Tindwyl raised an eyebrow.
“Stay,” Sazed said. “Please.”
Tindwyl smiled. “Very well—you have persuaded me. Let us return to our studies, then.”
Elend walked the top of the city wall in the morning light, sword at his hip clicking against the side of the stonework with each step.
“You almost look like a king,” a voice noted.
Elend turned as Ham climbed the last few steps up to the wall walk. The air was brisk, frost still crystalline in shadows on the stone. Winter was approaching. Perhaps it had arrived. Yet, Ham wore no cloak—only his usual vest, trousers, and sandals.
I wonder if he even knows what it is like to be cold, Elend thought. Pewter. Such an amazing talent.
“You say I nearly look like a king,” Elend said, turning to continue walking along the wall as Ham joined him. “I guess Tindwyl’s clothing has done wonders for my image.”
“I didn’t mean the clothing,” Ham said. “I was talking about that look on your face. How long have you been up here?”
“Hours,” Elend said. “How did you find me?”
“The soldiers,” Ham said. “They’re starting to see you as a commander, Elend. They watch where you are; they stand a little straighter when you’re around, polish their weapons if they know you’ll be stopping by.”
“I thought you didn’t spend much time with them,” Elend said.
“Oh, I never said that,” Ham said. “I spend lots of time with the soldiers—I just can’t be intimidating enough to be their commander. Kelsier always wanted me to be a general—I think, deep down, he thought that befriending people was inferior to leading them. Perhaps he was right; men need leaders. I just don’t want to be one of them.”
“I do,” Elend said, surprised to hear himself say so.
Ham shrugged. “That’s probably a good thing. You are, after all, king.”
“Kind of,” Elend said.
“You’re still wearing the crown.”
Elend nodded. “It felt wrong to go without it. It sounds silly, I know—I only wore it for a short time. But, people need to know that someone is still in charge. For a few more days at least.”
They continued to walk. In the distance, Elend could see a shadow upon the land: the third army had finally arrived in the wake of the refugees it had sent. Their scouts weren’t certain why the koloss force had taken so long to get to Luthadel. The villagers’ sad tale, however, gave some clue.
The koloss had not attacked Straff or Cett. They lay waiting. Apparently, Jastes had enough control over them to keep them in check. And so they joined the siege, another beast waiting for the opportunity to spring on Luthadel.
When you can’t have both freedom and safety, which do you choose …?
“You seem surprised to realize that you want to be in charge,” Ham said.
“I just haven’t ever voiced the desire before,” Elend said. “It sounds so arrogant, when I actually say it. I want to be king. I don’t want another man to take my place. Not Penrod, not Cett … not anyone. The position is mine. This city is mine.”
“I don’t know if ‘arrogant’ is the right word, El,” Ham said. “Why do you want to be king?”
“To protect this people,” Elend said. “To guard their safety—and their rights. But, also to make certain that the noblemen don’t end up on the wrong end of another rebellion.”
“That’s not arrogance.”
“It is, Ham,” Elend said. “But it’s an understandable arrogance. I don’t think a man could lead without it. Actually, I think it’s what I’ve been missing through most of my reign. Arrogance.”
“Self-confidence.”
“A nicer word for the same concept,” Elend said. “I can do a better job for this people than another man could. I just have to find a way to prove that fact to them.”
“You will.”
“You’re an optimist, Ham,” Elend said.
“So are you,” Ham noted.
Elend smiled. “True. But this job is changing me.”
“Well, if you want to keep the job, we should probably get back to studying. We only have one day left.”
Elend shook his head. “I’ve read all I can, Ham. I will not take advantage of the law, so there’s no reason to search for loopholes, and studying other books looking for inspiration just isn’t working. I need time to think. Time to walk. …”
They continued to do so. As they did, Elend noticed something out in the distance. A group of enemy soldiers doing something he couldn’t distinguish. He waved over one of his men.
“What is that?” he asked.
The soldier shaded his eyes, looking. “Looks like another skirmish between Cett’s men and Straff’s, Your Majesty.”
Elend raised an eyebrow. “That happens often?”
The soldier shrugged. “More and more often, lately. Usually the scouting patrols run afoul of each other and get into a conflict. Leave a few bodies behind when they retreat. Nothing big, Your Majesty.”
Elend nodded, dismissing the man. Big enough, he thought to himself. Those armies must be as tense as we are. The soldiers can’t enjoy remaining so long in a siege, particularly with the winter weather.
They were close. The arrival of the koloss would only cause more chaos. If he shoved right, Straff and Cett would be pushed into a head-on battle. I just need a little more time! he thought, continuing to walk, Ham at his side.
Yet, first he needed to get his throne back. Without that authority, he was nothing—and could do nothing.
The problem gnawed at his mind. As the walk continued, however, something distracted him—this time, something inside the walls rather than outside of them. Ham was right—the soldiers did stand a little taller when Elend approached their posts. They saluted him, and he nodded to them, walking with hand on pommel, as Tindwyl had instructed.
If I do keep my throne, I owe it to that woman, he thought. Of course, she’d chastise him for that thought. She would tell him that he kept his throne because he deserved to—because he was king. In changing himself, he had simply used the resources at hand to overcome his challenges.
He wasn’t certain if he’d ever be able to see things that way. But, her final lesson to him the day before—he somehow knew that it was her last—had taught him only one new concept: that there was no one mold for kingship. He would not be like the kings of the past, any more than he would be like Kelsier.
He would be Elend Venture. His roots were in philosophy, so he would be remembered as a scholar. He’d best use that to his advantage, or he wouldn’t be remembered at all. No kings could admit their weaknesses, but they were certainly wise to admit their strengths.
And what are my strengths? he thought. Why should I be the one who rules this city, and those around it?
Yes, he was a scholar—and an optimist, as Ham had noted. He was no master duelist, though he was improving. He wasn’t an excellent diplomat, though his meetings with Straff and Cett proved that he could hold his own.
What was he?
A nobleman who loved the skaa. They’d always fascinated him, even before the Collapse—before he’d met Vin and the others. It had been one of his pet philosophical puzzles to try and prove them no different from men of noble birth. It sounded idealistic, even a little prim, when he thought about it—and, if he was truthful, much of his interest in the skaa before the Collapse had been academic. They had been unknown, and so they had seemed exotic and interesting.