "Most of them aren't proud of what they did," he said.

"But most of them also like to eat. It's a hard world, Yeden."

"My people will never work with such men," Yeden said.

"They'll have to," Kelsier said sternly. "A large number of skaa rebellions

fail because their men are poorly trained. We're going to give you an army of

well-equipped, well-fed men—and I'll be damned if I'm going to let you get

them slaughtered because they were never taught which end of the sword to

hold."

Kelsier paused, then eyed Ham. "However, I do suggest that you find men

who are bitter against the Final Empire for what it forced them to do. I don't

trust men whose loyalty only goes as far as the boxings in their pockets."

Ham nodded, and Yeden quieted. Kelsier turned, writing Ham: Training

and Breeze: Recruitment beneath Troops on the board.

"I'm interested in your plan to get weapons," Breeze said. "How, exactly,

do you intend to arm ten thousand men without making the Lord Ruler

suspicious? He keeps a very careful eye on the armament flows."

"We could make the weapons," Clubs said. "I have enough extra wood that

we could churn out a war staff or two every day. Could probably get you

some arrows too."

"I appreciate the offer, Clubs," Kelsier said. "And I think that's a good

idea. However, we're going to need more than staves. We'll need swords,

shields, and armor—and we need them quickly enough to begin training."

"How, then, are you going to do it?" Breeze asked.

"The Great Houses can get weapons," Kelsier said. "They don't have any

problems arming their personal retinues."

"You want us to steal from them?"

Kelsier shook his head. "No, for once we're going to do things somewhat

legally—we're going to buy our weapons. Or, rather, we're going to have a

sympathetic nobleman buy them for us."

Clubs laughed bluntly. "A nobleman sympathetic to the skaa? It will never

happen."

"Well, 'never' happened a short time ago, then," Kelsier said lightly.

"Because I've already found someone to help us."

The room fell silent save for the crackling of the fireplace. Vin squirmed

slightly in her chair, glancing at the others. They seemed shocked.

"Who?" Ham asked.

"His name is Lord Renoux," Kelsier said. "He arrived in the area a few

days back. He's staying in Fellise—he doesn't quite have enough influence to

establish himself in Luthadel. Besides, I think it's prudent to keep Renoux's

activities a bit removed from the Lord Ruler."

Vin cocked her head. Fellise was a small, suburb-style city an hour outside

of Luthadel; she and Reen had worked there before moving into the capital

city. How had Kelsier recruited this Lord Renoux? Had he bribed the man, or

was it some sort of scam?

"I know of Renoux," Breeze said slowly. "He's a Western lord; he has a

great deal of power in the Farmost Dominance."

Kelsier nodded. "Lord Renoux recently decided to try and elevate his

family to high noble status. His official story is that he came south in order to

expand his mercantile efforts. He hopes that by shipping fine Southern

weaponry to the North, he can earn enough money—and make enough

connections—to build himself a keep in Luthadel by the end of the decade."

The room was quiet.

"But," Ham said slowly, "those weapons will be coming to us instead."

Kelsier nodded. "We'll have to fake the shipping records, just in case."

"That's . . . quite an ambitious front, Kell," Ham said. "A lord's family

working on our side."

"But," Breeze said, looking confused. "Kelsier, you hate noblemen."

"This one's different," Kelsier said with a sly smile.

The crew studied Kelsier. They didn't like working with a nobleman; Vin

could tell that much easily. It probably didn't help that Renoux was so

powerful.

Suddenly, Breeze laughed. He leaned back in his chair, downing the last of

his wine. "You blessed madman! You killed him, didn't you? Renoux—you

killed him and replaced him with an impostor."

Kelsier's smile broadened.

Yeden cursed, but Ham simply smiled. "Ah. Now that makes sense. Or, at

least, it makes sense if you're Kelsier the Foolhardy."

"Renoux is going to take up permanent residence in Fellise," Kelsier said.

"He'll be our front if we need to do anything official. I'll use him to purchase

armaments and supplies, for instance."

Breeze nodded thoughtfully. "Efficient."

"Efficient?" Yeden asked. "You've killed a nobleman! A very important

one."

"You're planning to overthrow the entire empire, Yeden," Kelsier noted.

"Renoux isn't going to be the last aristocratic casualty in this little endeavor."

"Yes, but impersonating him?" Yeden asked. "That sounds a little risky to

me."

"You hired us because you wanted extraordinary results, my dear man,"

Breeze said, sipping his wine. "In our line of work, extraordinary results

usually require extraordinary risks."

"We minimize them as best we can, Yeden," Kelsier said. "My actor is

very good. However, these are the sorts of things we're going to be doing in

this job."

"And if I order you to stop a few of them?" Yeden asked.

"You can shut down the job at any time," Dockson said, not looking up

from his ledgers. "But as long as it is in motion, Kelsier has final say on

plans, objectives, and procedures. That is how we work; you knew that when

you hired us."

Yeden shook his head ruefully.

"Well?" Kelsier asked. "Do we continue or not? The call is yours, Yeden."

"Feel free to call an end to it, friend," Breeze said with a helpful voice.

"Don't be afraid of offending us. I, for one, look favorably upon free money."

Vin saw Yeden pale slightly. In Vin's estimation, he was fortunate that

Kelsier hadn't simply taken his money and stabbed him in the chest. But, she

was becoming increasingly convinced that wasn't the way things worked

around here.

"This is insane," Yeden said.

"Trying to overthrow the Lord Ruler?" Breeze asked. "Why, yes, as a

matter of fact, it is."

"All right," Yeden said, sighing. "We continue."

"Good," Kelsier said, writing Kelsier: Equipment under Troops. "The

Renoux front will also give us an 'in' with Luthadel high society. This will be

a very important advantage—we'll need to keep careful track of Great House

politics if we're going to start a war."

"This house war might not be as easy to pull off as you think, Kelsier,"

Breeze warned. "The current lot of high noblemen is a careful, discriminating

group."

Kelsier smiled. "Then it's good that you're here to help, Breeze. You're an

expert at making people do what you want—together, you and I will plan

how to make the high nobility turn on each other. Major house wars seem to

happen every couple of centuries or so. The current group's competence will

only make them more dangerous, so getting them riled up shouldn't be that

hard. In fact, I've already started the process. . . ."

Breeze raised an eyebrow, then glanced at Ham. The Thug grumbled a bit,

pulling out a golden ten-boxing coin and flipping it across the room to the

self-satisfied Breeze.

"What was that about?" Dockson asked.

"We had a bet," Breeze said, "regarding whether or not Kelsier was

involved in last night's disturbance."

"Disturbance?" Yeden asked. "What disturbance?"

"Someone attacked House Venture," Ham said. "The rumors claim that

three full Mistborn were sent to assassinate Straff Venture himself."

Kelsier snorted. "Three? Straff certainly has an elevated opinion of

himself. I didn't go anywhere near His Lordship. I was there for the atium—

and to make certain that I was seen."

"Venture isn't sure who to blame," Breeze said. "But because Mistborn

were involved, everyone assumes that it was one of the Great Houses."

"That was the idea," Kelsier said happily. "The high nobility take Mistborn

attacks very seriously—they have an unspoken agreement that they won't use

Mistborn to assassinate each other. A few more strikes like this, and I'll have

them snapping at each other like frightened animals."

He turned, adding Breeze: Planning and Kelsier: General Mayhem beneath

Great Houses on the board.

"Anyway," Kelsier continued, "we'll need to keep an eye on local politics

to find out which Houses are making alliances. That means sending a spy to

some of their functions."

"Is that really necessary?" Yeden asked uncomfortably.

Ham nodded. "It's standard procedure for any Luthadel job, actually. If

there is information to be had, it will pass through the lips of the court's

powerful. It always pays to keep an open set of ears moving through their

circles."

"Well, that should be easy," Breeze said. "We just bring up your impostor

and send him into the parties."

Kelsier shook his head. "Unfortunately, Lord Renoux himself won't be

able to come to Luthadel."

Yeden frowned. "Why not? Won't your impostor hold up to close

scrutiny?"

"Oh, he looks just like Lord Renoux," Kelsier said. "Exactly like Lord

Renoux, actually. We just can't let him get near an Inquisitor. . . ."

"Ah," Breeze said, exchanging a glance with Ham. "One of those. Well,

then."

"What?" Yeden asked. "What does he mean?"

"You don't want to know," Breeze said.

"I don't?"

Breeze shook his head. "You know how unsettled you just were when

Kelsier said he'd replaced Lord Renoux with an impostor? Well, this is about

a dozen times worse. Trust me—the less you know, the more comfortable

you'll be."

Yeden looked toward Kelsier, who was smiling broadly. Yeden paled, then

leaned back in his chair. "I think you're probably right."

Vin frowned, eying the others in the room. They seemed to know what

Kelsier was talking about. She'd have to study this Lord Renoux sometime.

"Anyway," Kelsier said, "we have to send someone to the social functions.

Dox, therefore, will be playing Renoux's nephew and heir, a scion of the

family who has recently gained favor with Lord Renoux."

"Wait a moment, Kell," Dockson said. "You didn't tell me about this."

Kelsier shrugged. "We're going to need someone to be our dupe with the

nobility. I assumed that you'd fit the role."

"Can't be me," Dockson said. "I got marked during the Eiser job just a

couple months back."

Kelsier frowned.

"What?" Yeden asked. "Do I want to know what they're talking about this

time?"

"He means that the Ministry is watching for him," Breeze said. "He

pretended to be a nobleman, and they found out."

Dockson nodded. "The Lord Ruler himself saw me on one occasion, and

he's got a flawless memory. Even if I managed to avoid him, someone's

bound to recognize me eventually."

"So . . ." Yeden said.

"So," Kelsier said, "we'll need someone else to play Lord Renoux's heir."

"Don't look at me," Yeden said apprehensively.

"Trust me," Kelsier said flatly, "nobody was. Clubs is out too—he's far too

prominent a local skaa craftsman."

"I'm out as well," Breeze said. "I already have several aliases among the

nobility. I suppose I could use one of them, but I couldn't go to any major

balls or parties—it would be rather embarrassing if I met someone who knew

me by a different alias."

Kelsier frowned thoughtfully.

"I could do it," Ham said. "But you know I'm no good at acting."

"What about my nephew?" Clubs said, nodding to the young man at his

side.

Kelsier studied the boy. "What's your name, son?"

"Lestibournes."

Kelsier raised an eyebrow. "That's a mouthful. You don't have a

nickname?"

"Not of the yetting yet."

"We'll have to work on that," Kelsier said. "Do you always speak in that

Eastern street slang?"

The boy shrugged, obviously nervous at being such a center of attention.

"Wasing the place when I was young."

Kelsier glanced at Dockson, who shook his head. "I don't think it's a good

idea, Kell."

"Agreed." Kelsier turned to Vin, then smiled. "I guess that leaves you.

How good are you at imitating a noblewoman?"

Vin paled slightly. "My brother gave me a few lessons. But, I've never

actually tried to. . . ."

"You'll do fine," Kelsier said, writing Vin: Infiltration underneath Great

Houses. "All right. Yeden, you should probably begin planning how you're

to keep control of the empire once this is all through."

Yeden nodded. Vin felt a little sorry for the man, seeing how much the

planning—the sheer outrageousness of it all—seemed to be overwhelming

him. Still, it was hard to feel sympathy for him, considering what Kelsier had

just said regarding her part in all this.

Playing a noblewoman? she thought. Surely there's someone else who

could do a better job. . . .

Breeze's attention was still on Yeden and his obvious discomfort. "Don't

look so solemn, my dear fellow," Breeze said. "Why, you'll probably never

actually have to rule the city. Chances are, we'll all get caught and executed

long before that happens."

Yeden smiled wanly. "And if we don't? What's to keep you all from just

knifing me and taking the empire for yourselves?"

Breeze rolled his eyes. "We're thieves, my dear man, not politicians. A

nation is far too unwieldy a commodity to be worth our time. Once we have

our atium, we'll be happy."

"Not to mention rich," Ham added.

"The two words are synonyms, Hammond," Breeze said.

"Besides," Kelsier said to Yeden. "We won't be giving you the entire

empire—hopefully, it will shatter once Luthadel destabilizes. You'll have this

city, and probably a good piece of the Central Dominance—assuming you

can bribe the local armies into supporting you."

"And . . . the Lord Ruler?" Yeden asked.

Kelsier smiled. "I'm still planning to deal with him personally—I just have

to figure out how to make the Eleventh Metal work."

"And if you don't?"

"Well," Kelsier said, writing Yeden: Preparation and Rule beneath Skaa

Rebellion on the board, "we'll try and find a way to trick him out of the city.

Perhaps we can get him to go with his army to the Pits and secure things

there."

"Then what?" Yeden asked.

"You find some way to deal with him," Kelsier said. "You didn't hire us to

kill the Lord Ruler, Yeden—that's just a possible perk I intend to throw in if I

can."

"I wouldn't worry too much, Yeden," Ham added. "He won't be able to do

much without funds or armies. He's a powerful Allomancer, but by no means

omnipotent."

Breeze smiled. "Though, if you think about it, hostile, dethroned

pseudodeities probably make disagreeable neighbors. You'll have to figure

out something to do with him."

Yeden didn't appear to like that idea much, but he didn't continue the

argument.

Kelsier turned. "That should be it, then."

"Uh," Ham said, "what about the Ministry? Shouldn't we at least find a

way to keep an eye on those Inquisitors?"

Kelsier smiled. "We'll let my brother deal with them."

"Like hell you will," a new voice said from the back of the room.

Vin jumped to her feet, spinning and glancing toward the room's

shadowed doorway. A man stood there. Tall and broad-shouldered, he had a

statuesque rigidity. He wore modest clothing—a simple shirt and trousers

with a loose skaa jacket. His arms were folded in dissatisfaction, and he had a

hard, square face that looked a bit familiar.

Vin glanced back at Kelsier. The similarity was obvious.

"Marsh?" Yeden said, standing. "Marsh, it is you! He promised you'd be

joining the job, but I . . . well . . . welcome back!"

Marsh's face remained impassive. "I'm not certain if I'm 'back' or not,