“Didn’t you say something about a messenger?”
Elend put the sheet back down, looking oddly like a proud parent. “Right. A messenger from my father’s army has arrived. I’m making him wait for a bit—it didn’t seem wise to appear too eager. But, we should probably go meet with him.”
Vin nodded, waving to OreSeur. The kandra rose and padded to her side, and the three of them left her quarters.
That was one nice thing about books and notes. They could always wait for another time.
They found the messenger waiting in the third-floor Venture atrium. Vin and Elend walked in, and she stopped immediately.
It was him. The Watcher.
Elend stepped forward to meet the man, and Vin grabbed his arm. “Wait,” she hissed quietly.
Elend turned, confused.
If that man has atium, Vin thought with a stab of panic, Elend is dead. We’re all dead.
The Watcher stood quietly. He didn’t look much like a messenger or courier. He wore all black, even a pair of black gloves. He wore trousers and a silken shirt, with no cloak or cape. She remembered that face. It was him.
But … she thought, if he’d wanted to kill Elend, he could have done so already. The thought frightened her, yet she had to admit it was true.
“What?” Elend asked, standing in the doorway with her.
“Be careful,” she whispered. “This is no simple messenger. That man is Mistborn.”
Elend paused, frowning. He turned back toward the Watcher, who stood quietly, clasping his hands behind his back, looking confident. Yes, he was Mistborn; only a man such as he could walk into an enemy palace, completely surrounded by guards, and not be the slightest bit unsettled.
“All right,” Elend said, finally stepping into the room. “Straff’s man. You bring a message for me?”
“Not just a message, Your Majesty,” the Watcher said. “My name is Zane, and I am something of an … ambassador. Your father was very pleased to receive your invitation for an alliance. He’s glad that you are finally seeing reason.”
Vin studied the Watcher, this “Zane.” What was his game? Why come himself? Why reveal who he was?
Elend nodded, keeping a distance from Zane. “Two armies,” Elend said, “camped outside my door … well, that’s not the kind of thing I can ignore. I’d like to meet with my father and discuss possibilities for the future.”
“I think he would enjoy that,” Zane said. “It has been some time since he saw you, and he has long regretted your falling-out. You are, after all, his only son.”
“It’s been hard on both of us,” Elend said. “Perhaps we could set up a tent in which to meet outside the city?”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Zane said. “His Majesty rightly fears assassins. If you wish to speak with him, he’d be happy to host you at his tent in the Venture camp.”
Elend frowned. “Now, I don’t think that makes much sense. If he fears assassins, shouldn’t I?”
“I’m certain he could protect you in his own camp, Your Majesty,” Zane said. “You have nothing to fear from Cett’s assassins there.”
“I … see,” Elend said.
“I’m afraid that His Majesty was quite firm on this point,” Zane said. “You are the one who is eager for an alliance—if you wish a meeting, you will have to come to him.”
Elend glanced at Vin. She continued to watch Zane. The man met her eyes, and spoke. “I have heard reports of the beautiful Mistborn who accompanies the Venture heir. She who slew the Lord Ruler, and was trained by the Survivor himself.”
There was silence in the room for a moment.
Elend finally spoke. “Tell my father that I will consider his offer.”
Zane finally turned away from Vin. “His Majesty was hoping for us to set a date and time, Your Majesty.”
“I will send another message when I have made my decision,” Elend said.
“Very well,” Zane said, bowing slightly, though he used the move to catch Vin’s eyes once again. Then he nodded once to Elend, and let the guards escort him away.
In the cold mist of early evening, Vin waited on the short wall of Keep Venture, OreSeur sitting at her side.
The mists were quiet. Her thoughts were far less serene.
Who else would he work for? she thought. Of course he’s one of Straff’s men.
That explained many things. It had been quite a while since their last encounter; Vin had begun to think that she wouldn’t see the Watcher again.
Would they spar again, then? Vin tried to suppress her eagerness, tried to tell herself that she simply wanted to find this Watcher because of the threat he posed. But, the thrill of another fight in the mists—another chance to test her abilities against a Mistborn—made her tense with anticipation.
She didn’t know him, and she certainly didn’t trust him. That only made the prospect of a fight all the more exciting.
“Why are we waiting here, Mistress?” OreSeur asked.
“We’re just on patrol,” Vin said. “Watching for assassins or spies. Just like every night.”
“Do you command me to believe you, Mistress?”
Vin shot him a flat stare. “Believe as you wish, kandra.”
“Very well,” OreSeur said. “Why did you not tell the king that you’ve been sparring with this Zane?”
Vin turned back toward the dark mists. “Assassins and Allomancers are my concern, not Elend’s. No need to worry him yet—he has enough troubles at the moment.”
OreSeur sat back on his haunches. “I see.”
“You don’t believe I’m right?”
“I believe as I wish,” OreSeur said. “Isn’t that what you just commanded me, Mistress?”
“Whatever,” Vin said. Her bronze was on, and she had to try very hard not to think about the mist spirit. She could feel it waiting in the darkness to her right. She didn’t look toward it.
The logbook never did mention what became of that spirit. It nearly killed one of the Hero’s companions. After that, there was barely a mention of it.
Problems for another night, she thought as another source of Allomancy appeared to her bronze senses. A stronger, more familiar source.
Zane.
Vin hopped up onto the battlements, nodded farewell to OreSeur, then jumped out into the night.
Mist twisted in the sky, different breezes forming silent streams of white, like rivers in the air. Vin skimmed them, burst through them, and rode them like a bouncing stone cast upon the waters. She quickly reached the place where she and Zane had last parted, the lonely abandoned street.
He waited in the center, still wearing black. Vin dropped to the cobbles before him in a flurry of mistcloak tassels. She stood up straight.
He never wears a cloak. Why is that?
The two stood opposite one another for a few silent moments. Zane had to know of her questions, but he offered no introduction, greeting, or explanation. Eventually, he reached into a pocket and pulled out a coin. He tossed it to the street between them, and it bounced—metal ringing against stone—and came to a stop.
He jumped into the air. Vin did likewise, both Pushing against the coin. Their separate weights nearly canceled each other out, and they shot up and back, like the two arms of a “V.”