NO!
Marsh awakened. Though his hands still moved as ordered, his mind rebelled. He took in the ash, and the rain, the blood and the soot, and it disgusted him. Vin lay nearly dead.
Kelsier treated her like a daughter, he thought as he broke her fingers, one at a time. She was screaming. The daughter he never had with Mare.
I’ve given up. Just like I did with the rebellion.
It was the great shame of his life. Years ago, before the Collapse, he had led the skaa rebellion. But, he’d given in. He’d withdrawn, giving up leadership of the group. And he’d done it only one year before the rebellion—with Kelsier’s help—finally overthrew the Final Empire. Marsh had been its leader, but had given up. Just before the victory.
No, he thought as he broke the fingers on her other hand. Not again. No more giving up!
His hand moved up to her collarbone. And then he saw it. A single bit of metal, glittering in Vin’s ear. Her earring. She’d explained it to him once.
I don’t remember it, Vin’s voice whispered to him from the past. A memory of when Marsh himself had sat with her on a quiet veranda at Mansion Renoux, watching Kelsier organize a caravan below, just before Marsh left to infiltrate the ranks of the Steel Priesthood.
Vin had spoken of her insane mother. Reen said that he came home one day and found my mother covered in blood, Vin had said. She’d killed my baby sister. Me, however, she hadn’t touched—except to give me an earring …
Don’t trust anyone pierced by metal. Spook’s letter. Even the smallest bit can taint a man.
The smallest bit.
As he looked closer, the earring—though twisted and chipped—looked almost like a tiny spike.
He didn’t think. He didn’t give Ruin time to react. Amid the thrill of killing the Hero of Ages, Ruin’s control was weaker than it had ever been. Summoning all the will he had remaining, Marsh reached out.
And ripped the earring from Vin’s ear.
Vin’s eyes snapped open.
Ash and water fell on her. Her body burned with pain, and the echoing screams of Ruin’s demands still reverberated in her head.
But the voice spoke no further. It had been stifled midsentence.
What?
The mists returned to her with a snap. They flowed around her, sensing the Allomancy of her tin, which she still burned faintly. They spun around her as they once had, playful, friendly.
She was dying. She knew it. Marsh was done with her bones, and was obviously growing impatient. He screamed, holding his head. Then, he reached down, grabbing his axe from the puddle beside him. Vin couldn’t have run if she’d wanted to.
Fortunately, the pain was fading. Everything was fading. It was black.
Please, she thought, reaching out to the mists with one final plea. They felt so familiar all of a sudden. Where had she felt that feeling before? Where did she know them?
From the Well of Ascension, of course, a voice whispered in her head. It’s the same power, after all. Solid in the metal you fed to Elend. Liquid in the pool you burned. And vapor in the air, confined to night. Hiding you. Protecting you.
Giving you power!
Vin gasped, drawing in breath—a breath that sucked in the mists. She felt suddenly warm, the mists surging within her, lending her their strength. Her entire body burned like metal, and the pain disappeared in a flash.
Marsh swung his axe for her head, spraying water.
And she caught his arm.
I have spoken of Inquisitors, and their ability to pierce copperclouds. As I said, this power is easily understood when one realizes that many Inquisitors were Seekers before their transformation, and that meant their bronze became twice as strong.
There is at least one other case of a person who could pierce copperclouds. In her case, however, the situation was slightly different. She was a Mistborn from birth, and her sister was the Seeker. The death of that sister—and subsequent inheritance of power via the Hemalurgic spike used to kill that sister—left her twice as good at burning bronze as a typical Mistborn. And that let her see through the copperclouds of lesser Allomancers.
73
THE MISTS CHANGED.
TenSoon looked up through the ash. He lay, exhausted and numb, atop the hill before the field of lava that barred his path eastward. His muscles felt lethargic—signs that he had been pushing too hard. Even the Blessing of Potency could only do so much.
He stood, forcing his horse’s body to rise, looking at his nighttime surroundings. Endless fields of ash extended behind him; even the track he had worn up to the top of the hill was close to being filled in. The lava burned ahead of him. However, something seemed different. What?
The mists flowed, moving about, swirling. Generally, the mists had a very chaotic pattern. Some parts would flow one way, while others would spin about in other directions. There were often rivers of motion, but they never conformed to one another. Most often, they followed the wind; this night the wind was still.
And yet, the mist seemed to be flowing in one direction. As soon as he noticed it, TenSoon found it one of the most singularly strange sights he had ever beheld. Instead of swirling or spinning, the mists moved together in a seemingly purposeful flow. They coursed around him, and he felt like a stone in a huge, incorporeal river.
The mists flowed toward Luthadel. Perhaps I’m not too late! he thought, regaining some of his hope. He shook himself from his stupor, and took off in a gallop back the way he had come.
“Breezy, come look at this.”
Breeze rubbed his eyes, looking across the room to where Allrianne sat in her nightgown, looking out the window. It was late—too late. He should have been asleep.
He looked back toward his desk, and the treaty he had been working on. It was the sort of thing Sazed or Elend should have had to write, not Breeze. “You know,” he said, “I distinctly remember telling Kelsier that I did not want to end up in charge of anything important. Running kingdoms and cities is work for fools, not thieves! Government is far too inefficient to provide a suitable income.”
“Breezy!” Allrianne said insistently, Pulling on his emotions quite blatantly.
He sighed, rising. “Very well,” he grumbled. Honestly, he thought. How is it, of all the qualified people in Kelsier’s little crew, that I end up the one leading a city?
He joined Allrianne at the window, peeking out. “What is it exactly I’m supposed to see, dear? I don’t …”
He trailed off, frowning. Beside him, Allrianne touched his arm, seeming concerned as she looked out the window.
“Now, that is strange,” he said. The mists flowed by outside, moving like a river—and they seemed to be accelerating.
The door to his room slammed open. Breeze jumped, and Allrianne squeaked. They spun to find Spook standing in the doorway, still half covered in bandages.
“Gather the people,” the boy croaked, holding the doorframe to keep from collapsing. “We need to move.”
“My dear boy,” Breeze said, unsettled. Allrianne took Breeze’s arm, holding on quietly, yet tightly. “My dear boy, what is this? You should be in bed!”
“Gather them, Breeze!” Spook said, suddenly sounding very authoritative. “Take them to the storage cavern. Pack them in! Quickly! We don’t have much time!”