Spook still remembered that first night after waking from his fevers a few weeks back, the night when he’d visited a tavern and heard men talking about him. Over the next few days, he’d visited several other taverns, and had heard others mention rumors that spoke of Spook. Sazed and Breeze’s arrival had kept Spook from confronting Durn—the apparent source of the rumors—about what he’d been telling people. It was time to correct that oversight.
Spook picked up his pace, leaping heaps of discarded boards, dashing around piles of ash, until he reached the hole that Durn called home. It was a section of canal wall that had been hollowed out to form a kind of cave. Though the wooden framing around the door looked as rotted and splintered as everything else in the Harrows, Spook knew it to be reinforced on the back with a thick oaken bar.
Two brutes sat watch outside. They eyed Spook as he stopped in front of the door, cloak whipping around him. It was the same one he’d been wearing when he’d been tossed into the fire, and it was still spotted with burn marks and holes.
“The boss isn’t seeing anyone right now, kid,” said one of the big men, not rising from his seat. “Come back later.”
Spook kicked the door. It broke free, its hinges snapping, the bar shattering its mountings and tumbling backward.
Spook stood for a moment, shocked. He had too little experience with pewter to gauge its use accurately. If he was shocked, however, the two brutes were stunned. They sat, staring at the broken door.
“You may need to kill them,” Kelsier whispered.
No, Spook thought. I just have to move quickly. He dashed into the open hallway, needing no torch or lantern by which to see. He whipped spectacles and a cloth out of his pocket as he approached the door at the end of the hallway, fixing them in place even as the guards called out behind him.
He threw his shoulder against the door with a bit more care, slamming it open but not breaking it. He moved into a well-lit room where four men sat playing chips at a table. Durn was winning.
Spook pointed at the men as he skidded to a stop. “You three. Out. Durn and I have business.”
Durn sat at the table, looking genuinely surprised. The brutes rushed up behind Spook, and he turned, falling to a crouch, reaching under his cloak for his dueling cane.
“It’s all right,” Durn said, standing. “Leave us.”
The guards hesitated, obviously angry at being passed so easily. Finally, however, they withdrew, Durn’s gambling partners going with them. The door closed.
“That was quite the entrance,” Durn noted, sitting back down at his table.
“You’ve been talking about me, Durn,” Spook said, turning. “I’ve heard people discussing me in taverns, mentioning your name. You’ve been spreading rumors about my death, telling people that I was on the Survivor’s crew. How did you know who I was, and why have you been using my name?”
“Oh, come now,” Durn said, scowling. “How anonymous did you think you were? You’re the Survivor’s friend, and you spend a good half of your time living in the emperor’s own palace.”
“Luthadel’s a long way from here.”
“Not so far that news doesn’t travel,” Durn said. “A Tineye comes to town, spying about, flaunting seemingly endless funds? It wasn’t really that hard to figure out who you were. Besides, there’s your eyes.”
“What about them?” Spook asked.
The ugly man shrugged. “Everyone knows that strange things happen around the Survivor’s crew.”
Spook wasn’t certain what to make of that. He walked forward, looking over the cards on the table. He picked one up, feeling its paper. His heightened senses let him feel the bumps on the back.
“Marked cards?” he asked.
“Of course,” Durn said. “Practice game, to see if my men could read the patterns right.”
Spook tossed the card onto the table. “You still haven’t told me why you’ve been spreading rumors about me.”
“No offense, kid,” Durn said. “But … well, you’re supposed to be dead.”
“If you believed that, then why bother talking about me?”
“Why do you think?” Durn said. “The people love the Survivor—and anything related to him. That’s why Quellion uses his name so often. But, if I could show that Quellion killed one of Kelsier’s own crew … well, there are a lot of people in this city who wouldn’t like that.”
“So, you’re just trying to help,” Spook said flatly. “Out of the goodness of your heart.”
“You’re not the only one who thinks that Quellion is killing this city. If you’re really of the Survivor’s crew, you’ll know that sometimes, people fight.”
“I find it difficult to think of you as an altruist, Durn. You’re a thief.”
“So are you.”
“We didn’t know what we were getting into,” Spook said. “Kelsier promised us riches. How do you gain from all this?”
Durn snorted. “The Citizen is very bad for business. Venture red wine being sold for a fraction of a clip? Our smuggling has been choked to a trickle because everyone fears buying our goods. Things were never this bad under the Lord Ruler.” He leaned in. “If your friends staying in the old Ministry building think they can do something about that lunatic running this city, then tell them they’ll have my support. There isn’t a large underground left in this city, but Quellion will be surprised at the damage it can do if manipulated the right way.”
Spook stood quietly for a moment. “There’s a man milking for information in the tavern on Westbrook Lane. Send someone to contact him. He’s a Soother—the best one you’ll ever meet—but he stands out a bit. Make your offer to him.”
Durn nodded.
Spook turned to go, then glanced back at Durn. “Don’t mention my name to him, or what happened to me.”
With that, he left through the hallway, passing the guards and the displaced crooks from the card game. Spook pulled off his blindfold as he stepped into the daylight-like brightness of the starlit night.
He strolled through the Harrows, trying to decide what he thought of the meeting. Durn hadn’t revealed anything all that important. Yet, Spook felt as if something were happening around him, something he hadn’t planned on, something he couldn’t quite decipher. He was becoming more comfortable with Kelsier’s voice, and with his pewter, but he was still worried that he wouldn’t be able to live up to the position he’d fallen into.
“If you don’t get to Quellion soon,” Kelsier said, “he’s going to find your friends. He’s already preparing assassins.”
“He won’t send them,” Spook said quietly. “Especially if he’s heard Durn’s rumors about me. Everyone knows that Sazed and Breeze were on your crew. Quellion won’t take them out unless they prove to be such a threat that he has no other choice.”
“Quellion is an unstable man,” Kelsier said. “Don’t wait too long. You don’t want to find out how irrational he can be.”
Spook fell silent. Then, he heard footsteps, approaching quickly. He felt the vibrations in the ground. He spun and loosened his cloak, reaching for his weapon.