The Mistborn Trilogy Page 8

  And Kelsier says I—like he himself—am one of them. How could she be what he said? Child of a prostitute, she was nobody. She was nothing.

  Never trust a man who tells you good news, Reen had always said. It’s the oldest, but easiest, way to con someone.

  Yet, she did have her Luck. Her Allomancy. She could still sense the reserves Kelsier’s vial had given her, and had tested her powers on the crewmembers. No longer limited to just a bit of Luck a day, she found she could produce far more striking effects.

  Vin was coming to realize that her old goal in life—simply staying alive—was uninspired. There was so much more she could be doing. She had been a slave to Reen; she had been a slave to Camon. She would be a slave to this Kelsier too, if it would lead her to eventual freedom.

  At his table, Milev looked at his pocket watch, then stood. “All right, everyone out.”

  The room began to clear in preparation for Kelsier’s meeting. Vin remained where she was; Kelsier had made it quite clear to the others that she was invited. She sat quietly for a bit, the room feeling far more comfortable to her now that it was empty. Kelsier’s friends began to arrive a short time later.

  The first man down the steps had the build of a soldier. He wore a loose, sleeveless shirt that exposed a pair of well-sculpted arms. He was impressively muscular, but not massive, and had close-cropped hair that stuck up slightly on his head.

  The soldier’s companion was a sharply dressed man in a nobleman’s suit—plum vest, gold buttons, black overcoat—complete with short-brimmed hat and dueling cane. He was older than the soldier, and was a bit portly. He removed his hat upon entering the room, revealing a head of well-styled black hair. The two men were chatting amiably as they walked, but they paused when they saw the empty room.

  “Ah, this must be our twixt,” said the man in the suit. “Has Kelsier arrived yet, my dear?” He spoke with a simple familiarity, as if they were longtime friends. Suddenly, despite herself, Vin found herself liking this well-dressed, articulate man.

  “No,” she said quietly. Though overalls and a work shirt had always suited her, she suddenly wished that she owned something nicer. This man’s very bearing seemed to demand a more formal atmosphere.

  “Should have known that Kell would be late to his own meeting,” the soldier said, sitting down at one of the tables near the center of the room.

  “Indeed,” said the suited man. “I suppose his tardiness leaves us with a chance for some refreshment. I could so use something to drink….”

  “Let me get you something,” Vin said quickly, jumping to her feet.

  “How gracious of you,” the suited man said, choosing a chair next to the solider. He sat with one leg crossed over the other, his dueling cane held to the side, tip against the floor, one hand resting on the top.

  Vin walked to the bar and began rummaging for drinks.

  “Breeze…” the soldier said with a warning tone as Vin selected a bottle of Camon’s most expensive wine and began pouring a cup.

  “Hum…?” the suited man said, raising an eyebrow.

  The soldier nodded toward Vin.

  “Oh, very well,” the suited man said with a sigh.

  Vin paused, wine half poured, and frowned slightly. What am I doing?

  “I swear, Ham,” the suited man said, “you are dreadfully stiff sometimes.”

  “Just because you can Push someone around doesn’t mean you should, Breeze.”

  Vin stood, dumbfounded. He…used Luck on me. When Kelsier had tried to manipulate her, she’d felt his touch and had been able to resist. This time, however, she hadn’t even realized what she was doing.

  She looked up at the man, thinning her eyes. “Mistborn.”

  The suited man, Breeze, chuckled. “Hardly. Kelsier’s the only skaa Mistborn you’re likely to ever meet, my dear—and pray you never are in a situation where you meet a noble one. No, I am just an ordinary, humble Misting.”

  “Humble?” Ham asked.

  Breeze shrugged.

  Vin looked down at the half-full cup of wine. “You Pulled on my emotions. With…Allomancy, I mean.”

  “I Pushed on them, actually,” Breeze said. “Pulling makes a person less trusting and more determined. Pushing on emotions—Soothing them—makes a person more trusting.”

  “Regardless, you controlled me,” Vin said. “You made me fetch you a drink.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that I made you do it,” Breeze said. “I just altered your emotions slightly, putting you in a frame of mind where you’d be more likely to do as I wished.”

  Ham rubbed his chin. “I don’t know, Breeze. It’s an interesting question. By influencing her emotions, did you take away her ability to choose? If, for instance, she were to kill or steal while under your control, would the crime be hers or yours?”

  Breeze rolled his eyes. “There’s really no question to it at all. You shouldn’t think about such things, Hammond—you’ll hurt your brain. I offered her encouragement, I simply did it through an irregular means.”

  “But—”

  “I’m not going to argue it with you, Ham.”

  The beefy man sighed, looking a little bit forlorn.

  “Are you going to bring me the drink…?” Breeze asked hopefully, looking at Vin. “I mean, you’re already up, and you’re going to have to come back this direction to reach your seat anyway….”

  Vin examined her emotions. Did she feel irregularly drawn to do as the man asked? Was he manipulating her again? Finally, she simply walked away from the bar, leaving the drink where it was.

  Breeze sighed. He didn’t stand to go get the drink himself, however.

  Vin walked tentatively toward the two men’s table. She was accustomed to shadows and corners—close enough to eavesdrop, but far enough away to escape. Yet, she couldn’t hide from these men—not while the room was so empty. So, she chose a chair at the table beside the one that the two men were using, then sat cautiously. She needed information—as long as she was ignorant, she was going to be at a severe disadvantage in this new world of Misting crews.

  Breeze chuckled. “Nervous little thing, aren’t you?”

  Vin ignored the comment. “You,” Vin said, nodding to Ham. “You’re a…a Misting too?”

  Ham nodded. “I’m a Thug.”

  Vin frowned in confusion.

  “I burn pewter,” Ham said.

  Again, Vin looked at him questioningly.

  “He can make himself stronger, my dear,” Breeze said. “He hits things—particularly other people—who try to interfere with what the rest of us are doing.”

  “There’s much more to it than that,” Ham said. “I run general security for jobs, providing my crewleader with manpower and warriors, assuming such are necessary.”

  “And he’ll try and bore you with random philosophy when it isn’t,” Breeze added.

  Ham sighed. “Breeze, honestly, sometimes I don’t know why I…” Ham trailed off as the door opened again, admitting another man.

  The newcomer wore a dull tan overcoat, a pair of brown trousers, and a simple white shirt. However, his face was far more distinctive than his clothing. It was knotted and gnarled, like a twisted piece of wood, and his eyes shone with the level of disapproving dissatisfaction only the elderly can display. Vin couldn’t quite place his age—he was young enough that he wasn’t stooped over, yet he was old enough that he made even the middle-aged Breeze look youthful.

  The newcomer looked over Vin and the others, huffed disdainfully, then walked to a table on the other side of the room and sat down. His steps were marked by a distinct limp.

  Breeze sighed. “I’m going to miss Trap.”

  “We all will,” Ham said quietly. “Clubs is very good, though. I’ve worked with him before.”

  Breeze studied the newcomer. “I wonder if I could get him to bring my drink over….”

  Ham chuckled. “I’d pay money to see you try it.”

  “I’m sure you would,” Breeze said.r />
  Vin eyed the newcomer, who seemed perfectly content to ignore her and the other two men. “What’s he?”

  “Clubs?” Breeze asked. “He, my dear, is a Smoker. He is what will keep the rest of us from being discovered by an Inquisitor.”

  Vin chewed on her lip, digesting the new information as she studied Clubs. The man shot her a glare, and she looked away. As she turned, she noticed that Ham was looking at her.

  “I like you, kid,” he said. “The other twixts I’ve worked with have either been too intimidated to talk to us, or they’ve been jealous of us for moving into their territory.”

  “Indeed,” Breeze said. “You’re not like most crumbs. Of course, I’d like you a great deal more if you’d go fetch me that glass of wine….”

  Vin ignored him, glancing at Ham. “Crumb?”

  “That’s what some of the more self-important members of our society call lesser thieves,” Ham said. “They call you crumbs, since you tend to be involved with…less inspired projects.”

  “No offense intended, of course,” Breeze said.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t ever take offense at—” Vin paused, feeling an irregular desire to please the well-dressed man. She glared at Breeze. “Stop that!”

  “See, there,” Breeze said, glancing at Ham. “She still retains her ability to choose.”

  “You’re hopeless.”

  They assume I’m a twixt, Vin thought. So Kelsier hasn’t told them what I am. Why? Time constraints? Or, was the secret too valuable to share? How trustworthy were these men? And, if they thought her a simple “crumb,” why were they being so nice to her?

  “Who else are we waiting upon?” Breeze asked, glancing at the doorway. “Besides Kell and Dox, I mean.”

  “Yeden,” Ham said.

  Breeze frowned with a sour expression. “Ah, yes.”

  “I agree,” Ham said. “But, I’d be willing to bet that he feels the same way about us.”

  “I don’t even see why he was invited,” Breeze said.

  Ham shrugged. “Something to do with Kell’s plan, obviously.”

  “Ah, the infamous ‘plan,’” Breeze said musingly. “What job could it be, what indeed…?”

  Ham shook his head. “Kell and his cursed sense of drama.”

  “Indeed.”

  The door opened a few moments later, and the one they had spoken of, Yeden, entered. He turned out to be an unassuming man, and Vin had trouble understanding why the other two were so displeased about his attendance. Short with curly brown hair, Yeden was dressed in simple gray skaa clothing and a patched, soot-stained brown worker’s coat. He regarded the surroundings with a look of disapproval, but he was nowhere near as openly hostile as Clubs, who still sat on the other side of the room scowling at anyone who looked in his direction.

  Not a very big crew, Vin thought. With Kelsier and Dockson, that makes six of them. Of course, Ham had said that he led a group of “Thugs.” Were the men at this meeting simply representatives? The leaders of smaller, more specialized groups? Some crews worked that way.

  Breeze checked his pocket watch three more times before Kelsier finally arrived. The Mistborn crewleader burst through the door with his cheery enthusiasm, Dockson sauntering along behind. Ham stood immediately, smiling broadly and clasping hands with Kelsier. Breeze stood as well, and while his greeting was a bit more reserved, Vin had to admit that she had never seen any crewleader welcomed so happily by his men.

  “Ah,” Kelsier said, looking toward the other side of the room. “Clubs and Yeden too. So, everyone’s here. Good—I absolutely loathe being made to wait.”

  Breeze raised an eyebrow as he and Ham settled back into their chairs, Dockson taking a seat at the same table. “Are we to receive any explanation for your tardiness?”

  “Dockson and I were visiting my brother,” Kelsier explained, walking toward the front of the lair. He turned and leaned back against the bar, scanning the room. When Kelsier’s eyes fell on Vin, he winked.

  “Your brother?” Ham said. “Is Marsh coming to the meeting?”

  Kelsier and Dockson shared a look. “Not tonight,” Kelsier said. “But he’ll join the crew eventually.”

  Vin studied the others. They were skeptical. Tension between Kelsier and his brother, perhaps?

  Breeze raised his dueling cane, pointing the tip at Kelsier. “All right, Kelsier, you’ve kept this ‘job’ secret from us for eight months now. We know it’s big, we know you’re excited, and we’re all properly annoyed at you for being so secretive. So, why don’t you just go ahead and tell us what it is?”

  Kelsier smiled. Then he stood up straight, waving a hand toward the dirty, plain-looking Yeden. “Gentlemen, meet your new employer.”

  This was, apparently, quite a shocking statement.

  “Him?” Ham asked.

  “Him,” Kelsier said with a nod.

  “What?” Yeden asked, speaking for the first time. “You have trouble working with someone who actually has morals?”

  “It’s not that, my dear man,” Breeze said, setting his dueling cane across his lap. “It’s just that, well, I was under the strange impression that you didn’t like our types very much.”

  “I don’t,” Yeden said flatly. “You’re selfish, undisciplined, and you’ve turned your backs on the rest of the skaa. You dress nicely, but on the inside you’re dirty as ash.”

  Ham snorted. “I can already see that this job is going to be great for crew morale.”

  Vin watched quietly, chewing on her lip. Yeden was obviously a skaa worker, probably a member of a forge or textile mill. What connection did he have with the underground? And…how would he be able to afford the services of a thieving crew, especially one as apparently specialized as Kelsier’s team?

  Perhaps Kelsier noticed her confusion, for she found him looking at her as the others continued to speak.

  “I’m still a little confused,” Ham said. “Yeden, we’re all aware of how you regard thieves. So…why hire us?”

  Yeden squirmed a bit. “Because,” he finally said, “everyone knows how effective you are.”

  Breeze chuckled. “Disapproving of our morals doesn’t make you unwilling to make use of our skills, I see. So, what is the job, then? What does the skaa rebellion wish of us?”

  Skaa rebellion? Vin thought, a piece of the conversation falling into place. There were two sides to the underworld. The far larger portion was made up of the thieves, crews, whores, and beggars who tried to survive outside of mainstream skaa culture.

  And then there were the rebels. The people who worked against the Final Empire. Reen had always called them fools—a sentiment shared by most of the people, both underworlders and regular skaa, that Vin had met.

  All eyes slowly turned to Kelsier, who leaned back against the bar again. “The skaa rebellion, courtesy of its leader, Yeden, has hired us for something very specific.”

  “What?” Ham asked. “Robbery? Assassination?”

  “A little of both,” Kelsier said, “and, at the same time, neither one. Gentlemen, this isn’t going to be a regular job. It’s going to be different from anything any crew has ever tried to pull. We’re going to help Yeden overthrow the Final Empire.”

  Silence.

  “Excuse me?” Ham asked.

  “You heard me right, Ham,” Kelsier said. “That’s the job I’ve been planning—the destruction of the Final Empire. Or, at least, its center of government. Yeden has hired us to supply him with an army, then provide him with a favorable opportunity to seize control of this city.”

  Ham sat back, then shared a glance with Breeze. Both men turned toward Dockson, who nodded solemnly. The room remained quiet for a moment longer; then the silence was broken as Yeden began to laugh ruefully to himself.

  “I should never have agreed to this,” Yeden said, shaking his head. “Now that you say it, I realize how ridiculous it all sounds.”

  “Trust me, Yeden,” Kelsier said. “These men have made a habit of pulling off plans that s
eem ridiculous at first glance.”

  “That may be true, Kell,” Breeze said. “But, in this case, I find myself agreeing with our disapproving friend. Overthrow the Final Empire…that is something that skaa rebels have been working toward for a thousand years! What makes you think that we can achieve anything where those men have failed?”

  Kelsier smiled. “We’ll succeed because we have vision, Breeze. That’s something the rebellion has always lacked.”

  “Excuse me?” Yeden said indignantly.

  “It’s true, unfortunately,” Kelsier said. “The rebellion condemns people like us because of our greed, but for all their high morals—which, by the way, I respect—they never get anything done. Yeden, your men hide in woods and in hills, plotting how they’ll someday rise up and lead a glorious war against the Final Empire. But your kind has no idea how to develop and execute a proper plan.”

  Yeden’s expression grew dark. “And you have no idea what you are talking about.”

  “Oh?” Kelsier said lightly. “Tell me, what has your rebellion accomplished during its thousand-year struggle? Where are your successes and your victories? The Massacre of Tougier three centuries ago, where seven thousand skaa rebels were slaughtered? The occasional raid of a traveling canal boat or the kidnapping of a minor noble official?”

  Yeden flushed. “That’s the best we can manage with the people we have! Don’t blame my men for their failures—blame the rest of the skaa. We can’t ever get them to help. They’ve been beaten down for a millennium; they haven’t got any spirit left. It’s difficult enough to get one in a thousand to listen to us, let alone rebel!”

  “Peace, Yeden,” Kelsier said, holding up a hand. “I’m not trying to insult your courage. We’re on the same side, remember? You came to me specifically because you were having trouble recruiting people for your army.”

  “I’m regretting that decision more and more, thief,” Yeden said.

  “Well, you’ve already paid us,” Kelsier said. “So it’s a little late to back out now. But, we’ll get you that army, Yeden. The men in this room are the most capable, most clever, and most skilled Allomancers in the city. You’ll see.”