Mistborn: The Final Empire (Mistborn #1)(47)

Kelsier smiled. “I’m still planning to deal with him personally—I just have to ?gure out how to make the Eleventh Metal work.”

“And if you don’t?”

“Well,” Kelsier said, writing Yeden: Preparation and Rule beneath Skaa Rebellion on the board, “we’ll try and ?nd a way to trick him out of the city. Perhaps we can get him to go with his army to the Pits and secure things there.”

“Then what?” Yeden asked.

“You ?nd some way to deal with him,” Kelsier said. “You didn’t hire us to kill the Lord Ruler, Yeden—that’s just a possible perk I intend to throw in if I can.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much, Yeden,” Ham added. “He won’t be able to do much without funds or armies. He’s a powerful Allomancer, but by no means omnipotent.”

Breeze smiled. “Though, if you think about it, hostile, dethroned pseudodeities probably make disagreeable neighbors. You’ll have to ?gure out something to do with him.”

Yeden didn’t appear to like that idea much, but he didn’t continue the argument.

Kelsier turned. “That should be it, then.”

“Uh,” Ham said, “what about the Ministry? Shouldn’t we at least ?nd a way to keep an eye on those Inquisitors?”

Kelsier smiled. “We’ll let my brother deal with them.”

“Like hell you will,” a new voice said from the back of the room.

Vin jumped to her feet, spinning and glancing toward the room’s shadowed doorway. A man stood there. Tall and broad-shouldered, he had a statuesque rigidity. He wore modest clothing—a simple shirt and trousers with a loose skaa jacket. His arms were folded in dissatisfaction, and he had a hard, square face that looked a bit familiar.

Vin glanced back at Kelsier. The similarity was obvious.

“Marsh?” Yeden said, standing. “Marsh, it is you! He promised you’d be joining the job, but I…well…welcome back!”

Marsh’s face remained impassive. “I’m not certain if I’m ‘back’ or not, Yeden. If you all don’t mind, I’d like to speak privately with my little brother.”

Kelsier didn’t seem intimidated by Marsh’s harsh tone. He nodded to the group. “We’re done for the evening, folks.”

The others rose slowly, giving Marsh a wide berth as they left. Vin followed them, pulling the door shut and walking down the stairs to give the appearance of retiring to her room.

Less than three minutes later she was back at the door, listening carefully to the conversation going on inside.

Rashek is a tall man—of course, most of these Terrismen are tall. He is young to receive so much respect from the other packmen. He has charisma, and the women of court would probably describe him as handsome, in a rugged sort of way.

Yet, it amazes me that anyone would give heed to a man who speaks such hatred. He has never seen Khlennium, yet he curses the city. He does not know me, yet I can already see the anger and hostility in his eyes.

7

THREE YEARS HADN’T CHANGED MARSH’S appearance much. He was still the stern, commanding person Kelsier had known since childhood. There was still that glint of disappointment in his eyes, and he spoke with the same air of disapproval.

Yet, if Dockson were to be believed, Marsh’s attitudes had changed much since that day three years before. Kelsier still found it hard to believe that his brother had given up leadership of the skaa rebellion. He had always been so passionate about his work.

Apparently, that passion had dimmed. Marsh walked forward, regarding the charcoal writing board with a critical eye. His clothing was stained slightly by dark ash, though his face was relatively clean, for a skaa. He stood for a moment, looking over Kelsier’s notes. Finally, Marsh turned and tossed a sheet of paper onto the chair beside Kelsier.

“What is this?” Kelsier asked, picking it up.

“The names of the eleven men you slaughtered last night,” Marsh said. “I thought you might at least want to know.”

Kelsier tossed the paper into the crackling hearth. “They served the Final Empire.”

“They were men, Kelsier,” Marsh snapped. “They had lives, families. Several of them were skaa.”

“Traitors.”

“People,” Marsh said. “People who were just trying to do the best with what life gave them.”

“Well, I’m just doing the same thing,” Kelsier said. “And, fortunately, life gave me the ability to push men like them off the tops of buildings. If they want to stand against me like noblemen, then they can die like noblemen.”

Marsh’s expression darkened. “How can you be so ?ippant about something like this?”

“Because, Marsh,” Kelsier said, “humor is the only thing I’ve got left. Humor and determination.”

Marsh snorted quietly.

“You should be happy,” Kelsier said. “After decades of listening to your lectures, I’ve ?nally decided to do something worthwhile with my talents. Now that you’re here to help, I’m sure—”

“I’m not here to help,” Marsh interrupted.

“Then why did you come?”

“To ask you a question.” Marsh stepped forward, stopping right in front of Kelsier. They were about the same height, but Marsh’s stern personality always made him seem to loom taller.