“I vote for myself,” Lord Penrod said.
Not unexpected, Elend thought. He sat in Penrod’s comfortable lounge, accompanied by a group of shaken Assemblymen—none of whom, thankfully, had been hurt in the attack. Several held drinks, and there was a veritable army of guards waiting around the perimeter, eyeing each other warily. The crowded room also held Noorden and three other scribes, who were there to witness the voting, according to the law.
“I vote for Lord Penrod as well,” said Lord Dukaler.
Also not unexpected, Elend thought. I wonder how much that cost Penrod.
Mansion Penrod was not a keep, but it was lavishly decorated. The plushness of Elend’s chair was welcome as a relief from the tensions of the day. Yet, Elend feared that it was too soothing. It would be very easy to drift off. …
“I vote for Cett,” said Lord Habren.
Elend perked up. It was the second for Cett, which put him behind Penrod by three.
Everyone turned to Elend. “I vote for myself,” he said, trying to project a firmness that was hard to maintain after everything that had happened. The merchants were next. Elend settled back, prepared for the expected run of votes for Cett.
“I vote for Penrod,” Philen said.
Elend sat upright, alert. What!
The next merchant voted for Penrod as well. As did the next, and the next. Elend sat stunned, listening. What did I miss? he thought. He glanced at Ham, who shrugged in confusion.
Philen glanced at Elend, smiling pleasantly. Elend couldn’t tell if there was bitterness or satisfaction in that look, however. They switched allegiances? That quickly? Philen had been the one to sneak Cett into the city in the first place.
Elend looked down the row of merchants, trying with little success to gauge their reactions. Cett himself wasn’t in the meeting; he had retreated to Keep Hasting to nurse his wound.
“I vote for Lord Venture,” said Haws, foremost of the skaa faction. This also managed to get a stir out of the room. Haws met Elend’s eye, and nodded. He was a firm believer in the Church of the Survivor, and while the different preachers of the religion were beginning to disagree on how to organize their followers, they all agreed that a believer on the throne would be better for them than handing the city over to Cett.
There will be a price to pay for this allegiance, Elend thought as the skaa voted. They knew Elend’s reputation for honesty, and he would not betray their trust.
He had told them he would become an open member of their sect. He hadn’t promised them belief, but he had promised them devotion. He still wasn’t certain what he had given away, but both of them knew they would need each other.
“I vote for Penrod,” said Jasten, a canal worker.
“As do I,” said Thurts, his brother.
Elend gritted his teeth. He’d known they would be trouble; they never had liked the Church of the Survivor. But, four of the skaa had already given him their votes. With only two remaining, he had a very good shot at a deadlock.
“I vote for Venture,” said the next man.
“I do, too,” said the final skaa. Elend gave the man, Vet, a smile of appreciation.
That left fifteen votes for Penrod, two for Cett, and seven for Elend. Deadlock. Elend reclined slightly, head resting against the chair’s pillowed back, sighing softly.
You did your job, Vin, he thought. I did mine. Now we just need to keep this country in one piece.
“Um,” a voice asked, “am I allowed to change my vote?”
Elend opened his eyes. It was Lord Habren, one of the votes for Cett.
“I mean, it’s obvious now that Cett isn’t going to win,” Habren said, flushing slightly. The young man was a distant cousin of the Elariel family, which was probably how he’d gotten his seat. Names still meant power in Luthadel.
“I’m not sure if you can change or not,” Lord Penrod said.
“Well, I’d rather my vote meant something,” Habren said. “There are only two votes for Cett, after all.”
The room fell silent. One by one, the members of the Assembly turned to Elend. Noorden the scribe met Elend’s eyes. There was a clause allowing for men to change their votes, assuming that the chancellor hadn’t officially closed the voting—which, indeed, he hadn’t.
The clause was a rather oblique; Noorden was probably the only other one in the room who knew the law well enough to interpret it. He nodded slightly, still meeting Elend’s eyes. He would hold his tongue.
Elend sat still in a room full of men who trusted him, even as they rejected him. He could do as Noorden did. He could say nothing, or could say that he didn’t know.
“Yes,” Elend said softly. “The law allows for you to change your vote, Lord Habren. You may only do so once, and must do so before the winner is declared. Everyone else has the same opportunity.”
“Then I vote for Lord Penrod,” Habren said.
“As do I,” said Lord Hue, the other who had voted for Cett.
Elend closed his eyes.
“Are there any other alterations?” Lord Penrod asked.
No one spoke.
“Then,” Penrod said, “I see seventeen votes for myself, seven votes for Lord Venture. I officially close the voting and humbly accept your appointment as king. I shall serve as best I can in this capacity.”
Elend stood, then slowly removed his crown. “Here,” he said, setting it on the mantle. “You’ll need this.”
He nodded to Ham, then left without looking back at the men who had discarded him.
THE END OF PART THREE
PART FOUR
KNIVES
I know your argument. We speak of the Anticipation, of things foretold, of promises made by our greatest prophets of old. Of course the Hero of Ages will fit the prophecies. He will fit them perfectly. That’s the idea.
39
STRAFF VENTURE RODE QUIETLY IN the misty twilight air. Though he would have preferred a carriage, he felt it important to travel by horseback and present a compelling image for the troops. Zane, not surprisingly, chose to walk. He sauntered along beside Straff’s horse, the two of them leading a group of fifty soldiers.
Even with the troops, Straff felt exposed. It wasn’t just the mists, and it wasn’t just the darkness. He could still remember her touch on his emotions.
“You’ve failed me, Zane,” Straff said.
The Mistborn looked up, and—burning tin—Straff could see a frown on his face. “Failed?”
“Venture and Cett still live. Beyond that, you sent a batch of my best Allomancers to their deaths.”
“I warned you that they might die,” Zane said.
“For a purpose, Zane,” Straff said sternly. “Why did you need a group of secret Allomancers if you were just going to send them on a suicide mission in the middle of a public gathering? You may assume our resources to be unlimited, but let me assure you—those six men cannot be replaced.”
It had taken Straff decades of work with his mistresses to gather so many hidden Allomancers. It had been pleasurable work, but work all the same. In one reckless gambit, Zane had destroyed a good third of Straff’s Allomancer children.