Vin shivered. In those eyes, she saw the truth behind Dockson’s transformation. She saw the death of his laughter. She saw the guilt. The murders.
This man is no impostor.
“I can find little joy in this government, Vin,” Dockson said quietly. “Because I know what we did to create it. The thing is, I’d do it all again. I tell myself it’s because I believe in skaa freedom. I still lie awake at nights, however, quietly satisfied for what we’ve done to our former rulers. Their society undermined, their god dead. Now they know.”
Vin nodded. Dockson looked down, as if ashamed, an emotion she’d rarely seen in him. There didn’t seem to be anything else to say. Dockson sat quietly as she withdrew, his pen and ledger forgotten on the desktop.
“It’s not him,” Vin said, walking down an empty palace hallway, trying to shake the haunting sound of Dockson’s voice from her mind.
“You are certain, Mistress?” OreSeur asked.
Vin nodded. “He knew about a private conversation that Dockson and I had before the Collapse.”
OreSeur was silent for a moment. “Mistress,” he finally said, “my brethren can be very thorough.”
“Yes, but how could he have known about such an event?”
“We often interview people before we take their bones, Mistress,” OreSeur explained. “We’ll meet them several times, in different settings, and find ways to talk about their lives. We’ll also talk to their friends and acquaintances. Did you ever tell anyone about this conversation you had with Dockson?”
Vin stopped to lean against the side of the stone hallway. “Maybe Elend,” she admitted. “I think I mentioned it to Sazed too, just after it happened. That was almost two years ago.”
“That could have been enough, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “We cannot learn everything about a person, but we try our best to discover items like this—private conversations, secrets, confidential information—so that we can mention them at appropriate times and reinforce our illusion.”
Vin frowned.
“There are … other things as well, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “I hesitate because I do not wish you to imagine your friends in pain. However, it is common for our master—the one who actually does the killing—to torture their victim for information.”
Vin closed her eyes. Dockson felt so real … his guilt, his reactions … that couldn’t be faked, could it?
“Damn,” she whispered quietly, opening her eyes. She turned, sighing as she pushed open the shutters of a hallway window. It was dark out, and the mists curled before her as she leaned against the stone windowsill and looked out at the courtyard two stories below.
“Dox isn’t an Allomancer,” she said. “How can I find out for certain if he’s the impostor or not?”
“I do not know, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “This is never an easy task.”
Vin stood quietly. Absently, she pulled out her bronze earring—her mother’s earring—and worked it between her fingers, watching it reflect light. It had once been gilded with silver, but that had worn off in most places.
“I hate this,” she finally whispered.
“What, Mistress?”
“This … distrust,” she said. “I hate being suspicious of my friends. I thought I was through mistrusting those around me. I feel like a knife is twisting inside of me, and it cuts deeper every time I confront one of the crew.”
OreSeur sat on his haunches beside her, and he cocked his head. “But, Mistress. You’ve managed to eliminate several of them as impostors.”
“Yes,” Vin said. “But that only narrows the field—brings me one step closer to knowing which one of them is dead.”
“And that knowledge isn’t a good thing?”
Vin shook her head. “I don’t want it to be any of them, OreSeur. I don’t want to distrust them, don’t want to find out that we’re right. …”
OreSeur didn’t respond at first, leaving her to stare out the window, mists slowly streaming to the floor around her.
“You are sincere,” OreSeur finally said.
She turned. “Of course I am.”
“I’m sorry, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “I did not wish to be insulting. I just … Well, I have been kandra to many masters. So many of them are suspicious and hateful of everyone around them, I had begun to think that your kind lacked the capacity for trust.”
“That’s silly,” Vin said, turning back to the window.
“I know it is,” OreSeur said. “But people often believe silly things, if given enough proof. Either way, I apologize. I do not know which of your friends is dead, but I am sorry that one of my kind brought you this pain.”
“Whoever he is, he’s just following his Contract.”
“Yes, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “The Contract.”
Vin frowned. “Is there a way that you could find out which kandra has a Contract in Luthadel?”
“I’m sorry, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “That is not possible.”
“I figured as much,” she said. “Are you likely to know him, whoever he is?”
“The kandra are a close-knit group, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “And our numbers are small. There is a good chance that I know him quite well.”
Vin tapped her finger against the windowsill, frowning as she tried to decide if the information was useful.
“I still don’t think it’s Dockson,” she finally said, replacing the earring. “We’ll ignore him for now. If I can’t get any other leads, we’ll come back …” She trailed off as something caught her attention. A figure walking in the courtyard, bearing no light.
Ham, she thought. But the walk wasn’t right.
She Pushed on the shield of the lamp hanging on the wall a short distance away. It snapped closed, the lamp shaking as the hallway fell into darkness.
“Mistress?” OreSeur asked as Vin climbed up into the window, flaring her tin as she squinted into the night.
Definitely not Ham, she thought.
Her first thought was of Elend—a sudden terror that assassins had come while she was talking to Dockson. But, it was early in the night, and Elend would still be speaking with his counselors. It was an unlikely time for an assassination.
And only one man? Not Zane, not judging from the height.
Probably just a guard, Vin thought. Why do I have to be so paranoid all the time?
And yet … she watched the figure walking into the courtyard, and her instincts kicked in. He seemed to be moving suspiciously, as if he were uncomfortable—as if he didn’t want to be seen.
“In my arms,” she said to OreSeur, tossing a padded coin out the window.
He hopped up obligingly, and she leaped out the window, fell twenty-five feet, and landed with the coin. She released OreSeur and nodded into the mists. He followed closely as she moved into the darkness, stooping and hiding, trying to get a good look at the lone figure. The man walked briskly, moving toward the side of the palace, where the servants’ entrances were. As he passed, she finally saw his face.
Captain Demoux? she thought.
She sat back, crouching with OreSeur beside a small stack of wooden supply boxes. What did she really know of Demoux? He was one of the skaa rebels recruited by Kelsier almost two years before. He’d taken to command, and had been promoted quickly. He was one of the loyal men who had stayed behind when the rest of the army had followed Yeden to their doom.