“It is, my lord. Lady Shan Elariel is a Soother.”
“Proof?”
“I felt her touch on my emotions, my lord,” Hoid said. “During a fire at Keep Elariel a week ago, she was there calming the emotions of the servants.”
Kelsier had started that fire. Unfortunately, it hadn’t spread beyond the guardhouses. “What else?”
“House Elariel has recently given her leave to use her powers more at court functions,” Hoid said. “They fear a house war, and wish her to make whatever allegiances possible. She always carries a thin envelope of shaved brass in her right glove. Get a Seeker close to her at a ball, and you shall see. My lord, I do not lie! My life as an informant depends solely upon my reputation. Shan Elariel is a Soother.”
Kelsier paused, as if musing. The information was useless to him, but his true purpose—finding out about House Renoux—had already been fulfilled. Hoid had earned his coins, whether he realized it or not.
Kelsier smiled. Now to sow a little more chaos.
“What of Shan’s covert relationship with Salmen Tekiel?” Kelsier said, picking the name of a likely young nobleman. “Do you think that she used her powers to gain his favor?”
“Oh, most certainly, my lord,” Hoid said quickly. Kelsier could see the glimmer of excitement in his eyes; he assumed that Kelsier had given him a luscious bit of political gossip free of charge.
“Perhaps she was the one who secured Elariel the deal with House Hasting last week,” Kelsier said musingly. There had been no such deal.
“Most likely, my lord.”
“Very well, skaa,” Kelsier said. “You have earned your coins. Perhaps I shall call upon you another time.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Hoid said, bowing very low.
Kelsier dropped a coin and launched himself into the air. As he landed on a rooftop, he caught a glimpse of Hoid scuttling over to pluck the coin off the ground. Hoid didn’t have any trouble locating it, despite his “weak eyesight.” Kelsier smiled, then kept moving. Hoid hadn’t mentioned Kelsier’s tardiness, but Kelsier’s next appointment would not be so forgiving.
He made his way eastward, toward Ahlstrom Square. He pulled off his mistcloak as he moved, then ripped off his vest, revealing the tattered shirt hidden beneath. He dropped to an alleyway, discarding cloak and vest, then grabbed a double handful of ash from the corner. He rubbed the crusty, dark flakes on his arms, masking his scars, then ground them onto his face and false beard.
The man who stumbled out of the alleyway seconds later was very different from the nobleman who had met with Hoid. The beard, once neat, now jutted out in an unkempt frazzle. A few, select bits had been removed, making it look patchy and sickly. Kelsier stumbled, pretending to have a lame leg, and called out to a shadowed figure standing near the square’s quiet fountain.
“My lord?” Kelsier asked in a raspy voice. “My lord, is that you?”
Lord Straff Venture, leader of House Venture, was a domineering man, even for a nobleman. Kelsier could make out a pair of guards standing at his side; the lord himself didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the mists—it was openly known that he was a Tineye. Venture stepped forward firmly, dueling cane tapping the ground beside him.
“You are late, skaa!” he snapped.
“My lord, I . . . I . . . I was waiting in the alley, my lord, like we agreed!”
“We agreed to no such thing!”
“I’m sorry, my lord,” Kelsier said again, bowing—then stumbling because of his “lame” leg. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I was just in the alley. I didn’t mean to make you wait.”
“Couldn’t you see us, man?”
“I’m sorry, my lord,” Kelsier said. “My eyesight . . . it isn’t very good, you know. I can barely see my own hands in front of my face.” Thanks for the tip, Hoid.
Venture snorted, handing his dueling cane to a guard, then slapped Kelsier smartly across the face.
Kelsier stumbled to the ground, holding his cheek. “I’m sorry, my lord,” he mumbled again.
“Next time you make me wait, it will be the cane,” Venture said curtly.
Well, I know where to go next time I need a corpse to dump on someone’s lawn, Kelsier thought, stumbling to his feet.
“Now,” Venture said. “Let us get down to business. What is this important news you promised to deliver?”
“It’s about House Erikell, my lord,” Kelsier said. “I know Your Lordship has had dealings with them in the past.”
“And?”
“Well, my lord, they are cheating you dearly. They have been selling their swords and canes to House Tekiel for half the price you’ve been paying!”
“Proof?”
“You need only look to Tekiel’s new armaments, my lord,” Kelsier said. “My word is true. I have nothing but my reputation! If I have not that, I have not my life.”
And he wasn’t lying. Or, at least, not completely. It would be useless of Kelsier to spread information that Venture could corroborate or dismiss with ease. Some of what he said was true—Tekiel was giving a slight advantage to Erikell. Kelsier was overstating it, of course. If he played the game well, he could start a rift between Erikell and Venture, while at the same time making Venture jealous of Tekiel. And, if Venture came to Renoux for weapons instead of Erikell . . . well, that would just be a side benefit.
Straff Venture snorted. His house was powerful—incredibly powerful—and relied on no specific industry or enterprise to fuel its wealth. That was a very difficult position to achieve in the Final Empire, considering the Lord Ruler’s taxes and atium costs. It also made Venture a powerful tool to Kelsier. If he could give this man the right mixture of truth and fiction . . .
“This is of little use to me,” Venture said suddenly. “Let’s see how much you really know, informant. Tell me about the Survivor of Hathsin.”
Kelsier froze. “Excuse me, my lord?”
“You want to get paid?” Venture asked. “Well, tell me about the Survivor. Rumors say he’s returned to Luthadel.”
“Rumors only, my lord,” Kelsier said quickly. “I have never met this Survivor, but I doubt he is in Luthadel—if, indeed, he even lives.”
“I’ve heard that he’s gathering a skaa rebellion.”
“There are always fools whispering rebellion to the skaa, my lord,” Kelsier said. “And there are always those who try to use the name of the Survivor, but I do not believe that any man could have lived through the Pits. I could seek more information on this, if you wish, but I worry you will be disappointed in what I find. The Survivor is dead—the Lord Ruler . . . he does not allow such oversights.”
“True,” Venture said contemplatively. “But the skaa seem convinced about this rumor of an ‘Eleventh Metal.’ Have you heard of it, informant?”
“Ah, yes,” Kelsier said, covering his shock. “A legend, my lord.”
“One I’ve never heard of,” Venture said. “And I pay very close attention to such things. This is no ‘legend.’ Someone very clever is manipulating the skaa.”