Home > Mistborn Trilogy Boxed Set(286)

Mistborn Trilogy Boxed Set(286)
Author: Brandon Sanderson

“Lord Ruler, no!” Breeze said. “My dear man, you’re lucky you managed to get me to come at all. Honestly, this is no place for a gentleman. The dirt, the depressing atmosphere—and that’s not even making mention of the smell!”

Ham frowned. “Breeze, someday you’re going to have to learn to think about other people.”

“As long as I can think about them from a distance, Hammond, I shall be happy to engage in the activity.”

Ham shook his head. “You’re hopeless.”

“Are you heading back to the palace then?” Elend asked.

“Yes, actually,” Breeze said, checking his pocket watch.

“Do you need a ride?”

“I brought my own carriage,” Breeze said.

Elend nodded, then turned to Ham, and the two retreated the way they had come, talking about Elend’s next meeting with one of the other Assemblymen.

 

Breeze wandered into the palace a short time later. He nodded to the door guards, Soothing away their mental fatigue. They perked up in response, watching the mists with renewed vigilance. It wouldn’t last long, but little touches like that were second nature to Breeze.

It was getting late, and few people were in the hallways. He made his way through the kitchens, Nudging the scullery maids to make them more chatty. It would make their cleaning pass more quickly. Beyond the kitchens he found a small stone room, lit by a couple of plain lamps, set with a small table. It was one of the palace’s boothlike, solitary dining rooms.

Clubs sat in one corner of the booth, gimped leg stretched out on the bench. He eyed Breeze with a scowl. “You’re late.”

“You’re early,” Breeze said, sliding into the bench across from Clubs.

“Same thing,” Clubs grumbled.

There was a second cup on the table, along with a bottle of wine. Breeze unbuttoned his vest, sighed quietly, and poured himself a cup as he leaned back with his legs up on his bench.

Clubs sipped his wine.

“You have your cloud up?” Breeze asked.

“Around you?” Clubs said. “Always.”

Breeze smiled, taking a sip, and relaxed. Though he rarely had opportunities to use his powers anymore, Clubs was a Smoker. When he was burning copper, every Allomancer’s abilities were invisible to those burning bronze. But more important—at least to Breeze—burning copper made Clubs immune to any form of emotional Allomancy.

“Don’t see why that makes you so happy,” Clubs said. “I thought you liked playing with emotions.”

“I do,” Breeze said.

“Then why come drink with me every night?” Clubs asked.

“You mind the company?”

Clubs didn’t answer. That was pretty much his way of saying he didn’t mind. Breeze eyed the grumpy general. Most of the other crewmembers stayed away from Clubs; Kelsier had brought him in at the last moment, since the Coppercloud they usually used had died.

“Do you know what it’s like, Clubs?” Breeze asked. “Being a Soother?”

“No.”

“It gives you remarkable control. It’s a wonderful feeling, being able to influence those around you, always feeling like you have a handle on how people will react.”

“Sounds delightful,” Clubs said flatly.

“And yet, it does things to you. I spend most of my time watching people—tweaking, Nudging, and Soothing. That’s changed me. I don’t … look at people the same way. It’s hard to just be friends with someone when you see them as something to be influenced and changed.”

Clubs grunted. “So that’s why we never used to see you with women.”

Breeze nodded. “I can’t help it anymore. I always touch the emotions of everyone around me. And so, when a woman comes to love me …” He liked to think he wasn’t invasive. Yet, how could he trust anyone who said they loved him? Was it he, or his Allomancy, that they responded to?

Clubs filled his cup. “You’re a lot sillier than you act.”

Breeze smiled. Clubs was one of the few people who was completely immune to his touch. Emotional Allomancy wouldn’t work on him, and he was always completely forthcoming with his emotions: everything made him grumpy. Manipulating him through non-Allomantic means had proven to be a fruitless waste of time.

Breeze regarded his wine. “The amusing thing is, you almost didn’t join the crew because of me.”

“Damn Soothers,” Clubs muttered.

“But you’re immune to us.”

“To your Allomancy, maybe,” Clubs said. “But that isn’t the only way you people do things. A man always has to watch himself around Soothers.”

“Then why let me join you every evening for wine?”

Clubs was silent for a moment, and Breeze almost thought he wasn’t going to respond. Finally, Clubs muttered, “You’re not as bad as most.”

Breeze took a gulp of wine. “That is as honest a compliment as I think I’ve ever received.”

“Don’t let it ruin you,” Clubs said.

“Oh, I think I’m too late for ruining,” Breeze said, topping off his cup. “This crew … Kell’s plan … has already done a thorough job of that.”

Clubs nodded in agreement.

“What happened to us, Clubs?” Breeze asked. “I joined Kell for the challenge. I never did know why you joined.”

“Money.”

Breeze nodded. “His plan fell apart, his army got destroyed, and we stayed. Then he died, and we still stayed. This blasted kingdom of Elend’s is doomed, you know.”

“We won’t last another month,” Clubs said. It wasn’t idle pessimism; Breeze knew people well enough to tell when they were serious.

“And yet, here we are,” Breeze said. “I spent all day making skaa feel better about the fact that their families had been slaughtered. You spent all day training soldiers that—with or without your help—will barely last a few heartbeats against a determined foe. We follow a boy of a king who doesn’t seem to have a shade of a clue just how bad his predicament is. Why?”

Clubs shook his head. “Kelsier. Gave us a city, made us think we were responsible for protecting it.”

“But we aren’t that kind of people,” Breeze said. “We’re thieves and scammers. We shouldn’t care. I mean … I’ve gotten so bad that I Soothe scullery maids so that they’ll have a happier time at work! I might as well start dressing in pink and carrying around flowers. I could probably make quite a bundle at weddings.”

Clubs snorted. Then he raised his cup. “To the Survivor,” he said. “May he be damned for knowing us better than we knew ourselves.”

Breeze raised his own cup. “Damn him,” he agreed quietly.

The two fell silent. Talking to Clubs tended to turn into … well, not talking. However, Breeze felt a simple contentment. Soothing was wonderful; it made him who he was. But it was also work. Even birds couldn’t fly all the time.

“There you are.”

Breeze snapped his eyes open. Allrianne stood at the entrance to the room, just at the edge of the table. She wore light blue; where had she gotten so many dresses? Her makeup was, of course, immaculate—and there was a bow in her hair. That long blond hair—common in the West but almost unheard of in the Central Dominance—and that perky, inviting figure.

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