“Yes,” Vin said as the carriage started moving.
Allrianne obviously expected more of an explanation, but Vin didn’t give one. Finally, Allrianne turned to look out the window. “Are you sure we’ll be safe, traveling with only one manservant, Tindwyl?”
Tindwyl eyed Vin. “Oh, I think that we’ll be all right.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Allrianne said, looking back at Vin. “You’re an Allomancer! Are the things they say true?”
“What things?” Vin asked quietly.
“Well, they say you killed the Lord Ruler, for one. And that you’re kind of … um … well.” Allrianne bit her lip. “Well, just a little bit rickety.”
“Rickety?”
“And dangerous,” Allrianne said. “But, well, that can’t be true. I mean, you’re going shopping with us, right?”
Is she trying to provoke me on purpose?
“Do you always wear clothing like that?” Allrianne asked.
Vin was in her standard gray trousers and tan shirt. “It’s easy to fight in.”
“Yes, but … well.” Allrianne smiled. “I guess that’s why we’re here today, right, Tindwyl?”
“Yes, dear,” Tindwyl said. She’d been studying Vin through the entire conversation.
Like what you see? Vin thought. What is it you want?
“You have to be the strangest noblewoman I’ve ever met,” Allrianne declared. “Did you grow up far from court? I did, but my mother was quite certain to train me well. Of course, she was just trying to make me into a good catch so Father could auction me off to make an alliance.”
Allrianne smiled. It had been a while since Vin had been forced to deal with women like her. She remembered hours spent at court, smiling, pretending to be Valette Renoux. Often when she thought of those days, she remembered the bad things. The spite she’d faced from court members, her own lack of comfort in the role.
But, there had also been good things. Elend was one. She would never have met him if she hadn’t been pretending to be a noblewoman. And the balls—with their colors, their music, and their gowns—had held a certain transfixing charm. The graceful dancing, the careful interactions, the perfectly decorated rooms …
Those things are gone now, she told herself. We don’t have time for silly balls and gatherings, not when the dominance is on the verge of collapse.
Tindwyl was still watching her.
“Well?” Allrianne asked.
“What?” Vin asked.
“Did you grow up far from court?”
“I’m not noble, Allrianne. I’m skaa.”
Allrianne paled, then flushed, then raised her fingers to her lips. “Oh! You poor thing!” Vin’s augmented ears heard something beside her—a light chuckling from OreSeur, soft enough that only an Allomancer could have heard him.
She resisted the urge to shoot the kandra a flat look. “It wasn’t so bad,” she said.
“But, well, no wonder you don’t know how to dress!” Allrianne said.
“I know how to dress,” Vin said. “I even own a few gowns.” Not that I’ve put one on in months. …
Allrianne nodded, though she obviously didn’t believe Vin’s comment. “Breezy is skaa, too,” she said quietly. “Or, half skaa. He told me. Good thing he didn’t tell Father—Father never has been very nice to skaa.”
Vin didn’t reply.
Eventually, they reached Kenton Street, and the crowds made the carriage a liability. Vin climbed out first, OreSeur hopping down to the cobblestones beside her. The market street was busy, though not as packed as it had been the last time she’d visited. Vin glanced over the prices at some nearby shops as the others exited the coach.
Five boxings for a bin of aging apples, Vin thought with dissatisfaction. Food is already going at a premium. Elend had stores, fortunately. But how long would they last before the siege? Not through the approaching winter, certainly—not with so much of the dominance’s grain still unharvested in the outer plantations.
Time may be our friend now, Vin thought, but it will turn on us eventually. They had to get those armies to fight each other. Otherwise, the city’s people might die of starvation before the soldiers even tried to take the walls.
Spook hopped down from the carriage, joining them as Tindwyl surveyed the street. Vin eyed the bustling crowds. The people were obviously trying to go about their daily activities, despite the threat from outside. What else could they do? The siege had already lasted for weeks. Life had to go on.
“There,” Tindwyl said, pointing to a dressmaker’s shop.
Allrianne scampered forward. Tindwyl followed behind, walking with modest decorum. “Eager young thing, isn’t she?” the Terriswoman asked.
Vin shrugged. The blond noblewoman had already gotten Spook’s attention; he was following her with a lively step. Of course, it wasn’t hard to get Spook’s attention. You just had to have breasts and smell nice—and the second was sometimes optional.
Tindwyl smiled. “She probably hasn’t had an opportunity to go shopping since she left with her father’s army weeks ago.”
“You sound like you think she went through some awful ordeal,” Vin said. “Just because she couldn’t go shopping.”
“She obviously enjoys it,” Tindwyl said. “Surely you can understand being taken from that which you love.”
Vin shrugged as they reached the shop. “I have trouble feeling sympathy for a courtly puff who is tragically taken from her dresses.”
Tindwyl frowned slightly as they entered the shop, OreSeur settling down to wait outside. “Do not be so hard on the child. She is a product of her upbringing, just as you are. If you judge her worth based on frivolities, then you are doing the same as those who judge you based on your simple clothing.”
“I like it when people judge me based on my simple clothing,” Vin said. “Then they don’t expect too much.”
“I see,” Tindwyl said. “Then, you haven’t missed this at all?” She nodded toward the shop’s inner room.
Vin paused. The room burst with colors and fabric, lace and velvet, bodices and skirts. Everything was powdered with a light perfume. Standing before the dressing dummies in their brilliant hues, Vin was—for just a moment—again taken back to the balls. Back to when she was Valette. Back to when she had an excuse to be Valette.
“They say you enjoyed noble society,” Tindwyl said lightly, walking forward. Allrianne was already standing near the front of the room, running her fingers across a bolt of fabric, talking to the dressmaker in a firm voice.
“Who told you that?” Vin asked.
Tindwyl turned back. “Why, your friends, dear. It’s quite curious—they say you stopped wearing dresses a few months after the Collapse. They all wonder why. They say you seemed to like dressing like a woman, but I guess they were wrong.”
“No,” Vin said quietly. “They were right.”
Tindwyl raised an eyebrow, pausing beside a dressmaker’s dummy in a bright green dress, edged with lace, the bottom flaring wide with several underskirts.
Vin approached, looking up at the gorgeous costume. “I was beginning to like dressing like this. That was the problem.”