TenSoon took a deep breath—it felt so good to be able to do that again—and opened his mouth to speak.
“Tell them,” KanPaar continued, sneering, “explain, if you can, why you killed one of our own. A fellow kandra.”
TenSoon froze. The Trustwarren was quiet—the generations of kandra were far too well behaved to rustle and make noise like a crowd of humans. They sat with their bones of rock, wood, or even metal, waiting for TenSoon’s answer.
KanPaar’s question wasn’t the one TenSoon had expected.
“Yes, I killed a kandra,” TenSoon said, standing cold and naked on the platform. “That is not forbidden.”
“Need it be forbidden?” KanPaar accused, pointing. “Humans kill each other. Koloss kill each other. But they are both of Ruin. We are of Preservation, the chosen of the Father himself. We don’t kill one another!”
TenSoon frowned. This was a strange line of questioning. Why ask this? he thought. My betrayal of all our people is surely a greater sin than the murder of one.
“I was compelled by my Contract,” TenSoon said frankly. “You must know, KanPaar. You are the one who assigned me to the man Straff Venture. We all know what kind of person he was.”
“No different from any other man,” spat one of the Seconds.
Once, TenSoon would have agreed. Yet, he knew that there were some humans, at least, who were different. He had betrayed Vin, and yet she hadn’t hated him for it. She had understood, and had felt mercy. Even if they hadn’t already become friends, even if he hadn’t grown to respect her greatly, that one moment would have earned her his devoted loyalty.
She was counting on him, even if she didn’t know it. He stood a little straighter, looking KanPaar in the eyes. “I was assigned to the man Straff Venture by paid Contract,” TenSoon said. “He gave me over to the whims of his twisted son, Zane. It was Zane who commanded that I kill the kandra OreSeur and take his place, so that I could spy on the woman Vin.”
There were a few hushed whispers at her name. Yes, you’ve heard of her. The one who slew the Father.
“And so you did what this Zane commanded?” KanPaar asked loudly. “You killed another kandra. You murdered a member of your own generation!”
“You think I enjoyed it?” TenSoon demanded. “OreSeur was my generation brother—a kandra I had known for seven hundred years! But … the Contract …”
“Forbids killing,” KanPaar said.
“It forbids the killing of men.”
“And is not a kandra life worth more than that of a man?”
“The words are specific, KanPaar,” TenSoon snapped. “I know them well—I helped write them! We were both there when these service Contracts were created using the First Contract itself as a model! They forbid us from killing humans, but not each other.”
KanPaar leaned forward again. “Did you argue with this Zane? Suggest perhaps that he should perform the murder himself? Did you even try to get out of killing one of our people?”
“I do not argue with my masters,” TenSoon said. “And I certainly didn’t want to tell the man Zane how to kill a kandra. His instability was well known.”
“So, you didn’t argue,” KanPaar said. “You simply killed OreSeur. And then you took his place, pretending to be him.”
“That is what we do,” TenSoon said with frustration. “We take the place of others, acting as spies. That is the entire point of the Contract!”
“We do these things to humans,” snapped another Second. “This is the first case where a kandra has been used to imitate another kandra. It is a disturbing precedent you set.”
It was brilliant, TenSoon thought. I hate Zane for making me do it, but I can still see the genius in it. Vin never even suspected me. Who would?
“You should have refused to do this act,” KanPaar said. “You should have pled the need for clarification of your Contract. If others were to begin using us in this way, to kill one another, then we could be wiped out in a matter of years!”
“You betrayed us all with your rashness,” said another.
Ah, TenSoon thought. So that is their plan. They establish me as a traitor first, so that what I say later lacks credibility. He smiled. He was of the Third Generation; it was time he started acting like it.
“I betrayed us with my rashness?” TenSoon asked. “What of you, glorious Seconds? Who was it who allowed a Contract to be assigned to Kelsier himself? You gave a kandra servant to the very man who was planning to kill the Father!”
KanPaar stiffened, as if he’d been slapped, translucent face angry in the blue lamplight. “It is not your place to make accusations, Third!”
“I have no place anymore, it seems,” TenSoon said. “None of us do, now that the Father is dead. We have no right to complain, for we helped it happen.”
“How were we to know this man would succeed when others hadn’t,” a Second sputtered. “He paid so well that—”
KanPaar cut the other off with a sharp wave of the hand. It wasn’t good for those of the Second Generation to defend themselves. However, HunFoor—the kandra who had spoken—hadn’t ever really fit in with the others of his generation. He was a little more … dense.
“You shall speak no more of this, Third,” KanPaar said, pointing at TenSoon.
“How can I defend myself if I cannot—”
“You aren’t here to defend yourself,” KanPaar said. “This is not a trial—you have already admitted your guilt. This is a judgment. Explain your actions, then let the First Generation pronounce your fate!”
TenSoon fell silent. It was not time to push. Not yet.
“Now,” KanPaar said, “this thing you did in taking the place of one of your own brothers is bad enough. Need we speak on, or would you accept judgment now?”
“We both know that OreSeur’s death has little to do with why I am here,” TenSoon said.
“Very well,” said KanPaar. “Let us move on, then. Why don’t you tell the First Generation why—if you are such a Contract-abiding kandra—you broke Contract with your master, disobeying his interests and helping his enemy instead?”
KanPaar’s accusation echoed in the room. TenSoon closed his eyes, thinking back to that day over a year ago. He remembered sitting quietly on the floor of Keep Venture, watching as Zane and Vin fought.
No. It hadn’t been a fight. Zane had been burning atium, which had made him all but invincible. Zane had played with Vin, toying with and mocking her.
Vin hadn’t been TenSoon’s master—TenSoon had killed her kandra and taken his place, spying on Vin at Zane’s order. Zane. He had been TenSoon’s master. He had held TenSoon’s Contract.
But against all of his training, TenSoon had helped Vin. And, in doing so, he had revealed to her the great Secret of the kandra. Their weakness: that an Allomancer could use their powers to take complete control of a kandra’s body. The kandra served their Contracts to keep this Secret hidden—they became servants, lest they end up as slaves. TenSoon opened his eyes to the quiet chamber. This was the moment he had been planning for.
“I didn’t break my Contract,” he announced.