Elend joined Vin at the firepit. They sat for a few moments, Vin poking at the coals. She looked pensive.
“What?” Elend asked.
She glanced southward. “I …” Then she shook her head. “It’s nothing. We’re going to need more wood.” She glanced to the side, toward where their axe lay beside the tent. The weapon flipped up into the air, shooting toward her blade-first. She stepped to the side, snatching the handle as it passed between her and Elend. Then she stalked over to a fallen tree. She took two swings at it, then easily kicked it down and broke it in two.
“She has a way of making the rest of us feel a little redundant, doesn’t she?” Spook asked, stepping up beside Elend.
“At times,” Elend said with a smile.
Spook shook his head. “Whatever I see or hear, she can sense better—and she can fight whatever it is that she finds. Every time I come back to Luthadel, I just feel … useless.”
“Imagine being a regular person,” Elend said. “At least you’re an Allomancer.”
“Maybe,” Spook said, the sound of Vin chopping coming from the side. “But people respect you, El. They just dismiss me.”
“I don’t dismiss you, Spook.”
“Oh?” the young man asked. “When’s the last time I did anything important for the crew?”
“Three days ago,” Elend said. “When you agreed to come with Vin and me. You’re not just here to tend horses, Spook—you’re here because of your skills as a scout and a Tineye. Do you still think we’re being followed?”
Spook paused, then shrugged. “I can’t be sure. I think Straff’s scouts turned back, but I keep catching sight of someone back there. I never get a good glimpse of them, though.”
“It’s the mist spirit,” Vin said, walking by and dumping an armload of wood beside the firepit. “It’s chasing us.”
Spook and Elend shared a look. Then Elend nodded, refusing to act on Spook’s uncomfortable stare. “Well, as long as it stays out of our way, it’s not a problem, right?”
Vin shrugged. “I hope not. If you see it, though, call for me. The records say it can be dangerous.”
“All right,” Elend said. “We’ll do that. Now, let’s decide what to have for breakfast.”
Straff woke up. That was his first surprise.
He lay in bed, inside his tent, feeling like someone had picked him up and slammed him against the wall a few times. He groaned, sitting up. His body was free from bruises, but he ached, and his head was pounding. One of the army healers, a young man with a full beard and bulging eyes, sat beside his bed. The man studied Straff for a moment.
“You, my lord, should be dead,” the young man said.
“I’m not,” Straff said, sitting up. “Give me some tin.”
A soldier approached with a metal vial. Straff downed it, then scowled at how dry and sore his throat was. He burned the tin only lightly; it made his wounds feel worse, but he had come to depend on the slight edge the enhanced senses gave him.
“How long?” he asked.
“Better part of three days, my lord,” the healer said. “We … weren’t sure what you’d eaten, or why. We thought about trying to get you to vomit, but it appeared that you’d taken the draught of your own choice, so …”
“You did well,” Straff said, holding his arm up in front of him. It still shook a bit, and he couldn’t make it stop. “Who is in charge of the army?”
“General Janarle,” the healer said.
Straff nodded. “Why hasn’t he had me killed?”
The healer blinked in surprise, glancing at the soldiers.
“My lord,” said Grent the soldier, “who would dare betray you? Any man who tried would end up dead in his tent. General Janarle was most worried about your safety.”
Of course, Straff realized with shock. They don’t know that Zane is gone. Why … if I did die, then everyone assumes that Zane would either take control himself, or get revenge on those he thought responsible. Straff laughed out loud, shocking those watching over him. Zane had tried to kill him, but had accidentally saved his life by sheer force of reputation.
I beat you, Straff realized. You’re gone, and I’m alive. That didn’t, of course, mean that Zane wouldn’t return—but, then again, he might not. Perhaps … just maybe … Straff was rid of him forever.
“Elend’s Mistborn,” Straff said suddenly.
“We followed her for a while, my lord,” Grent said. “But, they got too far from the army, and Lord Janarle ordered the scouts back. It appears she’s making for Terris.”
He frowned. “Who else was with her?”
“We think your son Elend escaped as well,” the soldier said. “But it could have been a decoy.”
Zane did it, Straff thought with shock. He actually got rid of her.
Unless it’s a trick of some sort. But, then …
“The koloss army?” Straff asked.
“There’s been a lot of fighting in its ranks lately, sir,” Grent said. “The beasts seem more restless.”
“Order our army to break camp,” Straff said. “Immediately. We’re retreating back toward the Northern Dominance.”
“My lord?” Grent said with shock. “I think Lord Janarle is planning an assault, waiting only for your word. The city is weak, and their Mistborn is gone.”
“We’re pulling back,” Straff said, smiling. “For a while, at least.” Let’s see if this plan of yours works, Zane.
Sazed sat in a small kitchen alcove, hands on the table before him, a metallic ring glittering on each finger. They were small, for metalminds, but storing up Feruchemical attributes took time. It would take weeks to fill even a ring’s worth of metal—and he barely had days. In fact, Sazed was surprised the koloss had waited so long.
Three days. Not much time at all, but he suspected he would need every available edge in the approaching conflict. So far he’d been able to store up a small amount of each attribute. Enough for a boost in an emergency, once his other metalminds ran out.
Clubs hobbled into the kitchen. He seemed a blur to Sazed. Even wearing his spectacles—to help compensate for the vision he was storing in a tinmind—it was difficult for him to see.
“That’s it,” Clubs said, his voice muffled—another tinmind was taking Sazed’s hearing. “They’re finally gone.”
Sazed paused for a moment, trying to decipher the comment. His thoughts moved as if through a thick, turgid soup, and it took him a moment to understand what Clubs had said.
They’re gone. Straff’s troops. They’ve withdrawn. He coughed quietly before replying. “Did he ever respond to any of Lord Penrod’s messages?”
“No,” Clubs said. “But he did execute the last messenger.”
Well, that isn’t a very good sign, Sazed thought slowly. Of course, there hadn’t been very many good signs over the last few days. The city was on the edge of starvation, and their brief respite of warmth was over. It would snow this evening, if Sazed guessed right. That made him feel even more guilty to be sitting in the kitchen nook, beside a warm hearth, sipping broth as his metalminds sapped his strength, health, senses, and power of thought. He had rarely tried to fill so many at once.