A cannery. That was something Elend wished he had in the city. The technology was newer—perhaps fifty years old—but he’d read of it. The scholars had considered its main use that of providing easily carried supplies for soldiers fighting at the fringes of the empire. They hadn’t considered stockpiles for sieges—particularly in Luthadel. But, then, who would have?
Even as Elend watched, patrols began to move out from the separate armies. Some moved to watch the boundaries between the two forces, but others moved to secure other canal routes, bridges across the River Channerel, and roads leading away from Luthadel. In a remarkably short time, the city felt completely surrounded. Cut off from the world, and the rest of Elend’s small kingdom. No more moving in or out. The armies were counting on disease, starvation, and other weakening factors to bring Elend to his knees.
The siege of Luthadel had begun.
That’s a good thing, he told himself. For this plan to work, they have to think me desperate. They have to be so sure that I’m willing to side with them, that they don’t consider that I might be working with their enemies, too.
As Elend watched, he noticed someone climbing up the steps to the wall. Clubs. The general hobbled over to Elend, who had been standing alone. “Congratulations,” Clubs said. “Looks like you now have a full-blown siege on your hands.”
“Good.”
“It’ll give us a little breathing room, I guess,” Clubs said. Then he eyed Elend with one of his gnarled looks. “You’d better be up to this, kid.”
“I know,” Elend whispered.
“You’ve made yourself the focal point,” Clubs said. “The Assembly can’t break this siege until you meet officially with Straff, and the kings aren’t likely to meet with anyone on the crew other than yourself. This is all about you. Useful place for a king to be, I suppose. If he’s a good one.”
Clubs fell silent. Elend stood, looking out over the separate armies. The words spoken to him by Tindwyl the Terriswoman still bothered him. You are a fool, Elend Venture. …
So far, neither of the kings had responded to Elend’s requests for a meeting—though the crew was sure that they soon would. His enemies would wait, to make Elend sweat a bit. The Assembly had just called another meeting, probably to try and bully him into releasing them from their earlier proposal. Elend had found a convenient reason to skip the meeting.
He looked at Clubs. “And am I a good king, Clubs? In your opinion.”
The general glanced at him, and Elend saw a harsh wisdom in his eyes. “I’ve known worse leaders,” he said. “But I’ve also known a hell of a lot better.”
Elend nodded slowly. “I want to be good at this, Clubs. Nobody else is going to look after the skaa like they deserve. Cett, Straff. They’d just make slaves of the people again. I … I want to be more than my ideas, though. I want to—need to—be a man that others can look to.”
Clubs shrugged. “My experience has been that the man is usually made by the situation. Kelsier was a selfish dandy until the Pits nearly broke him.” He glanced at Elend. “Will this siege be your Pits of Hathsin, Elend Venture?”
“I don’t know,” he said honestly.
“Then we’ll have to wait and see, I guess. For now, someone wants to speak with you.” He turned, nodding down toward the street some forty feet below, where a tall, feminine figure stood in colorful Terris robes.
“She told me to send you down,” Clubs said. He paused, then glanced at Elend. “It isn’t often you meet someone who feels like they can order me around. And a Terriswoman at that. I thought those Terris were all docile and kindly.”
Elend smiled. “I guess Sazed spoiled us.”
Clubs snorted. “So much for a thousand years of breeding, eh?”
Elend nodded.
“You sure she’s safe?” Clubs asked.
“Yes,” Elend said. “Her story checks out—Vin brought in several of the Terris people from the city, and they knew and recognized Tindwyl. She’s apparently a fairly important person back in her homeland.”
Plus, she had performed Feruchemy for him, growing stronger to free her hands. That meant she wasn’t a kandra. All of it together meant that she was trustworthy enough; even Vin admitted that, even if she continued to dislike the Terriswoman.
Clubs nodded to him, and Elend took a deep breath. Then he walked down the stairs to meet Tindwyl for another round of lessons.
“Today, we will do something about your clothing,” Tindwyl said, closing the door to Elend’s study. A plump seamstress with bowl-cut white hair waited inside, standing respectfully with a group of youthful assistants.
Elend glanced down at his clothing. It actually wasn’t bad. The suit coat and vest fit fairly well. The trousers weren’t as stiff as those favored by imperial nobility, but he was the king now; shouldn’t he be able to set the trends?
“I don’t see what’s wrong with it,” he said. He held up a hand as Tindwyl began to speak. “I know it’s not quite as formal as what other men like to wear, but it suits me.”
“It’s disgraceful,” Tindwyl said.
“Now, I hardly see—”
“Don’t argue with me.”
“But, see, the other day you said that—”
“Kings don’t argue, Elend Venture,” Tindwyl said firmly. “They command. And, part of your ability to command comes from your bearing. Slovenly clothing invites other slovenly habits—such as your posture, which I’ve already mentioned, I believe.”
Elend sighed, rolling his eyes as Tindwyl snapped her fingers. The seamstress and her assistants started unpacking a pair of large trunks.
“This isn’t necessary,” Elend said. “I already have some suits that fit more snugly; I wear them on formal occasions.”
“You’re not going to wear suits anymore,” Tindwyl said.
“Excuse me?”
Tindwyl eyed him with a commanding stare, and Elend sighed.
“Explain yourself!” he said, trying to sound commanding.
Tindwyl nodded. “You have maintained the dress code preferred by the nobility sanctioned by the Final Emperor. In some respects, this was a good idea—it gave you a connection to the former government, and made you seem less of a deviant. Now, however, you are in a different position. Your people are in danger, and the time for simple diplomacy is over. You are at war. Your dress should reflect that.”
The seamstress selected a particular costume, then brought it over to Elend while the assistants set up a changing screen.
Elend hesitantly accepted the costume. It was stiff and white, and the front of the jacket appeared to button all the way up to a rigid collar. All and all, it looked like …
“A uniform,” he said, frowning.
“Indeed,” Tindwyl said. “You want your people to believe that you can protect them? Well, a king isn’t simply a lawmaker—he’s a general. It is time you began to act like you deserve your title, Elend Venture.”
“I’m no warrior,” Elend said. “This uniform is a lie.”
“The first point we will soon change,” Tindwyl said. “The second is not true. You command the armies of the Central Dominance. That makes you a military man whether or not you know how to swing a sword. Now, go change.”