Mistborn: Secret History (Mistborn, #3.5)(44)

“Half dream?” Spook asked.

“You’re almost dead, kid,” Kelsier said. “Smashed your spirit up pretty good. Lots of cracks.” He smiled. “That let me in.”

There was more to it. This young man was special. At the very least, their relationship was special. Spook believed in him as no other had.

Kelsier thought on this as he plucked another piece of grass and chewed on it.

“What are you doing?” Spook asked.

“It looks so strange,” Kelsier said. “Like Mare always said it would.”

“So you’re eating it?”

“Chewing it, mostly,” Kelsier said, then spat it to the side. “Just curious.”

Spook puffed in and out. “Doesn’t matter. None of this matters. You’re not real.”

“Well, that’s partially right,” Kelsier said. “I’m not completely real. Haven’t been since I died. But then I’m also a god now . . . I think. It’s complicated.”

Spook looked at him, frowning.

“I needed someone I could chat with,” Kelsier said. “I needed you. Someone who was broken, but who had resisted him.”

“The other you.”

Kelsier nodded.

“You always were so harsh, Kelsier,” Spook said, staring out over the rolling green fields. “I could see that deep down, you really hated the nobility. I thought that hatred was why you were so strong.”

“Strong like scar tissue,” Kelsier whispered. “Functional, but stiff. It’s a strength I’d rather you never need.”

Spook nodded, and seemed to understand.

“I’m proud of you, kid,” Kelsier said, giving him a fond punch to the arm.

“I almost ruined everything,” he said, eyes downcast.

“Spook, if you knew how many times I’ve almost destroyed a city, you’d be embarrassed to talk like that. Hell, you barely even broke that place. They’ve put out the fires, rescued most of the population. You’re a hero.”

Spook looked up, smiling.

“Here’s the thing, kid,” Kelsier said. “Vin doesn’t know.”

“Know what?”

“The spikes, Spook. I can’t get the message to her. She needs to know. And Spook, she . . . she has a spike in her too.”

“Lord Ruler . . .” Spook whispered. “Vin?”

Kelsier nodded. “Listen to me. You’re going to wake soon. I need you to remember this part, even if you forget everything else about the dream. When the end comes, get people underground. Send a message to Vin. Scratch the message in metal, for anything not set in metal cannot be trusted.

“Vin needs to know about Ruin and his false faces. She needs to know about the spikes, that metal buried within a person lets Ruin whisper to them. Remember it, Spook. Don’t trust anyone pierced by metal! Even the smallest bit can taint a man.”

Spook began to fuzz, waking.

“Remember,” Kelsier said. “Vin is hearing Ruin. She doesn’t know who to trust, and that’s why you absolutely must get that message sent, Spook. The pieces of this thing are all spinning about, cast to the wind. You have a clue that nobody else does. Send it flying for me.”

Spook nodded as he woke up.

“Good lad,” Kelsier whispered, smiling. “You did well, Spook. I’m proud.”





7





A man left Urteau, forging outward through the mists and the ash, starting the long trip toward Luthadel.

Kelsier didn’t know this man, Goradel, personally. However, the power knew him. Knew how he’d joined the Lord Ruler’s guards as a youth, hoping for a better life for himself and his family. This was a man whom Kelsier, if he’d been given the chance, would have killed without mercy.

Now Goradel might just save the world. Kelsier soared behind him, feeling the anticipation of the mists build. Goradel carried a metal plate bearing the secret.

Ruin rolled across the land like a shadow, dominating Kelsier. He laughed as he saw Goradel fighting through the ash, piled as high as snow in the mountains.

“Oh, Kelsier,” Ruin said. “This is the best you can do? All that work with the child in Urteau, for this?”

Kelsier grunted as tendrils of Ruin’s power sought out a pair of hands and brought them calling. In the real world hours passed, but to the eyes of gods time was a mutable thing. It flowed as you wished it to.

“Did you ever play card tricks, Ruin?” Kelsier asked. “Back when you were a common man?”

“I was never a common man,” Ruin said. “I was but a Vessel awaiting my power.”

“So what did that Vessel do with its time?” Kelsier asked. “Play card tricks?”

“Hardly,” Ruin said. “I was a far better man than that.”

Kelsier groaned as Ruin’s hands eventually arrived, soaring high through the falling ash. A figure with spikes through his eyes, lips drawn back in a sneer.

“I was pretty good at card tricks,” Kelsier said softly, “when I was a child. My first cons were with cards. Not three-card spin; that was too simple. I preferred the tricks where it was you, a deck of cards, and a mark who was watching your every move.”

Below, Marsh struggled with—then finally slaughtered—the hapless Goradel. Kelsier winced as his brother didn’t just murder, but reveled in the death, driven to madness by Ruin’s taint. Strangely, Ruin worked to hold him back. As if in the moment, he’d lost control of Marsh.