“Can the army really fight them?” Yeden asked uncomfortably. “I mean, they’re supposed to be immortal, aren’t they?”
“Marsh will find the answer,” Kelsier promised.
Yeden paused, then nodded, accepting Kelsier’s word.
Yes, changed indeed, Vin thought. It appeared that not even Yeden could resist Kelsier’s charisma for an extended period of time.
“In the meantime,” Kelsier said, “I’m hoping to hear what Sazed has learned about the Lord Ruler.”
Sazed sat, laying his tome on the tabletop. “I will tell you what I can, though this is not the book that I first assumed it to be. I thought that Mistress Vin had recovered some ancient religious text—but it is of a far more mundane nature.”
“Mundane?” Dockson asked. “How?”
“It is a journal, Master Dockson,” Sazed said. “A record that appears to have been penned by the Lord Ruler himself—or, rather, the man who became the Lord Ruler. Even Ministry teachings agree that before the Ascension, he was a mortal man.
“This book tells of his life just prior to his final battle at the Well of Ascension a thousand years ago. Mostly, it is a record of his travels—a narration of the people he met, the places he visited, and the trials he faced during his quest.”
“Interesting,” Breeze said, “but how does it help us?”
“I am not certain, Master Ladrian,” Sazed said. “However, understanding the real history behind the Ascension will be of use, I think. At the very least, it will give us some insight to the Lord Ruler’s mind.”
Kelsier shrugged. “The Ministry thinks it’s important—Vin said she found it in some kind of shrine in the central palace complex.”
“Which, of course,” Breeze noted, “doesn’t at all raise any questions regarding its authenticity.”
“I do not believe it to be a fabrication, Master Ladrian,” Sazed said. “It contains a remarkable level of detail, especially regarding unimportant issues—like packmen and supplies. In addition, the Lord Ruler it depicts is very conflicted. If the Ministry were going to devise a book for worship, they would present their god with more . . . divinity, I think.”
“I’ll want to read it when you are done, Saze,” Dockson said.
“And I,” Breeze said.
“Some of Clubs’s apprentices occasionally work as scribes,” Kelsier said. “We’ll have them make a copy for each of you.”
“Handy lot, those,” Dockson noted.
Kelsier nodded. “So, where does that leave us?”
The group paused, then Dockson nodded to Vin. “With the nobility.”
Kelsier frowned slightly.
“I can go back to work,” Vin said quickly. “I’m mostly healed, now.”
Kelsier shot a look at Sazed, who raised an eyebrow. He checked on her wound periodically. Apparently, he didn’t like what he saw.
“Kell,” Vin said. “I’m going insane. I grew up as a thief, scrambling for food and space—I can’t just sit around and let these servants pamper me.” Besides, I have to prove that I can still be useful to this crew.
“Well,” Kelsier said. “You’re one of the reasons we came here today. There’s a ball this weekend that—”
“I’ll go,” Vin said.
Kelsier held up a finger. “Hear me out, Vin. You’ve been through a lot lately, and this infiltration could get dangerous.”
“Kelsier,” Vin said flatly. “My whole life has been dangerous. I’m going.”
Kelsier didn’t look convinced.
“She has to do it, Kell,” Dockson said. “For one thing, the nobility is going to get suspicious if she doesn’t start going to parties again. For another, we need to know what she sees. Having servant spies on the staff isn’t the same as having a spy listening to local plots. You know that.”
“All right, then,” Kelsier finally said. “But you have to promise not to use physical Allomancy until Sazed says otherwise.”
Later that evening, Vin still couldn’t believe how eager she was to go the ball. She stood in her room, looking over the different gown ensembles that Dockson had found for her. Since she had been forced to wear noblewoman’s attire for a good month straight, she was beginning to find dresses just a shade more comfortable than she once had.
Not that they aren’t frivolous, of course, she thought, inspecting the four gowns. All of that lace, the layers of material . . . a simple shirt and trousers are so much more practical.
Yet, there was something special about the gowns—something in their beauty, like the gardens outside. When regarded as static items, like a solitary plant, the dresses were only mildly impressive. However, when she considered attending the ball, the gowns took on a new meaning. They were beautiful, and they would make her beautiful. They were the face she would show to the court, and she wanted to choose the right one.
I wonder if Elend Venture will be there. . . . Didn’t Sazed say that most of the younger aristocrats attended every ball?
She lay a hand on one dress, black with silver embroiderings. It would match her hair, but was it too dark? Most of the other women wore colorful dresses; muted colors seemed reserved for men’s suits. She eyed a yellow gown, but it just seemed a little too . . . perky. And the white one was too ornate.
That left the red. The neckline was lower—not that she had a lot to show—but it was beautiful. A bit gossamer, with full sleeves that were made of translucent mesh in places, it enticed her. But it seemed so . . . blatant. She picked it up, feeling the soft material in her fingers, imagining herself wearing it.
How did I get to this? Vin thought. This thing would be impossible to hide in! These frilly creations, these aren’t me.
And yet . . . part of her longed to be back at the ball again. The daily life of a noblewoman frustrated her, but her memories of that one night were alluring. The beautiful couples dancing, the perfect atmosphere and music, the marvelous crystalline windows . . .
I don’t even realize when I’m wearing perfume anymore, she realized with shock. She found it preferable to bathe in scented water each day, and the servants even perfumed her clothing. It was all subtle, of course, but it would be enough to give her away while sneaking.
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 to go out stalking at night. Yet, she wasn’t really Vin the urchin anymore. She was . . .
Mistborn.
Vin carefully laid the beautiful red dress back on her bed, then crossed the room to look out the window. The sun was close to setting; soon, the mists would come—though, as usual, Sazed would have guards posted to make certain that she didn’t go on any unauthorized Allomantic romps. She hadn’t complained at the precautions. He was right. Unwatched, she probably would have broken her promise long ago.