It seemed to be getting closer, for some reason. Or simply stronger? I hear the thumping sounds from above, the pulsings from the mountains. … Words from the logbook.
How could she sleep, knowing that the spirit watched her from the mist, ominous and hateful? How could she sleep when armies threatened to slaughter her friends, when Elend’s kingdom had been taken from him, when everything she thought she’d known and loved was getting muddled and obscure?
… when I finally lie down, I find sleep elusive. The same thoughts that trouble me during the day are only compounded by the stillness of night. …
OreSeur yawned again. “He’s not coming, Mistress.”
Vin turned, frowning. “What do you mean?”
“This is the last place you sparred with Zane,” OreSeur said. “You’re waiting for him to come.”
Vin paused. “I could use a spar,” she finally said.
Light continued to grow in the east, slowly brightening the mists. The mists persisted, however, reticent to give way before the sun.
“You shouldn’t let that man influence you so, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “I do not think he is the person you believe him to be.”
Vin frowned. “He’s my enemy. What else would I believe?”
“You do not treat him like an enemy, Mistress.”
“Well, he hasn’t attacked Elend,” Vin said. “Maybe Zane isn’t fully under Straff’s control.”
OreSeur sat quietly, head on paws. Then he turned away.
“What?” Vin asked.
“Nothing, Mistress. I will believe as I’m told.”
“Oh, no,” Vin said, turning on the ledge to look at him. “You’re not going back to that excuse. What were you thinking?”
OreSeur sighed. “I was thinking, Mistress, that your fixation with Zane is disconcerting.”
“Fixation?” Vin said. “I’m just keeping an eye on him. I don’t like having another Mistborn—enemy or not—running around in my city. Who knows what he could be up to?”
OreSeur frowned, but said nothing.
“OreSeur,” Vin said, “if you have things to say, speak!”
“I apologize, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “I’m not accustomed to chatting with my masters—especially not candidly.”
“It’s all right. Just speak your mind.”
“Well, Mistress,” OreSeur said, raising his head off his paws, “I do not like this Zane.”
“What do you know of him?”
“Nothing more than you,” OreSeur admitted. “However, most kandra are very good judges of character. When you practice imitation for as long as I have, you learn to see to the hearts of men. I do not like what I have seen of Zane. He seems too pleased with himself. He seems too deliberate in the way he has befriended you. He makes me uncomfortable.”
Vin sat on the ledge, legs parted, hands before her with palms down, resting on the cool stone. He might be right.
But, OreSeur hadn’t flown with Zane, hadn’t sparred in the mists. Through no fault of his own, OreSeur was like Elend. Not an Allomancer. Neither of them could understand what it was to soar on a Push of steel, to flare tin and experience the sudden shock of five heightened senses. They couldn’t know. They couldn’t understand.
Vin leaned back. Then, she regarded the wolfhound in the growing light. There was something she’d been meaning to mention, and now seemed as good a time as any. “OreSeur, you can switch bodies, if you want.”
The wolfhound raised an eyebrow.
“We have those bones that we found in the palace,” Vin said. “You can use those, if you’re tired of being a dog.”
“I couldn’t use them,” OreSeur said. “I haven’t digested their body—I wouldn’t know the proper arrangement of muscles and organs to make the person look correct.”
“Well, then,” Vin said. “We could get you a criminal.”
“I thought you liked these bones on me,” OreSeur said.
“I do,” Vin said. “But, I don’t want you to stay in a body that makes you unhappy.”
OreSeur snorted. “My happiness is not an issue.”
“It is to me,” Vin said. “We could—”
“Mistress,” OreSeur interrupted.
“Yes?”
“I shall keep these bones. I’ve grown accustomed to them. It is very frustrating to change forms often.”
Vin hesitated. “All right,” she finally said.
OreSeur nodded. “Though,” he continued, “speaking of bodies, Mistress, are we ever planning to return to the palace? Not all of us have the constitution of a Mistborn—some people need sleep and food on occasion.”
He certainly complains a lot more now, Vin thought. However, she found the attitude to be a good sign; it meant OreSeur was growing more comfortable with her. Comfortable enough to tell her when he thought she was being stupid.
Why do I even bother with Zane? she thought, rising and turning eyes northward. The mist was still moderately strong, and she could barely make out Straff’s army, still holding the northern canal, maintaining the siege. It sat like a spider, waiting for the right time to spring.
Elend, she thought. I should be more focused on Elend. His motions to dismiss the Assembly’s decision, or to force a revote, had all failed. And, stubbornly lawful as always, Elend continued to accept his failures. He still thought he had a chance to persuade the Assembly to choose him as king—or at least not vote anybody else to the position.
So he worked on speeches and planned with Breeze and Dockson. This left him little time for Vin, and rightly so. The last thing he needed was her distracting him. This was something she couldn’t help him with—something she couldn’t fight or scare away.
His world is of papers, books, laws, and philosophies, she thought. He rides the words of his theories like I ride the mists. I always worry that he can’t understand me … but can I really even understand him?
OreSeur stood, stretched, and placed his forepaws on the wall’s railing to raise himself and look north, like Vin.
Vin shook her head. “Sometimes, I wish Elend weren’t so … well, noble. The city doesn’t need this confusion right now.”
“He did the right thing, Mistress.”
“You think so?”
“Of course,” OreSeur said. “He made a contract. It is his duty to keep that contract, no matter what. He must serve his master—in his case, that would be the city—even if that master makes him do something very distasteful.”
“That’s a very kandralike way of seeing things,” Vin said.
OreSeur looked up at her, raising a canine eyebrow, as if to ask Well, what did you expect? She smiled; she had to suppress a chuckle every time she saw that expression on his dog face.
“Come on,” Vin said. “Let’s get back to the palace.”
“Excellent,” OreSeur said, dropping down to all fours. “That meat I set out should be perfect by now.”
“Unless the maids found it again,” Vin said with a smile.
OreSeur’s expression darkened. “I thought you were going to warn them.”
“What would I say?” Vin asked with amusement. “Please don’t throw away this rancid meat—my dog likes to eat it?”