Mistborn: The Final Empire (Mistborn, #1)

by Brandon Sanderson

Vin nodded uncomfortably. Kelsier fell quiet, and they continued to walk, letting Vin explore her new sensations and the detailed world that tin revealed. Before, her vision had been restricted to a tiny pocket within the night. Now, however, she saw an entire city enveloped by a blanket of shifting, swirling mist. She could make out keeps like small, dark mountains in the distance, and could see specks of light from windows, like pin-pricked holes in the night. And above…she saw lights in the sky. She stopped, gazing up with wonder. They were faint, blurred to even her tin-enhanced eyes, but she could just barely make them out. Hundreds of them. Thousands of them. So small, like the dying embers of candles recently extinguished.

“I started burning copper,” Kelsier said, “the companion to bronze. When you burn copper, it hides your use of powers from other Allomancers. You can try burning it now, if you want, though you won’t sense much.” Vin did so. The only change was a feeling of slight vibration within her. “Copper is a vital metal to learn,” Kelsier said. “It will hide you from Inquisitors. We probably don’t have anything to worry about tonight—the Inquisitors would assume us to be regular noble Mistborn, out for training. However, if you’re ever in a skaa guise and need to burn metals, make sure you turn on your copper first.” Vin nodded appreciatively. “In fact,” Kelsier said, “many Mistborn keep their copper on all the time. It burns slowly, and it makes you invisible to other Allomancers. It hides you from bronze, and it also prevents others from manipulating your emotions.” Vin perked up.

They started walking again, and Kelsier gave her more time to get used to burning tin. Vin’s mind, however, began to wander. Something didn’t feel…right to her. Why was Kelsier telling her all of these things? It seemed like he was giving away his secrets too easily. Except one, she thought suspiciously. The metal with the blue lines. He hasn’t gone back to it yet. Perhaps that was the thing he was going to keep from her, the power he would hold in reserve to maintain control over her. It must be strong. The most powerful of the eight.

moved.” Kelsier nodded approvingly. “Consequences, Vin. You use your own weight when you Steelpush. If you’re a lot heavier than your anchor, it will fly away from you like that coin did. However, if the object is heavier than you are—or if it runs into something that is—you’ll be Pushed away. Ironpulling is similar—either you’ll be Pulled toward the object or it will be Pulled toward you. If your weights are similar, then you’ll both move. “This is the great art of Allomancy, Vin. Knowing how much, or how little, you will move when you burn steel or iron will give you a major advantage over your opponents. You’ll find that these two are the most versatile and useful of your abilities.” Vin nodded.

“Good job,” he said. “Now we go back down.” He tossed the ingot over his shoulder, casting it into the dark mists on the other side of the wall. “We’re really going outside?” Vin asked. “Outside the city walls? At night?” Kelsier smiled in that infuriating way of his. He walked over and climbed onto the battlements. “Varying the strength with which you Push or Pull is difficult, but possible. It’s better to just fall a bit, then Push to slow yourself. Let go and fall some more, then Push again. If you get the rhythm right, you’ll reach the ground just fine.”

“My experience—limited though it is—has been that it’s better to get into those extreme circumstances early, when someone can watch over you. Anyway, I assume you can understand why it’s important for an Allomancer to carry as little metal on their body as possible.” Vin nodded, then paused, reaching up to her ear. “My earring,” she said. “I’ll have to stop wearing it.” “Does it have a clip on the back?” Kelsier asked. Vin shook her head. “It’s just a small stud, and the pin on the back bends down.” “Then you’ll be all right,” Kelsier said. “Metal in your body—even if only a bit of it is in your body—can’t be Pushed or Pulled. Otherwise another Allomancer could rip the metals out of your stomach while you were burning them.” Good to know, Vin thought. “It’s also why those Inquisitors can walk around so confidently with a pair of steel spikes sticking out of their heads. The metal pierces their bodies, so it can’t be affected by another Allomancer. Keep the earring—it’s small, so you won’t be able to do much with it, but you could use it as a weapon in an emergency.”

“I think something is following us!” “Oh,” Kelsier said. “Yes, you’re right. It’s a mistwraith.” Vin stopped dead in her tracks. Kelsier, however, kept going. “Kelsier!” she said, causing him to pause. “You mean they’re real?” “Of course they are,” Kelsier said. “Where do you think all the stories came from?” Vin stood in dumbfounded shock. “You want to go look at it?” Kelsier asked. “Look at the mistwraith?” Vin asked. “Are you—” She stopped. Kelsier chuckled, strolling back to her. “Mistwraiths might be a bit disturbing to look at, but they’re relatively harmless. They’re scavengers, mostly. Come on.”

Vin nodded, calling upon a burst of extra Allomantic power. Everything immediately became lighter, the mists becoming even less of an obstruction. What she saw caused her to shiver—fascinated, revolted, and more than a little disturbed. The creature had smoky, translucent skin, and Vin could see its bones. It had dozens upon dozens of limbs, and each one looked as if it had come from a different animal. There were human hands, bovine hooves, canine haunches, and others she couldn’t identify. The mismatched limbs let the creature walk—though it was more of a shamble. It crawled along slowly, moving like an awkward centipede. Many of the limbs, in fact, didn’t even look functional—they jutted from the creature’s flesh in a twisted, unnatural fashion.

“Mistwraiths have malleable bodies,” Kelsier said. “They can shape their skin around any skeletal structure, and can even re-create muscles and organs if they have a model to mimic.” “You mean…?” Kelsier nodded. “When they find a corpse, they envelop it and slowly digest the muscles and organs. Then, they use what they’ve eaten as a pattern, creating an exact duplicate of the dead creature. They rearrange the parts a little bit—excreting the bones they don’t want, while adding the ones they do want to their body—forming a jumble like what you see out there.”

Kelsier sat quietly in the carriage. The window shades were closed against the mist, and a small lantern, half shielded, hung in the corner. Vin rode on the seat directly across from him—her legs tucked up underneath her, her enveloping mistcloak pulled close, hiding her arms and legs. She always does that, Kelsier thought. Wherever she is, she tries to be as small and unnoticeable as possible. So tense. Vin didn’t sit, she crouched. She didn’t walk, she prowled. Even when she was sitting in the open, she seemed to be trying to hide. She’s a brave one, though. During his own training, Kelsier hadn’t been quite so willing to throw himself off of a city wall—old Gemmel had been forced to push him.

Thin and aging, “Lord Renoux” wore a rich suit and a pair of aristocratic spectacles. A sparse, gray mustache colored his lip, and—despite his age—he didn’t carry a cane for support. He nodded respectfully to Kelsier, but maintained a dignified air. Immediately, Vin was struck by one obvious fact: This man knows what he is doing.

She shot the departing men an annoyed look. What was that you said about “trust,” Kelsier? However, she was even more annoyed at herself for getting unsettled. Why should she care if Kelsier excluded her? She had spent her entire life being ignored and dismissed. It had never bothered her before when other crewleaders left her out of their planning sessions. Vin took a seat in one of the stiffly upholstered maroon chairs, tucking her feet up beneath her. She knew what the problem was. Kelsier had been showing her too much respect, making her feel too important. She was beginning to think that she deserved to be part of his secret confidences. Reen’s laughter in the back of her mind discredited those thoughts, and she sat, annoyed at both herself and Kelsier, feeling ashamed, but not exactly certain why.

Kelsier kept saying that she was developing amazingly fast as an Allomancer. He seemed to think it was his teaching, but Vin felt it was something else. The mists…the night prowling…it all felt right to her. She was not worried about mastering Allomancy in time to help Kelsier against other Mistborn. It was her other part in the plan that worried her.

Vin shook her head. “That’s all right, Sazed.” “Not a good fit, then?” Sazed said, frowning slightly. “Ah, well. I shall have to consider it some more. Thank you, Mistress—you are very patient with me, I think.” “Consider it some more?” Vin asked. “That’s the fifth religion you’ve tried to convert me to, Saze. How many more can there be?” “Five hundred and sixty two,” Sazed said. “Or, at least, that is the number of belief systems I know. There are, likely and unfortunately, others that have passed from this world without leaving traces for my people to collect.” Vin paused. “And you have all of these religions memorized?”

“Mirror,” Vin said, holding out her hand. Cosahn handed her one. Vin held it up, and what she saw gave her pause. She looked…like a girl. Cosahn had done a remarkable job of evening out the hair, and she had managed to get rid of the snags. Vin had always found that if her hair got too long, it had a tendency to stand up. Cosahn had done something about this too. Vin’s hair still wasn’t very long—it barely hung down over her ears—but at least it lay flat. You don’t want them to think of you as a girl, Reen’s voice warned. Yet, for once, she found herself wanting to ignore that voice.

Sazed nodded solemnly. “She is extremely reserved, and I sense that she doesn’t see the full value in my lessons. She is very obedient, but is quick to exploit mistakes or misunderstandings. If I don’t tell her exactly when and where to meet, I often have to search the entire mansion for her.” Kelsier nodded. “I think it’s her way of maintaining a bit of control in her life. Anyway, what I really wanted to know is whether she’s ready or not.”

She’d almost forgotten how oppressive Luthadel could be. Her weeks in Fellise had accustomed her to trees and washed stone. Here, there was nothing white—no creeping aspens, no whitewashed granite. All was black. Buildings were stained by countless, repetitive ashfalls. Air curled with smoke from the infamous Luthadel smithies and a thousand separate noble kitchens. Cobblestones, doorways, and corners were clogged with soot—the slums were rarely swept clean.

Curious, Vin let her copper drop again. She concentrated, seeing if she could sense Breeze’s touch on her emotions; she would be included in his general Allomantic projections. He didn’t have time to pick and choose individuals, except maybe Yeden. It was very, very difficult to sense. Yet, as Breeze sat mumbling to himself, she began to feel the exact emotions he described. Vin couldn’t help but be impressed. The few times that Kelsier had used Allomancy on her emotions, his touch has been like a sudden, blunt punch to the face. He had strength, but very little subtlety. Breeze’s touch was incredibly delicate. He Soothed certain emotions, dampening them while leaving others unaffected. Vin thought she could sense his men Rioting on her emotions, too, but these touches weren’t nearly as subtle as Breeze’s. She left her copper off, watching for touches on her emotions as Yeden continued his speech. He explained that the men who joined with them would have to leave family and friends for a time—as long as a year—but would be fed well during that time.

I need to make certain he sends me to learn from the others, Vin thought. They’ll be masters at their own powers.

Vin shot the Terrisman an angry glance. Then she reached inside and burned tin. The sudden stench of blood almost staggered her. She could hear Sazed’s breathing. The room was no longer dark—in fact, the brilliant light of two lanterns made her eyes water. She became aware of the stuffy, unventilated air. And she could hear, quite distinctly, Dockson’s voice. “…went to check on him a couple times, like you asked. You’ll find him three streets west of the Fourwell Crossroads.” Kelsier nodded. “Ham,” he said in a loud voice, causing Vin to jump.

Camon’s absence in the square could simply mean that he’d gained a better spot. It could also mean that the Ministry had found him. Kelsier stood quietly for a moment, listening to the beggars’ haunted moanings. A few flakes of ash began to float down from the sky. Something was wrong. There weren’t any beggars near the north corner of the intersection. Kelsier burned tin, and smelled blood on the air. He kicked off his shoes, then pulled his belt free. His cloak clasp went next, the fine garment dropping to the cobblestones. That done, the only metal remaining on his body was in his coin pouch. He dumped a few coins into his hand, then carefully made his way forward, leaving his discarded garments for the beggars.

“They tortured him here?” she asked. “Out in the open?” Kelsier nodded, imagining the screams reverberating out to the uncomfortable beggars. The Ministry liked to be very visible with its punishments. “Why the hook?” Vin asked. “It’s a ritual killing reserved for the most reprehensible of sinners: people who misuse Allomancy.” Vin frowned. “Camon was an Allomancer?” Kelsier shook his head. “He must have admitted to something heinous during his torture.” Kelsier glanced at Vin. “He must have known what you were, Vin. He used you intentionally.”

And it was all hers, paid for by crew funds. If she ran, taking the jewelry and her three thousand boxings, she could live for decades. It was more tempting than she wanted to admit. Images of Camon’s men, their corpses twisted and dead in the quiet lair, kept returning to her. That was probably what waited for her if she remained. Why, then, didn’t she go?

In the end, it wasn’t the wealth or the job’s thrill that made her stay. It was the shadowed prospect—unlikely and unreasonable, but still seductive—of a group whose members actually trusted one another. She had to stay. She had to know if it lasted, or if it was—as Reen’s growing whispers promised—all a lie.

Vin turned her attention away from the obligators—their presence still made her a bit uncomfortable—and instead focused on something else: the beautiful windows. Sitting where she was, she could see some of the ones directly across and up from where she sat. They were religious, like many scenes preferred by the aristocracy. Perhaps it was to show devotion, or perhaps it was required. Vin didn’t know enough—but, likely, that was something Valette wouldn’t know either, so it was all right.

She’d never really wondered about the Deepness before, but Sazed’s lessons left her wondering. Her instincts whispered scam. The Lord Ruler had invented some terrible menace that he’d been able to destroy in the past, therefore “earning” his place as emperor. And yet, staring up at the horrible, twisting thing, Vin could almost believe. What if something like that had existed? And, if it had, how had the Lord Ruler managed to defeat it?

I wonder if they even notice the outside world, she thought, crossing her arms on the table as she watched the dancing. Perhaps they can’t see beyond their keeps and their balls—just like they can’t see past my dress and makeup.

Oddly, she soon found herself growing bored. The room was well ventilated, but she still felt hot beneath the layers of fabric. Her legs were especially bad, since they had to deal with her ankle-long undergarments. The long sleeves didn’t help either, though the silky material was soft against her skin. The dancing continued, and she watched with interest for a time. However, her attention soon turned to the obligators.

“Oh? And why did you refuse all three men who asked you to dance?” Vin paused. The man smiled, then turned back to his book. “There were four,” Vin said with a huff. “And I refused them because I don’t know how to dance very well.” The man lowered his book slightly, eyeing her. “You know, you’re a lot less timid than you look.” “Timid?” Vin asked. “I’m not the one staring at his book when there’s a young lady standing by him, never having properly introduced himself.” The man raised a speculative eyebrow. “Now, see, you sound like my father. Far better looking, but just as grumpy.” Vin glared at him. Finally, he rolled his eyes. “Very well, let me be a gentleman, then.” He bowed to her with a refined, formal step. “I am Lord Elend. Lady Valette Renoux, might I have the pleasure of sharing this balcony with you whilst I read?” Vin folded her arms. Elend? Family name or given name? Should I even care? He just wanted his spot back. But…how did he know that I’d refused dancing partners? Somehow, she had a suspicion that Kelsier would want to hear about this particular conversation.

He trailed off, mumbling to himself as he led Vin to the entryway. She got one more glimpse into the main chamber as she retrieved her shawl, and she burned tin, squinting against the light and seeking the balcony above. He held the book, closed, in one hand—and she could have sworn that he was looking down in her direction. She smiled, and let Sazed usher her to their carriage.

But, there had been something odd about him—something Vin hadn’t admitted to Sazed. She’d felt…comfortable with Elend. Looking back on the experience, she realized that for those few moments, she hadn’t really been Lady Valette. Nor had she been Vin, for that part of her—the timid crewmember—was almost as fake as Valette was. No, she’d simply been…whoever she was. It was a strange experience. She had occasionally felt the same way during her time with Kelsier and the others, but in a more limited manner. How had Elend been able to evoke her true self so quickly and so thoroughly? Maybe he used Allomancy on me! she thought with a start. Elend was a high nobleman; perhaps he was a Soother. Maybe there was more to the conversation than she had thought.

Kelsier nodded. “Venture is young, eligible, and heir to a powerful house. Your having a relationship with him could make serious problems for us. The women of the court would be jealous of you, and the older men would disapprove of the rank difference. You’d alienate yourself from large sections of the court. To get the information we need, we need the aristocracy to see you as uncertain, unimportant, and—most importantly—unthreatening.” “Besides, child,” Lord Renoux said. “It is unlikely that Elend Venture has any real interest in you. He is known to be a court eccentric—he is probably just trying to heighten his reputation by doing the unexpected.” Vin felt her face flush. He’s probably right, she told herself sternly. Still, she couldn’t help feeling annoyed at the three of them—especially Kelsier, with his flippant, unconcerned attitude.

Then she noticed motion to her right. She crouched immediately, flaring her tin. Kelsier sat on a rooftop not three houses away, just barely lit by ambient light. He didn’t seem to have noticed her. He was watching the keep, his face too distant for her to read his expression. Vin watched him with suspicious eyes. He’d dismissed her meeting with Elend, but perhaps it worried him more than he’d admitted. A sudden spike of fear made her tense. Could he be here to kill Elend? The assassination of a high noble heir would certainly create tension amongst the nobility. Vin waited apprehensively. Eventually, however, Kelsier stood and walked away, Pushing himself off the rooftop and into the air.

“What you’re doing at those balls is important,” Kelsier said. Vin nodded, glancing down. She’d just let him go, then she’d follow him. Part of her reasoning was what she’d said before: She was beginning to feel a camaraderie for this crew, and it was like nothing she had ever known. She wanted to be part of what it was doing; she wanted to help.

The shadow stopped, then Kelsier walked up to it, stopping as well. Suddenly, the shadow reached out and slapped her, and Vin moved reflexively, putting her hand up just as Kelsier’s real hand began to move. She caught his arm midswing. “While you’re burning atium,” he said, “nothing can surprise you. You can swing a dagger, knowing confidently that your enemies will run right into it. You can dodge attacks with ease because you’ll be able to see where every blow will fall. Atium makes you quite nearly invincible. It enhances your mind, making you able to make use of all the new information.” Suddenly, dozens of other images shot from Kelsier’s body. Each one sprang in a different direction, some striding across the roof, others jumping into the air. Vin released his arm, rising and backing away in confusion.

Kelsier shrugged. “Atium is only valuable because of Allomancy. So, if we didn’t burn it, it wouldn’t be worth the fortune that it is. Of course, if we do burn it, we make it even more rare. It’s kind of an interesting relationship—ask Ham about it sometimes. He loves talking about atium economics.

A soldier turned toward Vin, and she reacted without thinking. She burned steel and threw out a handful of coins. She Pushed, and the missiles shot forward, tearing through the guard’s flesh and dropping him. She burned iron, Pulling the coins back to her hand. She turned with a bloodied fist, spraying the room with metal, dropping three soldiers. Kelsier felled the last with his impromptu staff. I just killed four men, Vin thought, stunned. Before, Reen had always done the killing.

He raised a hand, and both coins froze in the air. Vin’s own Push suddenly threw her backward, and she tumbled across the stones, skidding and sliding. She heard the coins pling against the floor as she came to a rest. She shook her head, a dozen new bruises flaring angrily across her body. The Inquisitor stepped over the discarded coins, walking toward her with a smooth gait. I have to get away! Even Kelsier had been afraid to face an Inquisitor. If he couldn’t fight one, what chance did she have?

Vin turned, Pulling a candelabrum into her hands, remembering Kelsier’s trick from before. The Inquisitor stepped into the room, then raised an almost amused hand, ripping the candelabra from her hands in an easy Allomantic Pull. He’s so strong! Vin thought with horror. He was probably steadying himself by Pulling against the lantern brackets behind. However, the force of his Ironpulls was far more powerful than Kelsier’s had ever been. Vin jumped, Pulling herself slightly up and over the altar. At the doorway, the Inquisitor reached over to a bowl that sat atop a short pillar, pulling out what appeared to be a handful of small metal triangles. They were sharp on all sides, and they cut the creature’s hand in a dozen different places. He ignored the wounds, raising a bloody hand toward her.

Vin caught the next spire lightly, trying to make as little sound as possible. She strained in the night, burning tin, the rainfall becoming a thunder in her ears. Over it, she thought she heard the distinct sound of something hitting a spire in the direction she had Pushed the book. The Inquisitor had fallen for her ruse. Vin sighed, hanging from the spire, rain splattering her body. She made sure her copper was still burning, Pulled lightly against the spire to hold herself in place, and ripped off a piece of her shirt to bandage the wound. Despite her numb mind, she couldn’t help noticing how big the gash was.

Kelsier glanced at Dockson, and saw pessimism in his eyes. Kelsier had barely escaped, and he had years of training. If Vin was still in Kredik Shaw… Kelsier felt a sharp, twisting pain in his chest. You let her die too. First Mare, then Vin. How many more will you lead to slaughter before this is through? “She might be hiding somewhere in the city,” Kelsier said. “Afraid to come to the shop because the Inquisitors are looking for her. Or…perhaps for some reason she went back to Fellise.” Maybe she’s out there somewhere, dying alone in the rain.

He’s found a new bit of lore, Vin thought. To a Keeper, that’s probably as intoxicating as streetspice. She sipped at her tea with repressed petulance, eyeing the nearby servants. They seemed like scavenger birds, roosting and waiting for any opportunity to make Vin as comfortable—and as frustrated—as possible.

I can’t believe that people live like this, Vin thought as some servants began clearing away the meal. How can noblewomen fill their days with so much nothing? No wonder everyone’s eager to attend those balls!

Her hair had grown longer, and had been carefully cut by Renoux’s stylist so that it fell around her ears, curling just slightly. She no longer looked quite so scrawny in the mirror, despite her lengthy sickness; regular meals had filled her out. I’m becoming… Vin paused. She didn’t know what she was becoming. Certainly not a noblewoman. Noblewomen didn’t get annoyed when they couldn’t go out stalking at night. Yet, she wasn’t really Vin the urchin anymore. She was… Mistborn.

Vin folded up the paper. “And you keep this picture still? After…what she did to you?” Kelsier fell silent for a moment. Then he eyed her. “Been listening at doors again, have we? Oh, don’t worry. I suppose it’s common enough knowledge.” In the distance, the setting sun became a blaze, its ruddy light illuminating clouds and smoke alike. “Yes, I keep the flower,” Kelsier said. “I’m not really sure why. But…do you stop loving someone just because they betray you? I don’t think so. That’s what makes the betrayal hurt so much—pain, frustration, anger…and I still loved her. I still do.” “How?” Vin asked. “How can you? And, how can you possibly trust people? Didn’t you learn from what she did to you?” Kelsier shrugged. “I think…I think given the choice between loving Mare—betrayal included—and never knowing her, I’d choose love. I risked, and I lost, but the risk was still worth it. It’s the same with my friends. Suspicion is healthy in our profession—but only to an extent. I’d rather trust my men than worry about what will happen if they turn on me.”

He nodded as if to himself. “For me,” he said, “it was that night. Alone in the Pits, my arms bleeding from the day’s work. Mare was dead, and I feared that I was responsible—that my lack of faith took away her strength and will. She died knowing that I questioned her loyalty. Maybe, if I’d really loved her, I wouldn’t have ever questioned. I don’t know.” “But, you didn’t die,” Vin said. Kelsier shook his head. “I decided that I’d see her dream fulfilled. I’d make a world where flowers returned, a world with green plants, a world where no soot fell from the sky….” He trailed off, then sighed. “I know. I’m insane.” “Actually,” Vin said quietly, “it kind of makes sense. Finally.”

Sazed frowned. Vin hid a smile, eyeing Elend. He still didn’t look as if he had bothered to brush his hair, and again wore his suit without the buttons done up. The garment wasn’t shabby, but nor was it as rich as others at the party. It seemed to have been tailored to be loose and relaxed, defying the traditional sharp, well-cut fashion. Elend flipped through his book. Vin waited patiently for him to acknowledge her, but he just continued to read. Finally, Vin raised an eyebrow. “I don’t remember giving you permission to sit at my table, Lord Venture,” she said.

“He is sitting with you because he knows that it will annoy his family,” Sazed said. “Oh, child—I do not wish to bring you pain, but you must understand the ways of the court. This young man is not romantically interested in you. He is a young, arrogant lord who chafes at his father’s restrictions—so he rebels, acting rude and offensive. He knows that his father will relent if he acts spoiled enough for long enough.” Vin felt her stomach twist. Sazed’s probably right, of course. Why else would Elend seek me out? I’m exactly what he needs—someone lowborn enough to annoy his father, but inexperienced enough not to see the truth. Her meal arrived, but Vin didn’t have much of an appetite anymore. She began to pick at the food as Elend returned, settling down with a large goblet filled with some mixed drink. He sipped as he read. Let’s see how he reacts if I don’t interrupt his reading, Vin thought in annoyance, remembering her lessons, and eating her food with a lady’s grace. It wasn’t a large meal—mostly some rich, buttered vegetables—and the sooner she finished, the sooner she could get to dancing. At least then she wouldn’t have to sit with Elend Venture.

A few moments later, the young man approached. He spoke to her in a stiff, formal tone. “Lady Renoux, I am Lord Melend Liese. Would you care to dance?” Vin shot a glance at Elend, but he didn’t look up from his book. “I would love to, Lord Liese,” Vin said, taking the young man’s hand and rising. He led her down to the dance floor, and as they approached, Vin’s nervousness returned. Suddenly, one week of practice didn’t seem like enough. The music stopped, allowing for couples to leave or enter the floor, and Lord Liese led her forward.

The music began, as did the dancing. Lord Liese’s face took on a look of consternation. She could feel his palm sweating in her hands. Why, he’s just as nervous as I am! Perhaps even more. Liese was younger than Elend, closer to her own age. He probably wasn’t very experienced with balls—he certainly didn’t look like he’d danced much. He focused so much on the steps that his motions felt rigid. It makes sense, Vin realized, relaxing and letting her body move in the motions Sazed had taught. The experienced ones wouldn’t ask me to dance, not when I’m so new. I’m beneath their notice. But, why is Elend paying attention to me? Is it simply what Sazed said—a ploy to annoy his father? Why, then, does he seem interested in what I have to say?